When was the last time I waited - really waited - upon God?
The thought was started yesterday by a comment made by our pastor in his sermon: "Often I have found that a 'No' from God really means 'Not yet'." That thought percolated itself throughout Sunday, into Sunday night and through a restless sleep and dreams until it was the first thing that popped into my head when the alarm went off.
When have I waited? Too often - most often - I haven't. I've been in too much of a rush, impatient to have it "now" because I'm afraid I won't have it at all, or believing that I am entitled to all that I comes into my head and seems reasonable, or simply not accepting that a "No" now means anything other than a "No" permanently.
And what has this gotten me? Except for the grace of God, not much. I can look back now from the perspective of years and see that in fact most of the need to have it now has only resulted in it either disappearing altogether or remaining in a stunted form. I write this not out of regret for the bad decisions (they can't be unmade now anyway) but simply from a sense of observing the results in my life.
I didn't want to wait to be able to afford a new house, but I got one - and ended up losing it. I didn't want to wait (have never, really) for a job situation to clearly evidence itself that it was time to move on - and have missed out on the opportunity to profit from them, as well as (eventually) having them lead to New Home. I didn't want to wait to start a business based on real facts, so I went ahead and did it - and lost a great deal of money and a friendship in the bargain.
There are other things as well - things far more personal, things that shouldn't be out on the Web. Suffice to say that these, too, bear the hallmark of a failure to wait and attendant results.
If I stop and think about it, what have I truly waited on God for? Not much, I'm afraid. There are occasions - the job that brought us to New Home, for example - but I can't think of many. And there are those situations - like a position of leadership I tried to patiently wait for - that simply were answered by "No".
So what are the takeaways here?
The first, I think, is that the past proves the present. I haven't waited, and much of the issues of my own life have been created by my inability to either wait or accept a "No" as "Not Yet". Part of this is my own perspective - thinking I must do everything and have everything now, instead of viewing life through the lens of eternity. But part of this as well is simply admitting that I have not waited.
The second is simply to start waiting upon God. Have I truly taken the time to make my concerns and dreams and desires known? That accomplished, am I then ready to simply wait upon God for His response?
The third is if I am willing to train myself to change my thinking, to realize that "No" may really mean "Not Yet". Or maybe it truly means "No". Either way, I still need to modify what and how I think and act.
The first of half of my life not waiting has not worked out as well as one might have hoped. Perhaps the perspective I need is not to try harder, but simply to wait and watch - patiently.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Friday, July 08, 2011
Iaido by Morning
I have been working my forms in the morning.
One of the things that I realized from the change in my schedule is that my Iaido time was become compressed: I was either too tired to do it, or I always found other things I had to do. My solution became to split my time: some in the morning, some in the evening. And so now, somewhere between 0640 and 0715, you'll find me in the backyard practicing Iaido,
Practicing Iaido outside, in the morning, is an entirely different exercise than practicing in the dojo or even inside. The temperature is the first thing that grabs my attention as I head out - outside is not quite as climate controlled as the circumstances I usually practice in. The next thing I notice is the sounds: at class, the only sounds are the sensei's instructions, the quiet shuffling of feet, the "clack" of bokken as they meet in practice. Outside is a different story: the birds sing in the trees (the chirping of small songbirds, the more mournful cry of doves), perhaps a late lingering bat flutters by seeking one last meal, the local dog population raises the alarm, a squirrel chatters away in a tree nearby.
As I move through the forms, I am confronted by reality: the ground is not level and so I sometimes lurch to one side or the other and I cannot execute turns as smoothly as I would like; a low branch can catch an kesa giri cut as I try to bring it down; an upturned stone can turn an advance into a stumble.
But in all of this difference, I find the reminder that once again, Iaido mirrors life.
Too often we practice and live in a controlled bubble, a series of events and encounters that we attempt to manipulate such that we are always at an advantage. The reality is that we life in a world over which we can control very little. We cannot control the weather, other people, the actions of things and peoples thousands of miles away.
But what we can do is control ourselves. Iaido mirrors this in the kata: by constantly practicing, we internalize our actions and reactions, thus preparing ourselves for the event that we will have to use them in the series of events we call life. To the extent that our practice mirrors more and more of the real world, so we will be more able to control our actions as we confronted by the events we cannot control.
And so I practice, moving in the morning dawn to the sound of birds, practicing and gaining confidence in that which I can control: myself.
One of the things that I realized from the change in my schedule is that my Iaido time was become compressed: I was either too tired to do it, or I always found other things I had to do. My solution became to split my time: some in the morning, some in the evening. And so now, somewhere between 0640 and 0715, you'll find me in the backyard practicing Iaido,
Practicing Iaido outside, in the morning, is an entirely different exercise than practicing in the dojo or even inside. The temperature is the first thing that grabs my attention as I head out - outside is not quite as climate controlled as the circumstances I usually practice in. The next thing I notice is the sounds: at class, the only sounds are the sensei's instructions, the quiet shuffling of feet, the "clack" of bokken as they meet in practice. Outside is a different story: the birds sing in the trees (the chirping of small songbirds, the more mournful cry of doves), perhaps a late lingering bat flutters by seeking one last meal, the local dog population raises the alarm, a squirrel chatters away in a tree nearby.
As I move through the forms, I am confronted by reality: the ground is not level and so I sometimes lurch to one side or the other and I cannot execute turns as smoothly as I would like; a low branch can catch an kesa giri cut as I try to bring it down; an upturned stone can turn an advance into a stumble.
But in all of this difference, I find the reminder that once again, Iaido mirrors life.
Too often we practice and live in a controlled bubble, a series of events and encounters that we attempt to manipulate such that we are always at an advantage. The reality is that we life in a world over which we can control very little. We cannot control the weather, other people, the actions of things and peoples thousands of miles away.
But what we can do is control ourselves. Iaido mirrors this in the kata: by constantly practicing, we internalize our actions and reactions, thus preparing ourselves for the event that we will have to use them in the series of events we call life. To the extent that our practice mirrors more and more of the real world, so we will be more able to control our actions as we confronted by the events we cannot control.
And so I practice, moving in the morning dawn to the sound of birds, practicing and gaining confidence in that which I can control: myself.
Thursday, July 07, 2011
Independence
Another epiphany driving home today. What I crave: Independence.
Through my recent up and downs of work, of the previous times of looking for work and waiting, even at The Firm, one thing which suddenly jumped out at me was how dependent I was and am: dependent on my current employer, dependent on people to make decisions, dependent on the good will and grace of others to make my daily living.
For my current position, in one of the best interviews I ever had, the individual told me "I'm independently wealthy so I don't need this job. I'm here because I want to be here. I have no problems telling truth, because I don't need the job."
But for myself (and many like me) our jobs have become a series of of uncertainties - not based only on the financial health of the company or how hard we work, but the personal opinions and constructs and bad decisions of others which can - at a moment - put our jobs at risk.
I don't want independence purely for the sake of making money. I want independence for the purpose of not having my own and my family's financial future (and therefore, our future) put at the mercy of individuals or companies.
But waiting to become independent by being dependent is no more successful than saving your way to wealth without investing. It won't work.
So perhaps for me, the better question to ask is not "How can I find a new job?" (when that time comes) as "What can I do to build independence?"
This is a road I have scratched at the start of many times, even taken tentative steps with The Firm, but never really advanced down. Why? Because of a lack of knowledge and fear: a lack of knowledge of what to do and how to do it, a fear that I will fail.
The knowledge can be remedied (all knowledge gaps can). As for the fear, what's worse: the fear of something that could happen, or the daily nagging fear that constantly looms over my head?
Does independence fix that fear entirely? No, of course not - but I believe it at least offers a sense of control, the very thing that seems beyond my grasp at the moment.
I have spent a lifetime surrendering control. It's time to get a little of it back.
Through my recent up and downs of work, of the previous times of looking for work and waiting, even at The Firm, one thing which suddenly jumped out at me was how dependent I was and am: dependent on my current employer, dependent on people to make decisions, dependent on the good will and grace of others to make my daily living.
For my current position, in one of the best interviews I ever had, the individual told me "I'm independently wealthy so I don't need this job. I'm here because I want to be here. I have no problems telling truth, because I don't need the job."
But for myself (and many like me) our jobs have become a series of of uncertainties - not based only on the financial health of the company or how hard we work, but the personal opinions and constructs and bad decisions of others which can - at a moment - put our jobs at risk.
I don't want independence purely for the sake of making money. I want independence for the purpose of not having my own and my family's financial future (and therefore, our future) put at the mercy of individuals or companies.
But waiting to become independent by being dependent is no more successful than saving your way to wealth without investing. It won't work.
So perhaps for me, the better question to ask is not "How can I find a new job?" (when that time comes) as "What can I do to build independence?"
This is a road I have scratched at the start of many times, even taken tentative steps with The Firm, but never really advanced down. Why? Because of a lack of knowledge and fear: a lack of knowledge of what to do and how to do it, a fear that I will fail.
The knowledge can be remedied (all knowledge gaps can). As for the fear, what's worse: the fear of something that could happen, or the daily nagging fear that constantly looms over my head?
Does independence fix that fear entirely? No, of course not - but I believe it at least offers a sense of control, the very thing that seems beyond my grasp at the moment.
I have spent a lifetime surrendering control. It's time to get a little of it back.
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
In-Action
What steals the call of action from one's life?
By 14:00 yesterday, any benefits or any sense of refreshment I had from my vacation had been stripped away, replaced by the dull combination of duty, fear and dispiritedness that had marked me before I left. Any sense of making progress, any sense of doing more, any hint of that greater beyond was wiped away.
How can this be? I came back from vacation motivated and ready; within 48 hours, life is just as I left it.
Is it circumstances? Yes, partially. Like it or not, our environment has a distinct impact on what we believe and feel to be possible. Landing somewhere which debilitates one's sense of action, of possibility, makes action feel superfluous and imitative a joke.
But surely this cannot be explained by circumstances alone? Plenty of individuals throughout history have overcome their circumstances through action.
If that is the case, then surely inside of me there resides some flaw, some character trait that persuades me against action, or robs me of hope and the ability to even begin. What is this flaw? I really (really, really) wish I knew what this flaw was. It has dogged my steps from childhood, throughout my schooling, throughout my career to where I am today.
To begin, one needs to believe that action will create results, that there is an end and goal which is possible, no matter how difficult. Without such confidence one is left with a series of false starts that lead at best to failure, at worst to nowhere.
Where does one find such confidence?
By 14:00 yesterday, any benefits or any sense of refreshment I had from my vacation had been stripped away, replaced by the dull combination of duty, fear and dispiritedness that had marked me before I left. Any sense of making progress, any sense of doing more, any hint of that greater beyond was wiped away.
How can this be? I came back from vacation motivated and ready; within 48 hours, life is just as I left it.
Is it circumstances? Yes, partially. Like it or not, our environment has a distinct impact on what we believe and feel to be possible. Landing somewhere which debilitates one's sense of action, of possibility, makes action feel superfluous and imitative a joke.
But surely this cannot be explained by circumstances alone? Plenty of individuals throughout history have overcome their circumstances through action.
If that is the case, then surely inside of me there resides some flaw, some character trait that persuades me against action, or robs me of hope and the ability to even begin. What is this flaw? I really (really, really) wish I knew what this flaw was. It has dogged my steps from childhood, throughout my schooling, throughout my career to where I am today.
To begin, one needs to believe that action will create results, that there is an end and goal which is possible, no matter how difficult. Without such confidence one is left with a series of false starts that lead at best to failure, at worst to nowhere.
Where does one find such confidence?
Tuesday, July 05, 2011
Inner and Outer Attention
As I had the luxury of letting thoughts roll and percolate through my brain this week, I came to the realization that I am too often a person of appearance, not of substance.
The genesis of this thought was a sermon three weeks ago by a guest pastor to our church, one which serves our local university base. He made the point that the current college generation is one which offers "zebra kisses" - their own way of showing affection or desiring attention, which is often mistaken by those to whom it is offered as something other than what it is.
As this sermon followed me home and around as I went on my vacation, I went one step further. It's not just that zebra kisses are misunderstood, it's the nature of what those are intended to communicate - and with whom.
I believe we have allowed the need for significance and self esteem within our own society to become so pervasive, so overpowering, that we have created a culture where being seen and recognized - however that occurs - is the most important thing on anyone's agenda. Everyone's opinion must be heard, everyone must be noticed.
I am a man of occasional flair. I do things occasionally which draw attention to myself. But why am I drawing this attention to myself? Is it because I am truly different? Or is it because I need the attention and the visual cues are the only way for me to get it.
I compare myself in this sense to a young lady of my acquaintance who dresses and acts differently - but this difference is simply an outflow of who she is, not an affected mannerism chosen to get the attention of others.
There is attention which comes from who you are, and attention that comes from how you appear. Attention coming from who you are is far more difficult to engage. It means that one has to be a person of accomplishment, of character, of being something beyond merely the outward manifestation of the unusual or noticeable.
In a sense, attention from how you appear is merely the shortcut on the road to accomplishment, something easily engaged in but having little substance and little staying power. My concern is that this sort of thing is fleeting, but often the consequences ride along with us for life. It also creates something of an addiction: the desire for attention becomes stronger, so even more noticeable behavior or appearance must be engaged in to continue to maintain the interest.
I'm not against flamboyance. I'm not against the unusual. I'm not against the noticeable. What I am against is it becomes the only reality of our souls; instead of flowing out of us, it defines us from the outside in.
As I have said, recognition from accomplishment is far more difficult. It's also much less likely of a guarantee of immediate notice: a tattoo sprawled up my arm and around my neck is almost always noticeable, while the quiet accomplishment of a task and the resulting expertise is much less so. However, a history of quiet accomplishment will eventually lead somewhere; the tattoo will fade.
Will I still wear my kilt or kimono on random occasions? Absolutely. But I will seek to become someone from whom such behavior flows as a part of who they are, not the total of who they are; the notice which comes from being competent and skilled, not the notice that comes from merely appearing.
The genesis of this thought was a sermon three weeks ago by a guest pastor to our church, one which serves our local university base. He made the point that the current college generation is one which offers "zebra kisses" - their own way of showing affection or desiring attention, which is often mistaken by those to whom it is offered as something other than what it is.
As this sermon followed me home and around as I went on my vacation, I went one step further. It's not just that zebra kisses are misunderstood, it's the nature of what those are intended to communicate - and with whom.
I believe we have allowed the need for significance and self esteem within our own society to become so pervasive, so overpowering, that we have created a culture where being seen and recognized - however that occurs - is the most important thing on anyone's agenda. Everyone's opinion must be heard, everyone must be noticed.
I am a man of occasional flair. I do things occasionally which draw attention to myself. But why am I drawing this attention to myself? Is it because I am truly different? Or is it because I need the attention and the visual cues are the only way for me to get it.
I compare myself in this sense to a young lady of my acquaintance who dresses and acts differently - but this difference is simply an outflow of who she is, not an affected mannerism chosen to get the attention of others.
There is attention which comes from who you are, and attention that comes from how you appear. Attention coming from who you are is far more difficult to engage. It means that one has to be a person of accomplishment, of character, of being something beyond merely the outward manifestation of the unusual or noticeable.
In a sense, attention from how you appear is merely the shortcut on the road to accomplishment, something easily engaged in but having little substance and little staying power. My concern is that this sort of thing is fleeting, but often the consequences ride along with us for life. It also creates something of an addiction: the desire for attention becomes stronger, so even more noticeable behavior or appearance must be engaged in to continue to maintain the interest.
I'm not against flamboyance. I'm not against the unusual. I'm not against the noticeable. What I am against is it becomes the only reality of our souls; instead of flowing out of us, it defines us from the outside in.
As I have said, recognition from accomplishment is far more difficult. It's also much less likely of a guarantee of immediate notice: a tattoo sprawled up my arm and around my neck is almost always noticeable, while the quiet accomplishment of a task and the resulting expertise is much less so. However, a history of quiet accomplishment will eventually lead somewhere; the tattoo will fade.
Will I still wear my kilt or kimono on random occasions? Absolutely. But I will seek to become someone from whom such behavior flows as a part of who they are, not the total of who they are; the notice which comes from being competent and skilled, not the notice that comes from merely appearing.
Monday, July 04, 2011
Peace and Action
"If we really believe things, we will do what it takes to make them happen. Otherwise we're just playing games." - Joel Salatin
A wonderful week away - by far, the best (or at least most relaxing) vacation I have had in many years. A good mix of activities, between seeing family, wandering around the Ranch, visiting the state's historic Gold mining areas, and driving through parts of some very old family history. For the first time in a long time, I have returned from being away refreshed and renewed.
And quietly energized.
I had my usually eclectic mix of books in my bag as I left: A History of Japan 1334-1615 by George Sansom, Holy @$%& by Gene Logsdon (a wonderful book, but I'll leave you to look up the title), The Sheer Ecstasy of Being a Lunatic Farmer by Joel Salatin, The Christian Tradition: The Spirit of Eastern Orthodoxy by Jaroslav Pelikan, and The Farmstead Creamery Advisor by Gianaclis Caldwell. I had the good fortune to get through them, and the better fortune to not have to start re-reading any of them (the greatest of all possible sins while traveling). Reading them covered my varying areas interests, nourishing that part of my soul that does not dwell in the 9-6 of my daily existence.
But perhaps the most inspiring thing of all the trip was to see what my parent's renter, Young J, has done with the Ranch. He's completed putting up fence. He's brought in cattle. When we left Sunday morning, he was out stringing more fencing.
And then, flying home yesterday, I suddenly realized I was at peace.
I am at peace, whether called to remain here in New Home or to return to Old Home.
But being at peace does not mean being at rest.
No matter what the future brings or does not bring, no matter what peace I am feeling at the current moment, the reality is that there is much to do in my own life before I am truly "at rest". For me so often, this easily gets thrust aside as I fail to see the long term for the short term, to get caught up in the "must do's" and forget those longer term dreams, the real "must do's".
But as Salatin says, unless we act on what we believe in to make it happen, we are really just playing games in our own mind.
Failure Day is coming up in a month. In a month, I should have a greater sense of what the future - my future - holds. Based on that, and the peace for any decision, I can go forward.
But I must go forward. Peace is not rest. Quiet joy is not inertia.
I am at peace - but there is still much to be done.
A wonderful week away - by far, the best (or at least most relaxing) vacation I have had in many years. A good mix of activities, between seeing family, wandering around the Ranch, visiting the state's historic Gold mining areas, and driving through parts of some very old family history. For the first time in a long time, I have returned from being away refreshed and renewed.
And quietly energized.
I had my usually eclectic mix of books in my bag as I left: A History of Japan 1334-1615 by George Sansom, Holy @$%& by Gene Logsdon (a wonderful book, but I'll leave you to look up the title), The Sheer Ecstasy of Being a Lunatic Farmer by Joel Salatin, The Christian Tradition: The Spirit of Eastern Orthodoxy by Jaroslav Pelikan, and The Farmstead Creamery Advisor by Gianaclis Caldwell. I had the good fortune to get through them, and the better fortune to not have to start re-reading any of them (the greatest of all possible sins while traveling). Reading them covered my varying areas interests, nourishing that part of my soul that does not dwell in the 9-6 of my daily existence.
But perhaps the most inspiring thing of all the trip was to see what my parent's renter, Young J, has done with the Ranch. He's completed putting up fence. He's brought in cattle. When we left Sunday morning, he was out stringing more fencing.
And then, flying home yesterday, I suddenly realized I was at peace.
I am at peace, whether called to remain here in New Home or to return to Old Home.
But being at peace does not mean being at rest.
No matter what the future brings or does not bring, no matter what peace I am feeling at the current moment, the reality is that there is much to do in my own life before I am truly "at rest". For me so often, this easily gets thrust aside as I fail to see the long term for the short term, to get caught up in the "must do's" and forget those longer term dreams, the real "must do's".
But as Salatin says, unless we act on what we believe in to make it happen, we are really just playing games in our own mind.
Failure Day is coming up in a month. In a month, I should have a greater sense of what the future - my future - holds. Based on that, and the peace for any decision, I can go forward.
But I must go forward. Peace is not rest. Quiet joy is not inertia.
I am at peace - but there is still much to be done.
Sunday, July 03, 2011
All I Needed To Know for the Coming Year I Learned On My Vacation
1) A surprising number of people don't like their career choices - even people you'd think otherwise.
2) Ready or not, the passing of the torch to the next generation is here.
3) The water may look the same, the surroundings may look the same, but you really cannot step into the same river twice.
4) If your job cannot change, you have to.
5) There are advantages and disadvantages to being everywhere.
6) History has a stronger pull than one knows.
7) Lives drift apart, no matter the best intentions.
8) Children grow up faster than you realize.
9) The Earth really does abide.
10) Sometimes the rains without end allow flowers to bloom that no-one knew were there.
2) Ready or not, the passing of the torch to the next generation is here.
3) The water may look the same, the surroundings may look the same, but you really cannot step into the same river twice.
4) If your job cannot change, you have to.
5) There are advantages and disadvantages to being everywhere.
6) History has a stronger pull than one knows.
7) Lives drift apart, no matter the best intentions.
8) Children grow up faster than you realize.
9) The Earth really does abide.
10) Sometimes the rains without end allow flowers to bloom that no-one knew were there.
Friday, July 01, 2011
History
My history stalks these hills.
It stalks the hills where I drove with The Ravishing Mrs. TB and Nighean gheal yesterday as we went to the town that my great-great-grandfather arrived and settled in when he came in 1850 for the Old Home Gold Rush, to the remnants of the ranch he built and the mines he and his descendants worked. It followed on the road down to the canyon as we drove the (often) one car wide trail one of my great-uncles walked as went to build a cable bridge with planks hewn and carried down by hand.
Driving up two ridges over, it sang in the pine and oak covered canyons that carry the river southwest as the sun pours overhead in the blue early evening sky. The air is redolent with the smell of pine and tarweed that I remember from my youth.
Before the drive, we visited the old family cemetery, where three generations of my relatives are buried. It's on a hillside surrounded by pine trees with none of the usual grass and wide spaces we so often associate with graveyards today. The headstones are all in great shape (there's little fear of bad things happening there) and I can go down the rows, naming most of the relatives and their relationship to our family. It gives a sense of linkage, of purpose, of memories of my own childhood coming up every Memorial Day weekend to care for our dead.
I love this land - love it in a way that is not necessarily rational or communicable to those that have never walked on it, never been on it, never visited the graves of their forebears that lived and died there.
Wherever I go, wherever I wander, the red iron dirt is ground into my bones.
It stalks the hills where I drove with The Ravishing Mrs. TB and Nighean gheal yesterday as we went to the town that my great-great-grandfather arrived and settled in when he came in 1850 for the Old Home Gold Rush, to the remnants of the ranch he built and the mines he and his descendants worked. It followed on the road down to the canyon as we drove the (often) one car wide trail one of my great-uncles walked as went to build a cable bridge with planks hewn and carried down by hand.
Driving up two ridges over, it sang in the pine and oak covered canyons that carry the river southwest as the sun pours overhead in the blue early evening sky. The air is redolent with the smell of pine and tarweed that I remember from my youth.
Before the drive, we visited the old family cemetery, where three generations of my relatives are buried. It's on a hillside surrounded by pine trees with none of the usual grass and wide spaces we so often associate with graveyards today. The headstones are all in great shape (there's little fear of bad things happening there) and I can go down the rows, naming most of the relatives and their relationship to our family. It gives a sense of linkage, of purpose, of memories of my own childhood coming up every Memorial Day weekend to care for our dead.
I love this land - love it in a way that is not necessarily rational or communicable to those that have never walked on it, never been on it, never visited the graves of their forebears that lived and died there.
Wherever I go, wherever I wander, the red iron dirt is ground into my bones.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Old Home Run
I set off this morning on an run at Old Home.
It has rained or drizzled almost constantly since we arrived yesterday. The rain itself has stopped, but the slight impact of misty droplets splatter my face as I came down off the hill and hit the road.
The grass here is green and tall, far taller than I think I've ever seen it (rain in June is not common here). The road I'm running on is the old dirt road which has been here since well before I was born. My parents had it covered in road grindings to keep it from the dust and mud; it crunch crunches under my feet as I running.
The sound of water dripping off the trees times itself with my footsteps as I run. I'm warming up, but not nearly like I do in New Home - it's been a long, long time since I have run in cool weather like this. The sweat beads on my brow a bit; it is certainly not pooling on my back.
A brown bolt hurtles to the sky as a turkey rushes out of the underbrush and takes flight, trying to escape the horrible thudding monster heading down the trail at it. I've apparently frightened him pretty well to have him reach 10-12 feet in the air before he veers away to the right.
Passing him, Neighbor L's dogs hop up along the fence and start barking away as I go by. I'm grateful for the fence - given my speed, it would not even be interesting for them.
I turn onto the main road. I'm on blacktop now so my footsteps no longer crunch; fortunately, the local creek bubbles away down a small green canyon to my left as I run along to keep me company.
Sounds and smells assault me as I run: the smell of tarweed and pine, the songs of birds I don't hear in New Home, the occasional sound of the car as it passes me running in the early morning.
Everything is wet: water running down the trunks of pine and oak and cedar, dripping from leaves and needles, beading on the native grasses. Purple and yellow flowers brighten the light green as I run past, giving thanks for a rainy season they could have never expected as seeds.
I reach the bottom of the hill, where the creek runs under the road, and decide to head back for the second cup of coffee I know awaits me.
Running back is harder for me than running out, because my mind now knows how long it has to go and starts keeping time. It's bad enough running on city streets; it's worse, surrounded by natural beauty I should be enjoying. I still try: the creek now runs to my right and sings as I pass the local sawmill. I can look over now and see the creek running - it's as high as it's ever been, especially this late in the year.
As I turn back off the main road and onto the road grindings, I abandon the creek's cheerful song and re-enter the land of dripping branches. After another alert by Neighbor L's dogs, I run in silence.
Silence here is a powerful drug. You forget what silence is until you come - not the artificial silence of the meditators and the mystics, but the silence of nature as God intended it: filled with the inner workings of creation, void of the sounds people pepper it with the interests of civilization.
As I reach the bottom of the driveway and stop, I notice a local squirrel on a nut hunt. He slowly scurries forward, digs in a hole apparently to find it empty, stands up and looks, and then continues towards me. I stand silently as he stops, looks, scurries and repeats until he has come and made a loop around me, found a nut, and then slowly passes to my left with 3 feet of me, his fluffy gray tail not attached so much as floating as a feather as he continues on his way.
The drizzle has stopped. My coffee awaits.
It has rained or drizzled almost constantly since we arrived yesterday. The rain itself has stopped, but the slight impact of misty droplets splatter my face as I came down off the hill and hit the road.
The grass here is green and tall, far taller than I think I've ever seen it (rain in June is not common here). The road I'm running on is the old dirt road which has been here since well before I was born. My parents had it covered in road grindings to keep it from the dust and mud; it crunch crunches under my feet as I running.
The sound of water dripping off the trees times itself with my footsteps as I run. I'm warming up, but not nearly like I do in New Home - it's been a long, long time since I have run in cool weather like this. The sweat beads on my brow a bit; it is certainly not pooling on my back.
A brown bolt hurtles to the sky as a turkey rushes out of the underbrush and takes flight, trying to escape the horrible thudding monster heading down the trail at it. I've apparently frightened him pretty well to have him reach 10-12 feet in the air before he veers away to the right.
Passing him, Neighbor L's dogs hop up along the fence and start barking away as I go by. I'm grateful for the fence - given my speed, it would not even be interesting for them.
I turn onto the main road. I'm on blacktop now so my footsteps no longer crunch; fortunately, the local creek bubbles away down a small green canyon to my left as I run along to keep me company.
Sounds and smells assault me as I run: the smell of tarweed and pine, the songs of birds I don't hear in New Home, the occasional sound of the car as it passes me running in the early morning.
Everything is wet: water running down the trunks of pine and oak and cedar, dripping from leaves and needles, beading on the native grasses. Purple and yellow flowers brighten the light green as I run past, giving thanks for a rainy season they could have never expected as seeds.
I reach the bottom of the hill, where the creek runs under the road, and decide to head back for the second cup of coffee I know awaits me.
Running back is harder for me than running out, because my mind now knows how long it has to go and starts keeping time. It's bad enough running on city streets; it's worse, surrounded by natural beauty I should be enjoying. I still try: the creek now runs to my right and sings as I pass the local sawmill. I can look over now and see the creek running - it's as high as it's ever been, especially this late in the year.
As I turn back off the main road and onto the road grindings, I abandon the creek's cheerful song and re-enter the land of dripping branches. After another alert by Neighbor L's dogs, I run in silence.
Silence here is a powerful drug. You forget what silence is until you come - not the artificial silence of the meditators and the mystics, but the silence of nature as God intended it: filled with the inner workings of creation, void of the sounds people pepper it with the interests of civilization.
As I reach the bottom of the driveway and stop, I notice a local squirrel on a nut hunt. He slowly scurries forward, digs in a hole apparently to find it empty, stands up and looks, and then continues towards me. I stand silently as he stops, looks, scurries and repeats until he has come and made a loop around me, found a nut, and then slowly passes to my left with 3 feet of me, his fluffy gray tail not attached so much as floating as a feather as he continues on his way.
The drizzle has stopped. My coffee awaits.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
What If?
Last night, as part of the Father/Daughter activities with Nighean Dhonn we watched VeggieTales "It's a Meaningful Life". The script itself is a takeoff from a more famous movie of a similar name (no surprise from the title there) and follows the regrets of one man (well, cucumber really) as he wonders how his life would have been different had he made "the big catch" in a football game become a sports star. He's given a chance to know by Gabe, the conductor on the "What If Express" where he sees the impact on himself and his family by what would have happened had he lived the life he expected - and wanted - to live. Finally, he's given the choice to go back to the life he had or continue with the life he saw. Our lives, Gabe reminds him even as he reminded his daughter, are in God's hands and God's plans are better than anything that we could do for ourselves.
Behind every hypothetical, says Gabe, is a theoretical.
It made me wonder as I sat there about the hypotheticals in my own life, the what-ifs that I (all too often) dwell on as points of failure in my life, things that could have gone different - should have gone different.
What if I had entered the ministry? What if The Firm had taken off? Where would I be? More importantly, who would I be?
I tend to dwell on the things in my life that have not gone as well as I would have hoped (don't tell my friends or family this - they would be shocked!), perhaps assuming by default that success is equivalent to better. However, the two are not interchangeable. Not all success lead to places we want to go, and not all failures mean that have failed to attain that which we were striving for.
For every failure that I measure, I fail to account for the successes that arise from the failure. And I miss those things that could have happened only because of what that "failure" brought.
Hypotheticals, in our mind, almost only lead to good theoreticals, never to the bad ones. But we've no more rationale to say that one was more likely than the other, except that we believe it to be so.
Take confidence, then, in God's plan and the outcomes that have come into your own life. His hypotheticals are far better than any theoretical we could have ever designed - or imagined.
Behind every hypothetical, says Gabe, is a theoretical.
It made me wonder as I sat there about the hypotheticals in my own life, the what-ifs that I (all too often) dwell on as points of failure in my life, things that could have gone different - should have gone different.
What if I had entered the ministry? What if The Firm had taken off? Where would I be? More importantly, who would I be?
I tend to dwell on the things in my life that have not gone as well as I would have hoped (don't tell my friends or family this - they would be shocked!), perhaps assuming by default that success is equivalent to better. However, the two are not interchangeable. Not all success lead to places we want to go, and not all failures mean that have failed to attain that which we were striving for.
For every failure that I measure, I fail to account for the successes that arise from the failure. And I miss those things that could have happened only because of what that "failure" brought.
Hypotheticals, in our mind, almost only lead to good theoreticals, never to the bad ones. But we've no more rationale to say that one was more likely than the other, except that we believe it to be so.
Take confidence, then, in God's plan and the outcomes that have come into your own life. His hypotheticals are far better than any theoretical we could have ever designed - or imagined.
Friday, June 24, 2011
The Power of a Compliment
The power of a compliment cannot be underestimated.
It's interesting. Words are free (well, except for the fancy words you pay to go to college to learn, like "icthyology" and "antidisestablishmentarianism"), yet so often they are grudgingly bestowed, as if there was a physical cost to giving them.
Without the compliment - without the recognition of effort or sincere note of congratulations that are implied - the situation one is in will, over time, become unendurable. As time goes on, one lets go of any sense that one's efforts will do anything to effect a difference in what one is doing, or that one is becoming more skilled at what one is doing, or even a sense that one is even occasionally doing something correctly.
Without the compliment - and its accompaniment, gratitude - situations turn into long tunnels of dull effort without any sense of change, hope, or excitement.
I'm sure that some experts somewhere have carefully analyzed why this is so, and that complimenting (or even thanking) people "too often (whatever that is)" leads to a diminishment of the power of the words, a creation of the mediocre becoming acceptable instead of the excellent recognized, a dispersal of the power and authority of the one granting the words.
I strongly disagree. If one only hears how one is never doing the task correctly, or performing the task and then having it immediately brushed over to move to the next task, people will simply lose heart. When people lose heart, they lose their spirit, their motivation, their fire for trying harder. And when heart is gone, people may go through the motions but the enterprise, the relationship, the endeavor is doomed to fail.
So give a compliment, give a "thanks" today. It's cost is nothing more than the muscles of your vocal cords and face; the effects can be beyond anything you can imagine.
It's interesting. Words are free (well, except for the fancy words you pay to go to college to learn, like "icthyology" and "antidisestablishmentarianism"), yet so often they are grudgingly bestowed, as if there was a physical cost to giving them.
Without the compliment - without the recognition of effort or sincere note of congratulations that are implied - the situation one is in will, over time, become unendurable. As time goes on, one lets go of any sense that one's efforts will do anything to effect a difference in what one is doing, or that one is becoming more skilled at what one is doing, or even a sense that one is even occasionally doing something correctly.
Without the compliment - and its accompaniment, gratitude - situations turn into long tunnels of dull effort without any sense of change, hope, or excitement.
I'm sure that some experts somewhere have carefully analyzed why this is so, and that complimenting (or even thanking) people "too often (whatever that is)" leads to a diminishment of the power of the words, a creation of the mediocre becoming acceptable instead of the excellent recognized, a dispersal of the power and authority of the one granting the words.
I strongly disagree. If one only hears how one is never doing the task correctly, or performing the task and then having it immediately brushed over to move to the next task, people will simply lose heart. When people lose heart, they lose their spirit, their motivation, their fire for trying harder. And when heart is gone, people may go through the motions but the enterprise, the relationship, the endeavor is doomed to fail.
So give a compliment, give a "thanks" today. It's cost is nothing more than the muscles of your vocal cords and face; the effects can be beyond anything you can imagine.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Doing the Work At Hand
"Our main business is not to see what lies dimly at a distance but to do what lies clearly at hand." - Thomas Carlyle
I fear sometimes I let my visions of my future - at the least the future as I'd like it - get in the way of the things that need to be done right now.
The future is a wonderful place to dwell. It's a place of possibilities and ideas, a land where problems never bedevil, where the only issues that arise are which of the multitude of good things to do will you do to day, of all the things in life which are now not going well becoming grand.
It is, in a word, surreal.
The future contrasts badly with the present. The possibilities which potentially exist in the future are seen as wisps in the present. What exists in the present is too often what we have to do: prosaic, common, often frankly boring. If the future is a vista of multiple possibilities, the present is often a single possibility boringly executed over repeated days and years.
But the part that we forget, I suppose, is that in fact the future is the present, veiled in mists.
The future only comes to us through the present. That which we build now in the present will become our future. Yes, we should visualize our future and see that we are moving in those directions, but at the same time we probably need to do the work that it is put in front of us now. Because the work placed in front of us now can often lead to futures that we do not or cannot expect - simply because the present which leads to them is not contemplated by us now.
A simple, personal example: by choosing to join The Firm, I eventually did what was in front of me - and ended up in New Home. Certainly not the future I would have visualized for myself 7 years ago, but by doing what was in front of me - one step at a time - here we landed.
"God never gives guidance for two steps at a time. I must take one step, and then I get light for the next. This keeps the heart in abiding dependence upon God." - C. H. Mackintosh
If our futures are in God's hands - which they are - and only He sees the totality of time - which He does - then I must believe that this thing put in front of me at this time is the thing which I am expected to accomplish right now to lead to a future which perhaps I can only see hints of but which God sees fully.
The bottom line (mostly for myself) is not to let the work which can be done - must be done - now confuse with any future which may come. Mine is to do what needs doing at hand; by doing the work, the path will resolve itself.
I fear sometimes I let my visions of my future - at the least the future as I'd like it - get in the way of the things that need to be done right now.
The future is a wonderful place to dwell. It's a place of possibilities and ideas, a land where problems never bedevil, where the only issues that arise are which of the multitude of good things to do will you do to day, of all the things in life which are now not going well becoming grand.
It is, in a word, surreal.
The future contrasts badly with the present. The possibilities which potentially exist in the future are seen as wisps in the present. What exists in the present is too often what we have to do: prosaic, common, often frankly boring. If the future is a vista of multiple possibilities, the present is often a single possibility boringly executed over repeated days and years.
But the part that we forget, I suppose, is that in fact the future is the present, veiled in mists.
The future only comes to us through the present. That which we build now in the present will become our future. Yes, we should visualize our future and see that we are moving in those directions, but at the same time we probably need to do the work that it is put in front of us now. Because the work placed in front of us now can often lead to futures that we do not or cannot expect - simply because the present which leads to them is not contemplated by us now.
A simple, personal example: by choosing to join The Firm, I eventually did what was in front of me - and ended up in New Home. Certainly not the future I would have visualized for myself 7 years ago, but by doing what was in front of me - one step at a time - here we landed.
"God never gives guidance for two steps at a time. I must take one step, and then I get light for the next. This keeps the heart in abiding dependence upon God." - C. H. Mackintosh
If our futures are in God's hands - which they are - and only He sees the totality of time - which He does - then I must believe that this thing put in front of me at this time is the thing which I am expected to accomplish right now to lead to a future which perhaps I can only see hints of but which God sees fully.
The bottom line (mostly for myself) is not to let the work which can be done - must be done - now confuse with any future which may come. Mine is to do what needs doing at hand; by doing the work, the path will resolve itself.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Rains
The rains came last night.
I awoke around 00:30, whether from the sounds of the winds howling by or subconsciously knowing that when the rains were supposed to hit (thank you, weather.com). I came downstairs and stepped out the front door. No rain yet, but the Western sky traveling away down the street was lit up like the Western front, blasts of light peppering the housetops.
Within 10 minutes the rain came. First you wonder if it has started; you listen and hear the sound of the chimney cap being pelted and you know that it has come. I checked outside on the back porch: the white limestone slowly becomes spattered with rain until the entire porch reflects back wet light in the storm.
Rains are different here. In Old Home, rains were something to be enjoyed from indoors, carefully by a fire. Here, rains are to be enjoyed perhaps from inside, but perhaps from a covered area or even out in it. Standing under the porch, watch the midnight lightning light up the ground at moments to the point of daylight, the growl of thunder provides a constant backdrop of sound as the oaks whip their branches hither and yon.
If one listens carefully, one can almost hear the parched ground sighing in relief. It's been two months since any rain at all and almost eight months since a significant rain. I am sure that out there in my lightning-lit garden, my plants and seedlings are standing there, leaves outstretched, drinking in the clean rainwater.
Like most other things, there is a down side to this much needed refreshment: the humidity once the sun comes up will be hideous. And oddly enough, barring any other rain, within 2 hours of sunrise you'll scarcely be able to tell that any rain fell beyond the damp ground beneath the grass.
That's okay. The rain will be where it needs to be - in the ground: a sky-sent treasure hidden away; lightning and thunder and winds made solid; a God given provision to His creation which so desperately needs it.
I awoke around 00:30, whether from the sounds of the winds howling by or subconsciously knowing that when the rains were supposed to hit (thank you, weather.com). I came downstairs and stepped out the front door. No rain yet, but the Western sky traveling away down the street was lit up like the Western front, blasts of light peppering the housetops.
Within 10 minutes the rain came. First you wonder if it has started; you listen and hear the sound of the chimney cap being pelted and you know that it has come. I checked outside on the back porch: the white limestone slowly becomes spattered with rain until the entire porch reflects back wet light in the storm.
Rains are different here. In Old Home, rains were something to be enjoyed from indoors, carefully by a fire. Here, rains are to be enjoyed perhaps from inside, but perhaps from a covered area or even out in it. Standing under the porch, watch the midnight lightning light up the ground at moments to the point of daylight, the growl of thunder provides a constant backdrop of sound as the oaks whip their branches hither and yon.
If one listens carefully, one can almost hear the parched ground sighing in relief. It's been two months since any rain at all and almost eight months since a significant rain. I am sure that out there in my lightning-lit garden, my plants and seedlings are standing there, leaves outstretched, drinking in the clean rainwater.
Like most other things, there is a down side to this much needed refreshment: the humidity once the sun comes up will be hideous. And oddly enough, barring any other rain, within 2 hours of sunrise you'll scarcely be able to tell that any rain fell beyond the damp ground beneath the grass.
That's okay. The rain will be where it needs to be - in the ground: a sky-sent treasure hidden away; lightning and thunder and winds made solid; a God given provision to His creation which so desperately needs it.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
On Anger
I almost lost my temper yesterday.
A seemingly typical workday: I was working on one of the series of tasks which I had allocated for the day when all of sudden I was presented with a situation which demanded all of my attention - because it was a management priority.
The immediate reaction in my system was that of anger. My entire day had just been rearranged beyond my control. When I showed my list of 351 other tasks and asked how this would fit in with the schedule, I was essentially told that it was really my problem, as this suddenly became the new priority.
My initial reaction? An overwhelming sense of anger.
I managed to control my anger to the point that I didn't say anything too incriminating. Still, it burned in my gut for the rest of the day.
The thing that suprised me the most the intensity of the anger that I found in my self, that aroused itself to quickly, that hovered with me for the day. I usually believe myself to be someone who controls his anger better than that, who has mastered his anger, who is more mature about things that he is.
I suppose the reality of the experience is to remind me that we are never too far above what we battle against to be beyond it.
A seemingly typical workday: I was working on one of the series of tasks which I had allocated for the day when all of sudden I was presented with a situation which demanded all of my attention - because it was a management priority.
The immediate reaction in my system was that of anger. My entire day had just been rearranged beyond my control. When I showed my list of 351 other tasks and asked how this would fit in with the schedule, I was essentially told that it was really my problem, as this suddenly became the new priority.
My initial reaction? An overwhelming sense of anger.
I managed to control my anger to the point that I didn't say anything too incriminating. Still, it burned in my gut for the rest of the day.
The thing that suprised me the most the intensity of the anger that I found in my self, that aroused itself to quickly, that hovered with me for the day. I usually believe myself to be someone who controls his anger better than that, who has mastered his anger, who is more mature about things that he is.
I suppose the reality of the experience is to remind me that we are never too far above what we battle against to be beyond it.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Electronic Crutch
So the (perhaps temporary) death of the laptop created an interesting thing this weekend: Time.
For the first time in a very long time indeed, I suddenly found myself with time to do things.
Why? Because suddenly I did not have the option of running to the laptop every time I got a bit bored or had nothing else to do. I was forced to actually do other things.
I must admit that I had not realized that I had become so addicted to the ready availability of the computer, that it had become quite the crutch - and apparently, an unthinking one at that.
What did I do instead? I finished two books I had started months ago. I planted more in my garden. I participated with my children in some activities. I boxed (on Wii). I started reading more. Worked on my resume. Practiced Iaido and mandolin.
I don't know that I'll ever be truly separated from the computer (after all, how else could I blog?). On the other hand, this weekend has given me a powerful reminder of how easily I can become controlled by the triple forces of laziness, technology and unthinking.
To do means to be active and engaging - not trapped in a 14" electronic screen reading about the lives and events of others.
Here's to doing.
For the first time in a very long time indeed, I suddenly found myself with time to do things.
Why? Because suddenly I did not have the option of running to the laptop every time I got a bit bored or had nothing else to do. I was forced to actually do other things.
I must admit that I had not realized that I had become so addicted to the ready availability of the computer, that it had become quite the crutch - and apparently, an unthinking one at that.
What did I do instead? I finished two books I had started months ago. I planted more in my garden. I participated with my children in some activities. I boxed (on Wii). I started reading more. Worked on my resume. Practiced Iaido and mandolin.
I don't know that I'll ever be truly separated from the computer (after all, how else could I blog?). On the other hand, this weekend has given me a powerful reminder of how easily I can become controlled by the triple forces of laziness, technology and unthinking.
To do means to be active and engaging - not trapped in a 14" electronic screen reading about the lives and events of others.
Here's to doing.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
On The Example of Fathers
Today is Father's Day.
Thinking of Father's Day of course brings me to my own (which, I suppose, it rightfully should).
Interestingly, as I continue to grow older, I find myself in the position (as many do) of discovering that the father has somehow magically grown wiser and knowledgeable over the years. The more likely reality is that I have simply become more willing and able to listen to all he has to say.
During my greatest fiasco - The Firm - my father patiently gave me his advice and things to think about - things which I promptly ignored, to my own peril and eventual failure. In all of this, my father never once criticized me for making the decision or for ignoring his advice. When things went down the drain and I sat for two months looking for work, he never castigated me, nor made a comment when I crawled back to my industry at the same rate at which I had been paid.
That one thing - the giving of advice and then the general support when I failed to take it - is perhaps the single greatest gift or skill I received from The Firm. The computer and desk chair are gone, the house the career bought is sold. Only the self confidence to do and the example of my father now remain.
I consider this example as I prepare to face new forks in the road, decisions which I have to make - and in making them, impact my own family in the same way that my father's impacted us (for good, I might add). Have I finally learned to listen to advice? Have I finally learned to hear with the heart? For my own children as they grow older, am I teaching them to make good decisions - yet advising and then being supportive as they do.
I have had a great example. Would that I can live up to it.
Thinking of Father's Day of course brings me to my own (which, I suppose, it rightfully should).
Interestingly, as I continue to grow older, I find myself in the position (as many do) of discovering that the father has somehow magically grown wiser and knowledgeable over the years. The more likely reality is that I have simply become more willing and able to listen to all he has to say.
During my greatest fiasco - The Firm - my father patiently gave me his advice and things to think about - things which I promptly ignored, to my own peril and eventual failure. In all of this, my father never once criticized me for making the decision or for ignoring his advice. When things went down the drain and I sat for two months looking for work, he never castigated me, nor made a comment when I crawled back to my industry at the same rate at which I had been paid.
That one thing - the giving of advice and then the general support when I failed to take it - is perhaps the single greatest gift or skill I received from The Firm. The computer and desk chair are gone, the house the career bought is sold. Only the self confidence to do and the example of my father now remain.
I consider this example as I prepare to face new forks in the road, decisions which I have to make - and in making them, impact my own family in the same way that my father's impacted us (for good, I might add). Have I finally learned to listen to advice? Have I finally learned to hear with the heart? For my own children as they grow older, am I teaching them to make good decisions - yet advising and then being supportive as they do.
I have had a great example. Would that I can live up to it.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Waiting to Boot Revisited
Well, it appears I was clairvoyant when I was writing about my laptop yesterday. This time, when I went to use it after booting up, the screen had disappeared altogether. Apparently the relic had decided that its time had come to pass on.
The feeling I'm fighting at the moment is that of being thankful. I'm supposed to be thankful - "Give thanks in all things" (1st Thessalonians 5:16). And I should - it's the screen not the hard drive (as far as I can tell right now), so all my data should still be there waiting to be transferred. And I did get approximately 6 years out if it, which is longer than I probably could (or should) have expected.
I should be thankful. Ironically, not really feeling it now.
The overwhelming feeling I have at the moment is that of frustration. Not just at the sudden failure of the screen and the inconvenience - that's really all it is - of potentially recovering and relocating my files, but really at the timing of it in my life.
"It's not fair" I scream internally. "It's not as if we have the money at the moment to replace the darn thing. Yes, I know we can make do with a single unit but still - come on, isn't there a lick of fairness in the world?"
Ironically, I also consider it somewhat less than coincidence that with a short period (2 months), the last two items that were of The Firm - the laptop and the desk chair I sat in - have both suffered breakdowns. Literally, with the exception of the lingering financial ramifications, there is no evidence that any of that ever took place.
I don't know. Maybe it is a clearing of the slate, a sort of final cleansing of so much of my life and (in a lot of senses) the poor decisions I have often made. Or perhaps just a test of what I should be practicing on a daily basis: thankfulness.
Either way, it appears that boot up cycle I was thinking about is still going on as we speak.
The feeling I'm fighting at the moment is that of being thankful. I'm supposed to be thankful - "Give thanks in all things" (1st Thessalonians 5:16). And I should - it's the screen not the hard drive (as far as I can tell right now), so all my data should still be there waiting to be transferred. And I did get approximately 6 years out if it, which is longer than I probably could (or should) have expected.
I should be thankful. Ironically, not really feeling it now.
The overwhelming feeling I have at the moment is that of frustration. Not just at the sudden failure of the screen and the inconvenience - that's really all it is - of potentially recovering and relocating my files, but really at the timing of it in my life.
"It's not fair" I scream internally. "It's not as if we have the money at the moment to replace the darn thing. Yes, I know we can make do with a single unit but still - come on, isn't there a lick of fairness in the world?"
Ironically, I also consider it somewhat less than coincidence that with a short period (2 months), the last two items that were of The Firm - the laptop and the desk chair I sat in - have both suffered breakdowns. Literally, with the exception of the lingering financial ramifications, there is no evidence that any of that ever took place.
I don't know. Maybe it is a clearing of the slate, a sort of final cleansing of so much of my life and (in a lot of senses) the poor decisions I have often made. Or perhaps just a test of what I should be practicing on a daily basis: thankfulness.
Either way, it appears that boot up cycle I was thinking about is still going on as we speak.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Waiting to Boot
My laptop is a relic, the last the I own from the adventure of The Firm, a 2005 Presario 2200 from Compaq. It quietly sits in the 4 x 4' area allocated to me as my "offic" atop the second floor. It's older, but still functions effectively for what computers are supposed to do.
It is, however, occasionally frustrating.
As in this morning, when I started it. It ran through its initial start-up "Windows" materials, then rolled into the main screen. I started mentally preparing myself to write this morning, and waited for the computer to finish booting.
And waited. And waited.
Frustrated, I clicked in on the Explorer icon, hoping to kick it over to what I needed. I initially successful - the window came up - but then I couldn't do anything in it. Suddenly another window came up, then a third and fourth. I tried to close two of the windows, becoming increasingly aggravated. The computer then helpfully kicks up the "failure to close" window, so now I have five windows open. Point and click, point and click, until windows 3-5 are gone. I'm back down to 2 windows - but now I can't get into either of those, and then they both close on me as well.
It's now 15 minutes since I initially turned the computer.
Fine. I try Explorer again. One window comes up again - Yay! Then a second one. It then becomes a race - which one will allow me to get to my e-mail? I bet my effort on the first window but it sticks. Suddenly, the second window pops up, ready for me to enter my password.
I enter it, but then the first window pops back, ready to go. Do I close the first window which seems to be working, or the second window, which seems to be faster now? I choose the second, only to have it stick while the first window comes back victorious.
It is now approximately 25 minutes since I booted the computer.
As I sit here in my frustration, trying to be patient, reminding myself that I am blessed to have a computer, reading, looking at the computer, becoming more aggravated then trying to redirect myself - suddenly I realize that this reminds me of how my life feels so often: always waiting for it to boot up, becoming frustrated when it doesn't start up and trying to find something else to do while I wait, then looking at it, the clock, and thinking things should be moving faster.
I could always get another computer. How do I boot my life up faster?
It is, however, occasionally frustrating.
As in this morning, when I started it. It ran through its initial start-up "Windows" materials, then rolled into the main screen. I started mentally preparing myself to write this morning, and waited for the computer to finish booting.
And waited. And waited.
Frustrated, I clicked in on the Explorer icon, hoping to kick it over to what I needed. I initially successful - the window came up - but then I couldn't do anything in it. Suddenly another window came up, then a third and fourth. I tried to close two of the windows, becoming increasingly aggravated. The computer then helpfully kicks up the "failure to close" window, so now I have five windows open. Point and click, point and click, until windows 3-5 are gone. I'm back down to 2 windows - but now I can't get into either of those, and then they both close on me as well.
It's now 15 minutes since I initially turned the computer.
Fine. I try Explorer again. One window comes up again - Yay! Then a second one. It then becomes a race - which one will allow me to get to my e-mail? I bet my effort on the first window but it sticks. Suddenly, the second window pops up, ready for me to enter my password.
I enter it, but then the first window pops back, ready to go. Do I close the first window which seems to be working, or the second window, which seems to be faster now? I choose the second, only to have it stick while the first window comes back victorious.
It is now approximately 25 minutes since I booted the computer.
As I sit here in my frustration, trying to be patient, reminding myself that I am blessed to have a computer, reading, looking at the computer, becoming more aggravated then trying to redirect myself - suddenly I realize that this reminds me of how my life feels so often: always waiting for it to boot up, becoming frustrated when it doesn't start up and trying to find something else to do while I wait, then looking at it, the clock, and thinking things should be moving faster.
I could always get another computer. How do I boot my life up faster?
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Lots
"No-one will improve your lot in life if you do not yourself." - Bertolt Brecht
"Submission to what people call their "lot" is simply ignoble. If your lot makes you cry and be wretched, get rid of it and take another." - Elizabeth von Arnim
Our lot in life.
How do we get them? How do we choose them?
How do we improve them?
Or are they simply a combination of both - choice and circumstance?
Some of the fundamentals of our lots we cannot choose: our parents, our siblings, where and how we grew up, where we attended school, our physical size.
But as we get older, we can choose the fundamentals of our lot: what we believe, what we do, who we associate with, whom we marry, what we put our energy into.
Then at what point do the choices become fixed, our "lots" become prison bars which we seemingly cannot escape from?
Because the reality of the quotes listed above is that in fact we have a great deal to do with our lots in life - and that we have the power the choose and change them, if only we will.
What's your "lot" in life? How did you get there? And if you don't like it, what will you do to change it?
"Submission to what people call their "lot" is simply ignoble. If your lot makes you cry and be wretched, get rid of it and take another." - Elizabeth von Arnim
Our lot in life.
How do we get them? How do we choose them?
How do we improve them?
Or are they simply a combination of both - choice and circumstance?
Some of the fundamentals of our lots we cannot choose: our parents, our siblings, where and how we grew up, where we attended school, our physical size.
But as we get older, we can choose the fundamentals of our lot: what we believe, what we do, who we associate with, whom we marry, what we put our energy into.
Then at what point do the choices become fixed, our "lots" become prison bars which we seemingly cannot escape from?
Because the reality of the quotes listed above is that in fact we have a great deal to do with our lots in life - and that we have the power the choose and change them, if only we will.
What's your "lot" in life? How did you get there? And if you don't like it, what will you do to change it?
Monday, June 13, 2011
Commitment
"Jibun no miseta koto wa saigo made jikko suru koto" (Always keep your commitments) - Samurai no Kokoro-e (Precepts of the Samurai)
We are not a people of commitment.
Perhaps I really indict myself: I am not a person of commitment.
I have to come to understand, more intensely than ever, that commitment is the one key to success in anything: business, marriage, child raising, financial or business success, weight loss. Everything else - plans, routines, programs, intentions, support materials - is useless without this one component.
If so necessary, why is it so seldom practiced by myself (if not the society around me)? Two reasons occur to me:
1) Commitment is difficult.
When one commits, the understanding is that one will do what one has said one will do. It is not difficult for easy things ("I'll call next week") or even when we commit to other people (although I break those often enough as well). The most difficult commitments are the one I make to myself.
More difficult than commitments to others? Of course. I have trained myself over the years to accept the fact that I can break commitments to myself and there are no repercussions. It's true that there are no repercussions for other people; however, I fear it has left me with the acknowledgement that commitment (to me) is not something I value.
Which is ridiculous - and short sighted. Of all people, the commitments to myself are the first ones I ought to be keeping. If keeping a commitment is a measure of respect for my promise, what do I say about how I respect myself?
2) Commitment limits us.
To the extent that we commit to something, we voluntarily set something aside - from as simple as time ("I'll call you" means I will not be doing something else with that time) to something as long ranging as business success ("I commit to completing this project" means that there are other projects I will now not do).
As much as commitment is about finishing and following through, it is about making choices with the limited amount of time and energy each individual has. We are finite creatures: we can only truly commit to a number of things. Far better (for myself at least) to maintain the illusion that by not committing, I maintain my ability as a free agent to choose the best option.
The problem with this is that time is against all of us. By not choosing, by not committing, we do maintain our free agency - however, we also lose precious time to begin the journey on those commitments. Time is not endless - in many instances, the decision not to commit now means we may never have another chance to commit to that thing.
So if commitment is the prerequisite to success, and at some level success in anything makes it worthwhile and improves our lives, what am I really willing to commit to?
What about you?
We are not a people of commitment.
Perhaps I really indict myself: I am not a person of commitment.
I have to come to understand, more intensely than ever, that commitment is the one key to success in anything: business, marriage, child raising, financial or business success, weight loss. Everything else - plans, routines, programs, intentions, support materials - is useless without this one component.
If so necessary, why is it so seldom practiced by myself (if not the society around me)? Two reasons occur to me:
1) Commitment is difficult.
When one commits, the understanding is that one will do what one has said one will do. It is not difficult for easy things ("I'll call next week") or even when we commit to other people (although I break those often enough as well). The most difficult commitments are the one I make to myself.
More difficult than commitments to others? Of course. I have trained myself over the years to accept the fact that I can break commitments to myself and there are no repercussions. It's true that there are no repercussions for other people; however, I fear it has left me with the acknowledgement that commitment (to me) is not something I value.
Which is ridiculous - and short sighted. Of all people, the commitments to myself are the first ones I ought to be keeping. If keeping a commitment is a measure of respect for my promise, what do I say about how I respect myself?
2) Commitment limits us.
To the extent that we commit to something, we voluntarily set something aside - from as simple as time ("I'll call you" means I will not be doing something else with that time) to something as long ranging as business success ("I commit to completing this project" means that there are other projects I will now not do).
As much as commitment is about finishing and following through, it is about making choices with the limited amount of time and energy each individual has. We are finite creatures: we can only truly commit to a number of things. Far better (for myself at least) to maintain the illusion that by not committing, I maintain my ability as a free agent to choose the best option.
The problem with this is that time is against all of us. By not choosing, by not committing, we do maintain our free agency - however, we also lose precious time to begin the journey on those commitments. Time is not endless - in many instances, the decision not to commit now means we may never have another chance to commit to that thing.
So if commitment is the prerequisite to success, and at some level success in anything makes it worthwhile and improves our lives, what am I really willing to commit to?
What about you?
Friday, June 10, 2011
Petitions
"And in that day you will ask Me nothing. Most assuredly, I say to you, whatever you ask the Father in my name He will give you. Until now you have asked nothing in My name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full." - John 16: 23-24
"Now this is the confidence that we have in Him, that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us. And if we know that He hears us, whatever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we have asked of Him." - 1 John 5:14-15
I've been thinking a great deal about prayer of late - specifically my own, not only in terms of time spent (which is typically abominable), but what I pray about.
I've been through many different forms of prayer: the standard written prayers of a Luther or St. Anselm, prayer acrostics (Worship, Adoration, Thanksgiving, Petition), even free forming as I go.
But in my reading through the Bible in a year and especially of late, moving through 1-2nd Chronicles, 1-2nd Kings and Ezra, I am struck by the difference in my own prayers and those recorded.
Among other elements of the prayers there, the thing that struck my mind this week - even this morning- was how the prayers focused around 1) The need for God's mercy, for God to act; and 2) Petitions which were addressed to things God had already said He would do, if the people would obey. It brought me spinning back the verses quoted above in 1st John, which may be some of the most abused biblical verses in the Bible.
While many people, especially those of the "health and wealth" gospel, have used it to justify praying for anything and been assured that it will be answered, they fail to address the part "according to His will". Apparently it is assumed that God's will is pretty close to my own, since He wants me to be happy and have life abundantly, doesn't He...
How often do we think before we petition God? Yes, I know that we need the elements of praise, thanksgiving and adoration in our prayer lives, but these are typically things which we can never have too much of. It's only in petitions that we seem to never have issues - although for myself, too often those issues are around prayer requests that directly affect me.
Can we know all of God's will? Of course not. Could our petitions be more in line with
what God wants? Sure they could. Scripture is replete with petitions we are to pray for: for God to raise up laborers for His harvest, for strength, for mercy and forgiveness, for our enemies, for healing. In fact (with some limited exceptions) I can scarcely think of a place in the New Testament where a recorded prayer is specifically from an individual about wants or desires - only needs.
This morning I tried an experiment: after thanksgiving and forgiveness, I prayed for the petitions I know of for others. I tried to eradicate any particular requests I had except for one (we're not told never to ask, just not to expect those things to be given to us), and of the rest only those which I perceived would be according to God's will: healings, relationships, health, restoration.
I've no idea that those prayers will be answered, any more that I did for the requests before. But I would suspect that if we do what God says - pray according to His will - our chances significantly increase.
"Now this is the confidence that we have in Him, that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us. And if we know that He hears us, whatever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we have asked of Him." - 1 John 5:14-15
I've been thinking a great deal about prayer of late - specifically my own, not only in terms of time spent (which is typically abominable), but what I pray about.
I've been through many different forms of prayer: the standard written prayers of a Luther or St. Anselm, prayer acrostics (Worship, Adoration, Thanksgiving, Petition), even free forming as I go.
But in my reading through the Bible in a year and especially of late, moving through 1-2nd Chronicles, 1-2nd Kings and Ezra, I am struck by the difference in my own prayers and those recorded.
Among other elements of the prayers there, the thing that struck my mind this week - even this morning- was how the prayers focused around 1) The need for God's mercy, for God to act; and 2) Petitions which were addressed to things God had already said He would do, if the people would obey. It brought me spinning back the verses quoted above in 1st John, which may be some of the most abused biblical verses in the Bible.
While many people, especially those of the "health and wealth" gospel, have used it to justify praying for anything and been assured that it will be answered, they fail to address the part "according to His will". Apparently it is assumed that God's will is pretty close to my own, since He wants me to be happy and have life abundantly, doesn't He...
How often do we think before we petition God? Yes, I know that we need the elements of praise, thanksgiving and adoration in our prayer lives, but these are typically things which we can never have too much of. It's only in petitions that we seem to never have issues - although for myself, too often those issues are around prayer requests that directly affect me.
Can we know all of God's will? Of course not. Could our petitions be more in line with
what God wants? Sure they could. Scripture is replete with petitions we are to pray for: for God to raise up laborers for His harvest, for strength, for mercy and forgiveness, for our enemies, for healing. In fact (with some limited exceptions) I can scarcely think of a place in the New Testament where a recorded prayer is specifically from an individual about wants or desires - only needs.
This morning I tried an experiment: after thanksgiving and forgiveness, I prayed for the petitions I know of for others. I tried to eradicate any particular requests I had except for one (we're not told never to ask, just not to expect those things to be given to us), and of the rest only those which I perceived would be according to God's will: healings, relationships, health, restoration.
I've no idea that those prayers will be answered, any more that I did for the requests before. But I would suspect that if we do what God says - pray according to His will - our chances significantly increase.
Thursday, June 09, 2011
All I Needed to Know I Learned From Samurai 7
All I Needed to Know I Learned From Samurai 7
1) If you need samurai and all you have is rice, get hungry samurai.
2) Help sometimes comes precisely from where you will not expect it.
3) Not everyone who will not join you in your fight is your enemy.
4) Know why you want to do things. Be very clear about this. Doing something without being clear will ultimately damage you.
5) Once you commit to a course action, at some point you will reach the stage that you cannot uncommit.
6) The best leader is the one both experienced and wise.
7) To end a problem, you must get to the root of it.
8) If you make people automatons, do not be surprised if they are obedient but less skilled.
9) Don't be fooled by appearances: skilled samurai come in shapes and forms you will not expect.
10) In war, as in life, find the best teacher and leader you can and follow them until it is time to no longer do so.
11) Good and evil really do exist.
12) There are things worth dying for - and living for.
1) If you need samurai and all you have is rice, get hungry samurai.
2) Help sometimes comes precisely from where you will not expect it.
3) Not everyone who will not join you in your fight is your enemy.
4) Know why you want to do things. Be very clear about this. Doing something without being clear will ultimately damage you.
5) Once you commit to a course action, at some point you will reach the stage that you cannot uncommit.
6) The best leader is the one both experienced and wise.
7) To end a problem, you must get to the root of it.
8) If you make people automatons, do not be surprised if they are obedient but less skilled.
9) Don't be fooled by appearances: skilled samurai come in shapes and forms you will not expect.
10) In war, as in life, find the best teacher and leader you can and follow them until it is time to no longer do so.
11) Good and evil really do exist.
12) There are things worth dying for - and living for.
Wednesday, June 08, 2011
Wall
I feel like I have hit an adamantine wall.
All roads, no matter what I try or what I seem to explore, lead me back to this one wall. The path goes under this wall, but I cannot get over, under, around, or through it. There is no door, no passage that leads beyond it.
There is no back here, no way to turn and go to a previous branching of the road. The path beyond may lead to the road behind, but I have no way of knowing that at this point. Instead I sit here, looking up at an obsidian black wall which I cannot understand, do not know where it came from, and pass through.
The problem is that I don't understand what I'm supposed to do here. I can't really move forward, but neither can I go back. I feel trapped in a limbo without direction, without guidance, without hope.
How does one pass through the doorway that is not there?
All roads, no matter what I try or what I seem to explore, lead me back to this one wall. The path goes under this wall, but I cannot get over, under, around, or through it. There is no door, no passage that leads beyond it.
There is no back here, no way to turn and go to a previous branching of the road. The path beyond may lead to the road behind, but I have no way of knowing that at this point. Instead I sit here, looking up at an obsidian black wall which I cannot understand, do not know where it came from, and pass through.
The problem is that I don't understand what I'm supposed to do here. I can't really move forward, but neither can I go back. I feel trapped in a limbo without direction, without guidance, without hope.
How does one pass through the doorway that is not there?
Tuesday, June 07, 2011
A Moment
It's funny how a moment can change your life.
Faced yesterday morning with mortality - a wake-up call of sorts from a younger coworker, diagnosd (and successfully treated) with cancer.
It's one of those moments that haunts you through the rest of the day, keeps you quiet as you drive home, even pensive as you go through your evening, surrounded by the noise and clamor of a baseball game.
The question keeps coming up: Why am I doing what I am doing? Does it matter? What should I be doing?
In that moment of self realization, all lesser things take a back seat. All of a sudden, the blandness and mundanity of one's day - the examples of trying less than 100%, of skating through rather than succeeding through - all of this is swept away by the fact that life is real, and time is not what we believe it to be, and so much of what we pretend to do as "important" really isn't.
The thing that surprises me most is the overwhelming feeling of shallowness I felt, that so much of what I am dealing with that I believe to be important is simply window dressing, empty streamers hung in a room which will be briefly enjoyed and then torn down and thrown away.
What are doing with our lives - building structures, or just decorating rooms? One matters and lasts beyond us, the other is merely a passing fancy which will come down sooner than we know.
Faced yesterday morning with mortality - a wake-up call of sorts from a younger coworker, diagnosd (and successfully treated) with cancer.
It's one of those moments that haunts you through the rest of the day, keeps you quiet as you drive home, even pensive as you go through your evening, surrounded by the noise and clamor of a baseball game.
The question keeps coming up: Why am I doing what I am doing? Does it matter? What should I be doing?
In that moment of self realization, all lesser things take a back seat. All of a sudden, the blandness and mundanity of one's day - the examples of trying less than 100%, of skating through rather than succeeding through - all of this is swept away by the fact that life is real, and time is not what we believe it to be, and so much of what we pretend to do as "important" really isn't.
The thing that surprises me most is the overwhelming feeling of shallowness I felt, that so much of what I am dealing with that I believe to be important is simply window dressing, empty streamers hung in a room which will be briefly enjoyed and then torn down and thrown away.
What are doing with our lives - building structures, or just decorating rooms? One matters and lasts beyond us, the other is merely a passing fancy which will come down sooner than we know.
Monday, June 06, 2011
Christ in the Boat
Yesterday's sermon (timely enough) was on failure.
The text for the sermon was from Luke 5: 2-11, where Christ is teaching by the Lake of Gennesaret and has Simon Peter take his boat out so he can teach. After the teaching, he tells Simon to take his boat back out into the deep water. Simon's response:
"Master, we have toiled all night and caught nothing; nevertheless at Your word I will let down the net."
The result? Their nets are so full that they reach the point of breaking. Simon Peter realizes the man in his boat is something more, and Peter, James and John become disciples of Christ.
The point of failure (since this is not a typical text of Peter's failure, as he managed to have many)? The simple fact that they had failed to catch anything the night before.
The interesting point in the sermon was not the fact that Peter had failed nor that Christ got into the boat - it was that the decision to get into Peter's boat was Christ's. Peter had nothing to do with it. Yes, he had to make the decision to follow what Christ suggested (and think of it from Peter's perspective: what would an itinerant preacher, a carpenter, know about fishing?), but the initial thing that made everything possible - Christ's presence - Peter had no part it in. It was Christ's decision.
The point, said our pastor, is not that we fail - we all fail, sometimes in ways that are painful and embarrassing and scarring - but to realize that, if we are believing members of the body, that Christ is in the boat with us. We need to accept that fact, listen, and get ready to do what He says, be it go back to fishing where we were or simply put our boat out a bit so others can hear Him teaching.
So having failed - as we all do - is Christ in your boat? And what is He asking you to do?
The text for the sermon was from Luke 5: 2-11, where Christ is teaching by the Lake of Gennesaret and has Simon Peter take his boat out so he can teach. After the teaching, he tells Simon to take his boat back out into the deep water. Simon's response:
"Master, we have toiled all night and caught nothing; nevertheless at Your word I will let down the net."
The result? Their nets are so full that they reach the point of breaking. Simon Peter realizes the man in his boat is something more, and Peter, James and John become disciples of Christ.
The point of failure (since this is not a typical text of Peter's failure, as he managed to have many)? The simple fact that they had failed to catch anything the night before.
The interesting point in the sermon was not the fact that Peter had failed nor that Christ got into the boat - it was that the decision to get into Peter's boat was Christ's. Peter had nothing to do with it. Yes, he had to make the decision to follow what Christ suggested (and think of it from Peter's perspective: what would an itinerant preacher, a carpenter, know about fishing?), but the initial thing that made everything possible - Christ's presence - Peter had no part it in. It was Christ's decision.
The point, said our pastor, is not that we fail - we all fail, sometimes in ways that are painful and embarrassing and scarring - but to realize that, if we are believing members of the body, that Christ is in the boat with us. We need to accept that fact, listen, and get ready to do what He says, be it go back to fishing where we were or simply put our boat out a bit so others can hear Him teaching.
So having failed - as we all do - is Christ in your boat? And what is He asking you to do?
Friday, June 03, 2011
Useless Knowledge
What constitutes useless knowledge?
I ask this question in the context of a society and a world that has become intensely knowledge dependent. Knowledge, more so than any other factor, is the acknowledge (clever pun, no?) to advancement and success.
The definition I often hear or see used for useless knowledge is knowledge which in no way contributes to what I actually doing, typically in the business context: the royal line of England, how cheese is made, the parts of a katana, the fact that only certain varieties of armadillos and humans can catch leprosy. To rattle one of these facts off in the context of the work environment is to stop the conversation, get a strange look, and then have the speaker continue on as if nothing had happened.
But I would counter that. Knowledge is useless only if it cannot or will not be used.
For example, I would argue much of my career knowledge is fairly useless outside of a specific narrow band of use. Perhaps 80% of my daily activities are not something that can be directly transferred to anything else. Certainly it only indirectly helps me with practical skills, like how to cook for myself or thresh grain or change a tire.
In other ways knowledge which is considered "useless" has been and is being lost at a fantastic rate. At one time, tribes of the Siberian plain knew how to make horsehair goggles to prevent snow blindness; that knowledge is lost. And as many societies make the transition to "modern", we lose precious a precious knowledge base, a base as significant and useful as that of any gene base we lose due to extinction of species. It makes us even more totally dependent on technology (never a good thing, in my opinion. Species that become specialized to a single environment or plant are in danger when that environment or plant changes).
So maybe we should expand our definition of "useless" knowledge from that which merely serves me in my present time to that knowledge which cannot really be used beyond a very specific situation. That knowledge, like a solar panel during the thirty days of night in Alaska, is truly useless.
As for me, I'll continue to gather my knowledge in the hope and belief it will someday be useful - like, for example, that whey from cheese making used to be considered a popular drink in inns and coffee house? Who knew...
I ask this question in the context of a society and a world that has become intensely knowledge dependent. Knowledge, more so than any other factor, is the acknowledge (clever pun, no?) to advancement and success.
The definition I often hear or see used for useless knowledge is knowledge which in no way contributes to what I actually doing, typically in the business context: the royal line of England, how cheese is made, the parts of a katana, the fact that only certain varieties of armadillos and humans can catch leprosy. To rattle one of these facts off in the context of the work environment is to stop the conversation, get a strange look, and then have the speaker continue on as if nothing had happened.
But I would counter that. Knowledge is useless only if it cannot or will not be used.
For example, I would argue much of my career knowledge is fairly useless outside of a specific narrow band of use. Perhaps 80% of my daily activities are not something that can be directly transferred to anything else. Certainly it only indirectly helps me with practical skills, like how to cook for myself or thresh grain or change a tire.
In other ways knowledge which is considered "useless" has been and is being lost at a fantastic rate. At one time, tribes of the Siberian plain knew how to make horsehair goggles to prevent snow blindness; that knowledge is lost. And as many societies make the transition to "modern", we lose precious a precious knowledge base, a base as significant and useful as that of any gene base we lose due to extinction of species. It makes us even more totally dependent on technology (never a good thing, in my opinion. Species that become specialized to a single environment or plant are in danger when that environment or plant changes).
So maybe we should expand our definition of "useless" knowledge from that which merely serves me in my present time to that knowledge which cannot really be used beyond a very specific situation. That knowledge, like a solar panel during the thirty days of night in Alaska, is truly useless.
As for me, I'll continue to gather my knowledge in the hope and belief it will someday be useful - like, for example, that whey from cheese making used to be considered a popular drink in inns and coffee house? Who knew...
Thursday, June 02, 2011
In Need of An Epiphany
I am badly in need of an epiphany.
There's something I seem to be missing in my life, some turn that I feel I've missed, some answer that is lying before me that I'm not seeing.
I try and do things in a different way, seeking to move things about a bit and hopefully find a new synergy only to discover (yet again) that certain factors such as rest are boundaries beyond which my life cannot proceed. I try and dedicate myself to work on to find in my heart that I feel I am rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic every day.
On the one hand I continue to berate myself. I'm smarter than this. There's an answer there somewhere. I should be able to see it (or helpfully, it should manifest itself to me).
On the other hand, is it a case that the answer is here and I am simply not seeing it? I mean, I think I have been given answers and suggestions but they never seem practical or possible. Certainly my last experience with sudden career change has given me a taste in my mouth that lingers to this day (and not a good one).
And it's not just career either. I still have a list of activities that I would like to do that runs longer than my arm, yet somehow they continue to get moved out for the things that I have to do (but don't like nearly as much).
How do I break this cycle of trying, collapsing, wondering, and trying some more?
There's something I seem to be missing in my life, some turn that I feel I've missed, some answer that is lying before me that I'm not seeing.
I try and do things in a different way, seeking to move things about a bit and hopefully find a new synergy only to discover (yet again) that certain factors such as rest are boundaries beyond which my life cannot proceed. I try and dedicate myself to work on to find in my heart that I feel I am rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic every day.
On the one hand I continue to berate myself. I'm smarter than this. There's an answer there somewhere. I should be able to see it (or helpfully, it should manifest itself to me).
On the other hand, is it a case that the answer is here and I am simply not seeing it? I mean, I think I have been given answers and suggestions but they never seem practical or possible. Certainly my last experience with sudden career change has given me a taste in my mouth that lingers to this day (and not a good one).
And it's not just career either. I still have a list of activities that I would like to do that runs longer than my arm, yet somehow they continue to get moved out for the things that I have to do (but don't like nearly as much).
How do I break this cycle of trying, collapsing, wondering, and trying some more?
Wednesday, June 01, 2011
The List
I made a frightening discovery at work yesterday: I was actually accomplishing something.
Out of a sense of desperation (more than anything else), my group started to build a list of everything that we do. Everything goes on the list and is tracked, from the smallest request for information ("Customer Service") to the large document. Everything is categorized. Everything is filed. If it's new, I add to the "new" category for that week.
Here's the odd thing that happened: even with adding 25% of new tasks to the total, I have still accomplished almost 40% of the items on my list within a month.
I can't remember the last time this happened to me.
I'd be lying to say that this is not moderately satisfying. For the first time (ever), I have a sequential record of what I am doing and how much of everything I am doing. I have a hard number that I can point to - and something I can buck myself up with by saying "Yes, I am making progress somewhere."
It's a fascinating feeling.
The next challenge is to figure out a way to adapt this to my personal life. It would be false of me to admit that the sense of doing things is not addictive and rewarding.
I just need to figure out how do things that are actually important to me.
Out of a sense of desperation (more than anything else), my group started to build a list of everything that we do. Everything goes on the list and is tracked, from the smallest request for information ("Customer Service") to the large document. Everything is categorized. Everything is filed. If it's new, I add to the "new" category for that week.
Here's the odd thing that happened: even with adding 25% of new tasks to the total, I have still accomplished almost 40% of the items on my list within a month.
I can't remember the last time this happened to me.
I'd be lying to say that this is not moderately satisfying. For the first time (ever), I have a sequential record of what I am doing and how much of everything I am doing. I have a hard number that I can point to - and something I can buck myself up with by saying "Yes, I am making progress somewhere."
It's a fascinating feeling.
The next challenge is to figure out a way to adapt this to my personal life. It would be false of me to admit that the sense of doing things is not addictive and rewarding.
I just need to figure out how do things that are actually important to me.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Clarity and Commitment
I often lack clarity of purpose and commitment to purpose.
Clarity of purpose? I am not ever (perhaps never) really clear on my purpose or purposes in life. What this leads to is a wandering off track, a following of rabbit trails hither and yon as the mood takes me. Not that rabbit trails are bad in and of themselves: I have learned a great many things which I otherwise would not have.
Commitment to purpose? I am one of the worst commiters (if that is even a word) in history. I have learned to carry myself as far as I can on natural ability, but when things become difficult - i.e. I have to actually learn and practice something - I magically "lose" my interest, usually for another rabbit trail.
The result: my life as I know it. Feeling lost and trapped in a series of situations I do not control, unable to find my way towards something meaningful and of value.
This has to stop.
I had written some time ago about (say April) about purposes and roles I wanted to fill (again, a lovely exercise I never completed). Looking at it now, although I like the concept I still think it a bit too complex (although that doesn't excuse finishing it, which I should still do). I need to narrow the purposes down even more, to get to the core of what I believe (in the absence of any other information) I should be doing.
Maybe that's one problem I have: I keep looking for a sign, a guidepost, something to suggest what it is I should be doing. Perhaps I need to approach it from the other point of view: unless I get a sign or guidance that I shouldn't be doing something, I need to to continue down paths that I have chosen.
Because let's be honest: what I've done to this point is not really working.
Clarity of purpose? I am not ever (perhaps never) really clear on my purpose or purposes in life. What this leads to is a wandering off track, a following of rabbit trails hither and yon as the mood takes me. Not that rabbit trails are bad in and of themselves: I have learned a great many things which I otherwise would not have.
Commitment to purpose? I am one of the worst commiters (if that is even a word) in history. I have learned to carry myself as far as I can on natural ability, but when things become difficult - i.e. I have to actually learn and practice something - I magically "lose" my interest, usually for another rabbit trail.
The result: my life as I know it. Feeling lost and trapped in a series of situations I do not control, unable to find my way towards something meaningful and of value.
This has to stop.
I had written some time ago about (say April) about purposes and roles I wanted to fill (again, a lovely exercise I never completed). Looking at it now, although I like the concept I still think it a bit too complex (although that doesn't excuse finishing it, which I should still do). I need to narrow the purposes down even more, to get to the core of what I believe (in the absence of any other information) I should be doing.
Maybe that's one problem I have: I keep looking for a sign, a guidepost, something to suggest what it is I should be doing. Perhaps I need to approach it from the other point of view: unless I get a sign or guidance that I shouldn't be doing something, I need to to continue down paths that I have chosen.
Because let's be honest: what I've done to this point is not really working.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Enthusiasm?
A funny thing happened to me on the way to the enthusiasm department.
An e-mail came from my daughters' school asking about the interest in having an after school Latin program. I, of course, love Latin - but seldom use it - so in my response I indicated that if they needed some assistance I would be happy to do so (I believe the term "I'm nerdy that way" may have been used).
Yesterday, I got a response - a question about if I knew Latin.
Nothing may come of this - but in that moment, between the volunteering and the response, I felt something I haven't felt in a while around something: enthusiasm.
Yes, it will probably go nowhere and yes, even if it does it would be completely volunteer. But still, to feel that moment of elation, to feel that something that one is interested in may be able to be done - what a feeling.
An e-mail came from my daughters' school asking about the interest in having an after school Latin program. I, of course, love Latin - but seldom use it - so in my response I indicated that if they needed some assistance I would be happy to do so (I believe the term "I'm nerdy that way" may have been used).
Yesterday, I got a response - a question about if I knew Latin.
Nothing may come of this - but in that moment, between the volunteering and the response, I felt something I haven't felt in a while around something: enthusiasm.
Yes, it will probably go nowhere and yes, even if it does it would be completely volunteer. But still, to feel that moment of elation, to feel that something that one is interested in may be able to be done - what a feeling.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Garden Reflections
"They say time changes things, but you have to change them yourself." - Andy Warhol
Sitting at my computer, looking out at the backyard and garden this morning, listening to the morning birds chant.
Having completed watering my garden, I am reminded of the fact that this simple act - watering, growing, harvesting, and eventually eating - brings a deep level of satisfaction that few other things do in my life. It also brings pleasant and simple surprises: looking this morning, I noticed that my tomato plant continues to grow strongly and has blossoms. My onions seeds are not doing so well but behold: a volunteer of something has emerged. Is it a squash? A cantaloupe? A cucumber? I don't know, but time will tell.
My soybeans are growing well - in both locations. Do I replant in both locations next year? And my wheat is ready to pull down for drying and harvest as well. What am I going to plant there this year - dare I risk the corn that did not do so well last year, or is there something else I should be trying?
It's these small adventures in garden that seem to give color and texture to the humdrum existence of my 8-7 life of "career". I can honestly say this brief time this morning in the garden will by far eclipse anything in importance or scope that I will perform or do at work today.
Planning, growing, nurturing, harvesting - these are the touchstones of my life that bring me joy, be they in the living form of plants or animals or in the form of creative works or even in the form of interactions with friends and family. It is a poignant reminder of the fact that there is a chasm of disconnect between what I do and who I am.
"I decided I didn't want to be a consultant for the rest of my life. And if I didn't want to be a consultant for the rest of my life, why should I be a consultant tomorrow?" - Jim Koch, founder and chairman of The Boston Beer Company
Sitting at my computer, looking out at the backyard and garden this morning, listening to the morning birds chant.
Having completed watering my garden, I am reminded of the fact that this simple act - watering, growing, harvesting, and eventually eating - brings a deep level of satisfaction that few other things do in my life. It also brings pleasant and simple surprises: looking this morning, I noticed that my tomato plant continues to grow strongly and has blossoms. My onions seeds are not doing so well but behold: a volunteer of something has emerged. Is it a squash? A cantaloupe? A cucumber? I don't know, but time will tell.
My soybeans are growing well - in both locations. Do I replant in both locations next year? And my wheat is ready to pull down for drying and harvest as well. What am I going to plant there this year - dare I risk the corn that did not do so well last year, or is there something else I should be trying?
It's these small adventures in garden that seem to give color and texture to the humdrum existence of my 8-7 life of "career". I can honestly say this brief time this morning in the garden will by far eclipse anything in importance or scope that I will perform or do at work today.
Planning, growing, nurturing, harvesting - these are the touchstones of my life that bring me joy, be they in the living form of plants or animals or in the form of creative works or even in the form of interactions with friends and family. It is a poignant reminder of the fact that there is a chasm of disconnect between what I do and who I am.
"I decided I didn't want to be a consultant for the rest of my life. And if I didn't want to be a consultant for the rest of my life, why should I be a consultant tomorrow?" - Jim Koch, founder and chairman of The Boston Beer Company
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Burnout
Suffering from an intense feeling of burnout at work.
I can tell you when it changed, almost to the date. It was the day that suddenly my schedule was changed not to meet a business need but to meet a personal preference.
With this event, what was suddenly revealed to me was that I was not a valued colleague or team member (words I detest, actually) but that I was merely a servant - an item to be made available on a shelf, like a mug or coaster.
That day, the fires of enthusiasm burned out. Work was no longer a thing to be engaged in based on my own decision process as an adult meeting the requirements, but rather a thing to be done to please others.
But this was only the initial draining process. What compounds it is a growing sense that nothing changes: the problems we face are the problems we faced two years ago, the advice offered too often feel ignored. Most of all a sense, a nagging sense, that we seem to be heading in the direction of no direction at all.
I'll be frank: this makes it harder and harder to get up to go to work in the morning. There comes a sense that work has become a sort of Twilight Zone, a region where surface activities continue on in the face of a reality that is different, moving deck chairs as the ship continues to a rendezvous with destiny in which deck chairs - or even ships themselves - have no relevance.
How does one restore one's enthusiasm as the waves break on the dual rocks of irrelevance and pointlessness?
I can tell you when it changed, almost to the date. It was the day that suddenly my schedule was changed not to meet a business need but to meet a personal preference.
With this event, what was suddenly revealed to me was that I was not a valued colleague or team member (words I detest, actually) but that I was merely a servant - an item to be made available on a shelf, like a mug or coaster.
That day, the fires of enthusiasm burned out. Work was no longer a thing to be engaged in based on my own decision process as an adult meeting the requirements, but rather a thing to be done to please others.
But this was only the initial draining process. What compounds it is a growing sense that nothing changes: the problems we face are the problems we faced two years ago, the advice offered too often feel ignored. Most of all a sense, a nagging sense, that we seem to be heading in the direction of no direction at all.
I'll be frank: this makes it harder and harder to get up to go to work in the morning. There comes a sense that work has become a sort of Twilight Zone, a region where surface activities continue on in the face of a reality that is different, moving deck chairs as the ship continues to a rendezvous with destiny in which deck chairs - or even ships themselves - have no relevance.
How does one restore one's enthusiasm as the waves break on the dual rocks of irrelevance and pointlessness?
Monday, May 23, 2011
Perspective
Yesterday I went in the nicest house I have ever been in in my life.
It was one of those houses, perfectly constructed of materials that I love and spotlessly maintained, done in tile and iron, that makes you take your breath away.
And, of course, it had the expected result: I was grumpy all the way home.
This was the house I was supposed to have. This was supposed to be the outcome of The Firm: A house just like that, with a pool like that (oh, the pool. It was beautiful). That was supposed to be my life.
Naturally, every comparison with where you were and where you are immediately leaps to mind: the yard which sometimes has grass or sometimes weeds, the house items spread all throughout it like a hurricane passed through, the mismatched collection of items which one has collected through the years rather than a unified whole.
But the next thing that popped into my head was, of course, the Bible verse I had been working on the week before, Hebrews 13:5
"Keep your life free from covetousness. Be content with what you have. For He Himself has said 'I will never leave you nor forsake you.'"
Funny that. It's as if God knew on the previous Monday where I would be the following Sunday and acted accordingly ("Memorize this verse").
So all the way home I tried to shed coveteousness. I tried to be happy for those that have such things. I tried to be grateful (not well, mind you) for all those things that I did have.
And then, at home, I saw the pictures from Joplin, Missouri.
Suddenly my processes changed 180 degrees. Now it was not a question of coveteousness, it was a question of being grateful that I was alive, let alone that my house was not reducted to a pile of lumber.
It's amazing how 30 seconds can change one's perspective.
It was one of those houses, perfectly constructed of materials that I love and spotlessly maintained, done in tile and iron, that makes you take your breath away.
And, of course, it had the expected result: I was grumpy all the way home.
This was the house I was supposed to have. This was supposed to be the outcome of The Firm: A house just like that, with a pool like that (oh, the pool. It was beautiful). That was supposed to be my life.
Naturally, every comparison with where you were and where you are immediately leaps to mind: the yard which sometimes has grass or sometimes weeds, the house items spread all throughout it like a hurricane passed through, the mismatched collection of items which one has collected through the years rather than a unified whole.
But the next thing that popped into my head was, of course, the Bible verse I had been working on the week before, Hebrews 13:5
"Keep your life free from covetousness. Be content with what you have. For He Himself has said 'I will never leave you nor forsake you.'"
Funny that. It's as if God knew on the previous Monday where I would be the following Sunday and acted accordingly ("Memorize this verse").
So all the way home I tried to shed coveteousness. I tried to be happy for those that have such things. I tried to be grateful (not well, mind you) for all those things that I did have.
And then, at home, I saw the pictures from Joplin, Missouri.
Suddenly my processes changed 180 degrees. Now it was not a question of coveteousness, it was a question of being grateful that I was alive, let alone that my house was not reducted to a pile of lumber.
It's amazing how 30 seconds can change one's perspective.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Books
Conducting my morning readings this morning, I was reminded again of the fact that I will simply never a large scale user of electronic books. Ever.
I like books. I like the pleasure (I can think of no other term) of hardback books when I open them, the look and feel of the dustcover and I open the book. Or with paperbacks, the bend of the paper as you continue in, the fact that in books I have loved and read often one can find the sweat marks from my fingers and the wearing away of the covers.
I like the fact that when I find something, I can underline or highlight and just by flipping through the book later, I can relocate it - or given enough time and familiarity, the fact that I can have idea just by the book where a certain phrase or passage can be.
I love the fact that books -hard back or paper - can be slipped into a bag or into my hand as I go about the day, to be pulled out and read at leisure or need.
I love the fact that used book stores exist for used books.
I love the fact that my books are available to me on their shelves as I walk by. Seeing their covers, they become like old friends, reminding me of specific times when I read this book or that and where I read it.
I love the reminder of opening a book and finding something I used as a bookmark before: a receipt, a plane ticket, a random piece of paper. I love - perhaps even more - when I find a used book where the previous reader has done the same thing: Suddenly I am swept out to a dry cleaner in Wisconsin or a grocery store in Oregon, circa 1983.
I love the fact that books are a physical that impart intangibles.
I love books.
I like books. I like the pleasure (I can think of no other term) of hardback books when I open them, the look and feel of the dustcover and I open the book. Or with paperbacks, the bend of the paper as you continue in, the fact that in books I have loved and read often one can find the sweat marks from my fingers and the wearing away of the covers.
I like the fact that when I find something, I can underline or highlight and just by flipping through the book later, I can relocate it - or given enough time and familiarity, the fact that I can have idea just by the book where a certain phrase or passage can be.
I love the fact that books -hard back or paper - can be slipped into a bag or into my hand as I go about the day, to be pulled out and read at leisure or need.
I love the fact that used book stores exist for used books.
I love the fact that my books are available to me on their shelves as I walk by. Seeing their covers, they become like old friends, reminding me of specific times when I read this book or that and where I read it.
I love the reminder of opening a book and finding something I used as a bookmark before: a receipt, a plane ticket, a random piece of paper. I love - perhaps even more - when I find a used book where the previous reader has done the same thing: Suddenly I am swept out to a dry cleaner in Wisconsin or a grocery store in Oregon, circa 1983.
I love the fact that books are a physical that impart intangibles.
I love books.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
The List of Doom
How do I move myself to the next step?
Looking at my List of Doom at work with its 390-odd uncompleted tasks, I find myself strangely unmotivated to do any of them. Yes, they are important and yes, they sit there silently staring at me from the computer screen, but their impact on me seems to bounce off.
On the one hand, this task list has been a great activity: for the first time in my work life (at least, perhaps my real life as well) I have a single location of everything that I have to do. Have a free minute? No problem - just consult the List of Doom and let it tell you what the next steps should be.
On the other hand, I have never had a greater categorization of the trivialities that consume my day than now. Looking at my list, I can see the things that consume my working life and realize how (in many cases) pointless they are. Release of documents? There will be more tomorrow. Training plans? I'll get them done, but then I have to audit - and then, is there any guarantee it will make an difference in how people work?
But it does bring up a really good point: do I have a List of Doom for my personal life?
The reality is this: like the List or hate it, it has given me (for the first time in my life) a metric by which I can evaluate what I'm doing and how I'm doing in terms of what I need to accomplish. My work life is more organized for it (better, I'm not willing to say).
But what about my personal life? What about all those other things I'd like to do? Yes, I understand that a personal life is not as conveniently timed as work, but it none the less obeys the same laws of accomplishment as anything else: don't do anything, don't get anything done.
As I said, it's not pleasant to go into work and see everything that remains undone- but at least I know what is undone and what I need to do.
If I treated my personal life in the same fashion, what could I accomplish?
Looking at my List of Doom at work with its 390-odd uncompleted tasks, I find myself strangely unmotivated to do any of them. Yes, they are important and yes, they sit there silently staring at me from the computer screen, but their impact on me seems to bounce off.
On the one hand, this task list has been a great activity: for the first time in my work life (at least, perhaps my real life as well) I have a single location of everything that I have to do. Have a free minute? No problem - just consult the List of Doom and let it tell you what the next steps should be.
On the other hand, I have never had a greater categorization of the trivialities that consume my day than now. Looking at my list, I can see the things that consume my working life and realize how (in many cases) pointless they are. Release of documents? There will be more tomorrow. Training plans? I'll get them done, but then I have to audit - and then, is there any guarantee it will make an difference in how people work?
But it does bring up a really good point: do I have a List of Doom for my personal life?
The reality is this: like the List or hate it, it has given me (for the first time in my life) a metric by which I can evaluate what I'm doing and how I'm doing in terms of what I need to accomplish. My work life is more organized for it (better, I'm not willing to say).
But what about my personal life? What about all those other things I'd like to do? Yes, I understand that a personal life is not as conveniently timed as work, but it none the less obeys the same laws of accomplishment as anything else: don't do anything, don't get anything done.
As I said, it's not pleasant to go into work and see everything that remains undone- but at least I know what is undone and what I need to do.
If I treated my personal life in the same fashion, what could I accomplish?
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
The Stupid, The Inept, and The Self Confident
Over the last 3-4 weeks I have had the opportunity to spend time with a number of individuals who in one form or fashion are exceeding me in position, responsibility and power (and, I assume, money as well). I tend to be a creature of the system, assuming that people have reached their positions (and continue to hold them) due to their knowledge, intellect and keen decision making abilities.
What I've been reminded of is a truth that I have known for a long time: they're not really any smarter than I am.
I don't know why this shocks me. I (of all people) am well aware that there are people far more brilliant than me in all walks of life. I guess I've always believed that it translated into moving up the ladders of success.
Instead, the lesson again has been that this is no necessarily true.
I don't write this morning out of the sense of decrying a system that rewards this - indeed, the system simply exists (and has existed) probably since the invention of any hierarchical human relationship. Instead, I write first to myself and then to you, gentle reader, as a reminder that in fact, most boundaries are simply those of our own making.
Too often we come under the spell that others ahead of us are more intelligent, more talented, more __________ (fill in the blank) than we are. We start to pull back on our efforts, settling for a lower level of achievement because we believe that those ahead of us are simply light years better - and that we will always be behind them.
The reality is this: maybe that is true. On the other hand, skills other than intelligence and talent allow some to rise to the top of the pool.
Have faith in what God has given you. Have faith that He has given you abilities far beyond what you think you are capable of (all of us, at any level, do far less than we can). Believe yourself to be as intelligent, as competent, as potentially talented as any of the competition?
Feel like you're lacking? Train yourself. Educate yourself. Stretch yourself. Yes, there is a limit above which we all cannot go personally, but we will more likely than not die long before we reach it.
Learn what you can where you are - but if The Stupid and The Inept continue rule where you are, at some point move on. Don't fall into the trap of believing "Because I don't have X, I can never get to Y."
Maybe that's true. Probably not - there's always a road to the brave traveler who knows their destination, even if they don't see the road to get there.
But never - never! - settle for the thought that "I can't, because I'm not _____". There's another word for this phrase, one that will follow us down to the grave with its mocking laughter:
Mediocre.
What I've been reminded of is a truth that I have known for a long time: they're not really any smarter than I am.
I don't know why this shocks me. I (of all people) am well aware that there are people far more brilliant than me in all walks of life. I guess I've always believed that it translated into moving up the ladders of success.
Instead, the lesson again has been that this is no necessarily true.
I don't write this morning out of the sense of decrying a system that rewards this - indeed, the system simply exists (and has existed) probably since the invention of any hierarchical human relationship. Instead, I write first to myself and then to you, gentle reader, as a reminder that in fact, most boundaries are simply those of our own making.
Too often we come under the spell that others ahead of us are more intelligent, more talented, more __________ (fill in the blank) than we are. We start to pull back on our efforts, settling for a lower level of achievement because we believe that those ahead of us are simply light years better - and that we will always be behind them.
The reality is this: maybe that is true. On the other hand, skills other than intelligence and talent allow some to rise to the top of the pool.
Have faith in what God has given you. Have faith that He has given you abilities far beyond what you think you are capable of (all of us, at any level, do far less than we can). Believe yourself to be as intelligent, as competent, as potentially talented as any of the competition?
Feel like you're lacking? Train yourself. Educate yourself. Stretch yourself. Yes, there is a limit above which we all cannot go personally, but we will more likely than not die long before we reach it.
Learn what you can where you are - but if The Stupid and The Inept continue rule where you are, at some point move on. Don't fall into the trap of believing "Because I don't have X, I can never get to Y."
Maybe that's true. Probably not - there's always a road to the brave traveler who knows their destination, even if they don't see the road to get there.
But never - never! - settle for the thought that "I can't, because I'm not _____". There's another word for this phrase, one that will follow us down to the grave with its mocking laughter:
Mediocre.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Purposelessness
Fighting purposelessness this morning.
My current line of work seems to be reaching its end. By my account, every company I have worked for has been purchased, gone out of business, or has been involved in an ethical scandal. Virtually all of the products I worked on prior to 2006 have disappeared. In a real sense, 8 years of work resulted in nothing - and the other 5 don't hold out great promise for success.
This knowledge makes the current job that much more difficult.
It's difficult to generate enthusiasm for something which personal history demonstrates will go into the ashcan of history with little fanfare and smaller impact.
It occurs to me that this is the moment of truth: when what one has spent the bulk of one's life on (intended or forced) has been revealed to be a purposeless morass of effort, how does one find the courage and purpose to go on?
Because life goes on. When I complete this, I will head off to another day of labor which holds no more promise of purpose than any of the approximately 4745 industry days preceding it.
I could, I suppose, try to put the spin on things that I am supposed to, that what really matters is God is in control and obviously I'm here for some kind of reason. My job is to endure and be fruitful.
But the unpleasant reality is that I don't feel that in my heart. All I feel is this aching void of another day of shifting papers, marking tasks as "closed", trying to pretend that this is anything other than what it seems to be: an exercise in purposelessness, a creation of things destined to fade or be packed away, forgotten except for the time involved in creating them.
My current line of work seems to be reaching its end. By my account, every company I have worked for has been purchased, gone out of business, or has been involved in an ethical scandal. Virtually all of the products I worked on prior to 2006 have disappeared. In a real sense, 8 years of work resulted in nothing - and the other 5 don't hold out great promise for success.
This knowledge makes the current job that much more difficult.
It's difficult to generate enthusiasm for something which personal history demonstrates will go into the ashcan of history with little fanfare and smaller impact.
It occurs to me that this is the moment of truth: when what one has spent the bulk of one's life on (intended or forced) has been revealed to be a purposeless morass of effort, how does one find the courage and purpose to go on?
Because life goes on. When I complete this, I will head off to another day of labor which holds no more promise of purpose than any of the approximately 4745 industry days preceding it.
I could, I suppose, try to put the spin on things that I am supposed to, that what really matters is God is in control and obviously I'm here for some kind of reason. My job is to endure and be fruitful.
But the unpleasant reality is that I don't feel that in my heart. All I feel is this aching void of another day of shifting papers, marking tasks as "closed", trying to pretend that this is anything other than what it seems to be: an exercise in purposelessness, a creation of things destined to fade or be packed away, forgotten except for the time involved in creating them.
Monday, May 16, 2011
The To Don't List
Delving into the riches of books that have wandered their way into my possession thanks to birthday gifts, I have spent the weekend in a semi-comatose state taking in the joy of reading.
Among the books that I purchased was Weird: Because Normal Isn't Working by Craig Groeschel. I originally heard the author on Dave Ramsey's show; he sounded interesting enough so I got the book - and let's be honest, anything with weird in it probably speaks to me on some level.
The book is broken down into five sections: Time, Money, Relationships, Sex, and Values (nice, because it allows one to re-read it multiple times for different things). The one that called out to me in particular this time was, well, time.
What would you do, Groeschel asks, if God gave you another hour a day, or even an extra day of the week? Would you invest it in things that matter - or would you, like myself, probably just find more things to do with the time that I was not doing now. Unimportant things. Things that probably don't matter.
It's not that we lack time, says Groeschel - we have enough time to do all that God has commanded us to do. It's that we don't have a greater awareness of the time we have - when, he asks, do we have time to be in the present moment?
Among his other suggestions, Groeschel recommends a "To Don't" list - a list put together by us consciously which categorizes the things which we we won't do:
"While normal people continue to add items to their to-do list, maybe you should do something weird instead: start a to-don't list. Just this year alone, I've dropped seven things that I normally do to make room for those important things I thought didn't have time to do. I'd like to challenge you to stop reading and start your to-don't list. Maye you should do something weird and write down at least three activities in your life that you're going to drop. Put something down and let it go. (p.34)"
Clever folks will recognize this as a different version of Stephen Covey's Urgent versus Important concept, Putting First Things First. In fact, it's the negative reverse image of this: instead of identifying what is truly important, start with identifying what is truly not important. Add it to the list.
Having read this, what's on my list? I'm embarassed to say I have no idea yet. I'm the worst sort of time manager: everything I have on my list is "important" and needs to be done.
But for whom? For what?
Yesterday, for example, I made time to do two activities which of late have been sadly lacking in my own life: music on the harp and writing. In both cases they proved again to me how wonderful they are in the fact that in both cases, I simply lost track of time doing them. Things such as these, that cause you to lose time, are the things of the heart that need to be done.
Which is fine for a Sunday. But what about Monday through Friday, in the midst of the important "work" I have to do? The reality is if those are important, I will find other things which can go onto the "To Don't" list.
It's not that we don't have the time, it's just that we don't have the time to do everything. What's on your "To Don't" list?
Among the books that I purchased was Weird: Because Normal Isn't Working by Craig Groeschel. I originally heard the author on Dave Ramsey's show; he sounded interesting enough so I got the book - and let's be honest, anything with weird in it probably speaks to me on some level.
The book is broken down into five sections: Time, Money, Relationships, Sex, and Values (nice, because it allows one to re-read it multiple times for different things). The one that called out to me in particular this time was, well, time.
What would you do, Groeschel asks, if God gave you another hour a day, or even an extra day of the week? Would you invest it in things that matter - or would you, like myself, probably just find more things to do with the time that I was not doing now. Unimportant things. Things that probably don't matter.
It's not that we lack time, says Groeschel - we have enough time to do all that God has commanded us to do. It's that we don't have a greater awareness of the time we have - when, he asks, do we have time to be in the present moment?
Among his other suggestions, Groeschel recommends a "To Don't" list - a list put together by us consciously which categorizes the things which we we won't do:
"While normal people continue to add items to their to-do list, maybe you should do something weird instead: start a to-don't list. Just this year alone, I've dropped seven things that I normally do to make room for those important things I thought didn't have time to do. I'd like to challenge you to stop reading and start your to-don't list. Maye you should do something weird and write down at least three activities in your life that you're going to drop. Put something down and let it go. (p.34)"
Clever folks will recognize this as a different version of Stephen Covey's Urgent versus Important concept, Putting First Things First. In fact, it's the negative reverse image of this: instead of identifying what is truly important, start with identifying what is truly not important. Add it to the list.
Having read this, what's on my list? I'm embarassed to say I have no idea yet. I'm the worst sort of time manager: everything I have on my list is "important" and needs to be done.
But for whom? For what?
Yesterday, for example, I made time to do two activities which of late have been sadly lacking in my own life: music on the harp and writing. In both cases they proved again to me how wonderful they are in the fact that in both cases, I simply lost track of time doing them. Things such as these, that cause you to lose time, are the things of the heart that need to be done.
Which is fine for a Sunday. But what about Monday through Friday, in the midst of the important "work" I have to do? The reality is if those are important, I will find other things which can go onto the "To Don't" list.
It's not that we don't have the time, it's just that we don't have the time to do everything. What's on your "To Don't" list?
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Acknowledge
As mentioned earlier, as part of this sense that God has something for me to learn, I’ve working on Psalm 25: 4-5 and some accompanying references. One of them is Proverbs 3: 5-7:
“Trust in the LORD with all your heart,
And do not rely on your own insights.
In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He will direct your paths.
Be not wise in your own eyes:
Fear the LORD and turn away from evil.”
I’ve known these verses – have known them for years, in fact. But lying in bed this morning, I was suddenly caught by the word “acknowledge.”
There are two general senses in which most people use acknowledge. The first sense – the sense most often used – is that of making reference to something or guiding attention to it – for example, in a speeches such as “I’d like to acknowledge my parents for helping do this” or “We acknowledge the university for allowing the use of these prints.
But if you pick up your Strong’s Concise Concordance KJV (I’m sure you all have yours right there on the shelf) you’ll find something a bit different.
If you go to “acknowledge” (go ahead, do it) you’ll find that it appears only 12 times. In those uses, there are two types: one when used when talking about men (Deuteronomy 21:17, “But he shall acknowledge the son of the unloved wife…”; Deuteronomy 33:9 “But he did not acknowledge his brethren…”) and those used when talking about God.
When talking about God or in reference to God, the sense changes away from a mere knowing or nodding of the head to a recognition of an authority or situation:
Psalm 51:3 “For I acknowledge my transgression…”
Isaiah 33:13: “And you who are near, acknowledge my might.”
Jeremiah 14:20 “We acknowledge, O LORD, our transgression”
How does this apply? Because for years I’ve always interpreted things the first way: that to acknowledge God was to make reference to Him in my life and in my decisions. But that’s really not what God wants: He doesn’t want to be another philosophy I consult or idea I consider or even first among equals (Read in 1st and 2nd Kings about how God views worshipping Himself plus anything), he wants to be sovereign over my life. He wants me to acknowledge His authority over all that I do – that in all my ways, His ways (as brought out in His book) are the ones that take precedence over all others, even my own.
This is a hard thought for me to process. It changes deeply how I consider things and how I act. It’s not if something seems right to me, even morally – it’s what God says about it.
I say this as if it were a hard thing – but look at the promise given by the writer Solomon: “And He shall direct your paths.” Can you imagine anything more trustworthy, more guaranteed, than having the sovereign omnipotent omnipresent Lord of the Universe walking with you, directing you in the ways that are best to go? Romans 8:28 says “We know that everything God works for good with those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose”. To know that even in bad times, when things seem grim, that we are not there of our own bad decisions or failures but because God is walking with us, guiding us?
But if I want the promise, I must accept the condition: can I, on a minute by minute basis, acknowledge God in all I do by acting and believing and behaving as He says, not what I say? Or will I, like I have done too often in the past, merely continue to view Him as one of another things I have to consult when I go about my daily life? One leads to a morass of decisions made merely on human wisdom, the other to a life guiding by the God of the Universe Himself.
“Trust in the LORD with all your heart,
And do not rely on your own insights.
In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He will direct your paths.
Be not wise in your own eyes:
Fear the LORD and turn away from evil.”
I’ve known these verses – have known them for years, in fact. But lying in bed this morning, I was suddenly caught by the word “acknowledge.”
There are two general senses in which most people use acknowledge. The first sense – the sense most often used – is that of making reference to something or guiding attention to it – for example, in a speeches such as “I’d like to acknowledge my parents for helping do this” or “We acknowledge the university for allowing the use of these prints.
But if you pick up your Strong’s Concise Concordance KJV (I’m sure you all have yours right there on the shelf) you’ll find something a bit different.
If you go to “acknowledge” (go ahead, do it) you’ll find that it appears only 12 times. In those uses, there are two types: one when used when talking about men (Deuteronomy 21:17, “But he shall acknowledge the son of the unloved wife…”; Deuteronomy 33:9 “But he did not acknowledge his brethren…”) and those used when talking about God.
When talking about God or in reference to God, the sense changes away from a mere knowing or nodding of the head to a recognition of an authority or situation:
Psalm 51:3 “For I acknowledge my transgression…”
Isaiah 33:13: “And you who are near, acknowledge my might.”
Jeremiah 14:20 “We acknowledge, O LORD, our transgression”
How does this apply? Because for years I’ve always interpreted things the first way: that to acknowledge God was to make reference to Him in my life and in my decisions. But that’s really not what God wants: He doesn’t want to be another philosophy I consult or idea I consider or even first among equals (Read in 1st and 2nd Kings about how God views worshipping Himself plus anything), he wants to be sovereign over my life. He wants me to acknowledge His authority over all that I do – that in all my ways, His ways (as brought out in His book) are the ones that take precedence over all others, even my own.
This is a hard thought for me to process. It changes deeply how I consider things and how I act. It’s not if something seems right to me, even morally – it’s what God says about it.
I say this as if it were a hard thing – but look at the promise given by the writer Solomon: “And He shall direct your paths.” Can you imagine anything more trustworthy, more guaranteed, than having the sovereign omnipotent omnipresent Lord of the Universe walking with you, directing you in the ways that are best to go? Romans 8:28 says “We know that everything God works for good with those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose”. To know that even in bad times, when things seem grim, that we are not there of our own bad decisions or failures but because God is walking with us, guiding us?
But if I want the promise, I must accept the condition: can I, on a minute by minute basis, acknowledge God in all I do by acting and believing and behaving as He says, not what I say? Or will I, like I have done too often in the past, merely continue to view Him as one of another things I have to consult when I go about my daily life? One leads to a morass of decisions made merely on human wisdom, the other to a life guiding by the God of the Universe Himself.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
The Creature Called Contentment
What is the nature of contentment?
Drive is something which our society thrives on - indeed, drive is something without which much of civilization would not exist. Without the drive to do better, to innovate, to improve we would still be using outhouses, well water, and leeches.
But is what is true for the advancement of technology and civilization true for the advancement of the human heart?
"More, More, Bigger, Bigger" is the subtle refrain that often seems to run through our lives. We work to advance our grades in school, we work to advance our careers at work, we work to increase our holdings of many things. Try and bring contentment into the discussion and often you'll just get a strange look.
Contentment is a strange creature. To suggest that you will be satisfied with where you are, with what you have is often to be viewed as "crazy" - or more accurately, "does not show initiative". And there is a danger there - what we claim as contentment can really disguise a problem with sloth or indolence, which is not really contentment at all but a failure to use those talents and gifts which we have been given.
But all of that said, contentment is still something which seems to elude me far more than I seem to have a problem with the excuse of sloth. When I'm looking at my life - my career, my hobbies, how I spend my time - is the first thought in my mind "is this enough?" or is it "I need more"?
Drive is something which our society thrives on - indeed, drive is something without which much of civilization would not exist. Without the drive to do better, to innovate, to improve we would still be using outhouses, well water, and leeches.
But is what is true for the advancement of technology and civilization true for the advancement of the human heart?
"More, More, Bigger, Bigger" is the subtle refrain that often seems to run through our lives. We work to advance our grades in school, we work to advance our careers at work, we work to increase our holdings of many things. Try and bring contentment into the discussion and often you'll just get a strange look.
Contentment is a strange creature. To suggest that you will be satisfied with where you are, with what you have is often to be viewed as "crazy" - or more accurately, "does not show initiative". And there is a danger there - what we claim as contentment can really disguise a problem with sloth or indolence, which is not really contentment at all but a failure to use those talents and gifts which we have been given.
But all of that said, contentment is still something which seems to elude me far more than I seem to have a problem with the excuse of sloth. When I'm looking at my life - my career, my hobbies, how I spend my time - is the first thought in my mind "is this enough?" or is it "I need more"?
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Talking to God
God was trying to talk to me last night.
This concept can be alarming to some people when I bring it up. The idea - even in Christian circles - that God still interacts with individuals in a way that they feel He is talking them is something which is often taken to the extreme of dreams and prophecies which often seem to have more in common with what the individual believes than any sense of God.
Allow me to clarify a few things:
1) When I say God wants to talk to me, it's not an actual audible voice. There is just a sense on my soul that God wants to "talk" to me - show me something, guide me in some direction. I've learned over the years that if I don't stop what I'm doing right then and listening, that sense of God - and that opportunity - will go away.
2)When I say God talks to me, I don't mean to say I always get what He is trying to tell me. So often - even like last night - I'm not sure I get precisely what I am supposed to. I'm sure this must frustrate Him to no end.
What was the actual point of the conversation?
I'm not quite sure. My reading lead me in two directions: one, to Phil Vischer's Me, Myself and Bob, his biography about the creation and dissolution of Big Idea and what he learned (including the loss of dreams and starting over), and Psalm 25:4-5:
"Show me Thy ways, O Lord;
Teach me Thy paths.
Lead me in Thy truth and teach me,
For Thou art the God of my salvation;
For Thee I wait all the day long."
What was the message? Maybe to consider what my dreams are, maybe to trust God more, to seek Him out and wait on Him for direction.
But I often wonder if part of the whole exercise is merely to see if I will listen; if I will stop everything I'm doing and turn my attention completely to God to hear what He has to say. Perhaps the point of the exercise is not so much communication (although that's good) as it is obedience. Because in the end, if you read the Bible, you'll find that God really only communicates to any depth with those who take the time to listen to him when He speaks.
And I will say this: even in the times when I don't feel that I got anything out of the conversation, the fact that I stopped and listened alone makes me feel like I got something out of the experience.
This concept can be alarming to some people when I bring it up. The idea - even in Christian circles - that God still interacts with individuals in a way that they feel He is talking them is something which is often taken to the extreme of dreams and prophecies which often seem to have more in common with what the individual believes than any sense of God.
Allow me to clarify a few things:
1) When I say God wants to talk to me, it's not an actual audible voice. There is just a sense on my soul that God wants to "talk" to me - show me something, guide me in some direction. I've learned over the years that if I don't stop what I'm doing right then and listening, that sense of God - and that opportunity - will go away.
2)When I say God talks to me, I don't mean to say I always get what He is trying to tell me. So often - even like last night - I'm not sure I get precisely what I am supposed to. I'm sure this must frustrate Him to no end.
What was the actual point of the conversation?
I'm not quite sure. My reading lead me in two directions: one, to Phil Vischer's Me, Myself and Bob, his biography about the creation and dissolution of Big Idea and what he learned (including the loss of dreams and starting over), and Psalm 25:4-5:
"Show me Thy ways, O Lord;
Teach me Thy paths.
Lead me in Thy truth and teach me,
For Thou art the God of my salvation;
For Thee I wait all the day long."
What was the message? Maybe to consider what my dreams are, maybe to trust God more, to seek Him out and wait on Him for direction.
But I often wonder if part of the whole exercise is merely to see if I will listen; if I will stop everything I'm doing and turn my attention completely to God to hear what He has to say. Perhaps the point of the exercise is not so much communication (although that's good) as it is obedience. Because in the end, if you read the Bible, you'll find that God really only communicates to any depth with those who take the time to listen to him when He speaks.
And I will say this: even in the times when I don't feel that I got anything out of the conversation, the fact that I stopped and listened alone makes me feel like I got something out of the experience.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Temporal Music
I'm finding that I am increasingly frustrated with myself - no, more precisely, frustrated with my situation. I was lamenting to Silverline yesterday that with the change in schedule, it feels like I have less time to accomplish everything that I need to do. "What do you mean?" she replied? "You have the same amount of time, just shifted."
"I know that in theory" was my reply, "it just suddenly feels like there is less time, not more. I take my time in 15 and 20 minutes driblets."
Starting anything is always difficult, not matter what. Trying to start something - in my case, a job or career change - when you feel your time has evaporated feels like you are pushing a heavy rock up a hill like: every time you think you are making progress or even stop to take rest, the rock slips back on you.
Or is this an illusion? Has time always been this limited, this precious - and only now that I need every second of it do I see it?
It some ways it has become the dominating factor of my life. I can now tell you, within 5 minute intervals, what I have worked on at work and how much a percentage of my day it has been. Likewise, I can tell you all the chunks of time - excluding family - that I have spent during the times I am not at work.
I find this a hideous way to live. One's life becomes controlled by the clock and minutes. I start shaving minutes off of lunch, begrudging people the time to talk, becomomg incensed that I do not "accomplish" all that I need to do. Interestingly, the more I track time, the less I realize I am accomplishing - not because of the tracking itself, but rather that the opportunity cost of time is made blindingly clear: by doing X, I am not doing Y. And Y does not go away, it is just assumed that it will be accomplished with "extra" time.
How do I break free of this tyranny of the clock, the chains of the temporal music which with regularity fill my day? How do I begin the process of starting - or restarting - that which is truly most important when the very seconds themselves seem to mock my attempts?
I do not know. All I know is that time has suddenly become infinitely more precious to me, and the thought of wasting on things of lesser value has become increasingly more painful. My life needs to become dominated by the march of the important, not the lesser tunes of the time fillers.
"I know that in theory" was my reply, "it just suddenly feels like there is less time, not more. I take my time in 15 and 20 minutes driblets."
Starting anything is always difficult, not matter what. Trying to start something - in my case, a job or career change - when you feel your time has evaporated feels like you are pushing a heavy rock up a hill like: every time you think you are making progress or even stop to take rest, the rock slips back on you.
Or is this an illusion? Has time always been this limited, this precious - and only now that I need every second of it do I see it?
It some ways it has become the dominating factor of my life. I can now tell you, within 5 minute intervals, what I have worked on at work and how much a percentage of my day it has been. Likewise, I can tell you all the chunks of time - excluding family - that I have spent during the times I am not at work.
I find this a hideous way to live. One's life becomes controlled by the clock and minutes. I start shaving minutes off of lunch, begrudging people the time to talk, becomomg incensed that I do not "accomplish" all that I need to do. Interestingly, the more I track time, the less I realize I am accomplishing - not because of the tracking itself, but rather that the opportunity cost of time is made blindingly clear: by doing X, I am not doing Y. And Y does not go away, it is just assumed that it will be accomplished with "extra" time.
How do I break free of this tyranny of the clock, the chains of the temporal music which with regularity fill my day? How do I begin the process of starting - or restarting - that which is truly most important when the very seconds themselves seem to mock my attempts?
I do not know. All I know is that time has suddenly become infinitely more precious to me, and the thought of wasting on things of lesser value has become increasingly more painful. My life needs to become dominated by the march of the important, not the lesser tunes of the time fillers.
Monday, May 09, 2011
Maintenance
We do not value maintenance.
Maintenance, for those that wonder, is the act or state of maintaining something. Maintenance is a critical function to mechanical systems. Without maintenance, your car will eventually explode, your air conditioner will give up the ghost, your yard will overrun you in a tangle of weeds and vines.
The same is true of us: we need time and resources to maintain ourselves.
Our physical bodies - for certain. We take for granted (sometimes shockingly so) that we will continue to function day after day in the same state we are in. There's always time to do work, we tell ourselves, but not enough time to insure that things like exercise or sleep or good eating. These, we seem to reason, can be squeezed in around the margins (after all, what we are doing right now is so terribly important)so what's the worry. Then we fall asleep when commuting, or collapse after going up a hill, or go to the doctor's and get the news that we didn't expect to hear. Suddenly, we seem to find the time.
Our mental selves - equally as well, although this is far more difficult for most of us to see or argue. We become so consumed by what we are doing - if at work, with the urgent things that need to get done, if at home, with the major things that need to get done when we are not at work - that we let the maintenance of our intellect, of our souls go by the wayside. We reason that we can (again) squeeze this into the margins, that what we are doing at the moment is so important that we can hold off a little longer, that we can place the down time of the soul into 10 or 15 minute slices of time.
But the same thing that happens physically happens mentally and spiritually: we find ourselves burned out, empty of ideas, sitting in front of our computer with nothing to write (not that it's happened to me personally, of course), wondering why we can't find the energy or time to do anything.
Eventually, of course, the rest of our lives suffer: the work becomes inefficient, the writing becomes strained, our relationships become a series of intersecting moments of our soul down time and theirs, our activities become a series of pointless acts leading nowhere - because we have trained ourselves through busyness that everything must lead to something. The concept that something leads to the betterment of ourselves through rest and intellectual thought but produces nothing escapes farther and farther away, until it is like a foreign language we think we knew but can't translate now.
That maintenance of ourselves is as important as the activities we do seems axiomatic; the fact that almost no-one (including ourselves) sees it this way should concern us a great deal more than it does.
Maintenance, for those that wonder, is the act or state of maintaining something. Maintenance is a critical function to mechanical systems. Without maintenance, your car will eventually explode, your air conditioner will give up the ghost, your yard will overrun you in a tangle of weeds and vines.
The same is true of us: we need time and resources to maintain ourselves.
Our physical bodies - for certain. We take for granted (sometimes shockingly so) that we will continue to function day after day in the same state we are in. There's always time to do work, we tell ourselves, but not enough time to insure that things like exercise or sleep or good eating. These, we seem to reason, can be squeezed in around the margins (after all, what we are doing right now is so terribly important)so what's the worry. Then we fall asleep when commuting, or collapse after going up a hill, or go to the doctor's and get the news that we didn't expect to hear. Suddenly, we seem to find the time.
Our mental selves - equally as well, although this is far more difficult for most of us to see or argue. We become so consumed by what we are doing - if at work, with the urgent things that need to get done, if at home, with the major things that need to get done when we are not at work - that we let the maintenance of our intellect, of our souls go by the wayside. We reason that we can (again) squeeze this into the margins, that what we are doing at the moment is so important that we can hold off a little longer, that we can place the down time of the soul into 10 or 15 minute slices of time.
But the same thing that happens physically happens mentally and spiritually: we find ourselves burned out, empty of ideas, sitting in front of our computer with nothing to write (not that it's happened to me personally, of course), wondering why we can't find the energy or time to do anything.
Eventually, of course, the rest of our lives suffer: the work becomes inefficient, the writing becomes strained, our relationships become a series of intersecting moments of our soul down time and theirs, our activities become a series of pointless acts leading nowhere - because we have trained ourselves through busyness that everything must lead to something. The concept that something leads to the betterment of ourselves through rest and intellectual thought but produces nothing escapes farther and farther away, until it is like a foreign language we think we knew but can't translate now.
That maintenance of ourselves is as important as the activities we do seems axiomatic; the fact that almost no-one (including ourselves) sees it this way should concern us a great deal more than it does.
Friday, May 06, 2011
Not Advancing
Linkedin can be a wonderful tool to reconnect with old coworkers who you haven't seen in years. It's always interesting to me to find out where people ended up, what they're doing now and how they've moved over their careers.
However, Linkedin can be a terrible tool to remind you of the state of your professional life.
In casually reviewing the employment histories of a number of former colleagues, I was somewhat shocked to discover that they have all advanced - significantly - in their careers, while I have essentially remained where I was.
Yes, I understand that I took a hiatus to start The Firm. Yes, I understand that not all companies manage or promote the same way. Still, I was shocked to see to the level that some folks have advanced - while I continue to hold the title and responsibility that I held almost 10 years ago when I got promoted to my current title.
Initially I'd ask the question why this has happened: what have they done that I haven't done, what have they mastered that I haven't, why, why, why?
But then a second question comes to mind: is the reason I haven't advanced is simply because this is not where I am most productive?
I've been grappling with the concept more and more that I don't like managing people and I'm not a great delegator. It's not that I don't necessarily dislike my industry (although it is not my heart), but rather that I am a doer liking to understand how things work, not a delegator leaving such things to others. It bothers me a little bit, because (at least in corporate America) doers don't eventually rise to the top. Delegators do.
If I wanted to rise to the top. That's the second issue, I suppose. I've really no want - or desire - to manage large numbers of people. I like working with people I enjoy, but it is more of a primus inter pares relationship - first among equals - rather than a hierarchic reporting structure. I want to counsel and encourage people as friends, not review and direct them as a manager.
Two subtle differences - but differences that may explain why I have not advanced more than I have.
It impacts a lot, I suppose. One thing definitively is where I am now - do I continue this stepping stone attempt across the industry to be where I've always been? Or do I acknowledge these as facts and change my career, dealing with the fact that money (an evil, but a necessary one) is going to be impacted by this?
First lesson of getting out of a hole: Stop digging.
However, Linkedin can be a terrible tool to remind you of the state of your professional life.
In casually reviewing the employment histories of a number of former colleagues, I was somewhat shocked to discover that they have all advanced - significantly - in their careers, while I have essentially remained where I was.
Yes, I understand that I took a hiatus to start The Firm. Yes, I understand that not all companies manage or promote the same way. Still, I was shocked to see to the level that some folks have advanced - while I continue to hold the title and responsibility that I held almost 10 years ago when I got promoted to my current title.
Initially I'd ask the question why this has happened: what have they done that I haven't done, what have they mastered that I haven't, why, why, why?
But then a second question comes to mind: is the reason I haven't advanced is simply because this is not where I am most productive?
I've been grappling with the concept more and more that I don't like managing people and I'm not a great delegator. It's not that I don't necessarily dislike my industry (although it is not my heart), but rather that I am a doer liking to understand how things work, not a delegator leaving such things to others. It bothers me a little bit, because (at least in corporate America) doers don't eventually rise to the top. Delegators do.
If I wanted to rise to the top. That's the second issue, I suppose. I've really no want - or desire - to manage large numbers of people. I like working with people I enjoy, but it is more of a primus inter pares relationship - first among equals - rather than a hierarchic reporting structure. I want to counsel and encourage people as friends, not review and direct them as a manager.
Two subtle differences - but differences that may explain why I have not advanced more than I have.
It impacts a lot, I suppose. One thing definitively is where I am now - do I continue this stepping stone attempt across the industry to be where I've always been? Or do I acknowledge these as facts and change my career, dealing with the fact that money (an evil, but a necessary one) is going to be impacted by this?
First lesson of getting out of a hole: Stop digging.
Thursday, May 05, 2011
Working with Love and Distaste
"If you cannot work with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work." - Kahlil Gibran
What does it mean to work with love? I can think of at least two different ways:
1) We work with love when we love what we do. Of course, there will always be those days where things go less smoothly or there are items that we don't like doing in the midst of what we do like - but on the whole, we enjoy our jobs. We feel a deep connection between what is the core of our beings and what we do to earn a living. The work flows smoothly out of our souls, like fresh vanilla frosting over a warm cake.
2) We work with love when we work with love in our hearts. When we love our coworkers, when we express love to our customers and those dependent on our services, when we respond not in anger or bitterness but in grace and kindness, when arriving at work we are prepared to spread happiness and joy through what we do and how we do it, we work with love.
And what of distaste?
1) We work with distaste when we do not love what we do, when the job has become a heavy burden not just to perform, but to be present at. When we have reached the point of listing our 400 tasks and realizing the percentage of completion never really drops, when we have our time carefully mapped not because we are seeking greater productivity but because we are protecting against accusations, when we toil at something that causes us time and again to come against our basic personal convictions and find reasons to override them, when what we do has no connection at all with who we are or what we feel is important - in all of these, we work with distaste.
2) We work with distaste when we have bitterness or anger in our hearts. When seeing our coworkers raises our defenses, when our manager coming into our office does not bring the hope of a useful exchange but only a listing of things which must be done or ways we have not performed, when we arrive in the morning already prepared for another day battle - in all of these, we have bitterness or anger which has moved from our jobs into our hearts.
So which then is better in the long run, to prevent the acid of our bitterness from eating out our soul?
What does it mean to work with love? I can think of at least two different ways:
1) We work with love when we love what we do. Of course, there will always be those days where things go less smoothly or there are items that we don't like doing in the midst of what we do like - but on the whole, we enjoy our jobs. We feel a deep connection between what is the core of our beings and what we do to earn a living. The work flows smoothly out of our souls, like fresh vanilla frosting over a warm cake.
2) We work with love when we work with love in our hearts. When we love our coworkers, when we express love to our customers and those dependent on our services, when we respond not in anger or bitterness but in grace and kindness, when arriving at work we are prepared to spread happiness and joy through what we do and how we do it, we work with love.
And what of distaste?
1) We work with distaste when we do not love what we do, when the job has become a heavy burden not just to perform, but to be present at. When we have reached the point of listing our 400 tasks and realizing the percentage of completion never really drops, when we have our time carefully mapped not because we are seeking greater productivity but because we are protecting against accusations, when we toil at something that causes us time and again to come against our basic personal convictions and find reasons to override them, when what we do has no connection at all with who we are or what we feel is important - in all of these, we work with distaste.
2) We work with distaste when we have bitterness or anger in our hearts. When seeing our coworkers raises our defenses, when our manager coming into our office does not bring the hope of a useful exchange but only a listing of things which must be done or ways we have not performed, when we arrive in the morning already prepared for another day battle - in all of these, we have bitterness or anger which has moved from our jobs into our hearts.
So which then is better in the long run, to prevent the acid of our bitterness from eating out our soul?
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
Physical Health, Mental Health
I am becoming reminded every day about the importance of physical health to mental health.
I've never been much of an athlete - my body type tends toward "grounded", and my co-ordination has never been the best (and by best, I mean not co-ordinated at all). Those workouts and sports that I have enjoyed the best are those which can be done individually: running, weights, Iaido. However, I suffer from the unwillingness to persist in anything for a long period of time.
However, as I move into this period of seeming blandness and confusion, I am coming to grips with the fact that my physical health can significantly impact my mental health.
1) Sleep: I've been sleep deprived for years - not only by habit, but by choice. For years I've lived on 6 hours of sleep at night. Ironically, I've not been feeling mentally sharp for years. I wonder if there's a connection. Making the commitment to 7 hours a night, even if it "cuts out" certain activities, is something I need to do.
2) Exercise: Never one to regularly exercise, I'm reminded (as I've started running this week) of how good I feel after I work out. Now that I have a schedule change, it's the perfect time to start incorporating more of that into my life.
3) Diet: This is the worst. I love to eat - more specifically, I love to eat things that are not quite the best for me. However, given a number of things (including my birthday) it's time to start making some of those lifestyle changes I keep thinking I should.
Maybe I can't shake blandness unilaterally with physical health changes, but at least I can try full out and see what happens.
I've never been much of an athlete - my body type tends toward "grounded", and my co-ordination has never been the best (and by best, I mean not co-ordinated at all). Those workouts and sports that I have enjoyed the best are those which can be done individually: running, weights, Iaido. However, I suffer from the unwillingness to persist in anything for a long period of time.
However, as I move into this period of seeming blandness and confusion, I am coming to grips with the fact that my physical health can significantly impact my mental health.
1) Sleep: I've been sleep deprived for years - not only by habit, but by choice. For years I've lived on 6 hours of sleep at night. Ironically, I've not been feeling mentally sharp for years. I wonder if there's a connection. Making the commitment to 7 hours a night, even if it "cuts out" certain activities, is something I need to do.
2) Exercise: Never one to regularly exercise, I'm reminded (as I've started running this week) of how good I feel after I work out. Now that I have a schedule change, it's the perfect time to start incorporating more of that into my life.
3) Diet: This is the worst. I love to eat - more specifically, I love to eat things that are not quite the best for me. However, given a number of things (including my birthday) it's time to start making some of those lifestyle changes I keep thinking I should.
Maybe I can't shake blandness unilaterally with physical health changes, but at least I can try full out and see what happens.
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
Too Busy
I'm feeling too busy.
It's an odd feeling because I feel caught two ways: on the one hand I have never felt like I am really doing less; on the other, I simply seem to have no time and seem to be accomplishing nothing.
This is somewhat difficult - or seems to be - in the context of trying to reform and reorient my life. One would assume that effectiveness is a prerequisite for change.
I feel caught on a hamster wheel of effort: the more I try and do things, the more I find I am running to try and do things, yet I seem to accomplish nothing. I don't know that I have ever felt less effective in my life.
The only "effective" thing it seems I've done is in the realm of my career - and even now that I'm tracking tasks and priorities and time at work, I am realizing how ineffective I am there as well. The list keeps growing but there are still only so many hours in a day to accomplish anything.
I would say that I would do less, but to do that would be to (in theory) surrender the only things that I potentially enjoy - writing, gardening, music, family, exercise, reading - for that indeterminate block of "Time", which I have no guarantee would be used any better than what it is used for now.
How do I find zest and zeal again? How do I feel more effective and less busy?
It's an odd feeling because I feel caught two ways: on the one hand I have never felt like I am really doing less; on the other, I simply seem to have no time and seem to be accomplishing nothing.
This is somewhat difficult - or seems to be - in the context of trying to reform and reorient my life. One would assume that effectiveness is a prerequisite for change.
I feel caught on a hamster wheel of effort: the more I try and do things, the more I find I am running to try and do things, yet I seem to accomplish nothing. I don't know that I have ever felt less effective in my life.
The only "effective" thing it seems I've done is in the realm of my career - and even now that I'm tracking tasks and priorities and time at work, I am realizing how ineffective I am there as well. The list keeps growing but there are still only so many hours in a day to accomplish anything.
I would say that I would do less, but to do that would be to (in theory) surrender the only things that I potentially enjoy - writing, gardening, music, family, exercise, reading - for that indeterminate block of "Time", which I have no guarantee would be used any better than what it is used for now.
How do I find zest and zeal again? How do I feel more effective and less busy?
Monday, May 02, 2011
Change Your Number and Career
Changing cell phone numbers.
This is one of the inconveniences of the modern age. It's a struggle - the longer you have the number, the more people have it and the more difficult it becomes. You weigh the decision out in your mind more and more - is changing the service worth it, is getting a new phone worth it? Yes, I'd like to not have to type three times to get one letter, but does the hassle of changing over compensate for it (I've had the same number since 2004)?
You crawl through your address list, finding the people you need to contact with your new number. References on the web such as resumes? Those will have to be updated too. Don't forget your voice mail directing everyone to the new number as well.
Finally though, after all the contacting and uploading and downloading, you still have two phones and two numbers in your possession. At some point, you simply have to shut the first one down.
And then I suddenly realized it is the same in real life with a career.
The longer you have a career, the more experience you have in it and the more inertia you have in not making a change. You weigh the decision in your mind - is getting a new career worth it, or can you make do a few more years on the old (the answer here, I think will always eventually be no. Careers you don't like are the same as old cars: at some time, they will simply give out).
Updating is even more difficult than the phone: you have to retool your resume, inventory your skills and resubmit them, change your references on the web, redirect the very substance of your life into a new channel.
And yet, after all that retooling and searching and gearing up, you still have the current career and potential career in hand. Hopefully you've done your homework and are ready. But you still have the two careers.
But like the phone, at some point you just have to shut one down.
The phone I think I can handle. Can I do the same with my career?
This is one of the inconveniences of the modern age. It's a struggle - the longer you have the number, the more people have it and the more difficult it becomes. You weigh the decision out in your mind more and more - is changing the service worth it, is getting a new phone worth it? Yes, I'd like to not have to type three times to get one letter, but does the hassle of changing over compensate for it (I've had the same number since 2004)?
You crawl through your address list, finding the people you need to contact with your new number. References on the web such as resumes? Those will have to be updated too. Don't forget your voice mail directing everyone to the new number as well.
Finally though, after all the contacting and uploading and downloading, you still have two phones and two numbers in your possession. At some point, you simply have to shut the first one down.
And then I suddenly realized it is the same in real life with a career.
The longer you have a career, the more experience you have in it and the more inertia you have in not making a change. You weigh the decision in your mind - is getting a new career worth it, or can you make do a few more years on the old (the answer here, I think will always eventually be no. Careers you don't like are the same as old cars: at some time, they will simply give out).
Updating is even more difficult than the phone: you have to retool your resume, inventory your skills and resubmit them, change your references on the web, redirect the very substance of your life into a new channel.
And yet, after all that retooling and searching and gearing up, you still have the current career and potential career in hand. Hopefully you've done your homework and are ready. But you still have the two careers.
But like the phone, at some point you just have to shut one down.
The phone I think I can handle. Can I do the same with my career?
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