Be Peace

Yasmin Levy – Hallelujah

Dave — Sat, 19 Mar 2011 20:15:35 +0000

Third Time is the Charm

Dave — Tue, 07 Dec 2010 22:49:39 +0000

It is Friday– a cold December Friday– in Albany, New York. The former DeWitt Clinton ballroom is as white as the glistening snow on the sidewalks outside. Upstate New York can be a cold, unpredictable mistress, but the warmth I feel tonight is not from the heating system alone. I am standing on the altar with my arms around the love of my life, feeling the intricate floral embroidery on the side of her bodice. She is looking at me in anticipation of two words that will bind us together for the rest of our lives. With such a dark past, I am baffled at what luck allowed me to find this woman.

Looking up, I see how beautiful the architecture of the Clinton is. The ballroom is highlighted by high ceilings, pillars with corinthian capitals, and tall windows looking out onto State Street. The entire room is white, and the huge chandeliers cast a warm cream glow upon the walls. The air has the sweet, forest scent of the bouquets set upon shining candelabras, making my wedding just as I have imagined it in my dreams.

I look out into the crowd and a thicket of faces returns my warm gaze. Sitting front and center are my sons. The three musketeers are matching in black suits and crimson ties, each with a single rose on their jackets. They look so handsome and mature. These young men are handling merging families with outstanding readiness and ability. They– one the competitor, one the creator, and one the controller– help me stand here with pride.
Our new family is a plant that has somehow flowered in the ruins of abusive parents. Not even one of the five of us has escaped some sort of abuse from our parents, and yet somehow we are here, sharing our lives with one another. My son has a different mother, her sons have a different father, and yet somehow love has been cultivated between them.

My son, the creator, locks eyes with me. I have noticed a subtle restlessness within him from the day I met him. He has been tense, almost nervous. Looking at him now, with a huge grin on his face, his shoulders completely relaxed, and without a worry in the world, I understand why. He has been waiting for this day. He has been waiting for us to make our family official.
The rabbi continues to read the vows, and as the moment draws closer I smile. I imagine the crows feet on my face deepen and the grooves of my face soften. Rocking slightly back and forth in anticipation, I hear the clack of my Dockers heels gently strike the carpeted wood altar.

I look back at my soon-to-be wife. She is beautiful. The stylist has brushed a light coat of makeup on her, pulled her golden blonde curls into a French twist, and has bedecked her in the most elegant dress I have ever laid eyes on. I haven’t seen her in a day, and in those hours between she became Venus, goddess of beauty. I am still suspicious of what circumstance allowed me to marry such a woman. It must have been that the unrelenting streak of misfortune that made up my life came to an abrupt, screeching halt six years ago when I met her.

I think of the long, tragic journey that has gotten me here. The countless nights spent in New York City bars drinking away the pain are behind me. The road trips to California with the burnt spoons, dirty needles, crushed pills, and blunt razor blades are behind me. The unyielding, agonizing urge to satisfy the addiction and the incredible, religious perseverance it took to defeat it are behind me. But somehow, even after the countless Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and conquering my addiction, blue skies didn’t appear. I went through two failed marriages, years of dating, and was ready to give up on finding a soul-mate until she chanced upon me. Our marriage is the epitome of the adage “third time is the charm.”

When the ghosts of my past exit the room, I realize everyone in the crowd’s expectant gazes are upon me. I look into her hazel eyes and I can see the endless love she holds there, waiting for me to receive and return. I feel the hair on the back of my neck tingle when my voice roars to the room, to the universe “I do.”

This post was submitted by Matt Bianco-Splann

Wild Geese

Dave — Fri, 01 Oct 2010 19:41:13 +0000

Wild Geese

by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good
You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles repenting
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair,
Yours, and I will tell you about mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the soft pebbles of rain are moving across the landscapes
Over the prairies and the deep trees
The mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese
High in the clear blue air,
Are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely
The world offers itself to your imagination
Calls to you like the wild geese,
Harsh and exciting-
Over and over announcing
Your place
In the family of things.

My Smile

Dave — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 18:47:00 +0000

Paint Your Picture

Dave — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 16:29:46 +0000

I thought I would start posting some inspiring art that I’ve been working on recently. Check back often!

Love to you all.

Omega Teen Camp

Dave — Thu, 01 Jul 2010 20:08:04 +0000

I’m going to be working at Omega Teen Camp again this July, a great place for teens to discover new things and be part of an amazing community of wonderful people. Here are some pictures from last year and the year before to give you a taste of what happens there. More about OTC soon…

A Good Friend Asked Me

Dave — Fri, 21 May 2010 08:29:28 +0000

A friend asked me just the other day, do you like to write things down?

I said – I do, but only if I feel inspired.

Now I’m thinking, why couldn’t we write things down more often? If you already do, I think that’s amazing and I would like to join you. If only to bring all the thoughts we have in our heads out into the open, to let them breathe a little bit and get some sunshine on their faces. Maybe that will help us notice which thoughts have been hiding in dark places, not wanting to be seen, and which thoughts need to be exercised more regularly like a young golden retriever who needs to run around outside to grow healthy and strong.

My friend also got me thinking about another self-inquiry – balancing what the world says we need and what we say we need (you can tell this friend is of a high-quality nature by now, yes?). I responded with something like – isn’t it all about finding the deepest, most ‘authentically us’ place inside ourselves that we can and then listening to what this place has to say about everything?

If that sounds right to you, the question becomes, how do we get there? How do we live our lives in such a way? How do we really know ourselves and what we need and want from life? Ha! I can only laugh at these questions because haven’t humans been asking them in some form or another for our entire existence as a species? Every time we start a fight, every time we suffer inside because of anxiety or confusion or anger, every time we chase blindly after things in life that won’t make us happy, every time that we are afraid of living fully, aren’t we fundamentally saying that we wish we knew ourselves better?

It could be a stretch for some, but it seems to me that our own suffering comes from a lack of self knowledge. Following the wrong path is a paradox too – sometimes we have to suffer the uphill walk so that we can see the beautiful vista at the top of the hill, then continue on to the next trail.

If there’s a conclusion to any of these words, then maybe its something like this – if listening to good friends carefully can lead to wonderful realizations about life, then maybe we should make ourselves our best friend in the entire world.

Plastic Bag

Natalie Ryan — Thu, 06 May 2010 19:33:50 +0000

This is a really well made, beautiful short film about a plastic bag’s life. It narrates and takes you through its time spent in a grocery store to the time spent polluting the beach and potentially causing harm to the sea life. The cinematography, music, story line, even the voice of the plastic bag, all play so well together to create a story this is not only creative and beautiful, but leaves a lasting impression about plastic bag waste.

Pictures of Dreams

Dave — Wed, 05 May 2010 06:53:27 +0000

I thought I would round up some photos that feel like they were inspired by dreams, or at least might encourage some dreaming next time you sleep.

Take My Time

Dave — Wed, 28 Apr 2010 00:34:47 +0000

My good friend Abram Leon sent in a really lovely video that he made recently of explorations around his town in Japan during cherry blossom season. He wrote and performed the song too. Spring is definitely here, thanks Abram!