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I was speaking to a friend about life things and he said that in reality the one thing we need is love. He said he often thinks of the Beatles’ song, All You Need is Love, and he believes it is the singular truth in his life. Love of his mother, father, partner, friends, and even his relationships to his clients are all wrought from this one requirement. Love.

I’m working my way through the Autobiography of a Yogi whose message is on point with what my friend was saying – love of mankind, love of God, love of yourself all are the currency of life.

That said the ego is what gets in the way of truly loving because you might lie in your bed in some groggy realization of this same thought but when you enter the waking life of managing key and other relations your ego flares and saddles you with barriers – you begin by weighing the exchange, is the person giving you too much or not enough, are you resisting or accepting, why, and onward you go into your daily life that makes loving and giving or receiving it seem like such a challenging proposition that you want to head right back to bed, to that pillow where your head was ready for love and was not filled with thoughts of fear, pain, anxiety, and whatever else the tricky ego serves up.

Love is all you need. Perhaps. Love is here, waiting for you, and you most times are dragging your heels.

Progress
Sundays we’d stroll to the railroad track,
My white-collared father and I,
Where he’d gaze after freight trains billowing past
And deliver himself of a sigh—

“If I still worked for the railroad,
I’d retire with a pass. I could ride
To any place in the country,
And the country, they say, is wide.”

Yet for thirty years my father
With fountain pen wielded power
At the boiler factory in Dover,
Keeping track of each man-hour:

He would total up columns of numbers
In a flash with astonishing skill
And never a man’s pay envelope
Fell short of a dollar bill.

He would hike to the bank every Thursday
To fetch payroll cash in a sack,
The insurance company insisting
That a blue steel pistol he pack.

How the neighbors would taunt and tease him—
“Hey, Joe, would you pull your gun
And shoot it out with that stickup man?”—
“No, I’d throw him the money and run.”

He continued to add up numbers
In his head till there came on the scene
A formidable robot rival,
The Burroughs adding machine.

My father saw that his number
Would be up soon. As he feared,
Anybody could tug on a handle
And an accurate total appeared.

They broke the news to him gently,
They professed their profound regret
And presented him, not with a pension
But a pen-and-pencil set.

For a time he displayed it proudly
Till the pencil had to be tossed,
When it wouldn’t quite twist as it used to
And the cap of the pen got lost.

For more than eight thousand mornings
He had walked to his job past a sign
Where the Women’s Christian Temperance
Union had posted a line

Ill fitting the situation
Of the obsolescently skilled:
Life is no goblet to be drained
But a measure to be filled.

X. J. KENNEDY
The Sewanee Review
Summer 2012

I realized early this year that I can’t have it all – I can’t be the mother I want to be to my 3 year old, run my own business, and stay in shape. It just wasn’t in my cards. And so I assessed – Tin is 3 now, and will be soon 4, then 5, etc. In time, his days will be filled with school and friends and extra curricular activities – but now, Tin’s life is nestled around us – he seeks our approval for his Lego concoctions, he wants to hang out with us.

So adjustments needed to be made – making priorities around the fact that his needs (and ours of him) are immediate and everything else needed to be shifted downward in priority.

Yahoo just announced that it had hired a senior executive from Google – and that she’s pregnant and due this October. No problem, she says, she’ll work through her maternity leave. How sad – one day Marissa might realize that Yahoo was not worth what she gave up in terms of spending time with her newborn because there will be plenty of opportunities out there for her career, but only one child like the one she is about to bring into this world.

“My maternity leave will be a few weeks long and I’ll work throughout it.”
— Newly named Yahoo president/CEO Marissa Mayer explaining to Fortune that she’s expecting a boy in early October and that her pregnancy won’t affect her duties at Yahoo.

I picked up Mark Strand’s new collection Almost Invisible and have been revisiting it several times now that I’m here in Spain, in Cadiz, here to relax and get myself whole again.

Poem of the Spanish Poet

In a hotel room somewhere in Iowa an American poet, tired of his poems, tired of being an American poet, leans back in his chair and imagines he is a Spanish poet, an old Spanish poet, nearing the end of his life, who walks to the Guadalquivir and watches the ships, gray and ghostly in the twilight, slip downstream. The little waves, approaching the grassy bank where he sits, whisper something he can’t quite hear as they curl and fall. Now what does the Spanish poet do? He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a notebook, and writes:

Black fly, black fly
Why have you come

Is it my shirt
My new white shirt

With buttons of bone
Is it my suit

My dark-blue suit
Is it because

I lie here alone
Under a willow

Cold as stone
Black fly, black fly

How good you are
To come to me now

How good you are
To visit me here

Black fly, black fly
To wish me goodbye

Excerpted from ALMOST INVISIBLE by Mark Strand. Copyright © 2012 by Mark Strand. Excerpted by permission of Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

The levante came and brought with it the heavy heat. Levante refers to the winds from the east, and in Spanish levantar means rise up, and literally it is like the sun that rises in the east. But interestingly enough the levante has nothing to do with rising up, it is more like laid out. We have been lazying around here until yesterday we couldn’t take it and went to the beach despite the fact that the levante brings these hot winds that causes the sand to rise up as well. But the Atlantic was frigid cold and helped reinvigorate us.

The other wind pattern here is the poniente – again – a misnomer because it refers to the setting of the sun because the winds come from the West, but actually it cools things down so much – we had poniente when we arrived here and it doesn’t make you want to set, it makes you actually rise up.

If I ran the world or at least the winds from the Straits of Gibraltar – I would switch these terms in a second.

The Croatian boys are visiting us here in Cadiz and Tin has instantly found his groove with them. It’s a great time to practice his Croatian and also feel like he’s amongst boys. Meanwhile, we formed a little band here in the apartment and had a jazz jam early in the day yesterday.

After a couple of weeks I’m getting to play host to this lovely city. It’s so easy to do here because the city is so beautiful.

But back to the boys. I grew up with a handful of them – grandfather, father, uncles, brothers – and really there is no substitute for having boys around. For Tin who used to get girl crushes, now it’s the men, the musicians, the boys who I see him identifying with even at this young of an age.

He is quick to pick up with a boy band anytime one pops up like these guys did yesterday on the ocean walk:

But it’s also just hanging out with the boys that he is starting to like to do more and more.

Growing up boy is possibly most difficult in the U.S. where the boy code has become entrenched in the daily fabric of life. Be tough, be strong, man up, don’t be a sissy, don’t be a wuss, don’t be a mama’s boy. In Spain (and Europe), despite the macho code that does exist, men tend to be much more touchy feely, more physically demonstrative, and less afraid of assuming a nurturing role around children.

Thank heaven for boys – they are truly their own force of nature in all of their incarnations.

July 15, 2012
Taurus (4/20-5/20)
Every time something ends, there is a beginning, too — a germ of a new idea or hint of a potential new direction. Just because you said goodbye to something doesn’t mean it still can’t inspire or affect your future. Today, take the lessons you’ve learned and apply them to your newest relationship or business role. Your latest health concern should be addressed, either with a change in your routine or visit to a professional. Take care of yourself!

We were standing in Plaza San Antonio when a statuesque woman from Seville asked me if I knew where the casino was – oddly enough I had passed a building that said casino on one of my walks and told her as much, but I couldn’t remember exactly where it was. Tatjana and Tin were with me and the woman lingered, talking, her boyfriend was working at the soon to be open larger than life parador down the street by the sea. She said, “Como te tocas?” Which literally means how does she touch you referring to Tatjana.

But I had never heard the expression before. Tatjana walked up and said we are partners and this is our son. The woman continued to talk and then our friends arrived and we went off to join them.

She had a folder with a list of goings on in Cadiz and she was off to do one of those many splendor things. Us, we are doing what the Spaniards do, hanging at cafes in plazas and chatting away with tinto de veranos in our hand.

Today, I took Tin for a get lost stroll after he woke from his nap (NOT); well he didn’t nap, but I got him up after listening to him pound the walls and sing and start a train with zebra and booty kitty and cow and was going out of my mind. We purposefully went on a get lost stroll and headed out to the sea wall where we haven’t been and towards Plaza Santa Maria to check it out. I could see high from the sea wall that the beaches were crowded thick with weekenders all enjoying the rather warm day.

Then we turned back in towards town and just followed the narrow streets along. There is something very remarkable about Spaniards and their love of children; it is instilled in them from birth I think because I see the young boys as loving towards children as the older men in the streets who stop Tin and say, “Hola guapo,” and touch his head or ask for a kiss. You rarely see this kind of affection coming from men in the United States towards kids but here it is very up close and personal.

I post Tinism’s on my Twitter account and have started to keep a log here as well.

2012
Jul 14 Tinism: “Mom, can we ride a whale for my birthday?”

Jul 14 Tinism: “Mom, do musicians nap?”

Jul 9 Tinism: How much is money?

Jul 3 Tinism: “Mom, my new band name is Combo-sation. You got it?”

Jul 1 Tinism: Tin: Guantanamera is a Puerto Rican song.” Mom: No, it’s Cuban. Tin: You don’t know, Mommy.

Jul 1 Tinism: Spain needs air conditioning Mommy.

Jun 16 Tinism: Mom get my pocket trumpet cuz I need to blow

May 22 Tinism: “I’m having a baby, Mommy.” Mom: Boy or girl? “Boy, I’ll call him LoveYouSo.”

May 11 Tinism: Mom: The ambulance is taking someone sick to the emergency hospital. Tin: Yeah I had the hiccups once.

May 3 Tinism: I live by the water because I’m a Pisces. It’s about fish.

Apr 24 Tinism: Mom: Why aren’t you napping? Tin: I have a gig, it’s funky, did you hear it?

Apr 23 Tinism: Mom, are you ready for music – are you ready for Jazz Fest?

Apr 15 Tinism: Mom, I think Louis Armstrong doesn’t know me.

Apr 14 Tinism: “Yay we’re going to a slip n slide!” PAUSE “Mom, what’s a slip n slide?”

Apr 10 Tinism: I’m a doctor I can better him

Apr 5 Tinism: Mom: Why weren’t you good at school? Tin: Because. Mom: Why didn’t you listen to Ms. Karla? Tin: Because I didn’t.

Mar 31 Tinism: I want to change my caca diaper before I go to Zumba

Mar 24 Tinism: Mommy, there are too many dead butterflies today.

Mar 22 Tinism: A butterfly died in front of my house

Mar 10 Tinism: Do you eat with gusto?

Mar 8 Tinism: Mom: Musicians don’t leave their trumpet on the floor – Tin: I am not a musician.

Feb 22 Tinism: Mardi Gras is over and now it’s Jazz Fest time. I’m super tired.

Feb 11 Tinism: Ben (Schenk) plays the clarinet good.

Feb 9 Tinism: Mom: adults go to work and kids go to school. Tin: I’m getting a band for work.

Feb 9 Tinism: What happened with the cow and your hair? (in response to mom’s bedhead)

Feb 4 Tinism: I like cake better than caca.

Jan 20 Tinism: when I was a little girl my daddy took me to the French Quarter.

Jan 18 Tinism: I get up in the morning have my coffee do my ca ca and go to work

Jan 16 Tinism: I was stuck naked on a bus.

Jan 11 Tinism: Did Mommy make the red beans? (Yes) I’ll have to thank her when she gets home.

Jan 2 Tinism: Mom-Do you want to go to Children’s Museum or Zoo? Tin-French Quarter

Jan 2 Tinism: Mommy do you remember when I used to laugh and call you names?

Jan 2 Tinism: My horse will go to work and the gym for me.

I’m sitting here listening to an elderly Spaniard tell her grandson to walk slower – the narrow streets of Cadiz are not for the weak. Around here grandmothers are the daycare industry. Back home in New Orleans the annual running with the bulls is happening in the French Quarter, only the bulls are gals on roller skates. There never ceases to be an ironic moment in my life.

Photo courtesy of Grand Housesitter Ed Johnson: