To my Mom on her Birthday October 30, 2012

Dear Mom,

It’s another year and you’re not here with me. It never gets any easier to write you this letter. As the years go on parts of you fades in my mind. I can barely hear your voice anymore, your eyes aren’t as clear as they once were and sometimes I don’t know what you would say to me in those situations where I really need you. I used to be able to say everything to you knowing that you would always listen to me no matter what it was. You always told me to follow my heart. Sometimes without you here it feels like that is missing. I’ve lost the compass of where self is. But even though I’ve lost some of these things I also hold onto many others

Your warmth has never left me. Sometimes I can still feel your hugs. You showed me that if my heart is in the right place the rest of my body will follow. The way you would gently wake me up with a voice that called me out of sleep in the best way possible.  When I was hurting and the tears would come, you would cry with me. You taught me that it was OK for a man to cry. You also encouraged me to laugh and seek the joy in life even in the midst of pain. Even when others doubted me you always had hope. You taught me it’s never to late to hope.

Mom I need to be honest that I have seen some dark days since you’ve been gone. I made you a promise that I would be OK and that you would be able to look down on me and be proud of me no matter where you were. I have not always kept that promise. I lost parts of myself to deal with my demons and I forgot what it looked like to hope. I stopped letting God speak into my life and let my demons tell me who I was. I stopped believing I was that boy you raised.

But as I write this letter to you now, I’ve made it through my darkest times and I have seen that elusive hope once again. I know what grace is again and I am chasing it with all that I have. I continue to fail and hurt but I also know how to rise from that into the light that once took you from me. I know that someday I will get to be there with you and I will cherish that day but for now I know I have so much left here to do. Someday I will have your grandchild and I will share everything that their Grandma taught me.  I will teach them hope for each day. That it’s ok to cry. That their hearts are their greatest assets. I will wake them gently in the morning and I will tuck them in at night soothing all their fears. I will tell that there is always grace. But mostly I will give them love the very love that you gave me. The very love that makes me who I am today.

I love you Mom and I will always miss you but you will never be fully gone from me.

Love Zach

What Do You Want To Do Before You Die? January 26, 2010

So as the reality of cancer and my mortality has dawned on me in the past few days I’ve begun to ask myself the question of what do I want to do before I die?

Please do not take this the wrong way this is less of a bucket list of how to spend my final days; instead it is more of what can I do right now that might make my life meaningful. I have no time limit for when I’m going to die, I don’t think it will be any time soon but it honestly could be.

So friends what is on your list?

Get ur Hands up? January 26, 2010

So a few weeks ago I attended a Switchfoot concert here in Seattle. Now I know some might think this band is not worth my time or yours but in that I would say you are in the wrong. They have been a constant in my life since my younger days of my musical pallet.  The concert was awesome and Jon Forman is still my hero no matter what you may say, so drop it.

So yes I did listen to Christian music and yes Switchfoot did come a long with that grouping of musical miscreants. Although I do not group them in that category anymore. 

Anyway I digress I wanted to explore something I’ve begun to notice or more so something that has  more so started to claw at my insides is this phenomena of rasing your hands to the sky or to the christ-like rock star/whorship leader on stage. Hundreds of people closing their eyes stretching out their digits while swaying to the music. It’s equivalent to the rock on sign at a tool concert (yes I chose tool on purpose). I don’t understand it anymore or maybe I never did. What are they reaching for and what are they hoping will happen.

The hypocritical reality is I also participated in this ritual during my youthful worship sessions but I never quite new what or why I was doing it. Everyone else seemed to know so I followed. Now that I’ve slightly matured in my faith or more likely just formed a bunch of opinions I hesitate to raise my hands and take part.  Do they know something that I do not? Am I the one missing out because of my unwillingness? Or is this just another way to show my religiousness? Some may say well you can look at this and think it’s stupid (which I do) but is that just your frustration because you really want to? 

Maybe this is true; I once was one of those people and some part of me does miss that. But I refuse to take part in something simply because it feels good being a part of the masses.

One last point I could just be expelling my frustration because I really wanted to deck some these teenage boys in front of me who pushed their way to the front only to raise their rail thin arms right up in front of me blocking my and everyone elses view as well as subjecting us to the incredible stench of their under arms.

No longer saved by the bell February 12, 2009

Zack Morris is a fictional character on the television show Saved by the Bell; for those of you who are awesome you will remember this classic show and the lovable Zack and what he was all about. He was a schemer, the epitome of mediocrity, got all the girls and always seemed to just make it out of every jam. I of course idolized him growing up; he had my name and everything else I didn’t have. So I learned to just kinda fly by through life. It was easy to just get by and not really try too hard. Mediocrity was my path; when it came to most of my life just barely getting by but always making it out as the credits closed on that perfectly crafted episode. 

Well Zach Morris isn’t real; I’m Zach Dahmen and my life isn’t written and doesn’t close in a half an hour after some slick commercials. My just getting by and wry sense of humor isn’t cutting it anymore. The past always finds a way to rear it’s head and make you face it head on. I don’t get to just get by anymore; either I work or fail. And it may not all turn out picture perfect neatly packaged. 

Our stories are not neat packages that make sense; their long episodes with no breaks or clear conclusions.(So basically LOST). We choose how to tell our story each and every long minute. It’s no longer a bell that’s going to save me but Grace.

My Heroes are all dead or dying January 20, 2009

All my heroes are all dead or dying. They’ve either shot themselves in the foot and bleed out or have been revealed a fictitious and are coming to a slow and painful demise. Their corpse float along my consciousness battering themselves against the beach. Their last words are not poignant but just mere cries for something better. No wonder I look to comic books and movies to find hero’s that will not fail me. Hero’s only live long enough to watch themselves become the villains. 

So for now maybe I’ll be my own Hero.

Exploring the Great Abyss January 19, 2009

“Good luck exploring the great abyss” he says. And as I sit thinking about what that means to me I see that exploring the beautiful and infinite is just a thin line away from giving it all up and falling into an abyss. This leads to great discoveries and immense loss. I may wag one finger but I’m white knuckles holding onto the very same thing. My exploration is one of complete darkness and blinding light. The light is where I want to be but without the darkness I wouldn’t even know what the light is. The idea of the infinite can be absolutely belittling. I become so small but that’s what I need something to make realize how small I am in order to know how big I can become.

 

Fuck, this hurts so much. 

I know it hurts. That’s life. If nothing else, It’s life. It’s real, and sometimes it fuckin’ hurts, but it’s sort of all we have.

When we Fell January 19, 2009

When we fell who was put in charge? My vote was never counted; there was no democratic process. It’s too easy to point the finger at something or someone else. But with that let me point an angry finger at the state of humanity, at the Church, and at Christianity and its theologians. In our desperation we turned to something that was suppose to give us life. You failed, you failed us all. We put everything we had left in you and you took that hope and broke into thousands of pieces leaving our scattered remanent to be swept up by those more welcoming addictions. The band aids were used to put us back together, a fragile human. Now we walk with all our cracks showing leaving chipped piece where ever we wonder. 

So for all of us who put our hopes in these fleeting religions and quick buzzes brought on by our desire for wholeness; know that you are not whole and will never be. So stop peddling your bull shit. Your nothing more than door to door salesmen pawning your vacuum cleaners to suck up our souls. We no longer need these solicitations into our lives,your magical elixirs and encyclopedias. Get behind me Satan.

Learning how to die- Jon Foreman.. not me October 29, 2008

I’m gonna miss you
I’m gonna miss you 
When you’re gone
She says, I love you
I’m gonna miss you 
And your songs

And I said, please
Don’t talk about the end
Don’t talk about how 
Every living thing goes away
She said, friend

All along I thought 
I was learning how to take
How to bend not how to break
How to live not how to cry
But really 
I’ve been learning how to die
I’ve been learning how to die

Hey everyone
I’ve got nowhere to go
The grave is lazing me
He takes our body slow

And I said, please
Don’t talk about the end
Don’t talk about how 
Every living thing goes away
I said, friend,
All along I thought 
I was learning how to take

How to bend not how to break
How to live not how to cry
But really 
I’ve been learning how to die
I’ve been learning how to die
Die, die
I’ve been learning how to die
I’ve been learning how to die

A moment of your time… please October 29, 2008

I have been noticing that all everything seems to come down to is just moments. Singular moments in time that add up and make a day, a week, or a year. All that is remembered often is just those fleeting moments, not much else. The human brain just doesn’t cognitively process everything we’ve seen or experienced. My childhood is just a series of moments I can remember. People from my past have become a series of moments not actual human beings. We do coffee dates, send emails, call on a phone, write a letter, drink a beer; all just moments adding up to a relationship. I used be so anxious about missing out on those moments, so much so that I missed them. I’ve also been so focused on the big idea of it all that the little moments were not given any credit. So if it all just adds up to these short interactions and even shorter memories what do we do with that? How do I spend my time?  Maybe I should take more pictures… they last longer.

Things I’ve learned about being a good Christian October 16, 2008

A good Christian never does anything distasteful like smoking or drinking. He because a good Christian is always a He because God is a He always votes for the most Godly candidate… which is obviously the Republican choice. He prays for his Country and his family first because that is what matters. He has the 2.5 children and a white picket fence. He plays a guitar but only for worship. His worship is neat and tidy without too much nonsense. He never curses or makes an off color statement. He defends what he has earned at all costs. His church is one of people who think just like him and wouldn’t try and think any differently. He knows that someday he will be raptured and leave this world so don’t put too much stock in this world. The Bible is his text book and all that is worth knowing comes from there. He has saved his money to be able to take care of all his and his families needs. He knows exactly where those who don’t know what he knows are going and sometimes makes and effort to save them as only he can. Nothing can persuade him or deter him from what he knows to be truth. 

So why am I noting like that man why do I just want to be the guy who thinks…. The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace things, but burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue center light pop and everybody goes “AWWW!” 

-Jack Kerouac: