A Day in the Life of Chaos

The other day I looked at death.   Not my own thankfully but in the declining health of a dear friend.   Life constantly prepares us for death in many ways.   As we age the percentage of those we know who die increases proportionately with the years.   If you own a pet, death is a regular part of our life.   Animals unfortunately have lifespans far shorter than our own and we are always reminded of death when we lose a close four legged companion.   We all approach death differently.  Some of us turn away because it is simply too painful.  Some of us never let go.  We carry the weight of loss daily with us often perhaps hastening our own demise. Death is a heavy part of life and an unfortunate constant.  There is no life without death.   Last week I flew to Tampa to visit a man who has been a part of my life for 28 years.  He has been mentioned many times in the course of this blog.  He is one of those people who for one reason or another became a part of me.  A very odd man, he is

There is an agent in my office named Alex. He is young, approximately 29 or 30. He is about to have a child with his wife. A young little creature is expected to make his presence known in this world in a week or two. Alex is the same age I was when I went to Bolivia and had a child of my own. When I see him it reminds me of those days. Being young and trying to establish your place in the world. Becoming a father. At that time of life I had just met two close friends who I have stayed in touch with throughout my life. Both were significantly older than me. Alfredo was less, probably six years older than me. Ira was much more senior.   Our age difference was more like 24 years. By the time you hit your late 20’s and move into your 30’s you realize that age doesn’t mean so much anymore. When you are young it is everything and then its magnified. In your teens a friend more than a year or two from your age is almost inconceivable. A person more than 10 years older seems

The dusty arid cliffs of Eastern Oregon rise from the land like monuments of the past.  Each crag and crease are skeletons of mountains long vanished.  Small pine trees stick out from the bone dry slopes, each green sliver pressed against the cloudless blue sky seems to cling precariously to life.  Concurrently every tree works to renew life by shedding pine needles adding to a sparse layer of top soil that dusts the rock foundations like hairs on a balding man’s head.  The enormity of the landscape seems to minimize my own presence as my eyes absorb the entirety of the vista stretching from one side of the horizon to the other.  I feel so small. When you are young you want the years to pass, when you are old you want them to stop.  There is something about age that makes you appreciate lost time. Perhaps it is because we know our life is finite and with each passing hour it marches toward a final curtain.  I tend to think of my life in blocks. My son took twenty years to raise, twenty

My son Noah and his girlfriend Momay I am still adjusting to having my son visit me.  No, it’s not like you think, I mean sometimes I just want him to stay.  Being a visitor still seems odd and when he leaves I still feel his presence only to realize he is gone.  Life is scary that way.  Each time he visits I know that the circumstances of life will pull us further apart.  Girlfriends, studies and future plans.  The process is entirely natural but it is still hard.  I wonder if animals ever miss their young or are humans the only ones.  I know my dog seems to miss me when I am gone.  Perhaps the apes join us in our despondency, I have a feeling they might.  Still their youth never leave for college and seldom strike out to new continents where they will make their way.   My life is a blessing and a social curse.  A blessing in that it has taken me to different ends of the earth and allowed me to live there.  To constantly feel different stimulation and to expand my life in ne

Karen Goerler I think a lot about aging.  I think it is because I am aging.  Well in truth we all are.  It is an inescapable reality of life.  I wrote a blog called “Today is the Youngest I Will Ever Be.”  I think as you grow older this phrase becomes increasingly apropos.  Like a computer we constantly run a systems diagnostic on our body and each pain, creak, or scatterbrained moment becomes a source of questions.  Is this a sign?  Is it the beginning of something or only momentary discomfort?  Did I do something I shouldn’t have or is this the moment of inevitable decline?   As we grow older our lives and physical well-being are impacted by the lives of those we have grown old with.  Like soldiers in a battle when one falls the others look around and wonder if they will get the next bullet.  Recently a high school classmate of mine passed away.  She was only 50.  She was a good person who lived a good life.  There was no simplistic explanation of why cancer should have ta

For better or for worse people come to Thailand to escape.  Oh some will emphatically tell you they came to find something but in truth there is a fine line between the two.  The very essence of escape allows us a chance for discovery. I grew up in the northern most outpost of the nation.   Living in Alaska there was always a long standing truth hanging over everyone's head.  With the exception of us who were born or simply raised there just about every adult moved north to get away from something.  My parents used to always joke that moving to Alaska was as far away as they could possibly get from their parents and still be in America.  I suppose Hawaii would have been farther but the logistics of crossing an ocean versus loading up their cars made Alaska the appropriate choice. As we age the weight of life tends to add up.  I think we don't really know that it is happening and many never really realize that it did.  We start to compensate in useless ways attempting to

What follows is an intensely personal entry.  I have asked myself many times why I am willing to expose these thoughts to the world. After much contemplating I decided it is because I want people to understand what is possible.  How a moment in time can give clarity to life in a way nothing else can. Despite living in Thailand, I spend my life with a work week like most others.  Monday through Friday I hop on my scooter and navigate the Thai traffic for my eight to five job.  I confess the monotony of routine is far less for me these days however, for the most part I live a normal working existence.  Weekends are my chance to be a tourist.  A chance to venture out on a path of discovery and find the hidden secrets that are all around me. This Sunday while many of my countrymen crowded the pews in their chosen churches, I ventured out of my house seeking a shrine of Theravada Buddhism that sits nestled upon a mountain behind Chiang Mai.  The mountain Doi Sutep looms over Chaing Mai

As a modern Renaissance man I like to equate my life to the Renaissance.   My forties are not just growing older, they are a re-awakening.  An attempt to accomplish things I failed at earlier in life.  This can include languages like Spanish, French and German.  A certifiable attempt to discover artistic ability of which I have little.  Yet each of these is intellectually cerebral.  I also count among my failings mechanical ability.  Mechanical ability is much more than just dirty hands, it is the ability to problem solve. The other day my son watched me repair something and he told me he was afraid.  "Why are you afraid?"  I asked.  I half expected him to recount some occurrence involving a bully or a deeply introspective fear. "How will I know how to do these things?"  He asked, perplexed. I smiled and explained that as we grow into life we have two options.  The first is to pay people to do things for us.  That reality will either leave us bankrupt or at

Every so often something happens that reminds us what a thin line we balance on between life and death. As you age these reminders become more apparent as declining health speaks like an owl in the night reminding you that your body is fragile.  That life is only for a short time and that eventually it will all come to an end. The call can come at any moment.  I dread hearing the telephone ring in the middle of the night, it can never be good.  When I answer it I know something has happened and in a half dream like state I confront the news.  Recently the call came but it wasn't the middle of the night.  It happened during a simple moment when I was out with my son practicing driving.  I left my phone at home as the battery was dying.  It was only going to be a few minutes away from home anyway.   We passed by the grocery and picked up a sandwich  for dinner.  As we pulled my son's Karmann Ghia into the garage my wife was there to great us.  I thought she just wanted to he