Happy Holidays and thank you to all who read this.  May love, light and peace find their way into your heart, mind and soul.  

As December dawns and we near the coming of a New Year, I turn my gaze back, in reflection over the past 40 years of my life.  This December marks the beginning of "life after 40".  40 years.  Half a Lifetime.  When you say it like that, it comes close to rendering most, speechless.  Someone asked me the other day, "Mike, do you feel 40?"  To which I replied, "Nah, I only feel 38."  Deflecting the question was the only way I knew how to get a laugh out of the answer.  However, that question has been circling in my mind over the past 72 hours.

Four decades.  14,600 days.  21,024,000 minutes.  Wow.  That is a lot of time.  Growing up I fondly remember my parents and friends of my parents celebrating their 40th birthdays with cards that read "Over the Hill!" and "Lordy, Lordy!  Look who's 40!!!"  It made me laugh and think, "They are getting old."  Here I am.  Soon to be "Over the Hill".

Reflecting on the years past brings on nostalgia, happiness, regret, joy and sadness, alike.  Moments of feeling proud, and others, shame.  I've been trying to discern which memories to share.  A memory of impact, from each decade span of my life.  Pondering and thinking about them, there are many, and as I mentioned, and they run the gamut of emotions.  14,600 days to think about and pull the most poignant pieces of snapshots in time, held deeply within my cerebral cortex.  Where to begin?

Years 0-10

Some of my earliest memories include my first fish being caught, my first birthday cake I can remember my mother making me, riding Big Wheels down the hill of our backyard and crashing them into the creek and my first Penn State Football game.  

November  8, 1986

I was eight years old, a month away from nine.  My dad bought two tickets to see the undefeated Penn State Nittany Lions playing the 4-4 Maryland Terrapins in State College, PA.  I remember getting up early, dressing warmly and riding in my dad's Oldsmobile station wagon up PA 322.  The bare trees, the cold nip in the air, the chatter of Penn State Football radio on the car stereo.  Dozing on and off as the miles ticked away on the odometer.  

I can't remember where we parked the car that November morning, but I remember the sights, sounds and smells of the tailgaters reveling in shade of Beaver Stadium.  The laughing echoed loud in my ears and made its way to my heart.  Watching other kids throw the football with their dads and brothers in the grass and asphalt of the parking lots and hearing "We Are!!!" being yelled over and over as it was met with the reply, "PENN STATE!!!". 

We found our seats in the stadium on the cold, aluminum bleachers and settled in to watch both teams warming up with various drills and stretches.  I looked at the South Endzone and the students beginning to file into their seats clad in Blue and White.  I remember thinking that this place, the Alma Mater of my father, is where I wanted to be.  We watched the game intently as Penn State won at the last second by deflecting a potential two point conversion (and then going on to win the National Championship on January 2, 1987) attempt in the east corner of the North endzone.  I remember my dad lifting me up in excitement as the students rained marshmallows down onto the south endzone and at each other.  I remember the happiness of this moment and how it lead me to Penn State as a student and how it has now become the dream of my own children.

Years 11-20

Suicide

Impacting memories can include a range of emotions.  Sometimes, those emotions can be dark and saddening.  I think that most of us will look back over the course of our lives and reflect on all types of memories.  For me, I naturally gravitate to things I would have done differently.  Things I erred on.  Things that cause me grief and pain.  Is this the wrong way to live?  No.  I don't think so.  It is merely who I am.  I am not, and will never be, a glass is half full person.  The glass is always half empty for me.  The tide always is going out.  Darkness is always getting closer.  

I hold darkness close to me and embrace it, while showering everyone else around with light.  There is quote from another movie/book I love dearly ("The Lord of the Rings - Return of the King", "The Hobbitt" - J.R.R. Tolkien) where Aragorn says, "I gave hope to men, I have kept no hope for myself".  This is what I believe my soul's purpose is.  To bring light to others, yet hold the darkness (and carry the burden of karmic debt for many) for myself, or so my holistic energy healer tells me.

The memory from these years is, in fact, a dark one.  I will not rehash or retell the story now, yet will redirect you to the blog from a few months back on "Suicide".  

Memories can be anything.  Darkness should not be feared, for light always comes.

Years 21-30

Many things happened during the course of my twenties that have impacted me in a profound way.  College graduation, marriage, moving 3,000 miles away from everything I ever new to walk a path unclear to me and the birth of my daughters.  

Aubrey

Ask anyone who interacts with children regularly on how to prepare yourself for them, and chances are, they will laugh at you and tell you nothing can prepare you for what happens.  Those people are right.  Buy them a cocktail and sit with them and chat about the things no one else wants to talk about.  The days when you are fully dressed in a suit and the baby throws up over it, the smell of Gerber baby food in a soiled diaper after a day in the intestinal tract of a 9 month old, the complete level of exhaustion you feel the first week of the child's life when all you do is feed them, change them and try to sleep when they are sleeping and of course, the horror of watching a child being born.  Here's another time where people love to tell you how beautiful childbirth is...  It's not.  Any dad that says it is (in my opinion), is full of shit.  It's messy, it stinks, it's emotionally draining and leaves memories and mental images you never forget.  

The beautiful part of it lies in the aftermath.  The little one you get to watch grow.  The first words, steps, first day of kindergarten and all those school pictures that accumulate to tell their story of growing up.

This decade of memories centers around the birth of my oldest daughter, Aubrey.  Nothing prepared me for her.  I never really thought I wanted kids.  It was discussed at length and seemed like the "normal thing to do" as early twenties became middle and late twenties.  Kids seemed like a natural progression.  So, when I came home from a long audit in Ukiah, California, and found out I was going to be a dad, shock was my initial reaction.  

I am a very emotional person to people who know me the best.  I didn't cry or weep with excitement like some "dad-to-be's" do.  Nope.  I sat there, slack jawed and thinking, "What the fuck have I done?" and "How can I give this ball of cells a good life?".  Those were my first thoughts.  They continue to be my thoughts, except that the ball of cells is now a spunky, quirky, artistic and clever 11 year old.  

Those memories of my little one and talking to her at 3 am while I am trying to put the velcro fasteners on her pampers to ensure a snug fit so I won't also be laundering her bed sheets later that morning, still pass through my mind from time to time.  I look at her now, and am glad I was able to keep her alive this long.  That's what those first few years are all about; keeping them alive.  But then again, the more I ponder on it, that's the first 8 years or so.  Keeping them from walking into the street, walking in front of a swing or falling off a rock ledge.  

Memories.  The memories of my sweet little one, echo the loudest from that decade.   

Years 31-40

As I type and edit, type and edit, I look back at what has been written and want to applaud you if you are still reading this.  I am betting most quit long ago.  There are certainly much more interesting things to read...  This decade culminates in a memory that happened not long ago and has been referenced in several posts since September.

Mount Whitney

Those folks who know me best, know that I am not driven by career, money or status.  I am a dreamer.  I am a free spirit and wanderer.  I am an artist, poet and photographer.  At the true core of my being, I am a hiker and lover of nature.

This decade held so many memories of every variety.  Sadness, anger, love, hate, peace and outright bliss.  

My September blog about "Conquering Mountains and Esteem" signify my happiest moment of this decade.  The ascent of Mount Whitney and the inner strength, resolve and sense of accomplishment I felt.  To climb higher than any other peak in the continental US of A and stare out over the Owen's Valley far below.  To push this old swimmers body to the limit as an "almost 40 year old" and revel in the feelings felt when I was 18 and could swim and train for hours then sneak out to drink beers and Zima's at a friends house down the street until the early morning hours.

Again, I won't rehash or retell this story, but encourage you to read it.  The pure, unadulterated joy I experienced with three friends so dear to me, resonates daily.  I think about the climb, the laughs and the exhilaration we felt, the hugs we gave each other, and how our knee's screamed all the way down.  These three are my tribe.  Thank you, Jesse, Suny and Jaime.  Suny and Jaime, you came to me at a time in my life when I needed you most.  I will forever be in your debt.

This was the defining memory for me during this decade, although a darker and sadder one gives this a run for its money (My Hero, My Sadness).

Moving forward:

Memories and reflections.  Should we live in the past?  Probably not, but we should reflect from time to time on the memories created.  All of them.  

Am I looking forward to this next decade?  I'm not sure.  I do know I am trying to live more in the moment, spend more time in the mountains with my hiking boots on and my camera in my hand.  I'm trying to write more and who knows, maybe in this decade I will finally realize a dream that was born in the 11-20 decade of publishing a book.  That's the inherent beauty of the future.  It is blank and can be just about anything you desire.

Keep dreaming, keep questioning, keep smiling, keep crying, embrace the light, embrace the darkness, enjoy a crowd, relish in solitude, connect with others, connect with your soul, find a passion, make a new friend, talk deeply, laugh until you have tears in your eyes, find the angels that walk this earth and take time for yourself.  Wake up early and watch a sunrise, stay up late and stare at shooting stars.  Live.  Make memories.  Reflect on the memories, then make more.  A job is a job.  It will always be there.  It should never be the reason we exist.  Live.  Truly live.  Whatever decade you find yourself in, it's never too late to LIVE.

"Get busy living, or get busy dying... (Shawshank Redemption)"

"Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but pictures, kill nothing but time..."

Namaste, friends, and may the love, light and peace of the New Year radiate in your soul...