My father was a car mechanic. When I was a kid, he tried to teach me all about cars, but I wasn’t very interested. After a while, he might have thought he was wasting his time, but one of his lessons stuck with me. I think about it every day. Continue reading
Hurting sucks. You’ll want to move on. Before you can, you’ll need to know where to go. What is it that you want, exactly?
If your wife has been sleeping with another man, you might not know how to heal. It’s not like she can undo what she did or that you can unknow it. What’s done is done. You find it hard to trust and a persistent image keeps popping into your mind whenever you go to kiss her. You try to imagine feeling the same about her as you once did, but you can’t get there from here. It seems like the roads have all been closed and a confusing array of detour signs are sending you every which way. [Click here to read more]
Some things are not worth complaining about; but many of the things that are, are never addressed. For every person who carps about every little thing there’s another person who stuffs his indignation. Sometimes it’s the same person who carps and stuffs; complaining about a hundred little things that don’t matter while he’s silent about the things that do.
To help you decide what to complain about, I have a formula. It goes like this:
All the crap – All your crap – Your feelings + (Your values/2 x His promises) = Things to complain about.
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Before you shoot up that drug, take that drink, put up with that bad relationship, or think about what you need, click here and watch the Wizard of Oz.
You’ve probably seen the Wizard of Oz a hundred times, but you didn’t know it was about you. The movie’s about believing in yourself when there’s nothing else you can believe in. Continue reading
The audio version of my second novel, Intersections, came out last week, thanks to the vocal work of Pete Ferand. I’ve been given some free copies to distribute. Fill out this form and I will send you a free copy of Intersections for as long as they hold out.
What is Intersections about? Well, go on the road with Larry, a suicidal psychotherapist, and find out. Middle-aged and obese, divorced and estranged from his children, Larry lives in a garden apartment with no garden, in a city with a rotten core. He hears that his daughter is getting married and sets off across the country, ambivalently seeking restoration amid scraps of long-distance fatherhood. He encounters an amorous nursing home death cat, a serendipitous Rastafarian, a drunken Katrina refugee who just might be an incarnation of a Voodoo god, and a murderous mountaineer who teaches him how to let go. He reconnects with his daughter who is terrified of being herself except when she steps onto a tennis court. He’s transformed by a series of spiritual discoveries that proffer insight about life’s fundamental questions. Intersections takes unexpected turns on a journey from despair to re-enchantment, from loneliness to reconciliation, from the carnal to the transcendent and back again.
Not everything is your fault. In fact, most things are not your fault; you had nothing to do with them. You didn’t ask to be born to these people or at this time or this place, at least so far as we know. You didn’t invent the language you speak. You didn’t have a choice about your genetics, nor your early childhood experiences, nor ninety-nine percent of the experiences you have now. You might have chosen the person you married, but you chose him from a very limited field of possibilities. Unless you adopted and are remarkably prescient, you didn’t choose your children.
You don’t know all the consequences your actions will bring before you set them into motion. If you didn’t have that second cup of coffee and left your house ten minutes earlier, you might have been hit by that truck that barrel-assed through an intersection with no brakes. If you had a third cup and left twenty minutes later, you wouldn’t have been caught in traffic caused by the accident and would have gotten to work on time. There is no such thing as a fully informed choice.
Because of all this, many people say we don’t have free will. They claim everything is completely determined by neurochemicals and the accidents of particularity. Well, maybe they’re right. It could be that you’re entirely blameless. Even if you’re the biggest jerk on the planet, it’s not your fault, it’s your genes’. But, here’s the thing:
You may be blameless, but you’re still responsible. Continue reading