Dirty leaves in bunches for sale.

Mismatched buckets of wildflowers, earth under fingernails and open hands inviting one to taste.  People and children alive and shopping free of metal cages and broken wheels, free of screaming and grabbing at boxes of sugar adorned with pictures of fictional beings so many fictional beings line the polytheistic aisle of carbohydrates in that other place.

At the farmer’s market I shop only by texture and color, scent and taste, finding truth in wrinkles and grime.

This is about open space, finding pieces and filling holes.  It is about a circle on white paper, brushed in the Zen style by an Asian man in robes kneeling on a pagoda with the sound of water nearby.  This is about the moment when space assumes definition, is or is not, by the addition of a single brush stroke.  Photos have layers of is or is not.  A table is.  The space underneath decidedly is-not but we find comfort in that space beneath tables swinging feet and legs below the knee. The circle is a complete form.

At some point in life we focus below the table, on the is not, on the swing of feet, the arc of legs, tracing circles through time and space.

Three weeks into growing a beard, I watched Man of Steel last night while folding laundry and drinking decaffeinated mint tea.  There’s a point in the movie when The Man is speaking to Lois Lane and she asks about the symbol on his chest.  She remarks it looks like an ‘S’ and he responds that “on his planet it’s not an ‘S’..it’s a symbol for hope.”  She persists, and The Man becomes known as Superman.

Superhero’s are in fashion again.  At the gym, which I joined to rebuild my body after years of neglect, men and women wear Superman’s symbol on T-shirts and shorts.  It’s not just for kids anymore.  Now more than ever, we feel the need to tap into something greater.  We need to feel stronger and more resilient.  We hope.

Yesterday I woke at 5:30am without an alarm and drifted into my kitchen for coffee.  I wrote in my new journal for an hour, made a sandwich of egg, ham and cheese before changing into workout clothes.  I delivered my son’s skateboard and phone to their mother’s home by 7:30am.  Most mornings we would get ready for school or camp.  I drove 30 minutes in traffic to my gym and spent an hour pushing muscle and bone through limits.   I spent the day at work.  Took the car in for an oil change.  Spoke to friends and family along the way.  Avoided traffic by stopping for sushi.  Shared worlds and words with Gabrielle over Skype later that evening after folding laundry and drinking tea.

In the early morning making eggs and lunches, in the creation of art, in showing up for work, in taking care of my children and myself,  in helping others, in loving a woman, in making a home, I am a man of steel.  Or so I hope.