“Bright eyes” is the nickname given to me by my father. He was the only one who ever called me bright eyes, named because of my bright green eyes, and the way I stayed open to the world as a child.

 

Bright eyes became a calling card, and a shorthand love note, that let me know I mattered utmost to him. It signifies the special, lifelong relationship I had with my father.

 

As I got older and was able to reflect on the role my father played in my life, so much about the brightness, the aliveness of the world, the richness in the mundane and the spectacular, I learned to touch, see, and experience through my dad’s eyes.

 

Jazz music, the smell of pine sap warmed in the summer sun, how to cook a perfectly charred, medium-rare steak, that silliness has no age-limit, the divine gift of tacos, stargazing by a campfire, the deep satisfaction of packing a car so that everything fits, the thrill of live music and theater, the joy of gathering friends for a meal prepared with love, the importance of hard work and playing hard, how to cultivate and sustain life-long friendships, and how to cherish the everyday items that bring us joy through functionality.

 

All this, and so much more, is how my dad made the world bright to me.

 

Since my dad’s death, “bright eyes” has come to mean so much more than a term of endearment. I entered formal training in somatics, and through that development and other profound life experience, have come to think of being bright-eyed as both an action and practice of being awake and aware.

 

Awake and feeling for the abundant possibilities inside of collective liberation, social, and climate justice.

 

Aware and accountable for the devastating impacts of systems of oppression on people and the planet.

 

My dad and I did not share many political views. I was much too radical for a man of the silent generation, but my dad did admire and deeply respected moxie, having a moral compass, standing up for what you believe in, and doing the right thing.

 

I know my dad was (is) incredibly proud of me. Not just what I do professionally, but the person I am and who I continually (re)commit to becoming. He loved my zest for life. Even when he thought it was risky or crude, it made him chuckle as he marveled at the wild, bright-eyed woman he raised.

 

Bright Eyes, the project, is in honor of my dad. It’s in honor of all the bright-eyed babies, baddies, and brave hearts out there willing and wanting to become more awake and aware. We all deserve to revel in our “wild, precious lives,” and as we scream into the wind our prayers for the regeneration of our planet, let’s build our collective capacity to work hard enough to save ourselves, each other, and this beautiful blue being we call home.  

 

So, thanks, pops. This one’s for you.