Richard Radstone

I'm an Artist, Photographer, Filmmaker, Author, and Podcaster doing what I can to create meaningful works, better the world we share, and appreciate others.

Day 521: Reflections

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“Might we once again find peace as we ponder what's behind the eyes of those we see—and even, within the mirror's reflection of who you need to love most.”

I don’t even know where to begin on this day’s post number two, other than to ask my own “Why.” To allow the transparency I have promised you. So today, I’m reaching out in free-flowing a sincere stream of thoughts. Starting what I hope becomes an endless dialogue. Even a conversation—that in a distanced and vicarious way—might allow you an active role as you comment and take part in the sharing opportunities I’ll soon be launching. For in it all, and as we each open our ears, eyes, and hearts, perhaps there is a synergy to be formed as the diverse people we are. Me, the 60-year-old white dude revealing his heart as a listener, moderator, and distiller—and you, a diverse community I have grown to love in titling the compassionate majority. People I call strangers-now-friends who, over the last decade and in the thousands, have proven a great number are ready to, in the words of Gration (Day 218) “Share More Open Hand Than Fist.”

From every generation, gender, race, and outlook, many have stepped forward to trust me—and to you, the audience of my blogs, podcasts, talks, and outreach, please accept my deep and genuine thank you. Because for me, I wish no grandeur. I feel it is more important to credit you as you live forward your example within the circle of your influence.

For over a decade, Sidewalk Ghosts and the Radstone Blog have engaged in topics and conversations far beyond myself. Narratives that have become impossible for me to cease (and God above knows I’ve tried). A confession to you in stating; I am ready to do my part to rekindle the fire we have let simmer far too long.

To those of you here for the first time, please accept my hand of acceptance in whoever and wherever you are. I welcome you into a community that transcends commonality and difference. A place where we can give and receive as we strive to find center in seeing each other with empathetic minds. For in the exchange of our hidden histories, our joys, our pains, and in allowing consideration toward others, is a power to progress as contributors to this world we share (toward those we agree with, and even with those we object to).

So on this day two of a no-ended commitment, I write this rather soap-boxy and poetic post. Opening to you more of who I am as I work to evolve how this blog can best serve you—admission to a beyond-myself effort. One in which I need your support to grow.

I know. A rather obtuse and poetic entry this is. But as you take it in, may I ask for your pause? For as we grow in this shared experience, I promise a tactile and visible throughline. If you will, an actionable message taught me over a lifetime of interactions with now numberless individuals—all who bravely and honestly opened their hearts and lives to us as they shared their experiences and perspectives. And, in gratitude to you who have trusted me with your stories, I hope you are reading this now. Thank you!

Yes, the Radstone Blog is re-emerging from the mothballs! And as we set sail, might we once again find peace as we ponder what’s behind the eyes of those we see—and even, within the mirror’s reflection of who you need to love most.

Talk tomorrow my good friends,

Richard

Day 520: I Submit to the Big Question – “WHY”

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I'm wide awake now! My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth from the dryness of smashing a pillow around my face.

Tonight my dog won! 80 ounces of carpet-soiling K-9 with the fortitude to stress me to the max. So in an attempt to escape the bedside sound of her licking herself to my insanity, I now find myself trying to fall asleep in the guest room. All the while, my 97-year-old dementia mother strolling the hallway on an all-so-squeaky walker. A privilege that for the last 7 years my family, no– my wife, has fully accepted in being her full-time caregiver.

I’m wide awake now! My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth from the dryness of smashing a pillow around my face. 

I’m wide awake now! My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth from the dryness of smashing a pillow around my face. But, I’m a good son. I promised my departed father I’d take care of her. Yet, to be fully transparent, I’d be a liar if I did not confess that my thoughts tonight are shamefully sharp and dismissive— Especially as I reflect on the sacrifice and effort made on the part of my wife. Who does that for a mother-in-law?

I push down my 2 AM selfishness as I teeter from held-back anger and fatigue to compassion. Mindsets that lately and most embarrassingly, have grown uncomfortably familiar to me. An emotional distraction that has shadowed the creative night dreamer and optimist I am.

I submit. Are you OK? I ask her.

Yet, as I embrace the realities of my life and face an extremely exhausted emotional self, a certain clarity is coming back into my heart and mind. An inventory propelled as I review the experiences of 2021-2022 past. A year that, as I listed the responsibilities of life, led me to uproot myself, my family, and all that was familiar to me to accept a career opportunity in another state. You know! The smart choice! The secure and comfortable thing to do! Yet as the relocation progressed, and as I succeeded in fulfilling my commitments and milestones, the champagne glass quickly yellowed. Turns out, all was not as it appeared to be. Thus, begins another rebirth and acceptance of lessons learned. A chapter to fully honor my authentic self and a time to recommit to releasing all I can to you, my known and unknown audience.

If you’ve followed me over the last decade, you’ve probably listened to my soapboxes, critiqued my views, met the faces of, and heard perspectives from 100s of strangers to you. If you’ve associated or worked with me over the last 30 years, I hope we’ve shared some meaningful moments and created some palpable work. Maybe you’ve liked, or (and it’s way okay) disliked my photos, films, writings, and podcasts. But in all, I promise I’ve at least strived to be open and honest. 

It is in this vulnerability I must come clean to confess that over the last few years I’ve become a little forced. All for good intent, mind you. Had to go through the learning curve of podcast production, streaming tech, website development, crowdfunding, speaking, and so much trial and error with Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and (Heaven help me) TikTok. So here it is: I’m maxed out and have decided to go back to the grassroots that got us all together in the first place— the blog world (although I will still be integrating with social channels and other ways to contribute and share).

So again, I submit.

Release myself from the worldly definitions of what it means to be a provider and trust an outlook that has consistently directed me. This a statement I do not take lightly as I consider the cultural, political, social, and economic times we are now facing. And as I open up to you, my wishes are humble. That I can be in tune with the spiritual, emotional, and intellectual promptings that are rising in me (as I did during the freeflow narrative of 2011). Able to be enlightened, directed, and helpful in connecting us in a dialogue of purpose. Just like what happened as 10s of thousands followed, contributed to, and lived forward the messages found within the stories of the original 365-day stranger-meeting challenge.

In going forward (this time with a lot fewer typos— thank you Grammarly), I’ll not be placing a deadline on when we will stop, or be trying to recreate what was (although we’ll resume a few of the ways that worked for you to share your wisdom and experience). But overall, this voyage is going to be different: Not only focused on meeting a stranger every day (although we will meet many); it will be more organic. There will be more in-the-moment writings, new social observations, fresh essays, never seen poetry, a range of mixed media stories, and perspectives from all kinds of people.

As before, I’ll be asking some of the original 365 questions. Yet, in this outreach, I’ll be incorporating an additional question: A speaking point that can grow our dialogue regarding who we are as diverse people. Hopefully, even strengthen our empathy toward others as we pause to consider what we, as individuals, are going through. That question—simply this… WHY?

I’m looking forward to seeing where we go!

Talk tomorrow my friends,

Richard

Mother and Child

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Mother and Child –

Today, I grew up. My rose-colored glasses fogged. Even though I knew they deceived me, the benefit of the doubt drew me closer to the fire. I got burned. My heart tarnished by the acts of others, I’m humbled to the core. The grace of God shines the song of forgiveness for transgressions felt. Not all mine, not all theirs. But sins non-the-less.

Life is a strange educator. With no statesmanship and limitless strength it rolls over our faces, our spiritual eyes and mortal ears rarely pausing to truly hear the small voices falling from above…

The little whispers and quiet screams that bridge the life earned holes inside. Tiny reminders testifying, you are loved; they are lovable; and in her lips, they tremble.

Then there’s the bitter silence of anger and confusion. Quarrels that disconnect what is right! amidst witnessing the slowing of aged movement and bitten nails. Pride bears it’s ugly music. The notes puff up. Sadly. Others follow.

She lays asleep in the corner of my house– years of decay bleeding her body and soul. The mirror before her is a reflection of her legacy, and I wish to understand. To forgive, to be forgiven: The truth warms me as I feel of tender mercies and a rebirth that is blossoming within my very soul.

I’ll never know the hurt and laughter she’s lived– or to be heard for her failings and blessings upon me. Yes me, the imperfect one. Her walls are far too thick, and her mind far too lost.

But what of the scared and lonely little girl inside that she so desperately protects under the memories of pictures faded. Ripped paper cuts outs of peacefully fractured moments. Of her tailored father: Of her mother I never knew: Of life before my very existence. Transparent vignettes of turmoil and joyful journey sit numbly in her eyes. I weep inside, suppressing tears behind my settling rage.

He held her close to him, and even as she morphed into the mind of a child, she did her best to see us. She, a self-absorbed shadow to the person she could be, evolved as the years went on.

She needed him: he needed her. The “Henny Penny” of his heart, they stood together into a dark and light future. A strong survivor; a faulted man; a sinner and a saint; he was a mortal father, a willing provider and servant to her every whim. She, an innocent and unintentional murderess to the worth of the human heart, loved to the best of her ability, knowing not the impact her memory would fulfill.

We cannot comprehend, nor see, her unrevealed memories. Yet she is worthy to be forgiven. No one will really ever know the true intentions of her heart. They will go with her to a brighter place. A glory where she will be with those she loves, they who love her, and a place where we will once again see her at her best. Her lungs will fill and her heart will loosen. There is peace and grace in that knowledge.

Her legs weak, her mind feeble, she tries to filter the shrapnel in her soul. I watch her move, I see her lost. I ache a pain that I never really noticed before I paused to reflect. A tightened chest that constricted from years of similar breath, I now realize her worth.

A sleepless night, I exhale in receiving new air. I am free.