I Knew the Day Would Come.

I knew the day would come when from the laundry I wouldn't be able to tell which was my wife's underwear and which was my daughters. It happened. Geez, time... she'll be in college in another year!
~Dad

iBook - The Art of Being a Dad $4.99

Oh I am so psyched. I just found out that my dad book can be sold as an iBook for the iPad, iPhone, iTouch. And for a whopping $3.99 - it looks great on the iPad!

www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/2238766

Miss Representation

Watch it!

Birthday Paintings

Each birthday, for both of my girls (now teens), I create a small painting from their request. This is a 2 hour painting that I was working on at the strike of midnight New Years Eve - loved that I was painting at midnight and it wasn't until 1/2 hour later that I even noticed that 2012 was here.

~Dad

I've been thinking my dad book is too expensive as a on-demand book @ Blurb. I'm looking into electroncially publishing it through Kindle at Amazon - that's exciting! Stay tuned - buy a book!

~Mark

www.theartofbeingadad.com

Put it in front of them

Many years ago the kid's art looked like this. I just love little kid's art, it's so alive, rich, interesting. I'd tell them to tell me what it's about, and I'd sit there for a LONG time listening to the entire epic story.

Now a days, the teens are scattered about and there are sometimes when a day or two goes by and I don't even see then. The other day my daughter and her friend were sitting at the kitchen table just talking and hanging out. I simple put colored pastels and black paper in front of them, didn't say a word, and walked away. I knew they both liked art and they went at it for awhile which was great.

Note above photo: the new grey BOY kitty!

And my other boy - beginning to be an old man. Us guys have to stick together, lots O women and hormones in the house. That energy alone is an entire blog to deal with, understand, appreciate (sometimes from a far), and love.

~MW dad

 from the book: The Art of Being a Dad (the first seven years)

Rites of Passage

Being a man and father who has grown up camping, hunting, fishing in rural Pennsylvania, I have a solid connection with nature and the Earth. I've also been fortunate to be involved in Native American Indian ceremony and some very powerful initiation rites. I walk a sacred life now and always will until this robe drops

I mostly teach by example and let them free to be who they really are. I now have two teenage girls whom can be brought water but not made to drink - or something like that.  But I am concerned about the culture, the unconscious side of technology and the media, living in the suburbs where nature seems far away though the front yard is pretty darn close and an amazing place. But getting my girls to even hang out in the front yard is at times impossible. Fear of spiders, a teen girls social life, the foreign idea of helping out around the house, they almost always trump watching the wind, sun, and leaves playing.

Several years ago I asked a few women friends to do a rite of passage day for my 16 year old. My wife, her mom was not involved in the process, better to have the "Aunties" do it and anyway my wife isn't wired in thinking it's that important. My daughter enjoyed it as much as I heard. She said she'd "force" her kids to do it to, which was her way of saying thank you to me - I got it.

Over the years I heard through a spirit person that more rites of passage would be good for my oldest daughter, it would be good for her spirit, help her in the bigger picture, and she'd be working with younger girls and it would give her extra confidence and things to share. I told her about this, asked if I got someone to run a group would she be interested, and even maybe ask a half dozen of her girlfriends to be involved. She said she was.

It took almost a year to find a woman who works with teens and rites of passage. As time drew closer my daughter kept putting up more negative energy towards it happening. I know her and know this is her way of protecting herself, and staying away from anything new and out of her comfort zone. We had a talk one day in the car where she basically said she was "sure" she wasn't going to get anything out of it and that she'd only be doing it for me, and that I should drop it. And so I did - for about 3 days.

I just couldn't. It was in my heart loud and clear. I have a brief moment in time/space where I am physically connected to my daughter and to 6+ other girls who I have known since they were in kindergarten. Some of the girls could really use some guidance, wisdom, direction, find something inside themselves that they can hold onto in a storm.

Rites of passage are old and new initiation ceremonies and rituals that push and squeeze a person through a doorway, in this case from being a kid/teen into becoming an adult. Bi-products of initiation are responsibility for self, others (friends and family), community, and ultimately the world. Without these a person could stay stuck, still be a teen in a 50 year old body, not free or grounded, still acting out, hurting others and being hurt, not anchored in their mature masculine or feminine body.

So.... I was sneaky, I talked to another girl who is like my other kid, she's my girls best friend. I told her everything I know about these rites of passage. She was interested and excited and together we tricked my daughter into at least meeting with the woman who runs groups. I figured my ultimate job was to just get them together and after that, they could do what they wanted. And so it happened, it went down well, I was invited by the 3 of them to sit and listen. In the end they all made a date to meet again.

Well, over that time the girls talked and decided together that they didn't want to do it. The drinking water thing. I feel so good about it all. I followed my intuition, didn't take a no, kept following my truth and took it to where it wanted to go, full contact. AH..... my rite of passage.

And truth be told, I also feel like a failure, living near a city, not getting the girls and family outside enough, not growing up quality time in nature where it's unplugged and quiet, and having my girls grow up being OK to be alone in the woods. I know it's all good, and will be in the long run.  How? Because I know it in my heart now as I write this.

Blessings,
~Dad

this blog was originally designed to promote my book:
www.theartofbeingadad.com
now it's the second book, dad with teen girls, in draft...

It's Been Too Long

It's been awhile since I've added words and images here. Sometimes as a dad with 2 teenage girls I think I don't have anything to say, speechless in the face of whats actually happening. But when I looked into my photography of this year I saw several things I could talk about and share.

There have been, and are many times when as a dad I feel far from my girls. I am just not that into shopping, the mirror, social media, and girl drama. I grew up in rural Pennsylvania, I was outside all the time, woods, rivers, even fishing and hunting, riding motorcycles (minibikes), and climbing mountains. 

To get my girls outside to help move a woodpile in the front yard is basically impossible. Pay them??? Force them??? Recently I just let it go and did it all myself and enjoyed it, it's my wood pile, it's my wood stove, and I love it and am glad to offer it to the family to keep them warm and cozy (though the girls really just live in their rooms and only visit the kitchen when they have to). We live in the suburbs, my girls are small town girls near the big city of San Francisco. We come from different worlds.

But I did rediscover an abandoned graffiti warehouse and took my wife and oldest daughter, and then my younger one and her friend in to see this amazing place.

We said some prayers and creating a blessing for the place. It felt dark, sad, full of young male energy of despair and hopelessness - such amazing art and no place for it to be really seen, acknowledged, appreciated.

In front of one of my favorite pieces, artist unknown.

And there she is - busted!

www.theartofbeingadad.com

A book about dad and little kids (the first seven years)