Kaylee.

Friendship is an amazing thing. There are moments in a friendship where there is no question that the friendship will last forever. Moments like these are seldom incredible or important to anyone but the people in the friendship. For John, Levi, and myself, these moments came during long and hard hours jumping on a trampoline which did not belong to any of us. They came missing shot after shot of basketball. (In our defense, we could not see the basketball hoop because we usually played after dark. We are also terrible at basketball when there is light, but that's another story.)  They came while sleeping out on Levi's deck in the cold. At times, these moments came so quick that for anyone else, they would be hard to catch: a shared inside joke as we passed each other in the hall; shouting at one another from across a loud room just to say hello; or seeing something hilarious with one another that no one else saw. It is in moments like these that friendship is an unbreakable, unwavering bond that will never go away.

But, friendships do pass. A friend can move away. Petty arguments can ruin a friendship. And don't even get me started on what a beautiful girl can do to a friendship.

Yesterday, I lost a good friend... perhaps in the most unexpected and devastating way possible. She went to bed and didn't wake up.

Do you want to know what the hardest part was for me personally? I found out via Twitter.

Kaylee was one of the greatest human beings that I have ever known. She literally radiated joy, laughter, love, and genuine hospitality. Her life was not an easy one, but she never let that be a reason to be anything but happy. Her heart was not strong physically, but spiritually her heart could have powered a nuclear reactor... and often she did power inspiration and love in her friends. Kaylee had this extraordinary talent of not being able to tell stories because she could not get past her own laughter. Although Kaylee could not play sports, she did not let that stop her from being a part of the team. I have never, EVER, seen anyone with a servant's heart as genuine as Kaylee's. She was the BEST sports manager that any team could ever ask for. She loved my good friend Derek with rock solid grace and care. She loved everyone she had ever met, and we loved her back.

I am so happy that I knew Kaylee.

I am so sad that she is gone.

When someone who so genuinely good, as Kaylee was, dies; I get a little confused. I mean, I know Kaylee is in heaven. So, I am happy. But, she is also gone from this world. So, I am sad. And confused. And a little frustrated. Why do things like this happen to good people? Why must the good die young? Why is there nothing I can do about it? Or really nothing I can do to help those who have been destroyed by this loss? How could God let this happen?

But then... I remember Kaylee. And the only memories that come are not just good, they are great. Every mental picture that I can possibly recall of Kaylee is her either laughing or smiling. I remember all of the lives that I watched her touch. And, what is even more amazing, I watch as all of her friends support one another through this tragedy, as Kaylee herself would have done. I think the most amazing part of death is the life that comes out of it. Friendships have been rekindled, good memories have been reignited, and, though there is a lot of pain, I can even see that joy has been sparked. It is amazing to me that even from the grave, Kaylee is still heavily impacting my life and the lives of my friends.

To those who are mourning Kaylee's death, I only say this. Mourn with passion. It is not only okay to be sad; it is a sign of how much Kaylee's love impacted the world. Cry for her because the world is a truly darker place without her. But, in your mourning, remember her. For I promise that if you truly remember who she was, the pain will subside, if only for a second, and Kaylee's infectious joy will lift you up as it has always done in the past. 

The Glories of Dirt

Here's a fact about myself that most people probably would keep to themselves: I love being dirty. I mean covered in filth. I love looking down at a pair of hands that are crusted with mud and grime. I love when my hair is all matted together from sweat and lake water. I love when I can look down at my clothes, and it takes me a few extra seconds to distinguish where the muck on my attire stops and where the muck on my skin begins. And, on the flip side, I hate showering. In my mind, showering is such a burdensome chore: undressing, waiting for the water to warm up, standing under the water, shampooing, rinsing, lathering up my body, rinsing, drying off, doing my hair, putting on deodorant, dressing. If it were at all socially acceptable (don’t worry, I know that it is not) I would stop showering completely. And it would be glorious.

Now, you might argue that showering is a selfless act. “I shower for the benefit of those around me,” you might say. Well, I say that you are wrong! Showering is not a selfless act, it is a selfish one. We, as humans, care deeply about how others perceive us; what they think of us; and how they talk about us when we are not listening. I believe that for most (and I will admit that I do know a few exceptions) showering is more of an act of pride than one of humility, because no one wants to be labeled as “that guy that smells bad/looks dirty/doesn’t care about how he looks.” We want to be regarded as clean: as sanitary: as normal.

But we are not any of those things.

Humans are messy. Everyone has dirt in his or her life because everyone has made a mistake at one time and/or another. However, like showering, we try to wash away this dirt from the eyes of those around us every day. We try to hide the things that we did that we are ashamed of because it is not socially acceptable for those things to be brought to the light. And, just like showering, that constant covering of the dirt in our lives can be an exhausting process.

Now, I am not saying that everyone should stop showering all together: in either the literal or the figurative sense. There is a reason that we shower: it is good for our physical well-being to be clean. Similarly, it is unhealthy for a person to be walking around divulging their life-dirt to everyone they see.

What I am saying is this: sometimes, in the right setting, it can be fun to be dirty. For example, if I were going to an interview, being covered in mud would not be the best life choice. However, when I am camping with my friends, the dirtier I can get the better. The same goes for the messiness in our lives. It can be good (it can even be fun) to be filthy with a good friend. When John, Levi, and I slept outside all those nights, we stopped showering. We wore our muck on our chests, and not a single judgment was passed. It was not until our dirt was showing that our friendship became the stuff of legend. Something magical happens when you have to wipe the dirt out of your own eyes to see your friends doing the exact same thing.

This is why Sam and Frodo had a bond that the rest of the Fellowship could not comprehend. This is why Timon and Pumba so easily accepted Simba. I would even argue that this is why nobody but Han Solo could understand Chewbacca.

They didn’t hide the dirt. They stopped showering.

Brush Your Teeth

I know I’m not alone when I say that some of my most intellectual thoughts come to me while I’m in the bathroom. Not necessarily on the toilet, just being in the space of a bathroom brings out the philosopher in me. Most recently I was reflecting on how old I am while brushing my teeth. Not necessarily how mature, rather just how much time has passed since all the things my dear friend Ben described in the last post.

            When I was little I use to dread brushing my teeth, and I don’t know why? It wasn’t painful there were no traumatic circumstances associated with it, I just didn’t want to do it. I don’t remember much from when I was little but I do remember having two toothbrushes. I had one electric toothbrush, not because I was lazy, no. This toothbrush served the very specific purpose of not brushing my teeth but naturally, brushing the wall of my bathroom. I figured out that putting this toothbrush against the wall would trick my parents into thinking I was actually brushing my teeth. Now, the second toothbrush was rarely used. In the event I actually decided one night I did want to brush my teeth, I saved this one so I wouldn’t have to use the wallbrush. (For some reason not brushing my teeth was sanitary but using the wallbrush was repulsive.)

            To this day it still puzzles me as to why I was so set against such a simple and purely beneficial action? I would plot all day. Contriving clever ways to avoid that horrendous act and stress if I couldn’t come up with something before the moment of truth that night came. Honestly, that was one of my biggest worries in my admittedly care free life up to that point.

            I somehow managed to make it through that phase of my life totally cavity free (if that’s not a miracle I don’t know what is.) It was funny to look back on myself and see how foolish I was but honestly, those long nights spent talking with Ben were no different. Ultimately none of it matters now, except for the relationship we created as a result. But it mattered to us in the moment. In fact nothing was more important. I would anticipate hearing his advice on the latest drama in my life. I always gave the absolute worst advice when we had our late night talks under the stars. Yet, we would all three come back just as anxious as the time before.

            So I as I stood there brushing my teeth years later, I look back on those late night talks, and think about a younger self pushing his toothbrush against the wall and think about how trivial it all was. How truly clueless about life I was. I think about the things I worry about now as I brush my teeth. How seemingly insurmountable they are. I’ve gotten older but my worries aren’t any less.  In fact, they are even more real. I worry now about the things that if I fail, can’t be fixed by a trip to the dentist. I’m not complaining about my life. I couldn’t begin to count all the amazing privileges I have or the infinite amount of people that have blessed me in even more infinite ways. I don’t have life all figured out. But what I have learned is that people are a lot stronger than they give themselves credit for. I know I’ll make it through my worries and so will Ben and so will all of you reading this. Life isn’t easy for anyone and honestly I can’t wait for the day when I look back and laugh at the problems I have now. Maybe I’ll even be brushing my teeth.

“There’s no point in going through all this crap if you’re not going to enjoy the ride.”

"Life's greatest tragedy is that we get old too fast and wise too late."

Two Dudes Blogging

Hey. Welcome to The Journeys of Wild Men. I would try to explain what this blog is going to be about, but I honestly have no idea what is going to happen. Which makes this whole thing so much more EXCITING. Here is a little background for those of you at home: 

My name is Ben. I will be co-authoring this blog with my friend John. John and I met in 8th grade at our christian middle school. We were in study hall together during 7th hour, which meant we sat in the same row during chapel. (Christian schools generally have chapel services at least once a week. This may seem weird to any of you at home who went to a public school, but I assure you that it is quite normal and not as horrible as it may sound.) During the praise and worship part of chapel, John and I used to dance, do hand motions, sing horribly loudly, and do whatever it is that socially undeveloped pubescent boys do during such things (use your imagination). We were on the fast track to friendship. 

As we moved into high school, our friendship grew even more. Although we each involved ourselves in a medley of different activities, our friendship stayed strong (probably due to the fact that our high school was relatively small and we shared a couple of the same classes). In fact, by senior year our choices in extra-circulars began to converge as we participated in school plays, student council, and men's varsity volleyball together. (Yes, our school had a volleyball team. Yes, John and I both were starters. Yes, we should have won state but choked in the semifinal. Yes, we are still bitter about that fact).  

Even outside of school we were friends. John, myself, and our good friend Levi were like the three amigos, only our friendship was better than that triad of Mexicans. The three of us would spend countless nights doing absolutely nothing. And then, once it got late enough, we would hop into Levi's truck and head up to his house in the mountains. Once there, we would gorge ourselves on whatever snacks we could rustle up from Levi's kitchen and then do what has become one of my favorite pastimes and fondest memories: sleep outside on Levi's deck. We did this year around, wind or calm, cold or hot, snow or rain or sleet or hail (it didn't really ever sleet or hail on us though). In under 5 minutes (even less if it was really cold) we could set up two sleeping pads, one giant sleeping bag, three personal sleeping bags, pillows, blankets, and even a tarp fort if need be. We were a fine tuned machine. And once we had settled in, we would stay up for hours staring at the stars and talking about life, girls, and whatever else would pop into our admittedly immature minds. It was amazing!

Now, however, John, Levi, and myself have drifted apart... literally. John goes to school in Arizona, Levi in Colorado, and I in Oklahoma. "But what about summers?" you may ask. Well, John's parents up and moved to Michigan the summer after he graduated. So although we talk still, it is not the same. 

And that's what this blog is about. It is about staying connected. For those wild boys that slept outside together have grown into wild men. And those wild men have taken very different journeys. But just because those journeys are different, it doesn't mean that we have to lose our friendship. You will see posts from me about my life. You will see posts from John about his life. You might even see us post in response to one another. Heck, we may even be able to get Levi into this (but I'm not promising anything). This blog is like the pants in that movie The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, except far more masculine. It will give you a look into our lives as we take a look into one another's. It may be funny, or heartfelt, or depressing, or boring. But, hey, that's life.