Bottleneck

I have spent my life looking over my shoulder – considering the pain and strife of generations who ventured out before me, alongside their glory and command. What my ancestors have done – who they have been – has been as much about who I am as who I am. I have at once been the Spanish conquistador and the Irish renegade – the German, the English, and the Norse. I carry them all. Their stories, their triumphs, their fears.

It’s maddening to try to untangle the stores of their past from the unfurling moments of my present. How to honor and carry forward the prouder moments, without replaying the tragedies and mistakes of man. And yet here I stand, one foot rooted in the past, while the other marches determinedly forward. The drive to find a way to not only knit together the warring parties, but also craft some greater meaning of the result is beyond strong in me.

I am in many ways the bottleneck of our family tree – with generations ending with me and yet I’ve created a trickling stream of two young boys who will continue on. To write more stories, make more mistakes, create greater realities than I can even imagine.

So, what do I want this story to be for my box on the family tree – what do I want it all to stand for? Certainly, I want to be the good that has come forward, but I can’t ignore the fact that I am also the pain and suffering. A Libra-like balancing act with a sadistic, yet calm serenity in the middle. Future generations deserve the truth, and also the hope that we can withstand…we can endure…we can be.

There is tremendous pressure being the bottleneck – to represent and carry, while also being haphazardly my own. Sometimes I feel like it all might burst and blow like Mount St. Helens and take out everything in sight…maybe to create a landscape that is entirely new.