I am finding less and less joy in starting my sentences with the word "I"
We are finding more and more joy in spending time together.
Who could have known that lowering expectations for a day would lead to greater results?
We accomplished none of my goals today, except turning on my pressure washer. The other 16 hours was spent on puzzles and peeing.
Except that it was filled. Overflowing with incredible stuff. Four books in a row before bed. Full sentences. Walks around the block that thaw frozen hearts. Ugga Muggas with sissy and mommy and dada. Visits from delivery men that bring new stickers. Stickers that stick on the table. New animals like antelopes.
Today I heard a human being say "sloth" for the first time in their life.
Doesn't it make sense that that's a big deal? Vanessa and I are getting to witness the birth of a child. I always thought the "birth of a child" was in a delivery room, at a hospital, and then they cut an umbilical cord and give you a certificate.
But a child is born out over time. They evolve. They should make little kids go get sonograms again, just so dads realize that a 2 year-old is still a fetus that needs protection, nourishment, love. It's not a fetus. But everyone's a child, right?
Well, if everyone's a child because they've been a child. Then everyone's still a fetus. We need help. Guidance. Protection. We need to be able to develop.
I looked at a sonogram today. It was in full color. Three dimensions. It sang "Welcome to My House" all day because we sang it together yesterday. It spent 8 months in a body, and now 33 expanding its footprint, pressing its fingers and toes out, confidently recklessly fearlessly deliberately effortlessly
naturally claiming its place in the womb called life.
This is not my world anymore. This is not my blog anymore. This is the blog someone's dad wrote.
Every time, all those decades, I was navel gazing -- I was looking literally into the whole my first food went into.
Every time, all these decades, I had my head up my ass -- I was looking literally at all the crap I've produced that gave me no nourishment.
When we look outside. We become servants, and it drains us. But its how we live forever. Its how we survive. _____
This blog will be unfinished, as I rest peacefully in the ground.
It's done forever, the same way a dandelion is done
after every seed is blown apart
and somewhere new
Erthe and Skye
Zoetic
We are finding more and more joy in spending time together.
Who could have known that lowering expectations for a day would lead to greater results?
We accomplished none of my goals today, except turning on my pressure washer. The other 16 hours was spent on puzzles and peeing.
Except that it was filled. Overflowing with incredible stuff. Four books in a row before bed. Full sentences. Walks around the block that thaw frozen hearts. Ugga Muggas with sissy and mommy and dada. Visits from delivery men that bring new stickers. Stickers that stick on the table. New animals like antelopes.
Today I heard a human being say "sloth" for the first time in their life.
Doesn't it make sense that that's a big deal? Vanessa and I are getting to witness the birth of a child. I always thought the "birth of a child" was in a delivery room, at a hospital, and then they cut an umbilical cord and give you a certificate.
But a child is born out over time. They evolve. They should make little kids go get sonograms again, just so dads realize that a 2 year-old is still a fetus that needs protection, nourishment, love. It's not a fetus. But everyone's a child, right?
Well, if everyone's a child because they've been a child. Then everyone's still a fetus. We need help. Guidance. Protection. We need to be able to develop.
I looked at a sonogram today. It was in full color. Three dimensions. It sang "Welcome to My House" all day because we sang it together yesterday. It spent 8 months in a body, and now 33 expanding its footprint, pressing its fingers and toes out, confidently recklessly fearlessly deliberately effortlessly
naturally claiming its place in the womb called life.
This is not my world anymore. This is not my blog anymore. This is the blog someone's dad wrote.
Every time, all those decades, I was navel gazing -- I was looking literally into the whole my first food went into.
Every time, all these decades, I had my head up my ass -- I was looking literally at all the crap I've produced that gave me no nourishment.
When we look outside. We become servants, and it drains us. But its how we live forever. Its how we survive. _____
This blog will be unfinished, as I rest peacefully in the ground.
It's done forever, the same way a dandelion is done
after every seed is blown apart
and somewhere new
Erthe and Skye
Zoetic
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