It’s been a while since I’ve written here. My friend Valentalae observed so to me yesterday. So this morning it’s on my mind to start doing so again. After all, you know what I say about doing, right?

It’s been long enough that the client I used to post to this thing from my phone has undergone some changes. Let me describe the picture above for folks using screen readers. It’s an AI generated photograph of a three headed dragon.

Which I have posted here because my brother and my sister are on my mind.

Me, Spacey, and Pene, we are like that dragon. For years we have referred to ourselves as The Ghidrah. The Japanese movie monster, but spelled a little differently.

I first met Spacey almost 30 years ago. He wasn’t my brother things first started. He was an Internet friend. I arranged to meet him when he was in town visiting family.

And although we had never met face-to-face before the second we got near one another, we felt an electric shock of connection.

It was like we recognized instantly that we were meant for one another, that we were part of one another.

Some years later, I want to say about eight, I met Pene at a kink event, Black Rose. A mutual friend assured me that I simply had to meet her because “she is strangely like you, you’ll see when you meet her.”

And it was true. That same bolt of lightning passed between us. We laughed at the same things, found joy in the same things, always wanted to stand near one another, or be touching. It was absolutely identical to the way I felt around Spacey.

It was uncanny. I knew they had to meet, and I said so to both of them. And about a month later they did, at another event. Without knowing what the other person even looked like, they found each other across a very large crowded room. Another strike of lightning.

Not too long after that, we all got together in the same place at the same time. And it remains to this day, one of the most significant moments of my entire life.

We met at her house. Which was deep in the woods, down a private road. I remember this so clearly. Some friends were driving me there. As we drove, and got close I could feel them. I knew exactly where they were. I told my friends where to turn.

“How do you know?” they asked me. But I couldn’t answer them because I just knew.

When we got there, I jumped out of the car and ran to the house so quickly my feet slipped, and I almost face planted on the ground. The door opened and they were right there because they felt me coming. I slid into their arms, and we embraced.

And it felt like a bomb going off. A swelling crescendo played in my head. And I knew the truth, which is that we were one.

It’s beautiful.

A little over a year ago, our brother died.

Tragically so.

He had been grievously injured. Languished in a coma. And after coming out of it had a cardiac event that took him.

When it first happened, I thought I was dead. I kind of was. I kind of am.

But in a way that I cannot describe to you, he is still with me and sister. We feel him.

And it’s sad. It’s a profound grief that I’m going to have for the rest of my days. But it is not completely bad.

When she and I talk, that feeling of his being with us is magnified. And together she and I still love everything and everyone that he loved. How could we not? We’re him.

For years, I have morbidly said that I was concerned about this time, these days.

What would it be like when one of us had passed? Because magical connection or no, we’re still people.

The answer is that it’s OK.

I have been blessed to have such a long love in my life. And I still have it.

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AuthorMako Allen
CategoriesgratitudeNow
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So the other day, Missy went grocery shopping. She brought home a big pack of fresh strawberries. There’s this funny thing we often go through with these. They’ll sit in the fridge, unopened, not hulled, and slowly go bad. Then, just when I want some, I reach for them, and have to throw them out.

I hate it.

Missy and I talked about it as I was helping her put away the groceries. And we agreed that we’d just cut them up, so they’d be ready to go, whenever we wanted some.

Later that day, I did it. Cutting board, knife, ten minutes of effort.

I’ve been noticing something about what I did, and about being an adult, in general.

I think part of being an adult is recognizing that you can expend effort ahead of time, to rely on yourself later.

I’m super looking forward to having some of those strawberries. I feel damn good knowing they’re going in my belly, not the trash.

And I think a whole lot of things are like that. That there’s joy in the delayed gratification that comes with effort. Not that it’s like some video game achievement, and once you’ve done it, you don’t have to again. There’s dishes stacked up on the kitchen counter that really need my attention. I’m going to get to them today. And when I do, it’s going to be a berry nice feeling.

Maybe I’ll reward myself with a bowl of strawberries and a little whip cream for it.

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AuthorMako Allen
CategoriesgratitudeNow

So one of the bad things that resulted from Spacey’s passing was that it also, eventually, took down the website and feed for the Big Little Podcast.

I struggled for a while trying to figure out what the heck to do about it.

Brother really was the technical arm of our podcast effort. He secured our hosting, set up our gear. In hindsight, I wish I had been more involved with that, and that we’d made sure to share credentials and responsibility for that stuff equally.

But, there’s really a subtle but important psychological reason why it was that way. Spacey was really quite introverted. Being behind the mic was always exciting but exhausting for him. As we created the show, and grew it over time, each of us struggled with bringing equivalent effort to the show.

I have a big personality, a big mouth. I’m a charismatic and compelling public speaker. I don’t say that in a boastful way. Brother was a technical genius, and a skilled artist. Everything he designed and created had a beautiful look and feel. We sort of naturally fell into our roles, with me as the go-find-em guy for guests, and he as the wizard behind the scenes.

And together, along with Mae, we created a really special environment, that let people speak to who and what they were.

But, it did come with cost. Which is that when the horrible accident that put him in a coma happened, it caught us completely by surprise and without any sort of disaster recovery plan.

After he passed away, I found access to the recordings through a different means. Thank goodness. So, I bought a domain, and ended up creating the archive.

It’s not done, but I’m steadily getting it together. There are 57 episodes, and most of the little-somethings already up in the archive. And I won’t stop until it’s all there.

I was going to wait until I was done to release the thing to the world. But three or so weeks ago, I changed my mind.

And I’m so glad I did. The work of creating the archive is sometimes really, really heavy. I think about Spacey all the time. I miss him terribly every day.

But sometimes, as I work on the archive, and re-listen to our shows, it’s joyous. He was so smart, sweet, funny, and kind.

There’s roughly 200 hours of the show. 200 hours of him helping others, lovingly teasing me and joking with me and our guests. 200 hours of us appreciating one another.

And as much as I can, I’m going to make sure all that never fades from the world. I’ve got my eye on it. When the archive is done, I’m going to approach some folks about ways to make sure it never goes away.

So many people have contacted me about what the show has meant to them, about how sad they are at his passing. And that is helping me process my own grief.

I’ll say too, that there’s work on the archive people can help me with, if they want. I’m definitely looking for help filling in those missing show notes and transcripts. If you want to get involved in any of that, go to https://www.biglittlepodcast.info/news-contact, and use my email link there to drop me a note.

There’s a saying that as long as we speak of them, those who have passed away never completely die. I know I’m going to be talking about him forever. And listening to him through the archive.

It brings me a whole lot of joy to see that all over the world, people are still listening to him.

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AuthorMako Allen
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So sometimes, life teaches me things I don’t particularly want to know about myself.

One of those things is that despite literal decades of study of mindfulness, and Taoism, I’m not a patient person. Particularly with myself.

It’s not even been three weeks since Spacey’s death. As you might imagine, I’m a mess.

Some days, I’m carried aloft by decades of happy memories, shared laughter, the delight of shared work, values, and priorities. Other days, all those things wrap around me like a shroud, holding me so tight I can barely move, barely breathe.

I’ve been having a whole lot of trouble sleeping. I wake up around 3 in the morning, remembering seeing him at the viewing, touching his body, and feeling how cold it was. As opposed to the way he gripped my hand so tight, just the week before.

When people bring him up, I’m inclined to burst into tears.

I don’t concentrate well.

I alternate between not wanting to eat at all, and gorging myself on foods.

It’s not a surprise really. Anyone and EVERYONE I’ve been talking to about this, has assured me that this is all perfectly natural.

Except to me. Because I often seem unable to treat myself with the same patience, kindness, and compassion I give so easily to everyone else.

Today I slept in until around noon. I mindlessly watched television.

At one point, with my partners Squee and Moliére’s urging, I took a shower, put on fresh pajama pants, and, you guessed it - made myself some chicken nuggets.

We watched Ted Lasso together, remotely.

I leaned into my love of the show, and shared it with them. It helped me a ton.

Sometimes, simple comfort food and care from others is what’s important to have. I’m not required to operate at peak efficiency all the time. Sometimes you have to rest.

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AuthorMako Allen
CategoriesgratitudeNow
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I’m sitting at my gate at the airport, waiting for my flight home from Spacey’s funeral.

I feel calm this morning, safe.

The weekend was hard, very very hard but also good.

Sister and I spoke about him and in a way for him, at the funeral, at the viewing, and in all the little times and places that other mourning people sought solace and comfort.

I made deep connections with PowerFlower and her lovely husband. She spoke at the service too, in a deep and mighty way.

Between us we gently but firmly cradled everyone there and sort of shook the rafters.

It felt good.

And we spent quality time wrapping Mae in the warm loving embrace that is the continuance of our family during such an abrupt and painful departure.

This morning as ‘flower and Mr. Flower (he’s going to need a nickname too and shortly, I’m leaning into “Donuts”) drove me to the airport I got a powerful message from my brother:

TAKE JOY IN NEW THINGS.

Love what was, and hold onto it, yes. But also, welcome new love and joy and connection and growth into my life, my heart, my day.

I hear you brother.

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AuthorMako Allen
CategoriesgratitudeNow