Father Figures

I feel lucky to have had a very full day today, doing things I really enjoy. We played a wedding gig in the afternoon, and I hung out with bike people in the evening.

It's been almost two years since Dad died. I think about him quite often. I was holding my squirmy cat today, and I told her how Dad had been the first one to hold her for more than a few seconds. I have a picture of it: her limbs are pointing in all different directions as he's cradling her gently. He looks really happy. I remembered that moment, and had this feeling of gratitude. Mostly. With a small tinge of sadness.

I've always had this desire to please people, to seek approval. It's lessened quite a bit ever since I started feeling more confident about myself, but it's still there. I became aware of it again as I was crossing the street tonight. There are these two older guys in my circles--cycling and music--whom I respect and admire, both for their talents and their general mensch-ness. But I've also felt a bit intimidated by them. It seems obvious now--I look up at that word older, and there it is, but it wasn't until tonight that I realized it.

Father figures. Jeez, you'd think an English teacher would have spotted that. Well, I did once I put words to it. Vague, undefined feelings are lumps of clay; words are the sculpture hidden within. (Respect to the presenter at school yesterday, who said virtually the same thing, regarding dealing with disruptive kids: "I can tell you're upset; give me your words.)

These are my words: father figures. These guys would have had to start pretty early to spawn me. It's that strange vertigo of time, like I'm seeing into my own past, when Dad was in his 50s. It's there: the gray hair, but more in the vibe that says something like, this is how things are. Something like, yeah, you did well. Something like, hey, I missed you.

I'm getting that approval. I'm in. And it feels good. Now I know why. Sure, I'll still want to ride my bike faster, and nail that dismount/remount cyclocross thing. Yeah, I'll do those bends and volume swells in the solo just to impress one person in the room. I don't need to. I want to. And it's being acknowledged.

I've found my words. I'm in now, so I don't need to be perfect. Never needed to in the first place, really.