I've threatened myself many times, over the years, to begin blogging. I don't really have time, and I can never keep track of what I wanted muse about. My most crisp moments are when I'm lost in clinical work, engaged with another soul. Those moments are beautifully full of presence, and from time to time, I say to myself, "I should really write about this."
The multifaceted nature of my upbringing in a rather rural costal town of Los Angeles, diverse in history, geography, and sir names have made such an impression upon me. I often describe where I grew up as a land of perspective. Geographically, we were always looking up a hill, across a canyon, down a cliff, or through dense fog. And depending of the time the day, these perspectives took on different personalities. Culturally, my dearest of friends were of Filipino, Chinese and Japanese decent. My first love was Jewish and I attended enough Mitzvahs to have learned the opening prayer. Nearly all the streets in our town were either in Spanish (e.g., Via Alta Mira) or some White appropriation of Indian country (e.g., Broken Bow). Then there was my father's ambivalent Indian ancestry which lead to numerous trips to Indian country, Indian art galleries and museums with American Indian holdings. I inherited an equally ambivalent German ancestry from my mother, which consisted of an annual trip to our local German Oktoberfest. More strongly influencing was my German grandmother's knowledge of cooking Italian food. When you marry an alcoholic and prideful Italian immigrant, you learn to cook (and thus teach me) how to make sauces for your hand made pastas. I still cook her tomato sauce, and much to my wife's annoyance, our kids prefer my sauce over her Sicilian grandmother's recipe. Know that I've expressed a certain kind of love when I've made pasta from scratch for you. I don't do this nearly enough. I am shiest with my most cherished held feelings.
There are many rooms in my soul. In addition to rooms housing diverse geographies and cultures, there are many spiritual rooms, sensual rooms, and musical rooms as well. I intend to explore these rooms publicly, being informed by many years of journaling, hours on the couch in my own therapy, and being inspired by the clinical work with my patients and students, whom I've had the incredible privilege to teach and supervise. I don't know how else to move through the world except anxiously and under the shelter of grace. I don't expect this experiment to be any different.