Recently, I had the blessing of seeing my dear friend and teacher, Arun, in person.

That’s cause to celebrate. Even though, as the crow flies, he isn’t very far away, visiting him can be an all-day journey.

So when he called and told me he was going to be in my neck of the woods, I couldn’t jump in the car fast enough.

Watching Sarah begin another school year has had me thinking about what it costs to care deeply.

She has been teaching for a long time, but experience does not make every new year predictable. Each year brings new children, new needs, and new challenges.

This year seems to have asked more of her.

Remember me talking about malaprops?

Ringo Starr once came out with the phrase:

“It’s been a hard day’s night.”

I love that.

It’s so descriptive about working late and working hard. It totally gets the mind creating visual images—plus it gives us a bit of the origin of the song.

I’ve always loved words.

Malaprops. Well-timed homophones. And my favorite: neologisms - go ahead, look it up!

Lately, I’ve been thinking about being one with something.

What does that mean?

For me, there’s a deep opening that happens when I’m along for the ride. Going with the flow. Curious about what happens next.

Over the last month or so, I have found myself in a real state of agitation and uncertainty.

This is normal. We all go through it.

I’ve been paying attention to how my mind and body are responding to the challenges and stresses that life is showing me right now.

And I’ve noticed a tendency to rush and neglect.

Those are two interesting places to see—and to be.

Years ago, when Sarah and I first met, we were in that place I’m sure many of you have known.

Everything was perfect.

Colors were brighter. Sounds were richer. Mistakes and misunderstandings were few. The word argument was still a foreign word.

During those early days, I took one of my trips to visit my brother and the property in Oregon. I love the solitude of that drive and the way the road completely unplugs me from my work.

It becomes a kind of driving meditation.

Time slows down as the road comes toward me.

My body settles.

My mind quiets.

My strength and resolve return.

💿

One of my favorite albums by The Who is Face Dances.

It was their first album without their longtime drummer, Keith Moon. The Who, like many bands of that era, were incredibly tight-knit. They wrote their songs, sang their backing vocals, and created their music together. Losing a member like Keith wasn't only a tragedy. It threatened the artistic chemistry of the whole band.

So when Face Dances came out with a different drummer, it had a different feel.

Different energy.

Something was different.

I was anxious and hesitant. Could they pull it off without the raging, almost violent energy of Keith Moon on the drums?

My youngest daughter, Ceci, turns 18 very soon.

It has been fun watching her mature these last few years.

From learning to drive—I lost a little bit of hair there.

To becoming a very accomplished water polo player in high school.

To graduating with honors and distinction.

To finding her own way into life's next chapter.

Both of Sarah's daughters are fantastic. They're like little pictures of Sarah's personality—still unfolding their own wings, learning to fly, but unmistakably shaped by the nature and nurture of their mom.

So they're very easy to love..

I was recently up visiting my brother Tom, and we took the boat out on the Columbia River, somewhere between Oregon and Vancouver, Washington.

It was midweek, so we had a lot of quiet on the river.

We pulled up to a little island in the middle of the Columbia, set out a couple of camp chairs and just sat.

Tom and I.

Hanging out.

Being quiet.

And if you know either Tom or me, you know that’s a rare state for us.

But it felt so good.

It was probably the closest thing to being completely unplugged that I’d experienced on the whole trip.

Years ago, I was on a cruise.

It was a lot of fun, but by the time we docked in Cozumel, Mexico, I’d had enough of the big tourist excursions with lots of people.

I just wanted to get away.

So I disembarked and found this local guy to take me to a place called Chankanaab, a national park in Mexico.

Sure. Amazing. Let’s go.

It was magical.

Private. Quiet. Serene. Beautiful.

There it was. 1977.

Denver, Colorado.

Dad and me on a business trip. Wow!

I was eight years old.

Dad was considering taking a job in Colorado and moving the family from Southern California.

Somehow, I scored a father-son trip with him to check out the company.

Did I feel special?

You bet I did!

My brother Tom, his fiancée, and I were sitting around talking about the state of the world.

And the scarcity of resources.

I think you can imagine how some of the conversation went.

We were talking about how hard it can be for a young couple or family to get established and begin building a life.