Permission to fail

"The lesson of sobriety is that I had to become a beginner. I had to be new and young and unskilled at something. I had cut out so much joy and was making my life smaller and smaller, and when I started to give myself permission to fail and screw up and not that threaten my identity, to give myself permission to be bad at something, it brought so much joy into my life. Everything we're doing takes time. We live in this instant gratification society. I think we get panicked and confused when something takes effort. But are we afraid that people will stop loving us and caring about us if we're not perfect? What if we said,live your life - you don't have to earn the world's love?"

I can't remember where I got this quote; I just remember that I wrote it down quickly because it resonated with me as a parent wanting his children to do well. It has to do with the expectations that we put on our children, the rigid timelines and high (but not necessarily lofty) standards set by our society's "heroes and demigods, because in a sense, the cultural understanding is that their success is a reflection of us, the parents. It shouldn't be this way. 

Obama at a Commencement Exercise: "Ignorance is Not a Virtue"

and this is why History will judge him to be one of the best PresidentS of the United States

Sony Diaries #955: Images from my man-cave

My go-to place for some peace and quiet, to smoke my pipe, to glance through the weekend flyers, to stare at nothing, to let the mind wander, to do what some would call meditate, is a spot in my garage, against the wall with the front end of the car to my left, and the small chest freezer to my tight. I sit on a  small lawn chair that is a marvel of design,probably costs $4.99 at Canadian Tire. I am surrounded by bicycles on racks on the walls, fishing poles, garden implements, house painting tools, pots and pans, camping gear, biking gear, outdoor boots, water bottles, a kayak, ladders, a 100+year-old hutch, a mini-loom, a cedar chest that has travelled from Eastern Europe in the late 1940's, filled with children's sweaters that will still smell of my boys long after they will have their own boys. It is a clean garage, smelling of sweet earth, lawnmower gas, and cold concrete. The air is fresh because of the slow draft coming in through the bottom of the garage door. 

These are some of sights I can see from where I am seated.

 car headlamp

 mini loom

 chicken wire

 favourite cap

 car front

dead bugs under the lights

Sony Diaries #954: Sprats

Riga Gold from Latvia: smoke sprats in oil. May 31st.