Garden City, NY, Saturday, 31 January
Well, it's been great seeing my dad, and in a way liberating. I have confirmed for myself one thing, mainly: his fears are not about me. His state of mind has nothing to do with who I am in the sense that I did not create him. He is a person who is about 47 percent love and 53 percent anxiety. He worries. He worries about everything. That he cares for people comes through. He's enormously tolerant and accepting and generous. But he is a worried man. He's managed to create an extremely orderly physical life for himself that protects him from most of what he worries about, so in a strange way he feels safe in the midst of his rather extreme state of mind. But still, I don't think I've ever known someone more concerned about every little thing to the point where I am not quite sure how he has one volt of his emotional energy left for creative purposes.
I am strong enough, independent enough, clear enough, well enough, successful enough and accepting enough of my human gifts and failings -- all of that -- to see that I don't make him the way he is. And to see that how he sees the world is not the way the world is, it's the way he is. I can see how easy it was to take on his fears as if they were real, particularly when I consider what an empathically soft and compassionate little kid I was. And I know that as a little one I took on a great deal of what he was feeling, his frustration and depression and his tangled-up anger, in part because so much of it seemed to be directed at me or to create the general environment of my existence when I was with him. It is so easy for a kid to think that they are the cause of their parents pain, that "If I wasn't this way, he would feel good."
(Some years ago I said to my then-therapist Joe, "I need to learn how to relax." And Joe said, well, to relax, you have to have been lax at some point in the past. I can now rather clearly see why I felt that way.)
I don't think I ever tried to fix him. I just did my best to express who I was in the context of what amounted to a lot of oppressive anguish and, negative expectation and, as some have pointed out to me, jealousy. It was worth the effort. I can appreciate his pain, and to some extent understand it. But I'm not him, and I don't have to meet the world on his terms, or with his expectations, and I don't have to carry his anxiety in my body.
In light of all this, it feels good to be an adult. I don't think like I've ever felt like an adult around him more than I do now. My own man, as they say. And as I embody this, I can feel my relationships with people changing. Their love and assistance are easier to accept with clarity, and I can inch out the fear love them a little more every day.
Monday night at 8 and 10, an old guy named Les Paul whose name you may have heard once or twice plays the electric guitar at a little club called The Iridium, 1650 Broadway at 51st Street. Factoring in the uncertainty principle, I'm likely to catch one of those shows and ask him to sign my laptop with a Sharpie. Call my cell if you'd like to meet me there: (206) 854-3931. If I don't answer, I'm in session with a client. You can also leave word at (877) 453-8265, or email eric@ericfrancis.com. Wednesday evening I plan to be at a bar called Bacchus in New Paltz.
Email note: I am not able to answer email from my normal accounts this week, though I can receive it. So -- to readers who write in -- I may not answer you, but I do get everything. If you need to email me directly, please write to chelsea@planetwaves.net and ask her to forward it to my current Yahoo! account.
Garden City, NY, Friday, 30 January
It feels great to be back in New York. I am staying with my Dad at his home year; we figured out that it's been about four-plus years since we've seen one another -- I've lived in three cities in that time, Miami, Vancouver and Vashon Island, near Seattle. I think he's doing better than I've ever known him to be, but then so am I.
Looking over his bookshelves is one of those reminders that apples don't fall far from the tree. He has his Ph.D. in television studies and his shelves are stuffed with books on media and communication theory. Most of what I know about this subject I've gotten from osmosis. Mostly I practice media. But the theory is good to have there in the background. I've been filling him in on some of the interesting escapades and stories of Planet Waves and the global village we've got going here.
Waiting for the Chinese restaurant to open, we got out of the cold in one of those huge electronic stores. They had on display this digital camera that docks into a little inkjet printer. It was a demo model. So he took my picture, put the camera back in its dock, pushed the button and, after a few minutes, out came a picture of the camera itself.
"I guess this is an example of the medium becoming the message," I said, with the a sense of humor that could only come from being a media professor's son.
Tonight we saw documentary called The Fog of War, which has come highly recommended by one of my readers, though she didn't mention quite what it was; I didn't realize it was a documentary about the life of Robert McNamara, the former distinguished Secretary of Defense under Kennedy and Johnson, someone I've taken a fascination to during the past year. He is featured prominently; it's about half interviews, in which he covers the 11 basic lessons of his long life, and the rest is documentary footage which he narrates.
Good things happen to us in theatres. We both have a passion for film and drama, and for what makes both people and society tick. This film dealt heavily with the issues of the Vietnam catastrophe and the thinking, decisions, actions and lies that fed it. Though my Dad and I sometimes seem to have very different political views, I'm seeing how superficial they really are, and how much we have in common on the basic levels. Then we do have a collection of synastry conjunctions involving the Sun, the Moon and Saturn between our charts, all of which happen to be in Aquarius.
It's awfully late. I've slept about two hours in the past 48, having spent the day yesterday preparing for this rather long trek around the East Coast, the night on Jet Blue, and the day talking to Dad and playing publisher from the couch in his den. I'm connected to the web through the miracle of a 50 foot Ethernet cord into his router.
Next stop is Brooklyn, then onto Manhattan and up to New Paltz.
Vashon Island, Thursday, 29 January
After more than three years on this little island, it feels great to be heading on the road, here and now. It's an ominous feeling, but I'm really riding on the love and support of the positively awesome staff that's gathered around Planet Waves on this little island, Chelsea, Jordan, Pam, Jay Wade, Greg and Flynn -- and our anchor on the other side of the ocean, Tracy.
It may seem like we've been hibernating at Planet Waves, but alas, nothing could be further from reality. We have been reorganizing, getting our focus, upgrading our equipment and getting ready for an exciting time.
First, watch this space for news from my travels, plus astrological, political and erotic musings.
Second, we have added a second weekly horoscope, Planet Waves Monday Morning, and this is FREE to all readers, linked from the Planet Waves homepage on the top left side.
Third, there is now a second monthly horoscope called Inner Space. Both monthly horoscopes are part of the annual horoscope, called aquasphere. This is a magnificent web page all its own that includes 1,000 words per sign, Moon sign writeups, a Message from Eros for each sign, AND the two monthly horoscopes each month.
Fourth, all services are emailed to subscribers to Planet Waves Weekly's International Edition, which will be written from New York and Boston for the next month.
As I said, I'm on the road starting here and now. I'll catch you the next time I'm in one place long enough to update the page. If you're trying to contact me, call Chelsea at (877) 453-8263, who will be staffing the office during Pacific business hours. You can reach me on my cell at (206) 854-3931 (it's not a good place to leave messages, though -- please email those to eric@ericfrancis.com and copy to chelsea@planetwaves.net).
Crimson by Bev Dulis