To Save What We All Love

 “That’s how we’re gonna win. Not fighting what we hate — saving what we love.”

—Rose Tico, Star Wars: The Last Jedi

I know, I know. It's May 4th, Star Wars Day. The memes on "May the 4th be with you" will swarm around the world like endless X-wing and TIE fighter dogfights. Those who love Star Wars will embrace them all, and those who don't won't. 

I embrace them all. I've always celebrated all things Star Wars ever since I was 12 years old and saw Episode IV – A New Hope back in 1977 for the first of many times. Even our kids trained as Jedis at Disneyland more than once (even if they're still not the fans my wife and I are). The Star Wars universe has always lifted me up.

But today's realities aren't science fiction filled with the power of the force. They're stubborn realities threatening human rights, civil liberties, democratic freedoms, and the health and safety of everyone. That's why the themes of rebellion and resistance against authoritarian governments are all too real today. 

According to the Economist Intelligence Unit's 2023 Democracy Index (which assesses 167 countries), about 44% of the world’s countries are considered democratic in some form, when combining full and flawed democracies. However, these countries represent over 50% of the global population, due to large democracies like India and the United States.

Only 44% are considered democratic in some form. And that's going to only decrease if America continues its fall from democratic republic grace. I read recently that a vast majority of political scientists think the United States is moving swiftly from liberal democracy toward some form of authoritarianism.

We don't need hundreds of political scientists to tell us we're moving swiftly into authoritarianism. Just read the room, kids. Our rights are being taken away day by day, especially those for women, people of color, LGBTQIA+, and other marginalized people. 

We've always talked about what's happened and what's happening in America and around the world with our children. We've taken them to protests and marches and we've always encouraged them to stand up to tyranny and hate. Our youngest Bryce has even organized a peaceful march called "We Will Not Be Erased" about supporting and protecting the rights of LGBTQIA+ students and adults, because we all have a right to exist. 

I know, I know. The real world isn't Star Wars and can't be realistically represented in a series of hopeful rebellion and resistance memes and quotes on "May the 4th be with you" day. However, our family protests and marches against authoritarianism for the same reasons. We march and protest for everyone because everyone's rights is at risk today. Including those who disagree with those of us who march and protest what's happening in America today. Even those who hate what we represent. 

We're fighting to save our democratic republic, our inalienable rights, our due process, our free speech, our equity and inclusivity, our families, and so much more, again for everyone. 

We're fighting for our children, and now they're fighting for us, to save what we all love.

May This Force Be With You

The first time I saw it from afar was 2018. Construction was well underway during our last trip to Disneyland at the time, just beyond Frontierland, and we could see the top of the far away galaxy to come. During the summer of 2019, we were fortunate to take our family to Disney World, but were too early to see Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge; it had opened in Anaheim but not in Orlando at that point. I remember standing in front of the gate where it would open only a few months later. Yes, we love Disneyland.

If you've read my writings over the years, you also know that I love Star Wars and that it had a profound affect on me ever since the first time I saw it in 1977. That summer I was nearly 12 years old and the world was a dark and surreal place. We were in a long and steep recession, political apathy had spiked due to Watergate, and Middle East tensions ran high. Our family also experienced domestic violence and sexual and emotional abuse during the 1970's. Thankfully we had a mother who emphasized love and empathy over fear and hate, even after everything she'd been through, and we'd been through. 

At that time, Star Wars was a hopeful escapism for me with a greater theme of a positive power that could transform the universe: The Force. At the time I had become disillusioned with many things including religion, so science fiction and fantasy became my savior of sorts. 

I've been a fan ever since. When I heard Disney was building a land dedicated to Star Wars, I was out-my-mind excited. I couldn't wait. My wife and children knew I couldn't wait. But then the COVID-19 pandemic struck, and the world again became a dark and surreal place. 

We've lived through the past two years and have remained a strong, supportive, and loving family unit. My wife and I have worked hard and have been grateful to be able to provide for our family and do some fun things along the way. One of those things was planning another trip to Disneyland at the beginning of the holiday season this year (and the fact that it was safer to do so).

I finally got to see Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge for the first time. I got to see the Millennium Falcon up close, for goodness sake, and fly it. Yes, I knew it wasn't real, trust me, no matter how much I wanted it to be, but to stand in front of it and have a picture of my family letting the "Force" flow through us all was a super-thrilling and proud moment.  

Yes, proud. Because there's a real force that's empowered our family year after year, from New Year's Day to New Year's Eve. A force nurtured from practicing Kidpower physical and emotional safety skills, positive communication and relationship skills, and clear boundary-setting skills. Of course our family doesn't get these things right all the time, which is why we work on it week after week. The key is sustaining and growing; a Christmas magic that never ends. 

Even now with our girls being a teen and tween, rolling their eyes when we want them to practice these skills, they still embody them in their daily lives whether they realize it or not. And all of this force is grounded in mindfulness, love, and empathy, without ever compromising our boundaries, wellbeing, or safety, especially when others around us do. 

So, no matter how you celebrate this holiday season, may this force be with you. 

A New Hope of Grit and Growth

"Beatrice G. and Bryce G.," called the Jedi training coordinator.

Music to my Force-filled ears. We had missed the regular reservation times and could only sign the girls up as alternates. No guarantees. Come back at least 15 minutes before one of these times later today. Thank you and good luck. And now they were being called to participate!

"I don't know if I want to do it," said Beatrice.

"It'll be fun, Bea. Don't worry," I said.

"I want to do it!" said Bryce.

"Don't worry," said the Mama (what I lovingly call my wife).

"Okay," said Beatrice.

This was the part where many parents come to in the lives of their beloved children: making them do something whether they want to or not -- so we can experience the experiences they need to have that we never experienced otherwise and live these experiences anew vicariously through said beloved children.

Thank you and good luck.

"Do you both want to do it?" asked the coordinator.

I'm not sure if they both said yes or not, but we ushered them to the gated entrance where all the Padawans were corralled, being dressed in robes and prepped.

Bryce beamed when I took her picture in her training robe. Beatrice had that look of constipated anxiety she gets when she's nervous about something, the same look I've had since I was a child and even into adulthood.

I gave Bea a big thumbs up and then we smiled and waved at them both. One of the Jedi training coordinators called for the parents to follow her and led us to the open quad stage where the performance/training would take place.

"I didn't realize we'd be leaving them up there alone," said the Mama.

"I know. They'll be all right, though."

"I'd better go check on them," she said.

"Okay, I'll be right here. Love you."

"Love you."

But then I worried that, by going up there to where the Padawans were being prepped, one or both girls would have a out with the Mama not to do the training exercise. I didn't want that to happen, although I did feel a little guilty about pushing them, Bea especially, out of their comfort zone. I remembered how painfully shy I was at her age, and how tentative I was to try new things like this, to try anything for that matter. Thankfully both girls already have more grit than I did at their ages, more like their Mama in that regard, so I thought they could handle it. It wasn't like we were sending them out to fight for the lives in The Hunger Games.

Right?

I mean, I wanted them to handle it; I would've paid money, begged, may even cry a little if Disneyland would've let me participate in the Jedi training. Even the Mama would've loved to do it.

I waited for the training to start and kept looking in the direction where the Mama went to check on the girls, half-expecting to see her return with one or both of the girls at any moment. I hoped they'd persevere and enjoy the experience. For me. And for them too, of course.

The Star Wars theme music launched and my heart lept back to the summer of 1977. John Williams composes a mean crescendo and diminuendo, that's for sure. The Mama joined me back near the stage, no girls in tow, as a line of Padawans filled the quad, Jedi trainers guiding them to their starting positions.

"Were they all right?" I asked.

"Yep, just fine."

The performance itself was quite entertaining, with all the Jedi trainees collectively controlling and channeling the Force to vanquish the dark side and the Seventh Sister, Darth Vader and Kylo Ren. Each Padawan had an opportunity to battle the Seventh Sister and Darth Vader, showing off the newly acquired light saber skills.

Because the Force real. Really. No judging, please.

Our girls made us proud, washing away any guilt of pushing them into Jedi training. Pushing Beatrice more than Bryce that is. Which, with all due respect to our beloved children, was pretty minimal in the first place. After the performance ended, the girls ran to us all aglow and confident.

"Did you have fun?"

"Yes, I want to do it again! It was exciting for me," Bea exclaimed.

"Yes! It was awesome" said Bryce.

We want them to get excited like this after trying new things, to experience the unexperienced, and to always see them through. Not all of what's learned will stick long-term, nor will they even like everything they try, but that doesn't matter. What's matters is in their becoming of something better, smarter, stronger and resilient for whatever life throws their way -- and throw things it will, lots of things (damn all those things). What will matter the most is for them (and us) to always be a new hope of grit and growth.

Where the Force Flows with Mindful Christmas Magic

Let's say the probability of any one of 10 total random park entrance lines moving faster than the others is around 10 percent. So we picked one, one that looked as though it fell into that 10 percent, just as we had done the day before. At first it felt as though we were right this time; our line moved along steadily as the families ahead of us enter the park. A winner! Then a mere seven feet from the turnstiles, we stopped, while the lines on either side of us almost seemed to speed up. 

Ah, the painful self-fulfilling prophetic physics of Murphy's Law. I realized at that very moment, even as Bryce flailed impatiently in the stroller and the Mama sought peaceful balance to keep Bryce balanced, that there was nothing I/we could do to change the outcome of waiting time to enter the park. Except wait.

During my epiphany, Bea simply skip-bounded back and forth in and around us as she often does when she keeps herself occupied. Or when she's in creative-thinking mode. Or when she has to go potty. Whatever her bounding represented this time, we still didn't move any closer to the entrance.

"What is going on?" the people behind us asked.

I sighed audibly. "Well, this happened to us yesterday, too. It feels like every time we get in line it shuts down production. Mercy me."

"Why didn't you warn us when we got in line?" they joked. And then continued to milk the joke, even when it wore as completely thin as Bryce's patience. I laughed a little unnaturally and turned away from them.

The reality is that the Disneyland entrance line slowed when visitors have entered the park for the first time for whatever their ultimate duration is. This is because their tickets have to be scanned, then park entrance cards printed out and signed, and then pictures taken for identification and park security.

And these seemingly random lines we were in for two days in a row included everyone entering the park for the first time. Granted, that included us on day one, but it made no never mind when we -- I mean I -- wanted to go inside and get my Star Wars freak on.

Again, there was nothing we could do to make the line move. So I stopped worrying about it. I just stood there, relaxed in the moment, and the moment after that, and the one after that, completely disconnected from the frustration of waiting and the longing for the happiest place on earth, and open to everything, and nothing, around me.

That's not to say I wasn't aware of my family's angst; I did encourage the girls to be patient and that we'd be in there soon enough. The Mama only had to adjust Bryce one time and both were fine otherwise (the Mama and I also realizing that there was nothing we could do, except go back to the hotel room, which wasn't really on the table unless we had to deploy the nuclear option).

Those minutes of waiting were a respite of sorts, quite counterintuitive to usual human behavior in the modern frenetic age. I was completely relaxed, primarily focused on my breathing -- in and out, in and out -- while all the sights and sounds around me slowed to a pleasant crawl, at just the right clarity and volume. It was as if we were at home in our cuddle chair (large recliner) watching our favorite movie without disruption or any notion of time constraints.

Of course I mean that metaphorically; watching families rock impatiently in Disneyland entrance lines isn't really a favorite movie of anyone's. However, the more I focused on relaxing in a meditative way, the greater pleasure I derived from just being. There. In the moment. Without negative attachments, or attachments of any kind. Just there with my family and being. Nothing else. A little peace on earth inside.

Metaphysically sappy, I know. But still, I've been consciously engaging in this lucid relaxation behavior of late, something I attempted in my emotionally torrid 20's, along with therapy and medication, all with limited, if any, success. Ever since I've done okay being mindful and present some of the time professionally and personally, and I do try to be empathic and compassionate as much as possible. Although I'm pretty pathetic when it comes to short-attention-span social media theater.

I'm sorry, what?!?

And then everything comes to a screeching halt when interrupted by my Daddy Goat Gruffness and the occasional just-plain-reactively-mean dickness.

I just finished the book by ABC Nightline anchor Dan Harris titled 10% Happier and I really enjoyed reading about his own tempestuous professional and personal journey toward being of sounder mind, body and spirit through meditation. I had seen him speak at the Achiever's ACE Conference in November, downloaded the book and never looked back.

But unlike Dan, I grew up grounded in the evangelical Christian faith and the real reason we have Christmas -- the birth of the loving redeemer, the little baby Jesus, Son of God (of which my affinity stands that my favorite Jesus is the little baby Jesus -- thank you Will Ferrell and Adam McKay, co-writers of Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby). 

Even though I'm not writing this to derail or disparage anyone's belief in any religion or spiritual practice whatsoever, and I do not want to have a theological debate proving or disproving the existence of any God, I do believe in the power of prayer and a higher power, sans the prejudice, anger and fear. I strive for the power of positive thinking and action, and of empathic thinking and action, of mindfulness and action -- with the personal relationship of me and my God being synonymous with the personal relationship of me and myself and every one else in my life I've ever come into contact with and those I've yet to meet.

Yes, the Force is what binds all living creatures in the universe together. It's loving and forgiving and even protecting when need be. You know, like God. And how we can be. In life and in our relationships. What? You didn't see the Star Wars reference coming? C'mon. However you end up dealing with the dickness and the dark side in your own psyche, then learn how to deal with it. I sure as heck have been dealing with it.

Because later on that same day in Disneyland, I got so mad at the Mama just because she edged her way into a packed Main Street to watch the Christmas parade. Actually, she didn't really edge, because she did ask the people in front of us if the girls could slip into a little pocket to watch the coming parade. The people said sure, but then I had to fold up the stroller and hold it right under the rope that separated the free walk area and the parade attendance section. I got mad because I thought about all the other parents who had waited with their kids when we didn't, and the fact that I had to hold the friggin' stroller in a cramped area.

But again, the Mama wasn't rude. She asked nicely, there was room for the girls, and so it all worked out. There was no reason for me to attach any reactive meanness to the situation, but that's just what I did. I understood what I did and resolved it fairly quickly in my head and heart, not wanting to be mean to the Mama or anyone. That's something I've been working on for a long time, a continuous work in progress.

We ran into other Murphy's Law moments in Disneyland as well, but one in particular was the tipping point for me to dig deeper into my own psyche and mindful presence. I had gotten a fast pass for Hyperspace Mountain (a special time when I could get on the modified Space Mountain indoor roller coaster more quickly than the normal wait time). I then went to the ride Hyperspace Mountain at my specified time and the Mama and the girls went to ride It's a Small World.

My wait was brief and I worked on my relaxation during my time in line. My turn came and the ride moved me and my fellow space travelers upward and then zoom -- we were flying through space!

Until we weren't. An attendant came over the loudspeaker, barely audible over the ride's Star Wars soundtrack, telling us the ride was temporarily stopping. We then really stopped, the soundtrack stopped and the attendant's voice told us due to a problem with one of the riders falling out of a car (I'm sorry, what?!?), the ride was over and other attendants would be coming to escort us out of Hyperspace Mountain. We were at the very top of the dome, too. The lights when on and there we were trapped in the roller coaster cars in a large, very gray, nondescript industrial complex.

So much for the magic. But then another kinda epiphany hit me: the fact that my mind was a lot like this ride, a big loud noisy mouse-trap game of a ride, where the addictive goal was to get the metal ball from the top of the trap to the bathtub at the bottom, over and over and over again, without reason. Just because I've always done it that way. Lock and load and do it again. Because it's addictive, fun and safe.

As I sat in the car waiting to be escorted down, I prayed/meditated to empower myself with empathic action to counter my frenetically circular inaction, regardless of the fact that I have no control of anything that happens in this world, only how I may possibly influence it and ultimately react to it (or not react to it).

I prayed/meditated to shut down my maniacal machinery regularly with an unrivaled focal strength and be the effectual stretch. Meaning to stretch myself (and in turn others) to become more self-aware and learn new ways to see and understand life, and to expand beyond what’s known and comfortable in ways that produce desired yet diverse, highly personalized and usually effective results. This could mean the literal extremes of big success or failure, or those incremental leaps and lapses in between that give our daily journeys sustenance for mind, body and spirit.

I prayed/meditated to be a better husband, father, friend and world citizen (which is why I took a break from writing this article to play paper dolls with Bryce and check out Star Wars artwork from Beatrice). To not be a softie pacifist pushover, but to continue to be a more compassionate man of stalwart action. To keep fighting the good fight and being more compassionate to others in whatever form that ultimately takes, as long as it takes form.

Amen.

Plus, I bought a Jedi light saber at Disneyland, an elegant weapon for a more civilized age. Really. I did. What?!? It's fun. C'mon, I'm only a fan on the early path toward enlightenment (I hope). Not the nut you're looking for. Move along.

Happy Merry Baby Jesus Where the Force Flows with Mindful Christmas Magic Year Round!

May the #BhivePower Be With You

When I heard it the first time, my heart filled with love and faith, and my spirit transcended the atmospheric sensitivity of childhood scarring.

“Chewie, we’re home.”

For some, the words are meaningless, nothing more than another passing obscure reference of no interest, something silly for the crazies of sci-fi fandom.

But for me, it’s beyond moving. It lifts me up and holds me close, as if I were a lost, frightened child finally found, held tightly in my broken mother’s loving embrace.

In the summer of 1977, the world was complicated. We were still recovering from the longest and steepest recession at that time. Middle East tensions ran high. Domestic violence awareness and child abuse awareness was in its infancy. Political myopia was everywhere. We seemed to be a highly disconnected world in the wake of early technological innovation.

My own complicated world at the time was still years from full recovery, living with domestic violence and abuse. Star Wars was to become a savior of sorts for me, and why I convinced my little sister to stand in the long hot line with me at the Fox Theater in Visalia, CA to see the new space epic.

We sat in the dark theater and held fast the seats beneath us, looking aspirational celluloid straight in the eye. I remember with stellar clarity the journey to a galaxy far, far away when I became one with rogues, rebels, villains and heroes and a musical score that haunts me to this day.

Nothing else really mattered until the house lights came up and it’s all I could talk about for the rest of that summer. But I carried with me a newfound hope, and now decades later, multi-generations of fans wait longingly for the next chapter of the Star Wars saga.

Chewie, we’re home sent chills through many of us and we cheered along (and I’m still cheering since I’ve watched the new trailer over and over and over again), yet again living in a complicated parallel universe to 1977: economic recovery, global tension, political myopia, accessible domestic violence and child abuse awareness, a now highly interconnected world via a mobile and social tech explosion.

That's why I'm so excited for my girls to watch the films someday soon, distanced only by the obvious differences they're growing up with (for the better) than I did. They've already had a lot of indirect exposure from me (go figure) and from other shows and stories, and are drawing pictures of their favorite characters (Beatrice tends to be drawn to the villains of stories, so we'll have to watch that young Padawan). The Mama's onboard as well having seen Star Wars when she was about Beatrice's age.

Even with the mixed reviews of two-dimensional female anti-hero Padme years ago, her daughter Leia will always rock with fiery independence and strong leadership, tempered by grace and compassion.

"You have that power, too,” says Luke Skywalker in the latest Star Wars teaser trailer. Of course he’s referring to “The Force.”

Make fun of me if you want, but we should all aspire to have it. Always. #BhivePower

A New Hope, Blue Genes and Fatherhood -- Episodes IV, V & VI

Yes, celebrating 30 years of The Empire Strikes Back with JibJab (and the entire original Star Wars trilogy) and one hour of not working.

How much fun is that? Tons.

The Cast:

Han Solo -- Me

Princess Leia -- Mama

Luke Skywalker -- Beatrice

R2-D2 -- Bryce (in utero)

Obi-Wan Kenobi -- My Dad (adopting step-dad)

Darth Vader -- My birth father

Enjoy!

Star Wars: Episode IV A New Hope

Star Wars: Episode V The Empire Strikes Back

Star Wars: Episode VI Return of the Jedi

Now on the briefly serious side. Star Wars hit the big screen when I was 12 years old. Those who read my blog know that was when monsters roamed my realm and running from my blue genes had only just begun.

Star Wars freed me to roam in a galaxy far, far away and to swashbuckle with villains, heroes and hope.

My Vader is me, but I am not him, yet we are one.

For fathers who break the cycle of violence and abuse: May the force be with you. Always.

The Crushing Gravity of Planet Baby

This past Easter we went to Babies R Us first time. It was like stepping out of a spaceship onto a planet with extremely heavy gravity; I became a shorter, stouter man that sucked his thumb and spoke with a Gungan accent.

Overwhelming, but the gravity improved when we started looking at strollers, particularly jogging strollers with iPod hook-ups. Sweet. After that Amy (with help from niece Kimberly) zapped the registry gun at products like Princess Leia taking out Stormtroopers (yes, I love Star Wars – dork power rules).

And so begins the acquiring of all things baby. In fact, this weekend we set up the crib and bassinet. I did it with minimal cursing and berating of inanimate objects. Baby B thanked me by flipping over and pushing on Mama A’s bladder. Then mine.

A special thanks to Amy’s sister Jill, our friend Dani, my mom and dad, and some of Amy’s patients and co-workers for the baby stuff to date!