It rained a lot this morning
But the skies had cleared by the time I came outside.
The radio weatherman reported that the showers were gone for the day;
That the sun was out and – Watch out! Be careful! –
The winds would be picking up as the day went on.
I made my way to my bench in my park
And sat down to do my neck exercises
(With Fred Hammond playing in my earphones).
Now picture. My bench is at the edge of a concrete clearing
Among many tall and beautiful trees in my park.
When I look straight up (think neck exercise), I see
A big circle of blue sky surrounded by the tip-tops of trees.
When I look more forward at the tops of the trees
Across the clearing and in front of me, I see
More of the trees
Against a moving backdrop of white clouds
Quickly drifting across the quietly blue sky.
Then, suddenly, the wind picks up!
And the trees begin to sway and rustle and flicker and dance.
People, I can do nothing short of BASK!
Oh, the PRESENCE!!
In that clearing, looking up at beautiful sky
As trees bend over me in what seem like
Protective postures, I know that
“This is the day that the Lord hath made”
For ME!
How. Fun. Was. That!!!!!
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Serena
As a fairly avid tennis fan, I was offered condolences on yesterday as I settled in for a full day of tennis and encountered yet another rain delay. I smiled at the sentiment, but had no problem finding something else to do. Today, however, condolences are more in order. I am ailing – as the Serena Williams / Kim Clijsters U.S. Open semi-final match debacle settles into my consciousness.
It is not what happened that is making be ail. What happened was no more than an incident that took place between two, three, four, five or six people -- depending on how one looks at things. The 2, 3, 4, 5 or 6 people involved acted out their individual minds, beliefs, hearts and spirits – the good and the bad, the right and the wrong. They did it before tens of thousands of people and in front of cameras that immediately conveyed their images to millions more people. But it was only the 2, 3, 4, 5 or 6 people who were actually involved who created the incident, and I know better than to expect people to behave any differently from whom and what they are.
No, the thing that hurts me is that in tennis’ many public discussions, commentary and analysis that are sure to ensue, no one will defend Serena although her position and behavior was AT LEAST as defensible as any and all of the positions and behaviors of the other 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5 other persons involved.
No one in the booth or locker room will say, “I cannot imagine being called for a foot fault – mistakenly or otherwise -- in a semi-final match at deuce! That is unheard of in our sport! Had it happened to me, I would have been very, very upset as well. So yes, I can understand what happened with Serena whether I can condone her reaction or not.”
None of the commentators will consider the difference between Serena’s penalty and the penalties (or lack thereof) handed down to the many professional tennis players who have verbally abused referees (much less linespeople) as a matter of course. Neither John McEnroe nor anyone else will be heard on air saying, “I regularly behaved far worse, provoked by far less! Had I been called for a foot fault at a point in a semi-final as she was, I cannot imagine what I might have done or said! With all of my misbehavior, I was never penalized to the extent of losing a match! I would have been apoplectic! So yes, I can understand Serena’s reaction whether I can condone it at this point in my career or not.”
Comments and discussions such as the above may certainly be taking place in private and/or off the air. But the sport – the corporate sport of American tennis, its spokespersons, and much of its rank and file – will not express any such opinions publicly. The few within the ranks who might wish to do so will consider the (legal, financial, and peer) pressures involved – and try to be content with more private and personal conversations.
The party line will be:
“Of the two to six people involved, all behaved within the limits of lawful, acceptable and understandable behavior. Only Serena must be held accountable for any missteps here. Only Serena can be held responsible for this unfortunate incident.”
No producer, journalist or columnist will wonder aloud how often these “unfortunate incidents” – obscure rules, incorrect line calls, botched scores and bumps – revolve around Serena and/or Venus Williams. None of them will share any musings about how these sisters, who have brought untold numbers of fans and literally, billions of dollars to the sport would be feted if they were white Americans instead of Black ones.
No one in tennis will publicly give Serena her due as she steadily and methodically defeats all comers. She is a phenomenon, a great tennis player and, on many measures, the best female tennis player of all time. But the sport will never celebrate her that way. Her sport will never support, defend or celebrate her as it should. Her sport will never cease to criticize her even as they grudgingly give her some minimal credit for her skill, heart and victories.
As she did last evening, Serena will graciously congratulate her opponent, square her shoulders, lift her head, smile and wave to her fans, and stride off the court – alone. And those of us who know – those of us who identify – those of us not deluded or in denial or under illusions about what it is to be African-American in America – don’t feel so well this morning.
It is not what happened that is making be ail. What happened was no more than an incident that took place between two, three, four, five or six people -- depending on how one looks at things. The 2, 3, 4, 5 or 6 people involved acted out their individual minds, beliefs, hearts and spirits – the good and the bad, the right and the wrong. They did it before tens of thousands of people and in front of cameras that immediately conveyed their images to millions more people. But it was only the 2, 3, 4, 5 or 6 people who were actually involved who created the incident, and I know better than to expect people to behave any differently from whom and what they are.
No, the thing that hurts me is that in tennis’ many public discussions, commentary and analysis that are sure to ensue, no one will defend Serena although her position and behavior was AT LEAST as defensible as any and all of the positions and behaviors of the other 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5 other persons involved.
No one in the booth or locker room will say, “I cannot imagine being called for a foot fault – mistakenly or otherwise -- in a semi-final match at deuce! That is unheard of in our sport! Had it happened to me, I would have been very, very upset as well. So yes, I can understand what happened with Serena whether I can condone her reaction or not.”
None of the commentators will consider the difference between Serena’s penalty and the penalties (or lack thereof) handed down to the many professional tennis players who have verbally abused referees (much less linespeople) as a matter of course. Neither John McEnroe nor anyone else will be heard on air saying, “I regularly behaved far worse, provoked by far less! Had I been called for a foot fault at a point in a semi-final as she was, I cannot imagine what I might have done or said! With all of my misbehavior, I was never penalized to the extent of losing a match! I would have been apoplectic! So yes, I can understand Serena’s reaction whether I can condone it at this point in my career or not.”
Comments and discussions such as the above may certainly be taking place in private and/or off the air. But the sport – the corporate sport of American tennis, its spokespersons, and much of its rank and file – will not express any such opinions publicly. The few within the ranks who might wish to do so will consider the (legal, financial, and peer) pressures involved – and try to be content with more private and personal conversations.
The party line will be:
“Of the two to six people involved, all behaved within the limits of lawful, acceptable and understandable behavior. Only Serena must be held accountable for any missteps here. Only Serena can be held responsible for this unfortunate incident.”
No producer, journalist or columnist will wonder aloud how often these “unfortunate incidents” – obscure rules, incorrect line calls, botched scores and bumps – revolve around Serena and/or Venus Williams. None of them will share any musings about how these sisters, who have brought untold numbers of fans and literally, billions of dollars to the sport would be feted if they were white Americans instead of Black ones.
No one in tennis will publicly give Serena her due as she steadily and methodically defeats all comers. She is a phenomenon, a great tennis player and, on many measures, the best female tennis player of all time. But the sport will never celebrate her that way. Her sport will never support, defend or celebrate her as it should. Her sport will never cease to criticize her even as they grudgingly give her some minimal credit for her skill, heart and victories.
As she did last evening, Serena will graciously congratulate her opponent, square her shoulders, lift her head, smile and wave to her fans, and stride off the court – alone. And those of us who know – those of us who identify – those of us not deluded or in denial or under illusions about what it is to be African-American in America – don’t feel so well this morning.
Monday, May 11, 2009
The uniqueness of snowflakes and us
It is said that each of us has a twin in the world somewhere. I daresay that is true. If we are willing to dissect ourselves, we have hundreds of "twins" -- folks with identical hands, noses, or shapes.
But I have a theory. "Wanna hear it? It goes a little something like this..."
As grains of sand -- and snowflakes -- differ from each other, I submit that the one uniqueness that every person possesses...that is beyond duplication or "twin-ness"...is PERSPECTIVE. No one -- NO ONE -- sees, hears, tastes, considers, feels, takes in, smells -- perceives -- the universe exactly as each of us does.
Now each of us may enjoy our perspective; we may share it, lend it, or broaden it. What we likely cannot do with it is compete. My perspective would be ill-used to best any competitor. We all have perspectives as we all have lungs, life and hair -- none better than any other -- no rights or wrongs, superiors or inferiors.
Now that capitalism and competition are out of the way....
For me, perspective is the very heart of education. Whenever I am blessed to truly see the world, or some part of it, through someone else's eyes -- then my own perspective is broadened. As an educator, I consider it my life's purpose to share my own perspective -- to broaden the perspectives of others. As a reader...ah, as a reader!...and as a lifelong student, I have looked at life through the eyes of literally thousands of people, past and present. The tangential knowledge alone has been more than worth twice the effort! The areas of commonality -- and difference --in perspectives have literally defined the human experience for me. The process has been the exhiliration of my life.
I think that there is a difference between education and job training. We've all had to attend school, memorize facts, regurgitate process, and earn credentials on the road to self-sufficiency. Job training. Thankfully, many of us have remained at the center of our concentric and broadening circles of understanding our "self," the universe and the multi-faceted relationship between the two. Education.
In service to the system -- and often to our own survival within the system -- job training is important and useful. But is there more to life than life within a capitalist system? Here's wishing you and yours ... education.
But I have a theory. "Wanna hear it? It goes a little something like this..."
As grains of sand -- and snowflakes -- differ from each other, I submit that the one uniqueness that every person possesses...that is beyond duplication or "twin-ness"...is PERSPECTIVE. No one -- NO ONE -- sees, hears, tastes, considers, feels, takes in, smells -- perceives -- the universe exactly as each of us does.
Now each of us may enjoy our perspective; we may share it, lend it, or broaden it. What we likely cannot do with it is compete. My perspective would be ill-used to best any competitor. We all have perspectives as we all have lungs, life and hair -- none better than any other -- no rights or wrongs, superiors or inferiors.
Now that capitalism and competition are out of the way....
For me, perspective is the very heart of education. Whenever I am blessed to truly see the world, or some part of it, through someone else's eyes -- then my own perspective is broadened. As an educator, I consider it my life's purpose to share my own perspective -- to broaden the perspectives of others. As a reader...ah, as a reader!...and as a lifelong student, I have looked at life through the eyes of literally thousands of people, past and present. The tangential knowledge alone has been more than worth twice the effort! The areas of commonality -- and difference --in perspectives have literally defined the human experience for me. The process has been the exhiliration of my life.
I think that there is a difference between education and job training. We've all had to attend school, memorize facts, regurgitate process, and earn credentials on the road to self-sufficiency. Job training. Thankfully, many of us have remained at the center of our concentric and broadening circles of understanding our "self," the universe and the multi-faceted relationship between the two. Education.
In service to the system -- and often to our own survival within the system -- job training is important and useful. But is there more to life than life within a capitalist system? Here's wishing you and yours ... education.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
More Books
I have to add a postscript to my earlier comments re: Walter Mosley's The Fortunate Son. The further I got into the book, the better it got. Once I realized that the book was a parable -- then Ohhh! I get it now. Definitely worth reading.
I wasn't able to make the March meetings of the two book clubs so I missed the Walter Mosley discussion -- which I heard was lively and fun. AND I missed The Reader discussion -- which probably wasn't much. (As a matter of fact, I've opted out of that particular group because it's a social group that fails to discuss the book itself.) The April meeting of the first club was on Shadows on the Hudson by Singer. I understand that Mr. Singer is best known for his short stories and that this fat book (500+ pages) was his foray into novels. It was the story of a middle-class social community of Jews in New York just after WWII -- living, loving, cheating, and remembering against the backdrop of an ancient religion and a recent trauma. I kind of liked it.
For May, we are reading The Poet of Tolstoy Park by Sonny Cullen. After only 40 pages, I have fallen in love with this book. It was written in 2005; takes place in 1925; is not a very easy read; but it is SO worth it. I'll keep you posted.
Finally, I want to get something off my chest. You'll remember Oprah calling this author to task for the lies he told in his "autobiography" a couple years ago. I seem to recall public apologies, refunds, rescinded contracts and recalled books. I think the book was called A Million Little Pieces by James Frey.
This was Mr. Frey's personal account of his recovery and drug rehab experiences. Did you read it? I thought it was pretty good myself. I wasn't necessarily swallowing everything hook, line and sinker. It was an AUTObiography, for goodness' sake. And for more goodness' sake -- it's the autobiography of a DRUG ADDICT! One of the very first thing ANYONE learns about substance abuse is that DRUG ADDICTS LIE. Ask any family member, friend, counselor, doctor -- anybody. DRUG ADDICTS LIE. It makes sense. The reason drug addicts are drug addicts is because they cannot deal with the version of reality they know and feel. Almost the whole point of substance abuse it to get and stay high enough so that the pain of being who you are no longer exists.
That being said, I thought the book contained enough truth to give readers rare and excellent insights into the lives, experiences and rationales of drug abusers -- and enough lies to make the author not feel like the world's biggest loser. I thought this was what almost all autobiographies (not my favorite genre) did by definition. I mean, if you were to write your own story.....? Accuracy, brutal honesty, raw self-reflection would, of course, be YOUR main messages, I'm sure. After all, (according to your autobiography,) that's just the kind of person you are. :-)
Just had to get that off my chest. If you haven't read the book, see if you can hunt down a copy and let me know what you think.
I wasn't able to make the March meetings of the two book clubs so I missed the Walter Mosley discussion -- which I heard was lively and fun. AND I missed The Reader discussion -- which probably wasn't much. (As a matter of fact, I've opted out of that particular group because it's a social group that fails to discuss the book itself.) The April meeting of the first club was on Shadows on the Hudson by Singer. I understand that Mr. Singer is best known for his short stories and that this fat book (500+ pages) was his foray into novels. It was the story of a middle-class social community of Jews in New York just after WWII -- living, loving, cheating, and remembering against the backdrop of an ancient religion and a recent trauma. I kind of liked it.
For May, we are reading The Poet of Tolstoy Park by Sonny Cullen. After only 40 pages, I have fallen in love with this book. It was written in 2005; takes place in 1925; is not a very easy read; but it is SO worth it. I'll keep you posted.
Finally, I want to get something off my chest. You'll remember Oprah calling this author to task for the lies he told in his "autobiography" a couple years ago. I seem to recall public apologies, refunds, rescinded contracts and recalled books. I think the book was called A Million Little Pieces by James Frey.
This was Mr. Frey's personal account of his recovery and drug rehab experiences. Did you read it? I thought it was pretty good myself. I wasn't necessarily swallowing everything hook, line and sinker. It was an AUTObiography, for goodness' sake. And for more goodness' sake -- it's the autobiography of a DRUG ADDICT! One of the very first thing ANYONE learns about substance abuse is that DRUG ADDICTS LIE. Ask any family member, friend, counselor, doctor -- anybody. DRUG ADDICTS LIE. It makes sense. The reason drug addicts are drug addicts is because they cannot deal with the version of reality they know and feel. Almost the whole point of substance abuse it to get and stay high enough so that the pain of being who you are no longer exists.
That being said, I thought the book contained enough truth to give readers rare and excellent insights into the lives, experiences and rationales of drug abusers -- and enough lies to make the author not feel like the world's biggest loser. I thought this was what almost all autobiographies (not my favorite genre) did by definition. I mean, if you were to write your own story.....? Accuracy, brutal honesty, raw self-reflection would, of course, be YOUR main messages, I'm sure. After all, (according to your autobiography,) that's just the kind of person you are. :-)
Just had to get that off my chest. If you haven't read the book, see if you can hunt down a copy and let me know what you think.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Take CARE of yourself
I pass this along without much editorial comment.
The article speaks for itself.
The headline reads, "A hurdle for health reform: patients and their doctors."
Selected quotes read:
"...we will have to accept that 'best' doesn't always mean the newest drug or the latest treatment.'
"...'If everybody...believes that prescriptions and procedures are the things we need to make us healthy and well, then it doesn't matter what kind of policy you draft or what kind of system you build. It's never going to get better.'
"The list goes on. Whether it's invasive back surgery, medical scans or expensive drugs, patients and doctors alike often refuse to believe that costly treatments aren't worth it.
"...patients routinely demand[ed] unnecessary prescriptions.
"'Doctors believe the industry propaganda that new drugs are better than old ones, and that for every ailment there is a drug.'
"'In American culture, prescriptions and procedures have become surrogates for real health care and real dialogue,..."
Have we not spoken about this before?
The article speaks for itself.
The headline reads, "A hurdle for health reform: patients and their doctors."
Selected quotes read:
"...we will have to accept that 'best' doesn't always mean the newest drug or the latest treatment.'
"...'If everybody...believes that prescriptions and procedures are the things we need to make us healthy and well, then it doesn't matter what kind of policy you draft or what kind of system you build. It's never going to get better.'
"The list goes on. Whether it's invasive back surgery, medical scans or expensive drugs, patients and doctors alike often refuse to believe that costly treatments aren't worth it.
"...patients routinely demand[ed] unnecessary prescriptions.
"'Doctors believe the industry propaganda that new drugs are better than old ones, and that for every ailment there is a drug.'
"'In American culture, prescriptions and procedures have become surrogates for real health care and real dialogue,..."
Have we not spoken about this before?
Don't Worry, Be Happy !!
OK, this will be relatively quick.
The headline reads, "Like the show? Maybe it was the commercials,"
and the point was that interrupted pleasure seems to be more pleasurable.
It's kind of amazing all the different things that scientists study, isn't it?
Anyway, they are finding that the human being is so adaptable that (s)he gets used to anything -- good or bad -- pretty quickly.
The quote they use is, "The first kiss is magic. The second is intimate. The third is routine."
So of course, the question they pose is, 'If you adapt so quickly to pleasurable activities, and the pleasure decreases, how do you sustain a level of happiness or ever move up on the scale?' And their answer is, "One way people do this, research suggests, is to favor novel experiences over material goodies." In other words, STUFF isn't nearly as satisfying as trying new things or having new experiences.
The headline reads, "Like the show? Maybe it was the commercials,"
and the point was that interrupted pleasure seems to be more pleasurable.
It's kind of amazing all the different things that scientists study, isn't it?
Anyway, they are finding that the human being is so adaptable that (s)he gets used to anything -- good or bad -- pretty quickly.
The quote they use is, "The first kiss is magic. The second is intimate. The third is routine."
So of course, the question they pose is, 'If you adapt so quickly to pleasurable activities, and the pleasure decreases, how do you sustain a level of happiness or ever move up on the scale?' And their answer is, "One way people do this, research suggests, is to favor novel experiences over material goodies." In other words, STUFF isn't nearly as satisfying as trying new things or having new experiences.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
OBAMA !!!
Speaking of books -- I'm listening to Barack Obama reading his own book, "Dreams From My Father," on my IPod.
Now this is an experience!
There are six CDs to this book.
I listen to each one 2-3 times -- then I let it shuffle right along with my music.
I'll hear Fred Hammond, Justin Timberlake, Alicia Keys -- then a couple of pages from Barack.
How cool is this!
Did you see your President on TV last night?
He's a ROCK STAR!!!!
He can't get INTO the Chamber for people trying to shake his hand, hug him, touch him.
He can't begin SPEAKING for the prolonged standing OVATIONS he cannot put an end to.
He can't get OUT of the Chamber for people wanting his AUTOGRAPH on their programs!
A Rock Star!!!
And yet and still, he is our President -- our leader in so many, MANY senses of the word.
He is so admired, idolized and appreciated not for the hype -- but because he has actually given himself over -- and is determined to be -- the Real Deal.
I didn't follow the election that closely -- I knew that I would be voting for Barack Obama and that was that.
I didn't go to the Inauguration -- too many people -- and I was going to see/hear his speech on TV or computer anyway.
But now I plan my evening around televised Presidential addresses -- and pore over my weekly newspaper accounts of Presidential actions and activities.
THIS is the part that's exciting for me!
YYYYOOOOUUUU GGGGOOOO BBBBOOOOYYYYY!!!!!!
Now this is an experience!
There are six CDs to this book.
I listen to each one 2-3 times -- then I let it shuffle right along with my music.
I'll hear Fred Hammond, Justin Timberlake, Alicia Keys -- then a couple of pages from Barack.
How cool is this!
Did you see your President on TV last night?
He's a ROCK STAR!!!!
He can't get INTO the Chamber for people trying to shake his hand, hug him, touch him.
He can't begin SPEAKING for the prolonged standing OVATIONS he cannot put an end to.
He can't get OUT of the Chamber for people wanting his AUTOGRAPH on their programs!
A Rock Star!!!
And yet and still, he is our President -- our leader in so many, MANY senses of the word.
He is so admired, idolized and appreciated not for the hype -- but because he has actually given himself over -- and is determined to be -- the Real Deal.
I didn't follow the election that closely -- I knew that I would be voting for Barack Obama and that was that.
I didn't go to the Inauguration -- too many people -- and I was going to see/hear his speech on TV or computer anyway.
But now I plan my evening around televised Presidential addresses -- and pore over my weekly newspaper accounts of Presidential actions and activities.
THIS is the part that's exciting for me!
YYYYOOOOUUUU GGGGOOOO BBBBOOOOYYYYY!!!!!!
Books, Books, Books
I joined two local book clubs this year. They're not exciting but they ARE pretty interesting. I have read books that I wouldn't have glanced at otherwise. I get to take part in an 'intellectual' exchange (much more personal than one would think). I get to observe human beings interacting in a social context without necessarily being involved. Interesting.
"Where Did I Leave My Glasses?" is a witty, comprehensive, accessible discussion about normal memory loss. I've had an extremely poor memory my entire life so I hadn't realized how upsetting memory loss is for my 50+ contemporaries. This actually is a book I would recommend for anyone who has questions or interest in the subject. I found myself referring to the book a lot while I was reading it because the author's examples were so right on that many of my everyday conversations were mirror images of her written accounts.
"Go Tell It On The Mountain" by James Baldwin. Sigh. In the many, many years that have passed since I read Mr. Baldwin, I have developed a much finer appreciation for the artful use of the English language. What a beautifully written book! I did, however, find the discussion somewhat lacking -- mostly because the subject matters of Pentecostal Christianity, spirituality and their effect on flawed human beings are so close to me. But I took advantage of the public library book sale to score another Baldwin book for future enjoyment.
"The Reader." I wasn't bowled over when I read it the first time some years ago. As a matter of fact, I passed on the movie because the book was so underwhelming for me. But I read it again for the sake of the book discussion. There was much I hadn't remembered (normal memory loss), but my overall impression remained the same. I'm as prepared as I'm going to be for this discussion.
"Fortunate Son" by Walter Mosley. I generally find Mr. Mosley's books entertaining -- kind of the same way that guys find chick flicks amusing. For me, his character development leaves something to be desired. However, this one is as enjoyable as any of his others. Stay tuned -- this promises to be a curious discussion in this group.
"Where Did I Leave My Glasses?" is a witty, comprehensive, accessible discussion about normal memory loss. I've had an extremely poor memory my entire life so I hadn't realized how upsetting memory loss is for my 50+ contemporaries. This actually is a book I would recommend for anyone who has questions or interest in the subject. I found myself referring to the book a lot while I was reading it because the author's examples were so right on that many of my everyday conversations were mirror images of her written accounts.
"Go Tell It On The Mountain" by James Baldwin. Sigh. In the many, many years that have passed since I read Mr. Baldwin, I have developed a much finer appreciation for the artful use of the English language. What a beautifully written book! I did, however, find the discussion somewhat lacking -- mostly because the subject matters of Pentecostal Christianity, spirituality and their effect on flawed human beings are so close to me. But I took advantage of the public library book sale to score another Baldwin book for future enjoyment.
"The Reader." I wasn't bowled over when I read it the first time some years ago. As a matter of fact, I passed on the movie because the book was so underwhelming for me. But I read it again for the sake of the book discussion. There was much I hadn't remembered (normal memory loss), but my overall impression remained the same. I'm as prepared as I'm going to be for this discussion.
"Fortunate Son" by Walter Mosley. I generally find Mr. Mosley's books entertaining -- kind of the same way that guys find chick flicks amusing. For me, his character development leaves something to be desired. However, this one is as enjoyable as any of his others. Stay tuned -- this promises to be a curious discussion in this group.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Just You
There is only one way.
“The road may be narrow,”
“The obstacles may be great,”
“The disciplines are crucial and critical,” but
“You must come this way.”
All of THIS has almost nothing to do with anyone else
And everything to do with YOU.
True, you can’t actually DO it, or live it, alone,
But it IS All About You –
The questions, the answers, the Way –
All about you -- all between you, you, and your God.
You will surely meet guides –
You will certainly have fellow travelers,
You’ll know teachers, preachers, healers, helpers and friends.
And all will be but part of the GPS systems
That leads you to You.
There really is no other way
Nor much of another point.
“The road may be narrow,”
“The obstacles may be great,”
“The disciplines are crucial and critical,” but
“You must come this way.”
All of THIS has almost nothing to do with anyone else
And everything to do with YOU.
True, you can’t actually DO it, or live it, alone,
But it IS All About You –
The questions, the answers, the Way –
All about you -- all between you, you, and your God.
You will surely meet guides –
You will certainly have fellow travelers,
You’ll know teachers, preachers, healers, helpers and friends.
And all will be but part of the GPS systems
That leads you to You.
There really is no other way
Nor much of another point.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Keeping Up with the Old Folks
"Babies know: a little dirt is good for you" was the headline -- New York Times, 01/27/2009, p.D7. The article was in the Science section and discussed the "accumulating evidence strongly suggest[ing] that eating dirt is good for you....in the development of a healthy immune system."
The article was interesting enough. What was more interesting, though, was my memory of an old saying. When I was young(er) -- and children put dirt in their mouths -- the old folk used to say, "Don't worry about it. We all gotta eat a peck a dirt before we die." 'Course, that always begged the question, "How much is a peck?" We never got an answer to that, but truth be told -- we didn't need an answer to worry a lot less about the babies playing in the mud or getting a little dirty.
I love that science has a way of catching up with the wisdom of my forefathers and mothers.
The article was interesting enough. What was more interesting, though, was my memory of an old saying. When I was young(er) -- and children put dirt in their mouths -- the old folk used to say, "Don't worry about it. We all gotta eat a peck a dirt before we die." 'Course, that always begged the question, "How much is a peck?" We never got an answer to that, but truth be told -- we didn't need an answer to worry a lot less about the babies playing in the mud or getting a little dirty.
I love that science has a way of catching up with the wisdom of my forefathers and mothers.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Unintentional Preparation
Having the layoff possibility laid out for me – after years of (unconscious, subconscious) wishing and hoping and (unintended) preparing….
Every time I thought to leave, or tried to leave, this institution, several exit meetings would automatically be scheduled. And somehow, some other position, some amended list of duties, some new and “exciting” opportunity, and/or some more money would appear – and I would stay on. The years slid by.
The new College president and the economic downturn knocked the wind out of everyone’s sails – and essentially allowed me a step toward a freedom that I didn’t even know I was seeking.
As I walk around the corridors this afternoon, doing my usual meet & greets, I feel myself smiling inside. I suddenly realize that I won’t miss this place or these people at all. I don’t share the values or the passions of the folks around me -- nice though they may be. I've sidestepped their extracurricular activities and consistently viewed the work through a very different lens. While, on the one hand, that made me valuable to the team, it also spoke of a failure to fit.
OMG, I never really belonged here! That’s why I wasn’t happy here! I thought I didn’t belong here because I didn’t belong anywhere. I thought I wasn’t happy here because I wasn’t happy. So I repeat -- OMG!
And now I’m gonna be free! In these next months, opportunities within the College are likely to come up – and I’ll think about and consider them when they do. But for now, I’m looking at freedom. And I’m writing!!!! I'm writing a lot and every day! I’m writing because I can – because I want to – and because it helps me.
Preparation.
A few months ago, I actually stopped writing because a good friend of mine admitted to me that she didn’t read me. My December 10 blog entry read:
I'm ba-a-a-ck
"...last publshed on August 1..."
What in the world have I been thinking!?!
I've been thinking a lot of things, actually. I just haven't been sharing any of them. No, I haven't been busy. And no, I haven't lost interest. I lost something though. A good friend of mine confessed that she just doesn't read blogs. She didn't want me to take that personally (?) but blogs just weren't her thing. Too deep, too thought-provoking, too who-knows-what. 'Course she LOVES getting letters from me, but that's different. (?) I really TRIED not to take it personally -- but if my friends aren't reading me, then why -- and to whom -- am I writing?
I write because I like to write.
I write because I have something to say.
I write because I can.
I write because I am.
So I'm back. How are you?
A couple of weeks later – when construction repairs in my house forced me to move everything I owned into one (surprisingly comfortable) room, I wrote in my journal about downsizing over the years. I had gotten rid of so many things – books, furniture, clothes, appliances, music – but never notebooks or pens or paper or anything I ever wrote. “A clue! A clue!” read my journal. It was this entry that prompted me to redesign my living space and create a designed office/writing space for myself.
Today, a small article in AMNew York caught my eye (Overcoming your fear of failure, 01/12/2009, p.21). And I quote: “I believe gaining trust in oneself to land safely in any situation is one of the most important lessons we need to teach ourselves if we want to pursue our passions and goals with the vigor needed to snag them.” Now I might take issue with the “teach[ing] ourselves” part – (because fear of failure is often sub- or un-conscious) -- but I definitely think that the essence of this statement is important and true.
THEN I open my friends OPRAH MAGAZINE. I don't subscribe anymore but there was an article my friend wanted me to see on anxiety so she loaned me the whole magazine. While perusing, an altogether dfiferent article than the one she intended caught my eye. "Miserable with their jobs, relationships, or daily routines...[m]ost people are trapped in prisons made of mind stuff...mind cages....When the alternatives are staying in the familiar cage or facing the unknown,...most people choose the cage -- over and over and over again....liberation is only a few simple steps away."
By this time, I was almost glowing with excitement, elation, confidence and gratitude. There were myriad other signs, coincidences, serendipitous encounters and confirming comments too numerous and minor to go into here. So to top it all off, I fished around in my bag for the New York Times clipping I had shoved in there this very morning. It was a paragraph from a David Brooks op-ed on death that reminded me of an experience I had in the hospital when my biopsy came back. "...[at] the end of [the] vision, 'I pinched myself hard, and ran through the multiplication tables, and recalled the birth of my seven brothers and sisters, and my wits were vibrantly about me. The whole thing had lasted three or four minutes, maybe less. I RESOLVED AT THAT MOMENT THAT I WOULD NEVER, NEVER LET ANYTHING DISSUADE ME FROM THE REALITY OF WHAT HAD HAPPENED. KNOWING MYSELF, I EXPECTED I WOULD LATER BE INCLINED TO DOUBT IT.'"
You may be hearing more from me than you want to right now. I write to heal, lift and sustain myself – against many odds and many spirits that would have me doubt what I know to be true. I write to chronicle the unfolding chain of events that I trust will be my testimony to order, glory and wonder in the universe. (John 9:3) (Acts 12:23)
Every time I thought to leave, or tried to leave, this institution, several exit meetings would automatically be scheduled. And somehow, some other position, some amended list of duties, some new and “exciting” opportunity, and/or some more money would appear – and I would stay on. The years slid by.
The new College president and the economic downturn knocked the wind out of everyone’s sails – and essentially allowed me a step toward a freedom that I didn’t even know I was seeking.
As I walk around the corridors this afternoon, doing my usual meet & greets, I feel myself smiling inside. I suddenly realize that I won’t miss this place or these people at all. I don’t share the values or the passions of the folks around me -- nice though they may be. I've sidestepped their extracurricular activities and consistently viewed the work through a very different lens. While, on the one hand, that made me valuable to the team, it also spoke of a failure to fit.
OMG, I never really belonged here! That’s why I wasn’t happy here! I thought I didn’t belong here because I didn’t belong anywhere. I thought I wasn’t happy here because I wasn’t happy. So I repeat -- OMG!
And now I’m gonna be free! In these next months, opportunities within the College are likely to come up – and I’ll think about and consider them when they do. But for now, I’m looking at freedom. And I’m writing!!!! I'm writing a lot and every day! I’m writing because I can – because I want to – and because it helps me.
Preparation.
A few months ago, I actually stopped writing because a good friend of mine admitted to me that she didn’t read me. My December 10 blog entry read:
I'm ba-a-a-ck
"...last publshed on August 1..."
What in the world have I been thinking!?!
I've been thinking a lot of things, actually. I just haven't been sharing any of them. No, I haven't been busy. And no, I haven't lost interest. I lost something though. A good friend of mine confessed that she just doesn't read blogs. She didn't want me to take that personally (?) but blogs just weren't her thing. Too deep, too thought-provoking, too who-knows-what. 'Course she LOVES getting letters from me, but that's different. (?) I really TRIED not to take it personally -- but if my friends aren't reading me, then why -- and to whom -- am I writing?
I write because I like to write.
I write because I have something to say.
I write because I can.
I write because I am.
So I'm back. How are you?
A couple of weeks later – when construction repairs in my house forced me to move everything I owned into one (surprisingly comfortable) room, I wrote in my journal about downsizing over the years. I had gotten rid of so many things – books, furniture, clothes, appliances, music – but never notebooks or pens or paper or anything I ever wrote. “A clue! A clue!” read my journal. It was this entry that prompted me to redesign my living space and create a designed office/writing space for myself.
Today, a small article in AMNew York caught my eye (Overcoming your fear of failure, 01/12/2009, p.21). And I quote: “I believe gaining trust in oneself to land safely in any situation is one of the most important lessons we need to teach ourselves if we want to pursue our passions and goals with the vigor needed to snag them.” Now I might take issue with the “teach[ing] ourselves” part – (because fear of failure is often sub- or un-conscious) -- but I definitely think that the essence of this statement is important and true.
THEN I open my friends OPRAH MAGAZINE. I don't subscribe anymore but there was an article my friend wanted me to see on anxiety so she loaned me the whole magazine. While perusing, an altogether dfiferent article than the one she intended caught my eye. "Miserable with their jobs, relationships, or daily routines...[m]ost people are trapped in prisons made of mind stuff...mind cages....When the alternatives are staying in the familiar cage or facing the unknown,...most people choose the cage -- over and over and over again....liberation is only a few simple steps away."
By this time, I was almost glowing with excitement, elation, confidence and gratitude. There were myriad other signs, coincidences, serendipitous encounters and confirming comments too numerous and minor to go into here. So to top it all off, I fished around in my bag for the New York Times clipping I had shoved in there this very morning. It was a paragraph from a David Brooks op-ed on death that reminded me of an experience I had in the hospital when my biopsy came back. "...[at] the end of [the] vision, 'I pinched myself hard, and ran through the multiplication tables, and recalled the birth of my seven brothers and sisters, and my wits were vibrantly about me. The whole thing had lasted three or four minutes, maybe less. I RESOLVED AT THAT MOMENT THAT I WOULD NEVER, NEVER LET ANYTHING DISSUADE ME FROM THE REALITY OF WHAT HAD HAPPENED. KNOWING MYSELF, I EXPECTED I WOULD LATER BE INCLINED TO DOUBT IT.'"
You may be hearing more from me than you want to right now. I write to heal, lift and sustain myself – against many odds and many spirits that would have me doubt what I know to be true. I write to chronicle the unfolding chain of events that I trust will be my testimony to order, glory and wonder in the universe. (John 9:3) (Acts 12:23)
Monday, January 12, 2009
Romans 8:28
Things have been in upheaval lately.
The flood that turned my home upside down and shook it like a cup of dice still has me living in a virtual construction site.
The myriad insights that such an event provide are rich, complicated and numerous.
How much more is home than shelter against the elements?
And is home just a house after all?
Many things have happened differently, or happened for the last time.
I spent Thanksgiving away from “home” for the first time – and loved it.
I spent Christmas the way I usually spend Christmas – and knew I would not do it again.
I waited for the anxiety of the annual job contract renewal – and found that I didn’t care.
I acknowledged the state of my existence; and I wept.
I examine the possibilities I could control; and I write.
I visited Ikea yesterday, and came away with an office – a space to work.
This morning, I found that my job would be cut down if not cut out in the next six months.
I still don’t care; and I write to keep it that way.
I plan to look back and find this to be the best thing that ever happened to me.
Rise or die.
I have worked 9-to-5’s for forty years now – punched clocks, had health insurance, stayed ahead of bills, and never left a job without having another job in hand.
I have been responsible, frugal and respectful.
I have been miserable.
Now freedom literally looms.
The Bible verse for today was Luke 23:33-43.
By accident, I turned to Luke 22:33-43 instead, where I found:
“…Lord, I am ready to go with thee, both into prison, and to death.
“…And he said unto them, When I sent you without purse, and scrip, and shoes, lacked ye any thing? And they said, Nothing.”
The flood that turned my home upside down and shook it like a cup of dice still has me living in a virtual construction site.
The myriad insights that such an event provide are rich, complicated and numerous.
How much more is home than shelter against the elements?
And is home just a house after all?
Many things have happened differently, or happened for the last time.
I spent Thanksgiving away from “home” for the first time – and loved it.
I spent Christmas the way I usually spend Christmas – and knew I would not do it again.
I waited for the anxiety of the annual job contract renewal – and found that I didn’t care.
I acknowledged the state of my existence; and I wept.
I examine the possibilities I could control; and I write.
I visited Ikea yesterday, and came away with an office – a space to work.
This morning, I found that my job would be cut down if not cut out in the next six months.
I still don’t care; and I write to keep it that way.
I plan to look back and find this to be the best thing that ever happened to me.
Rise or die.
I have worked 9-to-5’s for forty years now – punched clocks, had health insurance, stayed ahead of bills, and never left a job without having another job in hand.
I have been responsible, frugal and respectful.
I have been miserable.
Now freedom literally looms.
The Bible verse for today was Luke 23:33-43.
By accident, I turned to Luke 22:33-43 instead, where I found:
“…Lord, I am ready to go with thee, both into prison, and to death.
“…And he said unto them, When I sent you without purse, and scrip, and shoes, lacked ye any thing? And they said, Nothing.”
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Realationships
Relationships
It isn't you,
Nor is it me,
But it's the space between us.
We cannot be better than
Or different from
Exactly who we are,
But we can certainly improve
Or desecrate
That space that lives between us.
What we give to and take from
That full and vibrant living space
In a lifetime,
Makes us,
Breaks us,
Defines us and shapes us.
It is our spirit's sum --
What we inhale
And drink
And bask or bathe in.
It is a garden metaphor, true --
The place from which God tends us.
It is, my friend, my foe, oh my!
The space that lives between us.
Gale/2001
It isn't you,
Nor is it me,
But it's the space between us.
We cannot be better than
Or different from
Exactly who we are,
But we can certainly improve
Or desecrate
That space that lives between us.
What we give to and take from
That full and vibrant living space
In a lifetime,
Makes us,
Breaks us,
Defines us and shapes us.
It is our spirit's sum --
What we inhale
And drink
And bask or bathe in.
It is a garden metaphor, true --
The place from which God tends us.
It is, my friend, my foe, oh my!
The space that lives between us.
Gale/2001
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