“OK”

A few years ago, my kids and I all took some "arts and crafts" time. We got out the colored pencils, permanent markers, paint and canvases and we made some wall art. Everyone had their own canvas to fill. These creations are still on my wall today. Each of them expressing the personality of their creator. 

I remember on that day that I was the last one working on my project. Each of my kids finished up and moved to their next activity. I continued sketching and coloring. I wanted to finish mine! Eventually, I had to wrap up and leave my project to another day. As much as I wanted to complete it, other parental duties called. I planned to finish it later.

That day still hasn't come.

I remember there was a small tick of emotion when I realized that I wouldn't be able to finish my project in one sitting. From childhood, I rarely would start a coloring page or drawing and come back to finish it. If it didn't happen in one sitting, it didn't happen at all.  I always remember feeling like the colors didn't blend right the second time, or my pencil didn't move with the same ease, or maybe the inspiration was just gone. I didn't feel like coming back to the unfinished project. 

Then the worst emotion would surface: rejection. 

After losing the vision and the initial momentum, I rejected my project. Sometimes I would simply throw it away. It was "no good" to me now. I didn't need the unfinished work and I would never finish it anyway. There were some that I would keep hoping my inspiration would come back. Those projects would get stuffed into a box, drawer or closet. Inevitably I'd find that project later-- sometimes with the pencils or markers readily available -- and I'd take a moment to pause. I'd try to remember my inspiration with fondness. I'd think, "Maybe I should finish this." 

But I didn't. 

And I looked at those projects with disdain.

I looked at myself with disdain.

I perceived these unfinished works to be a reflection of myself. Incomplete. Unfinished. Embarrassing. I tied a lot of emotions to those works and I felt these emotions deeply. The only way to purge to myself of these feelings was to:

1. Throw the art away and deny its existence

2. Hide the art and the feelings tied to it

I don't think I need to explain to most adults how this is very unhealthy in practice. To be honest, I expect most people reading this to think, "Wow! That's a little messed up." After all, it's just art. It's just a piece of paper or drawing. I mean, if someone applied that thinking to other areas of their life that would be horrible... 

Yeah. It is.

I remember that day looking at my picture. Batman overlooking Gotham City. He was looking down, but really, he was weighed down. He was bearing the thoughts of his responsibilities. He was burdened with the scars from his past. A man struggling with the voices in his head while hearing the voices of those who looked to him for inspiration. These are the feelings I wanted in my picture, but I was being called away from finishing it. I began to put my canvas away and realized it would become another piece of a terrible revolving pattern. 

And it did.

I moved the canvas from place to place. Each time vowing I'd finish it soon. Each time knowing I'm lying to myself. Each time repeating the process I'd come to learn.

Finally, one day I had reached the end of my cycle. It was time to bury this thing or throw it away. I took my picture and looked at it for a long time. I remembered the fun we had that day creating our art. I remembered the inspiration I felt. I admired the details I planned for Batman's cape. It was a good time, but this was still incomplete, and I had to do something about it.

I walked over to the wall and hung up my unfinished work. Now it was out in the open for all to see. Not hidden or discarded but embraced.

I decided that this time it was "ok" to not be perfect.

It is "ok" to be a work in progress. 

And I'm pretty sure I learned something beautiful that day. 

-Kevin Risatti

Introducing Jack

“What are you gonna do about it, Jack.”

…

Hello. Timing has never been a strength of mine. I can’t really think of any significant strengths right now. Oh, I am good at getting the shit kicked out of me. Is that a strength? Hang on! I’m about to get punched in the gut…

OOMPH!

….

I’m waking in bed. My grandmother is putting fresh ice wrapped in a damp cloth on my face. Why my face? Because I ducked. Instead of dodging the blow, I took it square in the face. Yeah, I have zero strengths.

“What happened to you, Jack?”

“That bastard--”

Slap! Grandma! She slapped my bruised face, hard. She has a zero-tolerance policy for, well, whatever she deems inappropriate. You’d think I would be tougher from living with her, but life is full of irony.

“What was that? You stopped mid-sentence.” Grandma chides. I rub my face.

“That Thompson kid cornered me and took everything from me.”

“What did you do? Did you protest?” I hate disappointing my Grandma, but that’s just not me. I’m not a fighter. I’d hardly call myself a lover, but no fighter for sure.

“Of course I did.” Lying is bad, but I do sometimes.

“Good. And you used your face as a shield to protect what?” It is impossible to lie to her.

I lay in silence.

“Well, are you ready to go back and get our supplies?” I cannot believe she wants me to go back out. She is unreasonable. That damn kid might still be out there. I look straight into my grandma’s eyes. I know her, she is not going to budge. I nod my head.

…

Two hours later, I’m walking into town leading my grandma’s favorite, and only, cow. Times are tough. This old animal has seen better days. We can not keep feeding her. That, and she is withering away. She’s too skinny to eat and grandma thinks we could get more from selling her than keeping her. Truth be told, we have nothing else.

I am walking through the market. There are very few tables. I see a few merchants, but their tables are mostly bare. I keep walking because I don’t need trinkets, spices or paper: I need to find the cow buying person. (What do you call those people?)

“Hello, Jack!” I hear a voice like crackers being crushed. I turn. “Hello!” She speaks to me and I can see this voice matches the character. I see an old woman. I see a witch.

I keep walking.

“Jack, I could use a cow.” She calls after me. I hesitate, briefly, but continue moving forward. “Jack, I can pay with magic.”

I pause now. Damn! She knows my weakness… Magic! I begin to remember stories of magic and adventure. My heart wants to do something, but I always feel unprepared. She calls again, “Come here, Jack.” And I do.

Standing in front of an old witch isn’t really that exciting. Maybe a few hundred years ago she was intimidating. Who knows? Maybe she was a hot witch! All I know is right now, nope! Neither. She starts her pitch, “Jack, I have exactly what you need. You need this."

That was a short pitch.

She reaches toward me with a bony hand. I begin to pray she won't touch me but I stop praying immediately-- what exactly happens when you pray in front of a witch? Like, will she stop her magic? I want to know what she is about to offer so praying is off the table.

"Jack!" She pokes me. I didn't die, but I did wake from my self-induced trance. I look down to her hand again.

"Beans?"

"Magic beans!" She waves her other hand with wonder.

My attention is captured. "Magic beans!?!" I look at the five black beans in her hand. I'm visibly excited. "Magic!" I repeat, wonder written all over my face.

"Yes! I'll trade you these beans for, "she pauses, almost as if she wants to create a dramatic effect, "your cowbell."

"The bell?" I can not believe she wants the cowbell for these beans. That's ridiculous!

"Yes… just your--"

I cut her off. "Listen here! I may look like an idiot but that's just because I got suckerpunched earlier today and my face is still puffy. You think I'm gonna trade this bell for five 'magic' beans???"

"It will be worth your--"

"You can take the bell and the cow!"

The witch looks around to see if anyone else could hear our deal in the works. Obviously, she doesn't want anyone to know about the bargain I'm getting from her. She takes the lead from my hand and gives me the five beans. I thank her for her generous deal and she scurries away. I smile to myself. Grandma is going to be so excited!

…

There are any number of reasons you could question my intelligence. I'll start your list for you:

1. I simply freeze in every confrontation. Example: when that kid socked me in the face

2. I'm frozen right now, while my grandma slaps me with unwavering resolve

3. I sold our last valuable resource for five beans

4. I actually, really do believe in magic

5. I ate two of the beans on the way home thinking they would give me magic powers

6. I can't swim, even after eating two magic beans. Also, “fun fact”, swimming isn’t a magical ability

7. I don't know how long of a list you want, but the story isn't over, so the list will grow

…

You probably already understand that my Grandma doesn't appreciate my bargaining skills. Shortly after arriving home with just three magic beans, my grandma started to slap the daylights out of me. Really!?! How much can a face take in one day? In between slaps I tried to figure out how I got here.

slap

Why didn't I--

SLAP

Ask for more--

SLAP!

Beans??

Slap, slap, slap, slap (she was two-hand slapping the shit out of me now) (I have to stop this)

I lean forward and grab my Grandma in a big hug. "I'm sorry Grandma. I know we don't have much… or anything really… I'll go back to town in the morning and figure something out."

My grandma, so old and tired, just looks at me. "Yeah, tomorrow Jack." Her voice trails as she walks away. I am a colossal failure.

My hands hold those three beans. Three black beans. Three black, 'magic' beans. I toss them out the window into a pile of manure. That worthless shit belongs in a shit pile.

I belong in that pile to be honest.

Tomorrow, I have to make this right. I'll get a good night of rest, but tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow will be epic. It will be one gigantic day for Jack! People will be talking about it for years to come. Jack will prove he's not just a dumbhead. Tomorrow Jack will (why am I referring to myself as Jack now? Oh yeah… on-the-nose storyboard foreshadowing!)

Surprise to no one! Tomorrow starts less than better.

-Kevin Risatti

Talk About Blue Part 2

“Are you still waiting to order?” 

A young woman placed a coffee at the table in front of me. She snapped me back to the cruel reality of the now. I must have given her an ugly look because she jumped right to the defensive, “No rush! I just wanted to check on you. The coffee is on us.”

I looked at the coffee. This place really nailed their aesthetics. The steaming brew was in an espresso sized, handleless cup. The cup and saucer matched. The ceramic design had an overall rust coloring but with a shattered and reassembled effect. I wasn’t sure whether to soak in the appearance or drink the coffee.

“I’ll be around… wave at me when you’re ready to order.” She smiled.

“Thank you.” I tried to smile but my cheeks barely even wrinkled. 

I looked back out the window at the bitter cold streets. How long had I been here? I pulled out my phone and checked the time. Two hours! Two fucking hours! Where the hell is Jenn? Stupid question… I know. She’s in no rush to get here, not this time. Not that rushing would make any difference anyway. She was chronically late. I swear she lives in a different timeline and just visits here at her convenience. 

I mean, she took days to even respond to my first awkward message. And then there was our first date…

*******************************************************************************

I told you we “met” via a dating app. Despite my perfect fail intro, we actually hit it off with our text game. Jenn and I seemed to vibe right away. After two days of texting I asked her if we could meet for coffee (surprise! I am a coffee fiend). She agreed. I panicked. 

By now you probably have this cool guy impression of me and I regret shattering that perception. I am very uncool. At least, five years ago me was very uncool. Now… I’m the same but older. Damn… You ever realize you are the same person your dad was at this age? Except he was married with kids, had a stable job, and owned a home? Whereas your claim to fame is that you once watch the entire Death Note anime series in a day? (It’s only 37 episodes– it's barely a brag). So yeah. Uncool.

Saturday morning. What would a normal Saturday entail? Well, not coffee with an online crush so my world was upside down. I went through my clothes. Don’t I have any damn tee shirts without Marvel characters on them? No. The answer was no. Digging through the closet I found a pink(ish) casual button-up shirt that would work. I paired it with some tan shorts (not cargo, I’m not that embarrassing) and some boat shoes. I looked in the mirror… not too bad!

I stepped out of my room into the hall. My roommate, Keith, was standing in the hall eating a plate of spaghetti. Why? I have literally no idea. I wish I didn’t need to tell you this part, but it happened to me so now it’s happening for you… He was just standing in the hall in his Rick and Morty boxers eating spaghetti at ten in the morning. He stared right into my soul, chewing slowly, sauce on his face. 

“Going out?”

“Yeah.” 

“Good luck hug?” He spread his arms out. Sauce covered fork in one hand and a plate of pasta in the other. 

“You are so fucking weird, man.”

“I know you love me, no matter what you say.” He made a pouty face and turned around to walk into the kitchen. 

“I’ll be back in a couple hours. I’m just getting coffee. Don’t wait up.” I laughed. I heard him laugh at me from the kitchen. I turned around and walked out of the apartment. 

After adding oil to my car, I started it up and headed to the coffee shop where Jenn and I had decided to meet. The shop wasn’t one of those chain stores. It was a local shop with an especially artsy feel to it. I know coffee and art basically jive well together, but I swear they use art canvas for coffee filters at this place. Not only were the walls covered with local artwork, but the coffee itself was just as expressive. 

I got there a few minutes early  (we had agreed to meet at 11:00) so I ordered a Da Vinci (coffee with just cream) for myself while I waited. I walked around the store admiring the local talent on showcase. There was a self-portrait made just from crayon tips. I moved along the wall from piece to piece. I found a sunset that boggled my mind. The sun was dipping into a body of water, the clouds were changing all sorts of colors, the sand was littered with sea shells… and the whole picture was created from pencil shavings. I just stared in awe for a while. 

An alert pinged my phone. I checked the text. “You smooching?” It was Keith. I put my Da Vinci down and typed back. “You don’t get a play by play and I’m early” He answered back right away. “Weren’t you meeting at 11”

I checked the time. It was noon. It had been a full hour already?!? I’d been staring at the damn wall for a whole hour! I looked around the shop to see if I saw Jenn sitting all alone. Like she would wait an hour. Only an idiot would wait so long! (Ok. That self-narration stung me a little.) But still, no way she waited!

The door opened and Jenn walked into the shop. I knew her instantly. The Divine need no introduction. 

Jenn looked around for just a second, scanning the tables and the counter, then she saw me and smiled. She waved with just her fingers and began walking towards me. I wondered how she recognized me instantly but a Good Samaritan who saw me staring slack jawed whispered, “Your mouth is open, bro!” The Dumbstruck need no introduction either. 

“Hey!” Jenn said. She hopped just barely when she spoke and her blue sundress flared a little. 

“Hi! I’m Justin, pleased to meet you.” I smiled. I was doing so good. I said words. In order. Out loud. I’m basically hitting god-tier right now. So smooth. “Let’s get you some coffee!” I did it again. This was going so good!

We got her a Rembrandt (double cream, double sugar) and I refilled my Da Vinci. We sat down at the table and started talking. She was so cute. I was listening to every word she said, but when she twirled her midnight locks with her elegant fingers my concentration drastically faltered. I took a deep breath to get centered again. Soon we were laughing. I don’t remember who told the joke. Maybe there wasn’t a joke. I don’t know what happened or how it happened but I do remember us looking at the clock and realizing it was dinner time. 

We walked to a local pub and ordered some food and a drink. I couldn’t pull myself away from her eyes. Our eye contact was more intoxicating than my whiskey. I swear. We talked for hours but I don’t remember a word. I just remember those eyes. And her smile. 

A band started playing music. She turned to look. The brief break in eye contact broke my trance. HOLY FUCK!! How did I get here? What was happening? Is this even real? I pinched myself in the leg. I actually pinched a little too hard. I flinched and kicked Jenn lightly. She turned her head back to me. I don’t know what actual cool spirit possessed me in that moment but I may have said the most unlike-Justin words ever. 

“Wanna dance?” 

I picked up her hand from the table and led her to the dance floor. Let it be known. I don’t dance. I’m a classic overthinker. Just the thought of my body moving makes me freeze.  That spirit of coolness that took over my speech was now controlling my whole body too. I was moving. We were dancing. Our bodies were speaking to each other and the conversation was delightful. Our hearts were beating together and we danced the night away. 

Some time after midnight we left the bar and started walking back towards our cars. The moon was just a sliver on the horizon. Jenn stopped abruptly. She looked me in the eyes, her eyes just sparkling with energy, and asked me, “Want to see my favorite place?” We turned around, abandoning our cars and started down a local walking trail. 

Soon we were standing on a walking bridge over a small stream. You could barely hear the water moving. A few ducks were startled when we arrived but had since quieted themselves. We stood and just stared into the night sky. There were so many stars! A breeze rustled past and chilled us both. She stepped closer to me. I wrapped my arm around her. Our bodies were warm together. We just stared into the night sky…

A shooting star crossed the sky. 

I felt the excitement surge through Jenn’s body. She turned and looked up into my eyes. “That was our star! Make a wish!” she said.

 I already had made a wish, and when she said “our star”, my wish came true.  

Life, Podcasts, and Other Things

Recently, I was listening to Bert Kreischer talk with Kevin Smith on “Two Bears One Cave” (Episode 186). I think I enjoy podcasts because I like eavesdropping on others' conversations. To me, the best podcasts feel like I’m just listening to people talk. On this podcast, they were doing just that. They were talking about life, wealth and their pursuit of happiness. During this conversation Kevin Smith started saying, (I'm paraphrasing) how he didn't understand his dad. He said how his dad just went to work and came home. He didn't push for what most considered to be "success". He seemed happy with living an average life. 

Kevin Smith is a stark contrast to average. Smith has a "cult" following. He has starred in and produced many movies. On the podcast, he talked about how he had to create his popularity from nothing. Smith learned marketing, business, and relationships which was the opposite of his dad. Smith, through his grind to success, found himself puzzled by his dad’s status quo life. 

One day Smith had a revelation. After achieving fame and recognition, after realizing his dreams, he was forced to take a moment and reconsider himself. He then understood that his dad wasn't lazy or average. He saw that his dad HAD been successful and had achieved his dream as well. Smith realized that his dad's goal was to have a family, to be a dad. He mentioned in the podcast that he looked at his dad with a new perspective because he was now able to see his dad's success too. 

Again, that was a paraphrase. It was a fascinating conversation though and I recommend listening to the podcast. It is a "mature" podcast so listener's discretion is advised.

This brings me to a thought.

I know I've mentioned (to those who follow me) my love of writing and art. This site is obviously an expression of that. I believe art is important to humanity. I love the feeling when an expression resonates with another person. Shared emotions are beautiful. I'd happily create and emote with or without any other person's approval. Art is art. 

I don't, however, find my personal value in writing, photography, or any other creative endeavor. My success has always centered around my family.

I grew up in a family centered household. It was a great example to me and something I wanted to build for myself too. For that reason, when I left home; I left for good. I remember many years ago as a young adult working relentless hours to make ends meet. I was building something. In college, I stayed in the dorms, working two jobs while taking a full credit load. Midway through college I got married and kept up with multiple jobs, school, and "life". I actually graduated from college with no debt. Life did its best to kick me in the ass though. Bills and expenses came from every direction. I remember telling my dad that I really wanted to buy a music CD I had seen in the store (for $10) but didn't. He asked why and I told him I didn't have the money at the time. He told me, "Kevin, you make enough money. Buy the CD." My dad didn't know that I actually didn't have ten dollars to spare at that time. Things were tight. 

Allow me to fast rewind and fast-forward at the same time...

RW: Twenty-four years ago I was driving down a country road with my detasseling manager. We were talking about random things and I mentioned that I had a life goal to never drink alcohol. He laughed. He said, "Well, Life has a way of throwing us curveballs."

FF: A few weeks ago, I was at a graduation party where the host gave us Everclear jello shots. While everyone else was gagging and puking, I looked around wondering if I had the placebo. I was unaffected and universally declared to have "Taken it like a Champ!"

Needless to say, Life has thrown me some curveballs. 

Now then, where was I? Oh yeah, I didn't have ten bucks and Life was throwing curves like an MLB pitcher. My full-time employer was hiring a salary position and I tossed my name into the hat. I got the position and thought I had arrived. Little did I know that my position was at the bottom of Shit's Hill and “all shit rolls downhill”. Marching up that hill sucked, but I did. After years of trudging I got used to the cadence. Things were not too bad. 

Not long after my family status was married and the dad to four boys. How that happened, I don’t know! But it was the best thing in my life. Every day when work was over, I rushed out to get home. Being a husband and father was the core of my identity. It was where I found my value and my greatest success.

Twenty-four years ago my manager had enough foresight to tell me that Life throws some curveballs, but he failed to mention Life’s cruel sense of humor. I learned that myself.

Divorce.

I don’t talk about my divorce a lot. In fact, despite my ex-wife and I separating over 4 years ago, just last week a long time friend of mine found out that I’m divorced. So yeah, I don’t talk about it a lot. One reason for that is because I have no mud to fling or dirt to spread. I have a great deal of respect for my kid’s mom. She is a great person and an incredible influence on my kids. We co-parent together for our kids’ success and we get along quite well. Not everyone gets married for life and that’s OK. 

Divorce was a doozy of a curveball. In fact, to be completely honest, the night I realized that “this was happening” was the first time I got drunk. (My manager is somewhere reading this saying, “Called it!”) Because I found my identity as a family man, divorce tore into the core of my being. I felt like I was destined for failure. I could not be a success again. 

Here, I’ll take a moment to interject my own story (again?). Divorce is difficult, it was designed that way. Whether you are initiating the divorce or responding to the news, it’s not easy. There is also a lot of social stigma around divorce. My perspective on the whole situation has grown a lot and I’ve realized two things:

1. If you have kids, your responsibility as parents is still to love and protect your kids. Divorce is between two adults. You may not be married, but your kids still have two parents. That doesn’t change.

2. Divorce is a growth opportunity. It’s a storm. A lot of things change. You have the opportunity to come out the other side a better person. Make that a goal. Don’t let this curveball cause you to strike out. 

Back to where I was prior to my rabbit trail… so many things changed, but one thing didn’t change: I am very invested in my kids. I love when they paint pictures or post TikToks. Our bike rides and walks are treasured times. We play Fortnite, watch YouTube, and enjoy movie nights. We play frisbee in the park. We spend late nights at the drive-in. We go to concerts and events. These guys are my priority. Family is my priority. (Insert any Dom GIF about “Family”)

One of my favorite things to do is walk our local bike trail. My kids prefer to ride bikes. It’s become a joke. In fact, for Father’s Day my son wrote in his card to me, “Please can we not take a walk or bike ride today?” I laughed, but we still took a short ride. On those adventures we almost always stop at a particular spot to take a group photo. I have literally hundreds of these photos. 

On one of these rides, I was biking alongside my youngest. He is almost eight now. He looked over at me and asked, “Dad, would you rather bike ride or take a walk?” 

I told him right away, “I’d rather walk!”

He was puzzled. “Why would you rather walk?”

I told him, “Everything in this world happens so quickly… walking forces us to slow down, to be in the moment.” 

He thought for a second… “Would you rather ride bikes with us? Or walk by yourself?”

Without hesitation. “I’d rather ride bikes with you. Every time.”

He smiled ear to ear. “I know! You always want to be with us.”

He’s right.

If you made it this far then you may be wondering why I started with the Kevin Smith story, eh? Well, I was mowing my lawn and listening to the “Two Bears One Cave” podcast when Kevin Smith said that he realized his dad was a success as a family man. It was only seconds, but my life went into replay. All the things I just told you, and more, were in that replay. I found myself to be angry and disappointed with myself. I knew that I had lost. Life’s curveballs had already struck me out. I could never be that dad, that family man, that part of me core to my identity. I would never be—wait! My youngest and that ride came to mind. And then… jumping on the trampoline, playing cards, Victory Royale’s, Skillet Concerts, and so much more. 

“I know! You always want to be with us.”

There I was with my lawn mower spewing grass pieces all over and tears welling up in my eyes. Some part of me realized that I didn’t strike out yet. In fact, on a few of those pitches I hit home runs but never took the time to see it. That core part of my identity was intact and had never been lost. Despite what I had considered a less-than-ideal family situation, my kids are happy and know they are loved. That is success! 

Look… I know my life isn’t over. Well, I think so. I hope so… let me rephrase. I know Life still has some more curveballs planned. My life isn’t over and I’m still at bat. There’s surely another pitch coming soon and I’ll be ready for it. One thing I know now that I didn’t know before: I can hit a curveball! 

Batter UP!

-Kevin Risatti

V.I.P.

I don't want to sound cliché, and I know 79% of you already think this post is too long and have or will skip it, but... you are important! When you actually believe that, your life will change.

I hate flossing. I was always the person that lied when I went to the dentist. 

Hygienist: "Do you floss every day?" 

Me: "Yes [starting today]."

And that would last about 3 days on average.

A few years ago I realized that I'm important. That sounds silly, but like I said, I actually believed it this time. I realized that my kids look to me as an example for who they want (or don't want) to become. I realized that every relationship in my life had one common denominator: Me. I realized that day that I needed to invest in myself because I actually have an impact on my world. 

I decided that I was going to floss my teeth every day. 😬 Now, that wasn't the only thing I did, but I really hated flossing my teeth. For no good reason at all either. I made tooth flossing a personal barometer. If I didn't floss my teeth on any given day, then I would realize that I wasn't taking care of myself. Conversely, when I did floss my teeth, I consciously reminded myself that I was important and that this act proved that I was important to myself. 

It really is simple. Have you forgotten that you are important? Remind yourself.

Another thing I do is use Brut aftershave. Fun fact: I am bald by choice. I have hair and I actually have to shave my head at least every other day. That's a purposeful investment into myself. And after a clean shave, I like to put on Brut aftershave.

When I was a kid my dad would drive me 45 minutes to the barber that cut his hair as a kid. Not every haircut, but for special events or a treat, we went to that barbershop. He was the best. Every detail was like art to him. Crowds gathered just to hear him talk while he cut hair. He treated every person like they were the most important customer he had. When he was finished, he would take Brut aftershave and rub it on my ears and neck. That smell always reminds me of that experience. It reminds me that I'm important and deserve to be treated special.

So once a week, I take extra time to really get a nice clean shave. When I'm done, I take a generous helping of Brut and slap it all over my skull. The burn takes me back, and the smell brings old memories. 

My guess is that flossing or Brut aftershave don't do the same thing for you. I'm also pretty sure that you thought of something that always reminds you that you are important. May I encourage you? Would you remind yourself how much you are needed? Would you treat yourself important? 

I am. You are. Don't forget.

Talk About Blue

Sometimes I look at other people and wonder if they’ve had their, “How the hell did I get here?” moment yet. 

It was bitter cold. Like… Bitter. Fucking. Cold! Why the hell I chose to live in the midwest is beyond me. Oh yeah! “There are good jobs near Chicago.” Is that really a good reason to live where the literal air hurts my face every winter? Why not live in Arizona? *P.S. I found out that I don’t live in Arizona because:  scorpions and rattlesnakes. Fuck that. Nope!*

But here I am. The wind is blowing. A dust cloud blows past me. It was a puff of salt from a nearby parking lot. At least the businesses here don’t want me to slip on ice. The downside is that my shoes are getting eaten by the mounds of salt. But hey, better than performing Disney on Ice everytime I wanted something to eat. 

I made my way to a local Thai food place. It was quaint and our favorite place to eat out. They had limited hours but their food made your taste buds do gymnastics. We came here as often as we needed a “treat yo’self” moment. The indoor decor was a mix: leftover wall tiles from a previous Italian joint, a revamped industrial look across the ceiling, a shot of elegance at each table with an actual rose resting in a glass bowl, and the classic restaurant dining chairs. It was like an elegant hole in the wall. We loved it.

I keep saying we… Did I mention Jenn? We had been a “we” for about five years. Wait... yeah. I was twenty-five when we met. Would you believe me that we met on one of those apps? I don’t think she even was looking for someone. She was wearing a pink wig and giant wide rimmed nerdy glasses in her profile pic. She was tilting her head, smiling with her tongue out and flashing a peace sign. I know her picture was some kind of party picture or prank, but those eyes! She had ice blue eyes. So I swiped right.

Now, that was actually a "mistake". I should have read her profile. Ask any girl on any one of those apps, they hate it when a guy just swipes right without even reading their profile. I had made the first of many mistakes. Naturally, we didn’t organically match either. So I did what any stupid and desperate guy would do, make another, second mistake.

I started typing. “Hey! You look" -- annnnd I hit send accidentally. There were so many mistakes here but can I focus on one side tracked thingy… the dating apps completely suck for messaging. So BAD! I’ve literally sent the message “H” before because of fat fingering “send”. Could they at least give the option to review the message first? Most guys really should reconsider what they wrote anyway! Moving on…

A quick lesson to the guys reading this. Never start your conversation with just a “Hey”. Women hate this. It’s not the worst to start a sentence like that, but can you be at least a little creative? I’m not saying go all poetic and shit, but at least something a little different. Remember, you are trying to spark interest in someone that never met you. Be interesting! And secondly, related too, commenting on how she looks is usually frowned on by the woman. Not always, but frequently. If she's not interested in you, than whatever you think about the way she looks is creepy to her. Just saying. I have other dating advice, but you’ll have to buy my book. (I don’t have a book, I just always wanted to say that). 

Ten days later (I regretted my message every day between, I may have some slight anxiety) she texted me back. “Hey, you look too.”

I yelped. The message came right as I was “testing” my coffee to see if it was too hot. It was too hot, but I sipped and gulped when I heard the app’s notification. Clearly, I wasn’t the most popular male on the app. Getting any notification shouldn’t cause me to be that excited. But it did and I was. 

I was also confused as fuck regarding what to say back. I obviously made a mistake with my incomplete thought. but she responded so that was cool. She was playful too and not adversarial. Cool. Cool. Cool. And most of all, she responded so she must have been some kind of interest in me. I liked that thought! *sigh* I’m way ahead of myself.

Overthinking comes natural to me. It took me an hour to respond. No, I wasn’t doing the “Don’t respond right away… be busy… let supsense build a little” tactic that people say to do. Instead, I let my coffee get stone cold while debating with myself how to say something back. I went with, “Wow, we both look. 😆 Speaking of, did you see that sky today?” *send*

Well, that could go any number of ways. I mean. she could respond with just a “yes” which would basically be a blow off. She might really be into the sky so that could basically go any direction: sunsets, moonrises, stargazing, the Northern Lights, or even astrology. She might just completely ignore me because I'm a dork. Then again she just might--

“Yes! Talk about blue! 🤭” She answered right away! And best of all, she answered in the best possible way. She recognized his setup and responded accordingly. It was perfect. She totally finished the quote from The Emporers New Groove when Kronk was uncomfortable and trying to shift subjects. She was gold.

Then and now.

Diner

Getting my car worked on this morning. The waiting room is closed for covid. There's a diner just down the block so I'm waiting there.

Somehow eating at old diners makes me feel like a trip back in time. My eggs, rye toast, and sausage links came on a chipped platter. I shook a classic, glass bottle of Heinz ketchup over my crisp hash browns. The coffee had a familiar taste that I only can get from a old style restaurant.

The people here are fun too. Most of the people are older than me. A few folks I recognize from somewhere in town. The waitress is friendly and she brought my food instantly. The dominant conversation comes from the bar: "The Good Ol' Days".

A step back, a wider perspective, and slowing down always reminds me of the same thing: people don't really change. The world is changing quickly around us. Sometimes because technology, culture, or business seem to change so quickly we think we do too. I don't think we do.

"Hey [Jim], how's your brother doing?"

Family, friends, community, relationships, health... these things are important. There was plenty of complaining today in the conversations. Plenty of "kids these days" comments. A fair share of "I wish phones were never invented" followed by "look at this picture of my daughter" (whips out phone). Plenty of contradiction... but at the heart, people who care deeply about other people.

We sometimes struggle expressing how we feel. Sometimes we don't know how to say "I love you" or "I care about you", especially to people outside our family. Truthfully, our actions do speak louder. But when you do take time to listen, and you listen to the hearts of those speaking, people don't change much: we want to love and be loved.

And that is beautiful.

A Short, Part Two

What would it take to change a man?

The dead man woke.

The man was confused. How had he escaped death? What was this magic? Was this destiny or luck? Did he have no say in his life? He looked around. He saw evidence that the forces of good and evil had witnessed something here. What did they witness? His demise no doubt. Surely, they celebrated his destruction… so why was there breath in his lungs again?

The man’s eyes fell upon her, Chance. She was lovely. Just the look of her stirred an excitement within him. It was not the tingle of sexual pleasure, but rather the thrill of risk. The very air about her seemed alive with abandon. No apologies, she was herself. With just a glance, he knew that she was reason he lived.

Chance came to the man. Without even speaking, he understood now. She had offered him a chance. Surely, there was no guarantee that he would live again. His life was the result of her gamble on him. Did she win? Did she influence the game? He felt her yearning for him to use this opportunity for good. He knew her desire for him. He rose up and walked away. He would do what only he could. He would live his life anew.

The gods and devils knew nothing of the outlier’s risk. In their minds, the man was dead and the threat was gone. And maybe they were right, or maybe they were very wrong. Only time would tell.

It did not take long before there were rumors of a new man in town. He was an unusual sort. The risks this man took to help others was almost heroic! One day he could be found in the darkest alleys nursing the downtrodden to health. Another day he was found working harder than any other man in town, only to give his wages to feed the hungry. There was call for help, the man answered. There was a robbery in progress only to be thwarted by this unusual man. The orphans looked to him as a father. The widows felt the safety he provided. Where there was a need, he sought to meet it.

Chance smiled to herself. This was why she took risks!

For months this continued. Soon it was a year. After that, several years. The man always chose to give of himself to help those around him. The evil in that town was quiet. Peace and love were welcome and spread freely. The power of just one man!

A rumor spread amongst the devils. There was a town protected by a mysterious man who did only good. Some of the demons even claimed he was a god. Still, none dared risk entering the town themselves. The town itself seemed to emanate his presence. The people, the buildings, the streets, and the walls: they were all affected by this man. The feeling at it’s core was uncertainty. The darkness likes the power of knowing they can overtake their victims. They were not creatures that played variables.

There was one demon, one demon who could navigate uncertainty. She was mysterious and unchecked. She gave inspiration and craving to those she touched. She could create wild desire. When she set a fire, there was no escape. All who invited her to dine were overcome by her wine. She was Lust.

Lust ventured to the city. She announced her arrival immediately for she knew how to get the man’s attention. She walked through the city touching men, women, and children alike. She gave them lustful desires. She gave them permission to act as they please. She enticed them to do as they will without regard to the consequences or the person they acted upon. Theft, murder, rape, violence: the evil spread. The winds carried the cries of those affected and the devils heard the anguish. Many more devils began to mount their assault.

The man felt Lust’s presence. He would not allow his people, the people he protected, to fall prey to this evil. He purposed this in his heart. Still, Lust was stronger than his purpose and many people were falling as he made his way to Lust.

Lust was wildly entertained by an adulterous couple as the man approached her. He was unaffected by her power. So strong had he become that he was able to deflect her sphere of influence. He was more than a man. He was more.

He took her by force. He grabbed her long black hair and dragged her from the city. Her screams were a warning to the droves of evil approaching the city. As he pulled her away, her influence was drawn from the people of the city. She was no longer a seductive demon. She was afraid of this man. The rumors were true. There was a greatness guarding this city. This great man. He was unrestrained good. She could not bring him down. She was powerless against him. All the forces of evil were powerless against this…

Man? He was still a man. And no man can resist all evil.

Once outside the city the man flung her powerless form away. He cursed her. He cursed the evil that desired him. He proclaimed himself the protector of this city. He threatened all who trespassed. She heard him. She knew she could not seduce this man. He had control of himself. Or did he?

Lust looked at the man. Their eyes met. In that contact she offered him a piece of herself. It was not sexual lust. He would not succumb to the basic desires of man. She saw him as who he was. The protector. A man of power. She offered him something she had reserved for some time. She sent him the desire of Bloodlust.

The man felt something different. Almost a war within himself. He wanted to protect his people but he felt that the only way to do that would be to kill Lust. She must not come back. She couldn’t be allowed to exist. She must be extinguished. He walked slowly to her.

She looked into his eyes… Did accept her offer?

The man brought his full force down upon Lust. She could not resist his strength. She gave up immediately. Her spirit escaped her body without hesitation.

The man lifted himself and turned towards the city. He walked away from the demon’s lifeless form. He had defeated evil. He won. The taste of victory was on his lips. The taste was sweet and invigorating. The taste was success. The taste was blood, the blood of Lust herself. He savored it for a moment…

And the man wanted more.

A Short

There once was a man who had nothing left to lose.

I’d like to say we have all been there, but that’s not true. The taste of success is something you can only experience for yourself. Second hand victory can be inspiring. The telling of legends can birth greatness in souls of those who are searching. But when someone tastes success themselves, an insatiable desire consumes them. They are no more who they were. Things are different.

The man had tasted success. He reveled in it. His confidence soared. At first, he felt like he had found the food that fell from the table of the gods. As he won more victories he became a man who walked among gods. Soon he was that man no longer… but he himself became a god, demanding the worship of the gods he once sought to emulate. And the gods could not tolerate this.

With great power comes a greater conspiracy. The gods and goddesses joined with the dark forces to unleashed their combined fury on his soul. Side by side they worked against him. Love and Lust. Influence and Control. Satisfaction and Greed. Appetite and Gluttony. His downfall was planned, purposed, and pitiful.

The man lost everything. He was so busy, entertained by the seductions of the deities, that he didn’t notice the smoke over in a distant corner of his life. A spark had begun. His destruction was determined. The fire spread. His life’s work succumbed to the flames. His family consumed by the fires set by gods. His health suffered from the smoke of the fires eating at every part of his life. As quickly as it had begun, the fire snuffed itself out, but not until there was nothing left.

Desolate. There really is no other way to describe it. The man walked a busy street unnoticed by all who passed him. His eyes were empty. He walked no certain direction. He was going nowhere… because there was nowhere to go. He had lost everything dear to him. There was nothing left. His heart was dry. His passion was lost. He was all but dead.

That was when he realized he was still living. He still have one sliver of life left. With that sliver of life he found a purpose. He climbed to a great height and threw himself to the ground. This was his last great feat. His last moment of control. He could show the gods that he still had power even if the power was to end the only thing he had left.

He fell from the great height and his body connected with the unforgiving ground. That last sliver of life escaped his soul. He lay there, a man who lost everything.

The gods and demons walked past his lifeless form. A lesson had been taught! To elevate oneself above the powers of heaven and hell was foolish! This man would serve as an example to the rest of the mortal men and women. They left his body to rot.

All the gods and demons left him to decay and return to dust.

An outlier watched.

Her name was Chance. She couldn’t be a goddess. Her methods were too chaotic to be embraced by the clique of higher beings. She also wasn’t demon because despite her chaos, she wished for her ways to end with good. In her heart, she belonged to no one. She was wild and unrivaled. She took every opportunity to disrupt the expected. She spun every dial. She rolled every dice. She played every game. She hoped for the best, but the odds never swayed her.

She walked up to the man. He was just a shell now. She wondered… What if she gave him a chance to do it all again. What would happen? Would he ruin it all again? Would he find the same path and run full speed down it again? Would he learn from his past and pursue a life of humility or pride? Would he learn to love? Would he learn to give?  Would he choose good, evil, or maybe find the best of both? Would he become an outlier too and give others a chance? Could a man who had nothing more to lose even accept the chance to live once more?

Chance walked up to him and knelt beside him. She leaned over his lifeless form and pressed her lips to his. She breathed into his lungs. She filled his soul with the best she could offer: a piece of her essence, a part of her chaos, just one single chance.

And the dead man woke…

Finding Beauty

I think many creative people are familiar with Steven Pressfield and his book, The War of Art. In his book he describes the unseen force that stifles the creative spirit and names it “Resistance”. Resistance comes between the artist and the art. Resistance becomes the unseen obstacle in every situation. Resistance is a bitter enemy, but one who can be conquered. Any person doing any sort of creative endeavour should become well acquainted with this book. 

Recently, I met with Resistance. He is actually sitting at the table next to me right now. He’s tossing unrelated thoughts into my head. He’s stirring emotions of self doubt. Just a few minutes ago he was on an unholy tirate belittling my work and stealing my confidence. *pause… I’m adjusting…* Yes. I just politely told Resistance to get lost and kicked him outside. He’ll be back… but in the meantime I’d like to tell you how we met again most recently. 

For several weeks I was enjoying everything but my Art. There were a few times I dabbled with art, but for the most part, I kept to myself. I was creating my Art, but just for myself and occasionally allowing a few select to see. Then Confidence came to visit me.

Confidence came. He is not a bad as some people would like to make him out. In fact, most people find Confidence attractive. It’s Over Confidence (his twin brother) that people don’t like and the two get confused sometimes. So Confidence came by and we talked. He shared some thoughts and I started to feel maybe I should share my Art with others. I liked this.

Confidence stuck around for a little while. We shared some Art and Confidence commented to me that it was great stuff and that a lot of people would respond. While Confidence and I were brewing some coffee, Resistance snuck through the back door. 

Resistance did what he does best: stupid shit. He hid my computer. He misplaced my keys. He changed my schedule. He created questions, inspired fear, and resurfaced old doubts. He went on a rampage distracting me from everything I was supposed to do. I pushed back. He pushed harder. He began distracting those around me. He brought interference. He launched a war against my creative soul and something terrible happened: I lost sight of Beauty. 

Beauty is necessary to the human soul. Beauty brings Inspiration and Wonder to visit your heart. Beauty creates a welcome place for Peace and Tranquility. I was blind to Beauty and I could see nothing beautiful. 

Soon Resistance began to bring friends to visit. Darkness took place in my soul. Cynicism began to carve out a corner in my mind. Fear came to reign horror in my heart. Resistance was doing his job and my Art suffered.

I am no superhero, I’m just an artist. This artist chose to fight for his Art rather than let Resistance steal it away. Each day I pushed back against Resistance hoping to knock him down. Each day we fought. I got tired. I almost gave in to Resistance, but I kept fighting. 

Along came Sunday. This Sunday, I was able to find Beauty again and to see the beautiful moment she inspired. It was breathtaking. Resistance couldn’t keep up. Beauty won. Art was inspired again and created again. A difficult victory has been won. I know it’s not forever… Resistance will be attacking again, but this time I have at least one “W” in my book. I can beat him again. 

This brings me to now. I just kicked out Resistance. I’m here to share my Art with those who choose to see it. I’m hoping to inspire others like I have been inspired. And I hope to offer a word of both caution and encouragement:

You will be challenged. You will be stomped. You will have your world turned around on you. Resistance will stop at nothing to bring you down. You will be told your Art is not worth it. And your challenger will be a liar. They will always be wrong. You can do it. You can create your Art. You can express yourself. We need to hear from you.

As for me… I know the war isn’t over, but I’m happy to see Beauty again and to create my Art.

Thanks for joining me. 

-Kevin

The Good Ol’ Days

A fond memory of mine is the teenage summers I spent detasseling corn. I'd tell you about the people I met, the friends I made, and the money I earned. 

After my first summer in the corn, my brother and I pooled our money together to buy a three-wheeler. My first time driving that ATC ended with crash into the roadside ditch. We drove that machine all across the country roads surrounding our house. It was a great investment and a lot of fun.

My brother is the funner of us two. He came up with what became a classic joke and game of ours: who can walk out of the porta-pot the coolest. Our squad took turns trying to make the coolest exits from the grossest place we knew. I still do this every time I walk out of a mobile dropzone. 

I made some friends that are still my friends. Each summer we jumped in a car, usually before the crack of dawn, and crossed the countryside in search of that day's field. We hit the Mountain Dew early and cranked the radio up to blast. We walked up and down fields for hours and talked until we knew more about each other than we could remember.

One day I'll never forget, it was (until recently) the most consecutive hours I had worked: nearly 14. That day we started early and went from field to field. We knocked out several smaller jobs and kept going. At the very end of the day, we stopped at Casey's and got snacks because we were famished. I remember getting home, being gone for about 16 hours, and my mom and dad saying, "Happy Birthday". I think I had some cake… but I just remember going to bed. 

The truth is, I loved detasseling. But the truth is also, it wasn't the always good days.

One day everything went wrong. Literally everything. By the end of the day, our squad deemed the day, "National Suck Day". Sometimes in late June/ early July, when I have an especially sucky day, I wonder if my friends are experiencing National Suck Day with me still to this day.

Everyday started wet from either dew or rain. Everyday we got muddy from the mixture of dew and dirt or pure mud. Everyday ended either wet from sweat or rain. It was here, the necessity for a quality deodorant was ingrained into me.

Three days into my first season, my dad found me crying in our barn. I refused to go back. I was distraught. It was the hardest I had ever worked. The people (not my friends yet) were new and I didn't like them. Mud. Sun. Blisters. Chaffing.  Sunburn. Exhaustion. Corn cuts. Blood. He told me I had to finish. I was not happy.

I think it was my third year, it had rained the night before, we were all standing around in the mud waiting for our boss to tell us what to do. My boss told us to gather around quick. She slowly began to tell us that one of our friends/coworkers had gotten into a car accident and died. A few days later we went to a funeral. 

When I look back on the good ol' days, I find that those memories are intertwined with struggle, hardship, hurts, misery, and discomfort. That's not all.  There is laughter, friendship, love, and growth too. Somehow the laughs came harder after a long day sweating in the sun. The friendship grew stronger after the shared tears from losing a comrade. The strength, determination and resolve of some young adults were forged under the sun, through the mud, and amidst the razorlike leaves of corn. It is in these times of shared difficulty that forever memories were made.

That's not to say I enjoyed the difficulty at the moment. We rarely see how hardship forms us. Too often people give up at the onset of tough times and never get to see the fruits of their labor. They don't get to remember the good times that weren't good at the time but became good because of the growth that came from it.

We come to times of struggle. We come to times that test our strength. We come to times that we feel we are at our natural limit. We come to those times to grow and by growing we will break free from the struggle: conquering it. Sometime later we may be able to look back and see that battle and remember with fondness the time we persevered and won. We get to enjoy the sweetness of victory. 

Because what do we enjoy more? A glass of water at meal time? Or a glass of water after push mowing the lawn in the middle of summer's wrath? It's the difficulty, the challenge, the opposition that make the reward sweet. 

It's the hard times that make the good ol' days the best memories to share.

-Kevin Risatti

Growth

If I Could Change Anything

In my previous entry, I explained what I feel to be a secret to enjoying life. Really, it's no secret. Many people have said it many ways. My way to say it is this: allow yourself to feel the moment you are in.

Not far from that line of thinking, I submit another.

I've been asked, "If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be?"

My answer is always the same.

Many people will look back to a job opportunity that they passed up. Some will tell you a story of a failed romantic relationship. A lot of people will relate to a loved one lost. Sometimes people will start explaining about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. "I wish I said." "If I only would have done ___" " I just want them to know." " I would have been a great ____." 

For me, my answer is always "nothing".

I really don't want to change anything about my life experience. Call me what you want: arrogant, privileged, inexperienced, oblivious, or blinded. You can argue that I'm wrong and that's "ok" with me. I simply believe that if anything had been different in my life up to this point, I actually wouldn't be at this point and I don't know at what point I would be.

Allow me to borrow from Marvel's Loki for a minute… In the Disney+ series Loki, the self-titled Asgardian God of Mischief discovers that the Saced Timeline (accepted/orchestrated recorded existence of all things for all time) is managed by the Time Variance Authority. This TVA scours the Timeline searching for activities or people that would cause the course of history to vary from the path set before it. Should the TVA discover an event that would alter history, their job is to go to that point in time and re-adjust the events and set the timeline back on course. Only the accepted past, present, and future will be allowed to remain. (There is much more. The show is fantastic. Watch it. I want more.)

I do approach my personal life in a similar perspective. I believe that I have come to where I am because literally millions of decisions have been made and the result of those decisions brought me to typing up words into my phone to post to a self named website. And I wouldn't be doing exactly what I am doing now if I had made different choices or someone else hadn't made their choices. There are more than just my choices involved. People I don't know have made choices today that affected me and brought me here. Expand that, there are people who made choices years before I was born that put into place the events that would lead to me being in this moment. 

What if we changed those events?

I wouldn't be here.

Another timeline story to watch "11.22.63". This show staring James Franco and based off a Stephen King novel is an exciting thought experiment surrounding someone who was convinced they could go back in time to prevent the Kennedy assassination. A great story to enjoy!

There are so many moments in our life that bring us to where we are. Most of the moments that stick out in our mind as life defining moments could not be erased from our life without drastic changes to who we are as a person. For this reason, I also try not to "forget" experiences. Neither good nor bad. I try to only forget what is natural, but not to force myself to forget.

This example might not be the best, but I'll try it anyway. Our mind can't retain everything we experience. Some things we naturally forget. What we ate for breakfast 6 weeks ago. What color shoes we wore on the second week of 5th grade. We forget these things. But some things we should not forget. These things, like it or not, have shaped us. When we forget those things we lose a peice of ourselves and begin to forget what made us into who we are and we can soon forget who we are.

Because of this perspective I would not change anything in my life. Instead, I choose to feel the joy or pain of my experiences and allow myself to remember with fondness or heal over time from those events. I won't choose to forget. I won't worry if I made the right choice. I won't change anything that already happened. 

I will look to the future and hope to make the best choices I can based off the experiences I've had up to this point. I will hope to shape the best outcome for my future and appreciate the past that brought me to this present.

I am not a therapist. Not a doctor. I'm not here to tell you how to live. I'm simply saying that this is how I've chosen to live and experience my life. And for this reason, I'd change nothing.

-Kevin Risatti

The Secret to Living a Full Life

No matter how much we plan and no matter how much effort we put into creating our future, some things are out of our control. Certain things will happen. Our attempts at avoidance are futile.

I was walking a nature path and saw a massive tree trunk sitting midstream of a shallow river. The tree lay on it's side completely displaced. One might wonder how it came to rest here, but there were other indicators of a flash flood so there was no mystery. This giant came to its resting place via a surge of rushing rainwater. 

The tree had no business in this place. Yet here it was. This tree couldn't stop the rain from falling and it couldn't keep the floods from rising. Once afloat, the tree couldn't stop or steer itself. The tree had no choice but to accept this wild ride.

Perhaps you can relate to this tree. Maybe you made plans, worked hard to see those plans become reality, and sat in shock as "life happened" bringing you to a place you never saw coming. Or maybe you just sang Hakuna Matata and determined to "let come what may" so this new place means little to you. Then again, perhaps you woke up one day and said, "How the hell'd I get here?" 

None of those thoughts relate? What about this… have you ever wondered what your life could have been? Where your life could have went? If you are on the right track or behind? Or, if you are missing something in life? Missing something you should have experienced? 

I have. There was a time, not so long ago, that I felt like I lost a period of my life. I was upset. And I felt like I had missed out on what was mine. My experience was lost. A heavy darkness covered my heart and I knew I was missing out. I couldn't see past that darkness to rediscover the joy of living. I was in the wrong place, a place I didn't belong. 

Maybe an overshare… but maybe you can relate. 

During this time, I was reminded of a passage in the book of Ecclesiastes (A part of the Bible, Old Testament) in which it describes various seasons and times of life:

To everything there is a season,

A time for every purpose under heaven:

A time to be born,

And a time to die;

A time to plant,

And a time to pluck what is planted;

A time to kill,

And a time to heal;

A time to break down,

And a time to build up;

A time to weep,

And a time to laugh;

A time to mourn,

And a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones,

And a time to gather stones;

A time to embrace,

And a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to gain,

And a time to lose;

A time to keep,

And a time to throw away;

A time to tear,

And a time to sew;

A time to keep silence,

And a time to speak;

A time to love,

And a time to hate;

A time of war,

And a time of peace.

This is a beautiful piece of literature. It's simplicity is poetic. It's depth is staggering. It's meaning is plain to most readers.

For many years, and from many people, I've heard this excerpt explained to people experiencing difficulty accordingly: "This is your season of difficulty. This is your time of darkness. Never fear, the morning will come and your season of hope will rise!" 

It's a good thought. It sounds nice. In fact, maybe I'll make a "Thinking of You" card with that on it…

But this interpretation is also fancy words with shallow thoughts. I don't think the author meant for his passage to be interpreted this way. In fact, I feel that the author wanted to give his reader a key thought about life. The man was Solomon, some credit him to be the wisest man to ever live. This is believed to be written by him as he neared the end of his life. Here we have the wisdom of an old man and I doubt his thought was just, "Life has seasons that suck… just hold out till the next season."

I think there was more in his heart. I think that Solomon meant for his reader to realize that their life would be full of seasons, and if they want to experience the fullness of their life, they would need to allow themselves to feel each season as it comes. Think of it this way: 

To everything there is a season,

A time for every purpose under heaven:

A time to be born, so celebrate life!

And a time to die; and grieve with those who lost,

A time to plant, so plant!

And a time to pluck what is planted; work, work, work!

A time to kill, duty demands it.

And a time to heal; rest when needed.

A time to break down, leg day...

And a time to build up; protein baby!

A time to weep, so let yourself cry.

And a time to laugh; laugh and laugh and laugh.

A time to mourn, so mourn.

And a time to dance; and dance like nobody is watching!

A time to cast away stones, skip away!

And a time to gather stones; leave the landscaping stones there!

A time to embrace, we all need a hug.

And a time to refrain from embracing; not at work.

A time to gain, Thanksgiving!

And a time to lose; New Years :(

A time to keep, protect your memories! 

And a time to throw away; let go of negativity.

A time to tear, rip it!

And a time to sew; A stitch in time...

A time to keep silence, not a word!

And a time to speak; Speech!

A time to love, Love one another.

And a time to hate; hate evil.

A time of war, Not in my house!

And a time of peace, namaste!

The last thing Solomon needs is my jokes added to his wisdom… but my point is simply this: to everything there is a time and season; live and experience that time and season when it comes.

There are times of darkness. Allow yourself to feel that darkness. To know it. Realize it's there for this time and it's a part of your story. It's not here forever, but for now…

Who knows what's next? Maybe laughing? Feel that joy, let your laugh be real, and allow yourself to belly laugh (or snort).

The birth of a baby? The rush! The diapers! The drooling! The sleepless nights! The first tooth! The first words! The first time they repeat you swearing… feel the joy, the sleepiness, and the embarrassment of those moments. 

Life was meant to be experienced. Our life is ours only. Nobody else is exactly like us, and nobody else has the same experiences or perspectives. Allow yourself to feel the good and the bad. Some tragic moments will happen to us. When that happens, we can feel the natural emotions that come. Allow ourselves to grieve. Let this experience shape us and open the door to the next season in it's time. It would be unwise to compare our experience to other's, seeking to determine if our life is better or worse than theirs… Our life is ours alone, and we were given it to experience it for ourself.

When we can get to the point that we are willing to experience and feel each season and time of life, then we will be able to live life to the fullest. I believe this is what Solomon wanted us to learn.

I believe in working to make the best life for myself. I seek to make good decisions and prepare for difficult times that are inevitable. But I can't control the future. I can't stop a flood from dragging me away and placing me where "I don't belong". The unexpected will happen in its season. That time will come. And when I'm dragged away from where "I'm supposed to be" and dropped in a different spot… I'll be there. I'll continue living. I'll recognize a new season and experience what comes. For this, I propose, is the "ancient secret" to living a full life.

-Kevin Risatti

introduction

Change.

It is human. It is natural.

We are all subject to change. It is beyond our control.

We can fight change and lose. Or we can accept change and adapt.

Welcome.