My gratitude moves in all directions. Outward, upward, backward, and forward it flows across the landscape, picking up stones and bits of sound that it stores in a bottle we tip when the sun goes down.
At night, when you’re sleeping, it traces the outline of your shadow and wonders what you’re dreaming as it listens to you breathing.
It selects a moment from the day and turns it gently over and over to register the feel of being satisfied with something so small and quiet.
Tomorrow, when I wake up it will take me by the hand and lead me down another path and through another day, and when I least expect it, it will show me something beautiful and ask me to remember.
Yesterday, I spent some time with my friend, Stan. He’s a teacher. I should visit more often. I always learn something.
* * * rolls of film, photographed and filtered with photoshop * * *
Stan teaches video and film production at a high school vo-tech center, and today he showed me a free program called Pencil which enables anyone to create traditional 2D animation, and he taught me about rotoscoping, a technique for turning live action film into hand drawn animation.
This is what Stan does. He shows you things: his classroom, his equipment, his students’ work. He’s pleased when a student does good work, quietly disappointed when they fail to use their talent.
Every time I listen to him talk about his students, I’m struck by how much he cares. I’m struck by it, because he’s not the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s just there, beneath the surface, running still like a quiet stream. You can sense it.
He’s the best friend I’ve ever had, best man in my wedding, godfather to my son, the first one I call when I hit a new high or sink into a new low. He laughs at my stupid jokes. He tells me his. We talk about movies and old TV shows. He asks about my family. He tells me about his. Pretty simple stuff.
Our friendship isn’t anything too fancy, but it’s solid, and during some of the worst times in my life I reached out and held onto it when it was the only thing I could grab hold of.
He’s a good friend, a good son, a good husband, and a good father. But most of all, he’s a good man, the kind of man anyone would do well to spend a day with.
I’ve been working extra shifts at work to earn and set aside some cash to fund future creative explorations. It’s thrown me off my rhythm, but it’s served as a good reminder of why I left my former life of seventy hour work weeks laboring for someone else’s dreams. And it’s helped intensify many of the lessons I’ve learned since I made room for learning by leaving that life behind.
I’ve learned that possessions can become prison walls if you find yourself endlessly striving to hang onto them.
I’ve learned that no amount of stuff will ever be enough if you measure your success by the amount of things you have gathered around you.
I’ve learned that trophies and awards can become substitutes for authentic achievement.
I’ve learned that approval is something people will sometimes dangle before you as a means to control you.
I’ve learned that if you’re willing to give it, some employers and even some friends and family members will take everything you have to give, even if it includes your dreams, your desires, and your soul.
I’ve learned that people can only make you feel small if you let them.
I’ve learned that you can enjoy a job, even if it’s not your passion,
as long as you place it in perspective, understand how it serves your
greater vision, and recognize the ways it never can.
I’ve learned that if you show up and do your job as best you can, you’re an exception to the rule.
I’ve learned that doing this and knowing you do this gives you leverage to negotiate for better conditions.
I’ve learned that purpose, meaning, happiness, and inspiration aren’t things you wait for; they’re things you create.
I’ve learned that goals are not always clear and can sometimes only be made so by moving towards them.
I’ve learned that you don’t have to explain what you’re doing to people who aren’t really interested in understanding it anyway.
I’ve learned that crude beginnings are the only paths available to find your way to greater things.
I’ve learned that mishaps can become masterpieces.
I’ve learned that joy and laughter don’t cost much.
I’ve learned that love doesn’t either.
Shared Treasure – A Song to Set You Learning
Beck is one of those artists I love most: the kind who transcend categorization, hopping about from genre to genre.
Here is a beautiful performance of the song, Everybody’s Got to Learn Sometimes.
