They climb in the car and slowly back out of their driveway. Brynn and I stand at the edge of ours, as she tightly clenches my hand and tears run down her face. We wave and cry as her very first friends drive away, never to come back. They are moving across the country. I grab Brynn and pick her up. She sobs. At just a few months passed four years old, she is experiencing her first heartbreak. “Why do... Read more
There is no reason to be alive if you cannot do the deadlift. -Jon Pall Sigmarsson Whenever I teach my dharma students, new and old, about the path, they often find my analogies amusing, unorthodox, and sometimes, crazy. That being said, I am from a crazy wisdom tradition and teaching in unusual methods is what we do. We take the everyday, the unusual, the off center approach in order to reach people where they are, both emotionally and physically. When... Read more
Brynn holds up the picture in front of her, it’s caption reads, “Brynn’s first day at preschool, Sept 9th, 2015.” I snap a picture of her dimpled and smiling face and auburn curls. As soon as I am done, she drops it and runs for the door, “Let’s go daddy, we gonna be late!” I laugh a little and chase after her. I make a few last minute attempts to straighten the mess of locks adorning her head and she... Read more
“Daaaaaaddy!” It’s 2.a.m and her crying rouses me from much needed sleep. I rush up the stairs and open her door. “Daddy..” Her cry has turned into a whimper. She snorts, trying to breathe through a clogged nose and the frustration of not being able to breathe makes her break out into more sobs. I grab the menthol plug in and place it next to her bed and sit down with her, box of Kleenex in hand. “Try and blow... Read more
The rain hits the concrete steps outside the door with a soft rhythmic pattern. It is almost mesmerizing in its simple even cadence. Lightening rushes across the darkened sky and thunder follows—large deep spirits drumming the sky. The earth shakes with its intensity, and my daughter and the dog rush into my lap. “I scared of the thunder, Daddy!” Her little arms wrap around my neck and she buries her face into my chest; the dog rolls up into a... Read more
Post Traumatic Church Syndrome…hmmm, this sounds vaguely familiar to be honest. I took the book out of the box, read the reviews and cringed. Eat, Pray, Love was not my cup of tea and this was probably going to be the same thing. Harsh judgments tend to lead us into our own blind spots and my judgments are little different. By page seven, though, I was hooked as she mentioned one little item that jumped out of my religiously fervent... Read more
The ultimate truth is beyond words. Doctrines are words, they are not the way. Bodhidharma I roll over in bed as the pitter patter of tiny feet wake me up. I hear a rustling, the sliding door open, the shuffle of sleepy feet dragging across the carpeted floor and then I see a small head—matted in bright red curls—peek around the corner. “Good morning, Daddy!” She runs to the bed and makes a flying leap. Curling up next to me... Read more
As Brynn and I trudged through the metroparks today, I became enraptured within the welcoming silence and beauty of the snow covered forest. As I stood in awe I noticed a shared silence. My three year old, usually boisterous and always at a volume level 10, was silent. I turned to look and to my delight, she was staring in the same wondering manner, as I. We gazed up at the mighty snow covered boughs and the nimble pines as... Read more
Tenalach (Irish): A word used in the hills and mountains in the west of Ireland. It points to a relationship one has with the land/air/water, a deep connection that allows one to literally hear the earth sing. It’s hot outside. It’s the kind of sweltering that makes you sick just standing in it. The humidity in the air—thick like molasses—makes each breath feel labored and heavy. As my feet pass over the the roots and shrubs as I walk, sweat... Read more
A small child cries as his mother yells, inches away from his small face, her nails digging into the soft flesh of his arms; this of course is after the multiple spankings she gave him just moments before. His small eyes overflow with tears that run down his face, his lips quiver and his lungs rasp as he cries. “Say something to her!” I say, my hurt and frustration over the situation rising. “It’s not my place, I want to... Read more
Adventures of Dharma Dad
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