Fathers Day

i choose the font trebuchet today.  i do so because without my father i wouldn't have the foggiest clue what a trebuchet is or how it worked.  the stories my family friends recall so readily regarding my curiosity are first met with that long puff of exhaustion then a smile by my dad. apparently i asked about everything and now that I see the same qualities in myself, it is his own damned fault!  my dad is a teacher, through and through.  to create such an awareness and appreciation for the world around me by demonstrating and explaining the interconnected-ness of all things fed my desire to know why.  for when you are young it is difficult to realize that the why in many things is 'because a person wanted it that way'.  when i examined the systems and workings of nature they all seemed logical to me, even the interplay and stresses upon the systems that humans created made sense.  but the why the humans acted that way never did.  as i grew older i became an advocate for the minimization of these stresses and tried harder to understand why in hopes i could communicate with them to make them understand... today i have many miles and interactions under my belt and i see the wisdom my father tried to share so many years ago- the inevitability that all of that reasoning distills down to "because it is".  that realization has not dulled my sense of curiosity for between here and there is a world of adventure and learning.  i still try to understand why when it comes to humans but now it is with compassion and empathy rather than the anger and outrage of youth.  this is true of my father as well for his is human, not superman.  I now recognize how tired he must have been on friday nights after a long week of travelling, but he still made family chinese food cooking night fun.  every time i use a sharp knife i hear his guidance... i am very thankful that he included me in his weekend warrior adventures even though he probably just wanted some alone/man time. every time i am in the forest i hear his voice in my ear telling me look over there and then he squats behind me and i look down the barrel of his pointing arm to the target and recite to myself my fathers mnemonic.  I am always grateful for these gifts and so very proud to be Bill Turbitt's daughter.  

hug you soon xo

present

after a beautiful and extra long hike this past sunday i cannot shake how much i miss my dad.  it has been a while since he and i took a hike together.  i have fond memories of exploring the wilds (the bush we sudburians call it) around my house, camping and fishing spots with my dad for he is an observer.  after you spend a while in the bush you begin to realize that everything has a shape and a sound.  you can see a silhouette and know there is a partridge over there and listen to hear a beaver slap it's tail in warning.  you can know the rain is coming when the silver maple turns over her green leaves to shine silver. you can count between lightening strikes and thunder to estimate how far the storm is away. you can tell a red and white pine from each other by their structure but also from the smell of their sap.  a blue jay sounds very different than a cardinal and you can eat this but not that.  these observations epitomize the concept of 'being present' to me.  To notice what time the sun set or remark upon which flowers are in bloom is to be present in this time and space, for you are one with everything.  This everything asks nothing of you it is always there, waiting to be observed, to be remembered.

Now it is I who points out everything i observe in the world around me.  I try to take the time my father did with me to share the gift of being present.  No one ever had to teach me to meditate.  If you sit in a meadow or on a riverbank and look around your mind is free to push away concerns and be instead be flooded with the simple truth that you are present here and now, with the birds and the bees, the grass and the trees.  I am not saying it doesn't take practice, for life is just that- a practice, I am saying that observation can require a little time so grant yourself permission to slow down and be un-busy for a moment or two.  

a blank page

it is with much pleasure that i stare at this blank page.  I do it both virtual and AFK, just stare at the freshness, at the emptiness of the page.... i tend to write for my work.  I have been a technical writer since the first criticism popped out of my mouth when i was a youngin' reading the instruction set for <fill with anything from BBQ to surround sound> out loud to my dad.  i have become more aware than most that certain words do not translate well into other languages, or have secondary meanings that dilute or confuse the message.  just as my life has a soundtrack it also has its screenplay.  i am pleased to have little collections of observations link themselves together in my brain to create memories, ones that i attempt to express and share on occasion.  to try and find just the right word to be as succinct as possible is my life's challenge.  marketing and advertising years have installed that task in my quiver.  when you have but 80 characters to entice or 2x3" to educate and persuade you can become very troubled over a comma and actually find uses for a semi-colon.   

I sat down today to write about a thousand things in my head but instead found the blank page to be soothing, the recognition of freedom writing provides.  take whatever is in your head and write it out, take the time to actually form the arguments or thoughts then examine them critically.    when you write it down it moves from the ephemeral to the enduring, even here in the electronic world.  there are those who believe that the only clear way to manifest an intention is to write it out and read it aloud.  i encourage you to give life to your thoughts and to share them.