It’s been six weeks since my last post. According to my original timeline, I should have completed the project five weeks ago. It was ten weeks ago that I found out about what happened to her. It’s been ten weeks since I learned my daughter had been the victim of a very serious physical assault at the hands of her then boyfriend. It’s been ten weeks since I felt remotely close to being “myself.”
He went to jail. My daughter is safe and recovering from the trauma. I have been through a lot in my life, but nothing as horrifying as what she went through. I wish I could have traded her places and spared her the pain. I have never felt so much rage or sorrow in my life. I have never experienced such deep feelings of utter futility and inadequacy.
On the other hand, I am in awe of Hannah’s resilience and at the way everyone has come forward to voice their support for her. I would like to thank the Salt Lake County D.A.’s office and the fine men and women of the South Jordan police department. This is the first time in my life that everyone has surpassed my expectations and acted on behalf of someone I loved to the best of their abilities.
Hannah and I would not have made it through these last ten weeks without the constant support from my parents, my siblings (especially Nan and Erika), our friends, and most of all, Hannah’s dad, Shaun.
Next week Hannah leaves for the summer away with my family. She’ll be spending time with people who love her and can help her to accomplish some of the goals she’s laid out for herself. I will be resuming my quest to “shuck the superfluous shit.” I will miss her terribly, and it may prove to be too much — who knows, maybe I’ll join her — but for now, I am happy for her. I am so proud of her. She is becoming the woman she was meant to become.
And to Hannah, I love you. Be safe. Be brave. Be joyful. — love, mom.
I am going to get a big Mason Jar. Like the ones my mom ket raisins in. They had about a one gallon capacity. I am going to invite Hannah to join me in writing down all our hopes and dreams to put in the jar with any change in our pockets at the end of the day. Sound fun? It does to me.
And one last thing. We CAN’T FORGET to keep on laughing!!
You never know who you might be sitting next to in an English class in High School.
I have a friend who tells stories. That’s not all he does, but his story telling is what has him on my mind this month. As you know, I have been writing and talking a LOT about telling the truth. Not just telling the truth about who left the apartment building door ajar, but telling YOUR truth. Your stories. Your experiences.
Matt Holdaway has always marched to the beat of his own drum. I can still see him loping down the halls of our high school in Rexburg, Idaho, dressed in black. He wore black before black was cool. He was a “New Waver” in a town of cowboys. He was cheerful in a school full of overly serious teens. His easy laugh, which borders on a giggle, was infectious.
Fast forward 20 years and it is Matt Holdaway who makes the greatest effort to keep all us misfit toys from Rexburg together. He flies through Salt Lake on his way to visit his dad and makes sure we all get together. I know he does the same once he reaches that Idaho burg of frozen windswept wasteland.
Matt holds a special place in my teenage heart. He took a picture of me playing the flute in Temple Square, 1990, which, to this day, I believe is the prettiest photo ever taken of me. It captures exactly who I was and how I felt — innocent and sad. He is also one of the few friends I have who ever got to meet my Grandmother Bates. I love her so much, for some reason its comforting he met her.
After high school, most of us misfits from Idaho relocated to the “big city,” AKA, Salt Lake City. Matt started a magazine. It was really more of a booklet of photocopies stapled together. He would print stories, artwork, songs and more that his friends had created. He printed a couple of my songs. The rags were called, “A Multitude of Voices.” As far as I know, he still produces them.
He would also organize huge events he called “A Night of Voices.” The lineup for the evenings would include everything from pantomime to poetry. Looking back, it was a hell of thing to pull off for a kid from Rexburg, newly transplanted in Salt Lake. He was my artistic conscience a lot of the time. I know I was more aware of being truthful in my songwriting when I knew he’d be listening.
Eventually Matt moved to the Bay Area. We haven’t been the kind of friends who check in on each other weekly, monthly or even yearly, but we are true friends. And here is why he is the Most Interesting Man I Know:
Matt tells stories. He doesn’t simply relate an anecdote. He spins a good yarn. When Matt tells a story, everyone within earshot is caught up in it. He is HILARIOUS.
Matt loves people. He loves to find interesting people and introduce them to each other. He has found the ultimate vehicle for this with his weekly radio show, “Radio Voices” which is broadcasted at 104.1 fm on Sundays from 2pm to 4pm in San Francisco, Oakland and Berkeley. You can also tune in via the web.
Matt lives and works in a digital world, but his brain is analog. To that end, his life is indexed and annotated manually. He has the most elaborate, yet simple, method of keeping track of his wild machinations. I fear revealing the specifics of his secret will leave him vulnerable to attack, though, so I will refrain.
Matt is a super hero. (Hence my reticence to divulge his method of organization) He is Storm Shadow of the California Cobras. Watch closely, or you’ll miss him. That’s how ninja-like he is:
Matt does all this AND holds down a real-life, actual, career-type, job-job.
So, yeah, Matt’s pretty f***ing cool. But what do I REALLY love about Matt? What is the thing that makes him the Most Interesting Man I Know? He tells the truth. Always. To everyone. He’s not afraid of what the truth will do to anyone. And he does it with a pure heart. Maybe mischievous. Sometimes salacious. but never malicious.
I have been preoccupied, as of late, with what to do next. This 101 day project is coming to a close, for better or for worse, in just 13 days. (Look for big updates!) With all I’ve been ruminating on truth, excess, healthy habits and letting go, I’ve been at a loss as to which of my interests will bare the closest scrutiny. What “voice” of mine is the loudest? As of today, I have finally decided.
At the end of this 101 day project I will close this site and leave it as a standalone reminder of a journey I took to remember who I really was. The blog I will begin, on the first day of spring, will be about The Truth. I will tell my truth. I will ask others to tell theirs. I will talk about what “truth” means. I hope to discuss with everyone the truth about control, habits, possessions and love. I hope this can be done largely through stories. I’m going to need help, but I’m excited.
So THANK YOU, Matt Holdaway, for being such a good friend, for always telling the truth and for helping me find the next step on my path. You rule. Gooooooooooooo, Bobcats!
700 times down this trip before–
Different Destination.
Same Damn Thing.
But I’ve changed my name, or my
shirt…
Or maybe it’s the spilled coffee that did it.
Or maybe I’m the power &
Louder & Closer & Further
away.
From the Depot or the outlet or the end.
700 times down this hill before.
Different form of
locomotion.
Will the spot we end up put us right where we were–
with the nets and the bats and the
referees?
or will this road go somewhere
where the orange and the blue and the hues don’t
melt
to brown.
She said that.
Not quite that way, but that’s what she meant and
700 times down this river before. but maybe
oh maybe
I won’t be swallowed up.
Maybe I’ll be followed and hallowed like
Jesus
or Buddha or…
Maybe there are just too many of us–
fighting & Biting & Groping & Hoping for
Love.
or a Chance.
700 times up this WALL before.
but Maybe, just Maybe
this time’s Different from the last
or the first
or the worst
in a group of contestants and I
NEVER SIGNED UP.
At least I never meant to– but there I go with the
Banner and the Crown.
Keep it together. Keep It together.
700 times in this boat before–
or was it smaller then, with more
holes
and more tolls and more reasons to stay
aground.
Instead I’m battling and paddling as hard as I can…
till the blood
Just
stops.
And the moths cover the lights every summer no matter what You do.
700 Miles and 2 left to go. Could be 3, could be more.
When I get there should I
keep. on. driving?
Or do I stop and get out-
stretch my legs and my
heart.
Cut your gift or just sit — on the grass. This place.
So familiar, but I always go back. to the moment,
or the house, or to you.
700 times in this spot before… perched precariously on the ledge.
The sign says “no jumping” but look at those
people.
down below.
swimmingandsplashingandlaughingand
more…
700 times up this tree before
like a
cat.
A Cat whose just waiting to be saved, then scratches and bites at its savior…
It’s like being afraid of the Dentist even though you know it won’t hurt…
or at least it won’t hurt
that
much.
700 times in this swing before–
going back and forth between lives–
But i start to think I’ve been chained to this swing,
Nailed to its Cross Braces,
Glued to its seat.
Believing when hearing, “You’re much too important to come down off that swing, much too valuable to be walking!” or
running or driving or rising
UP. OUT. ABOVE
this ridiculous playground.
700 times on this roof before
shouting Nonsense to those below.
Screaming swear words and trying to Sing… like
Billie.
but the Holliday’s aren’t here. It’s not time for
breaking out the silver and the
Great
Big
Guns.
700 times at this fork in the road.
or was it a knife?
Because that’s what it felt like when it happened.
The Pain of Decision or In-Decision.
And still they INSIST on making all that noise outside.
700 times in this skin before–
But it’s tougher and rougher and
softer
than before. Or at least more determined to
Push off these shores and find more.
The following post comes from a very sweet blogger named Mara Kofoed. She and her husband, Danny, have documented their love story for the rest of us. I am posting this for my daughter and for all the other teenage girls out there. Their whole love story is inspiring, but the following insights she shares are of particular importance. I believe that if any person in any relationship (besides parent child) depends on the other for their happiness, it is not only unfair, but doomed from the beginning. This is post #2 in a series she calls, “The Most Important Things I’ve Ever Learned (About Love). Enjoy!
The Most Important Things I’ve Ever Learned (About Love) – #2
Here are some more notes on what I’ve learned about love. This stuff has changed my life (!) and if applied very literally, I am confident it can change yours, too.
You ready for this? It’s a lot to absorb. But in the weeks following my first husband’s departure, it was this nitty gritty that caused strangers on the streets of New York to stop me and tell me that I was “glowing” and “radiant”. (I wanted so badly to tell them the real reason why…)
To really show a healthy kind of love to your spouse, children, parents, family, coworkers, or friends, your emotional well-being cannot be dependent on them. The source of your wholeness & your security as a person needs to be based on something else. For me, the ups and downs of my well-being used to hinge on the love or affection from my husband, or my husband’s (or my own) approval of my looks, or the status of my baby-making, or on the goal of one day having a successful business. I know what it’s like to not have any of those things and to feel pretty miserable about it. But now, I know better. And so, instead of basing my deepest happiness & well-being on my husband or unborn children, I get my strength & healing from tapping into what I know to be the most powerful force of goodness & love & strength for all: being at one with God. That’s a pretty tall order. But it’s available to me at ALL times, no matter what my circumstances are. Until I was 30, I had no clue how to really do this. It turns out that anything religious didn’t really mean a whole lot to me before then. But in a desperate state, I decided to give it a go & see what would happen. I tried to feel that oneness every single day, and that’s when the really, really deep & independent peace started. And one of the best consequences of this? Now having the sweetest marriage I could ever imagine. 🙂
When your real, deep peace is not dependent on your husband or kids, you remove that pressure from them to constantly satisfy you. Know any moms or dads that hang their own personal happiness & well being around their children’s necks and display deep inadequacy/disappointment/depression if their kids do not fulfill all their dreams of perfection? Or, do you know any wives that are miserable because their husbands don’t “fulfill” them in all the ways that they want to be fulfilled? I see it all the time. No matter how it’s done, if someone is basing their own personal happiness on the behavior of another, no matter how much they think they love that person, they are actually not showing love at all. Instead, they’re loading on an unhealthy amount of pressure, which can be felt for a lifetime. I know way too many adults that sadly STILL feel inadequate or unsure of themselves, due to the pressure of their mothers or fathers.
Loving this way, I am certain, is what we call “unconditional love.” I know firsthand that there is NOTHING BETTER THAN THIS. I learned how to love in this way and applied it to some of the most challenging experiences of my life. I had never felt more powerful, happy, confident and well. I am convinced it is the most important thing we could master in this life. And learning to master this more & more everyday is truly the greatest endeavor of my life.
I would LOVE to hear what you all think about this….and I’d especially love to hear if anyone has seen these principles working in their lives or in their marriages.
-MK
P.S. If you ever get the opportunity to attend a huge concert in the Great Lawn in Central Park, just do it. We saw the Black Eyed Peas on Friday night and despite not even being fans of the group AND despite the rain, there was something just awesome about being in that park with 60,000 people.
This simply stunning 2,153 square-foot home called La Petite Bastide is located close to the village of Lourmarin in Provence, France. The gorgeous 36-acre estate features an enclosed courtyard to protect it’s inhabitants from the elements, vineyards and olive groves, with planted cyprus trees, figs, pines and wide open views of the magnificent Luberon mountain ranges. This historical five bedroom, three bathroom residence has been restored to its natural grandeur with simplicity of style, using only natural materials of stone, lime, concrete, wood and linen. Via
I am documenting my 101-day challenge to shuck the superfluous shit, divorce the drama, free the fat and accomplish my goal of "Excess Emancipation." I will “put to rout that which is not life” or which is not me. I am on a journey to let go of the excess fat, junk, financial mess and leftover emotional baggage once and for all. I choose simplicity, truth and freedom instead.
Excess Emancipation 
You must be logged in to post a comment.