Hierarchy

There is a hierarchy of goals and achievements that I had not previously perceived in life.

I have always understood that not all goals and achievements are the same, that some are more important than others. At the same time, I believe that I have discounted my larger aspirations to settle for the smaller ones.

Settle for the smaller ones. Is it really settling, or is it my inability to get beyond my greatest needs and fears (because these are always what limit us) that essentially "write" what I will and will not accomplish.

An example: I crave being liked more than almost anything, and so I step aside from hard decisions and hard conversations because I want to be liked. Of course, those decisions and conversations would actually propel me farther than the approval of peers, but because they are hard and because I shun conflict, I settle for the lesser.

For those that have achieved their dreams - however defined - there must come a time when the dream becomes more important than lesser things, that the going forward is more desirable than what is being left in place.

One thinks of those who have accomplished and achieved prominence: looking back in their life, there are undoubtedly situations and people and places that were left. It's the whole introspective interview with people stars grew up with: good friends and great times were passed through, moving to the greater thing.

Not all goals, not all achievements, are equal. The key is to figure out what you really want, and then move towards that.

Plateaus

I feel like I have plateaued in my life.

Plateaus, for those of you that may have forgotten your basic physical geography, is "a usually extensive land area having a relatively level surface raised sharply above adjacent land on at least one side". It can also mean "a relatively stable level, period, or position." The verbal form (which also works) is "to reach a level, period, or condition of stability or maximum attainment". Either way (and both work for the purposes of my discussion) it's a flat place which, while raised, is not continuing on any upward path.

Why do I feel I've plateaued? Because in so many areas of my life, I simply seem to be. I'm not really moving forward (at least in any measurable way I can notice); instead, I am at the same level I have been for some time.

Why is this? Is it because I've accepted the plain as the end of the journey when there are mountains in the distance? Is it because I have failed to realize that the journey continues on a dog leg, while I am sitting looking at the cliff, having missed the turn? Is it because it requires a new level of effort and I am simply lazy? Or perhaps that I have become too comfortable here on the plateau: it's flat, it's easy, and I already know all the routines.

Perhaps all. But life cannot be lived on a plateau forever - because plateaus, given time, wear away. It's either up the mountain or back to valley.

(HT to artofmanliness.com for their excellent article "Plateau Busting: How to Take Your Life to the Next Level", which got this thought train started.)

Monday Morning

Monday morning blues.

It is amazing to me how much my job affects other parts of my life. During the weekends, I have no problem at all sleeping 8 hours straight through the night. Sunday night, I inevitably wake up twice, always earlier than I need to, and inevitably feel tired as I prepare for the first day of the week.

Instead of the soaring feeling of waking up with a day of tasks to do (as on the weekends), I feel nothing but a low level of dull interest as I walk through the motions of preparing for another day. More and more, there is not sense of doing things for an accomplishment; instead, there is the dull roar of duty as I get ready.

How do I bridge this gap between these two land masses? It's clear to me that life can never be lived at its highest level as I continue to slump through week after week. At the same time, it's equally clear that the free fall of doing anything on my own without a well thought out (dare we say, God inspired) plan is not a recipe for success - it's the difference between taking the elevator down and cutting the cable: both will get you to the ground, one just faster than the other.

But I can sense it out there: the thing, that thing, something that gives me purpose when I leap out of bed in the morning, that gives me a sense of doing good here and in eternity, that makes every day rising like a Saturday. If I can only catch what it is.

September Sunrise

Crickets, cicadas

chanting as the full moon

crosses the sunrise.

Calling

How do you hear a calling?

How do you discern that something that bubbles to the top of your soul, something which has lodged deep within it, is something more than just a whim or a passing fancy?

I'm reading (slowly) Raising The Bar: Integrity and Passion in Life and Business; The story of Clif Bar & Co. by Gary Erickson (the founder). I like Clif Bars of course, and since the story involves food, it's certain to capture my interest.

But as I read through this man's creation, managing and successful implementation of a company that not only created a wonderful product, but has allowed a man to impact the world around him, I find myself hungering for that. Not only for the creation of a useful product, but the living out of one's values and making a difference in the world around one.

Living out of values. How wonderful a thing that seems to be, especially coming from an environment where values are not as nearly valued as the ability to get things done (in fact, values are not really considered at all).

So how does one know? How can one say confidently "yes" to a calling - any calling - and know that it is truly of God and not just one's own personal wishes?

The Right Questions

Do we ask the right questions of God?

Yes, I know, we all question God. Often it's the cry of a hurting heart - "Why are You allowing this to happen, Lord?" - or just as often a heart that wants - "Why can't I have that, Lord?".

But how often do we ask the question "What would you have me do, Lord?"

I know, we all think we ask this question of God. I believe I've often asked of God myself - but have I really asked it, or have I mouthed words.

To truly ask a question, of course, is to wait for the answer and want to hear it. And that's often our problem with God - we don't really want to hear the answer, or we're not patient enough to wait for it?

Don't want to hear the answer? More often than we admit. Because if we actually hear the answer, we will have to take action. And we're (or at least I'm) often desperately afraid of what God will answer me. If I ask Him what His purpose for me is, am I afraid it's something totally opposite to what I would like or that He'll make me do something I am completely unfitted for and hate (the reality is He very seldom has, but I tend to forget that).

Not patient enough? God answers on His own timetable, not our own. In our data rich and accelerated society, we're used to receiving an answer immediately (ala Wikipedia) or really quickly from sales people eager to sell us something. The concept that we might have to wait days, or weeks or even years, for response to prayer is something we can hardly fathom. If we don't hear anything, too often our own assumption is that the answer is whatever we predetermined in our mind that it should be - an almost assuming unless the answer is "no", it's "yes".

But (at least in my own experience) God will not be led to a decision, or pushed into it. Part of the listening, part of the waiting, is the process of patience and dependence he wants to build into our lives. Were we to truly listen and wait, I believe we would hear God speak much more than we do.

So when we ask questions, is it truly God's answer we seek? If so, we'll be willing to do wait it takes to hear the answer.

The Promise We Ignore

"Then Jesus told his disciples 'If any man would come after me let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.'" - Matthew 16: 24-25

How wonderfully focused I am on myself.

My world, too often, is bounded by me: my importance, my needs, all eyes on me. The lives of others - to the extent that the impact me at all - are measured on the convenience or inconvenience to my own life.

I can argue that it is natural, that God wants us to see to ourselves (He does of course, doesn't He?), that if I can't take care of myself I can't take care of others.

And then I am confronted (as I always am) by the words of Christ.

Deny yourself. Take up your cross. Follow me. Or to put it colloquially: Say no to yourself. Die to yourself. Follow in my footsteps.

That's where most people stop - myself as well. "Oh, the sacrifice" we moan. "Oh, the things we are surrendering. Say no to ourselves - what, say no to coffee? To a new book? Surrender my cherished goals - after all, if I don't do it in my life, no one will. And follow Christ - why, I attend church regularly, give, and even volunteer occasionally. That's more that most do!"

We stop - as I was going to initially stop - without the second part of the statement.

"Whoever would save his life will lose it" - not might, not probably, but will. Everything I do in the flesh to make my life better, to self-actualize, to be more fully human - if not done in Christ, will matter not at all.

"But whoever loses his life for my sake will find it" - not maybe, not possibly, but will find it. All the "sacrifices" we make of ourselves in the end will yield a far more rich treasure than anything we would realize on earth.

Do we accept this as Christians? Do we internalize it - not in the trivial matters of coffee and books, but in the serious matters of life and direction and building the kingdom of God? Are we so sacrificed on our small sacrifices we forget the huge sacrifice of Christ? Even sadder, do we fail to believe the promise of Christ himself that in dying to self, we will find our lives?

Is the fact that we often feel so powerless as 21st Century Western Christians due to the fact that we have never - really - denied ourselves and lost our lives?

Being True to Self?

How true am I being to myself?

I grapple with this almost on a daily basis - the constant back and forth of what I am doing, what I should be doing, and how it is impacting those around me.

Then again, what is the self to be true to?

Let's be honest - there are portions of all of ourselves that if we were "true" to them, would end in a constantly hedonistic lifestyle that used others, gave all attention to pleasure, and eventually would result in our own destruction. So even the idea of being "true" to myself is somewhat of a misnomer - perhaps more correct to say "being true to those parts of myself which are worthy being true to."

But then I wonder: is there anything that makes those "worthy" parts any less honest or straight than the parts that we ignore? Is there some objective standard by which we judge what is truly worth being "true" to?

Because even our best views of ourselves are foolish and often self centered. I am just as likely to consider those parts of myself worth being true to as necessary (but in reality, they make me feel good or I think I am skilled at them) as I am to ignore others that I really should be true to, but ignore for some reason (self sacrifice because I don't like sacrificing, being kind to others when I don't really want to extend myself).

So when I say I'm being "true" to myself, am I really saying I'm being true to the core of what I am - or merely the core of what I perceive to be myself, which usually coincides with what I really desire. How do I find that objective standard?

Hot

How ridiculous:

95 degrees feels

like winter has come.

Cool mornings chill me,

singing of a coming fall

hard to see from here.

Being Wrong

"To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong." - Joseph Chilton Pierce

So often I am a creature of fear - especially, fear of being wrong.

You ask me where this fear comes from. I'm not sure that I can really answer it fully. But I think it started long after my childhood and teenage years, into my adult working life.

Why? Because the things that are encouraged in childhood - creativity, spontaneity, a thirst for knowledge - are often the very things which are despised in adults by those that employ them (although lip service is often given to the contrary).

The reality is that much of the modern world is actual built on dependable, reliable, reproducible methods. Think about it - do you want your medications to be manufactured a little differently every time, or your cars to have their brake systems installed differently on each unit, or your food to incorporate random amounts of undesirable products? Of course not - we want (yea, demand) reliable, reproducible results.

In this arena of reliable, reproducible results, being wrong becomes more than just an experimental trend, a spontaneous exercise of inquiry, a quenched thirst for trying something a little differently. It becomes a costly mistake, something that will wreak great havoc on the system. And so, manufacturing becomes systematized.

But with that systematization comes a loss of that creativity, that spontaneity, that thirst. Does it still exist? Of course - but it becomes the preserve of a privileged few, the researchers and developers. For the rest, being wrong becomes so costly - sometimes costing a career - that even the chance of being wrong is never taken.

And so we continue to exist, slowly watching that part of ourselves fade into the small folds of our lives where it can live, a short of endangered species which has been set onto reservations in our soul.

But if being creative means getting over the fear of being wrong, and being wrong costs a great deal, is it better to continue to subsist in the twilight of creativity - or simply acknowledge that what we seek is beyond the sight of where we are?

Frustration

How do I effectively deal with frustration?

It seems to be a constant theme in my life at this point, from any number of angles. Even when I try and make the best go of it - "Today will be a good day" - something or other breaches whatever tower of inner peace I have tried to erect and leaves me gasping for air.

The net result? In some form or fashion, every day, I come home or go to bed frustrated.

Frustration, if you were wondering, is "a deep chronic sense or state of insecurity and dissatisfaction arising from unresolved problems or unfulfilled needs."

Hmm. Unresolved problems. Unfulfilled needs.

Unfulfilled needs I tend to steer away from - for my own part, much of what passes amongst society as unfulfilled needs are really unfulfilled desires, which are hardly the same as needs. But unresolved problems? Hey, I've got a fairly long list of them.

So here's a question: do I even recognize what they are? If I use a broad brush term like "unresolved problems", do I know what they are? Do I know what would resolve them?

So here's maybe a start: instead of just becoming frustrated, what would happen if I wrote down the problem each time it occurred: problem, what it would take to resolve it. Would that solve the problem immediately? No. Would it at least give me some sense of what the problems are in my life? Of course.

Through knowledge comes truth, and through truth comes resolution. Perhaps if I learn to see instead of reacting, I can more clearly understand what the nature of things is and what needs to be done.

All About Me

"A preoccupation with ourselves, our agenda, and our pre-conceived ideas, and a motivation to achieve personal peace and prosperity (i.e. pride) will be met with resistance from our heavenly Father." - Chip Ingram, Holy Ambition

I'm reading Holy Ambition: What it takes to make a difference for God by Chip Ingram. It's the first fully Christian book I've sat down with in a bit, having had my shelf overrun with business and ducks and self motivation.

The book is challenging - which is good, but also perhaps bad in the sense that it points to how far I have fallen from the goal. Ingram (who I'm familiar with from years past on the radio) does not shy away from pointing to the gaps that Christians often develop in their own lives. He proposes a six step process towards developing Holy Ambition: having an intensity to their passion and spiritual faith and discovery what it takes to make a difference to God.

One of the big steps (it's actually in the second step, so I'm jumping ahead) is that we need to get our eyes off our own lives and onto what God wants.

This is actually something I'm pretty bad it. Most of my life, simply put, is about me and my problems and my needs. I'd love to say that I'm not any different that a great many other people (That, I think, is true) - but that does not excuse it.

It pushes me, because I have trained myself (consciously or unconsciously) to think that life is about me. Part of it, I'm sure, is the simple fact that we train ourselves to be responsible. Who are we responsible for? Ourselves, of course - therefore as we work to resolve the issues that affect us, we come to believe that all issues around us are about us.

The other part - the not-so-kind part - is that I am a sinner, and as a result, I believe that life should be about me. My plans, my goals, my pleasure. The motivational/self help industry is no assistance in this respect: it's all about your dreams, your goals, your aspirations, your fulfillment, your self actualization.

Which is 180 degrees opposite of what God calls us to.

The second part of the quote from Ingram reads as follows: "By contrast, a genuine sense of desperation and dependency on Him and Him alone (i.e., a broken spirit) will be met with grace, power, and supernatural provision."

But that desperation and dependency, that broken spirit, comes from a realization that God is God and we are not, of becoming progressively more consumed with God and His agenda that our own.

If I'm truly honest, most of my life is about me: my dreams, my goals, my "right" to have things that are, my pleasure, my wealth. And how have I done with this consistent focus on me? Not so well, on the whole.

So there's the challenge: am I willing to concentrate on God and His agenda? Am I willing to become more consumed with His will and His agenda than my own?

Am I will to look at my life and its results and learn from what has occurred? Or do I insist on doing it my own way, even to the ultimate detriment of everything I want to achieve?

Early Morning Iaido

Bokudo dances:

pre-dawn light moves gracefully,

cut by discipline.

Powerlessness

I hate the feeling of being powerless.

I was reminded of yesterday as I left work: an e-mail, politely phrased and written in such a way as to seem as if the writer was doing a favor, but under the words was the concept "This is what we are going to be doing. Your opinion, while helpful, is not important."

It's times such as this that I feel so powerless about so many aspects of my life. Yes, I understand I have "the power to choose", but the power of choice is never an absolute that takes place in a vacuum; it is always constrained by the circumstances in which we exist.

Perhaps the most debilitating part of reminders of powerlessness is how they make me feel. Simply put, it drains the enthusiasm out of the activity in particular and life in general. Suddenly, the sense you can make an impact is gone, replaced by the real sense that you are essentially a "speaking tool" (as the Romans referred to slaves), there only to fill a particular purpose or purposes and nothing more. Tools, it may be recalled, have no power except that which is supplied to them. Likewise, the recipient of powerlessness is essentially the same: with the motive of the "blessing" of the activator, they simply sit on the stand, waiting.

The other debilitating part of the reminders of powerlessness is the how it impacts the environment. Spontaneity, drive, the urge to go the extra mile, initiative - all are drained away like a tsunami returning to the ocean, leaving only devastated fields and broken wreckage behind it. People may not always leave that environment but what it breeds - dullness, lack of initiative, lack of joy - would seem to be counterproductive.

But that, it seems to me, is not what they purveyors of powerlessness want. They often state they want strong individuals who are spontaneous, hardworking, takers of initiative - but what they truly want is individuals who will do what they desire with all of those qualities. Their need for power and control eclipses the ultimate need for the results they think they want.

Which, of course, is no fun for the speaking tools expected to produce such results.

It is a hard thing to realize that opinions and excellence in any part of one's life are not really wanted, that instead only the need to execute the demands of others is paramount.

Deconstruction

I am deconstructing my public web persona.

I have been swept in the concept of persona on the web, that branding yourself and free interchange was quite a good idea. I had daily quotes, I had occasional articles, I articulated a philosophy.

I was jolted into awareness by a request on LinkedIn by someone I would not have anticipated having interest in me, someone that set me to thinking about that public persona I've created.

Have I posted anything incriminating? Not at all. But my mind suddenly wandered to some of the articles and many of the quotes that I had posted, things that while innocuous in themselves, had the potential to be abused by parties which might make use of such things other than in the spirit in which they were intended.

And so the Great Deconstruction begins. Twitter Link is down; I may scrap the whole Twitter link entirely. The website is up but that may come down as well. Essentially, I'm attempting to scrub any personal branding from associations with my name, leaving a bland placeholder in my stead.

It makes me more grateful than ever that this forum has continued to remain anonymous. I had toyed briefly with the idea of changing that, of starting to link more often to other sites with my musings. But in light of recent events, it's better this way: I can write as I please. My friends know, my readers may guess, and others can hopefully just enjoy.

It's an interesting conundrum: in a society where transparency is more possible than ever, that very transparency makes one more vulnerable than ever, thereby really ensuring that many people will become less transparent than ever due to the risk of having words or comments taken out of context.

And so, after briefly rising above the water, the iceberg sinks back down leaving only the tip - this blog - as evidence to the outside world.

Extraordinarily

"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." - Benjamin Franklin

Do we seek to live our lives extraordinarily? Or do we settle?

I know what you're thinking - "TB, you're nuts. Not everyone - in fact, practically no-one - can live their life extraordinarily. Most of us are struggling to make it through the day. Extraordinary? Have you seen my life lately?"

But that's not quite what I asked - not "Are you doing extraordinary things" but "Are you living your live extraordinarily?"

They're different, you see.

We have come to accept that extraordinary really means great things, big things, things that attract public notice or approval: being a media star, or being a political politician, or a well known (infamous?) artist, or giving large sums of money to causes of our choosing.

These are big things, but they are not necessarily extraordinary things.

Extraordinary things are really different for each of us. Some extraordinary things are not visible to many. Some extraordinary things are really investments in the future of others. Some will never be known this side of Heaven.

Because extraordinary is not defined by the publicity that it generates or the size of the action, but rather by what the action accomplishes - and what it costs us to do it. Extraordinary deeds can be extraordinary because of who accomplishes them, not what they accomplish.

So are striving to live extraordinarily, putting our all into whatever our days hold? We may think that if we are doing so we are pouring our lives into hole like water into sand - but I question if that is really true. Perhaps it is just that we lack the patience and perspective to see the outcome of such things.

Thinking New Normal

Starting to think in The New Normal.

Having just resigned our lease (and looking at the numbers), I am starting to think in terms of housing - specifically buying one. Given where we are (New Home), a house is much more affordable than anything we could have procured in Old Home for the same size and price.

But in thinking about is, I'm not just thinking in terms of things like number of bathrooms (although 2.5 is quite convenient) or bedrooms (we only really use three, but having four is a nice luxury) or living space (if we spend all our time in the "family room", why do I need a separate "living room" - can't it all be one room?). I'm thinking in terms of what else I really want to do.

Like sun access, which translates into a garden (bigger and better than the one I have right now). Or green area, which translates into some kind or poultry (Ducks? Reading a lot about ducks at the moment. And geese.). And what kind of space I have between myself and any potential neighbors (probably not lucky enough to have no neighbors, but maybe two instead of three?). And how much I can do in a smaller space, instead of how much space do I need or can I get.

It's adjusting to the New Normal. It's accepting we're where we are at the moment, and meshing my goals and dreams with what is possible at the moment. The later, we'll take later.

For now, I'd settle for a better garden space - and the promise it entails.

Vision

How do you find a core of energy and drive to continue on in the fact of adversity?

I got home last night, having stayed later than I intended to fix a problem not of my doing after 3 days of audit feeling completely spent. I barely had the energy to practice Iaido and walk the dog before I crashed into bed. Elements of hope and aspiration I had been feeling earlier were wiped out in an avalanche of last minute fixes and two audits which seem to have gone unacknowledged by virtually anyone.

There were other things I could have done - should have done, probably - but were pushed to the side by a vast sense of exhaustion and lack of energy.

How do I find the drive to carry on with a vision of what I would like to do in the midst of what actually seems to be happening? Too often my enthusiasm is drained away, my plans set awry, my vision clouded by the day to day drain which masquerades as a career.

If there is such a vision, how do I fix it in my brain?

Morning

Fragrant coffee steam
entices me no matter
how little I've slept.

Five Values

I'm working my way through Brian Tracy's TurboCoach: A Powerful System for Achieving Breakthrough Career Success (I figure if I am going to be here for the duration, I might as well do as well as I can). The first exercise in the first chapter is "From the list of values found in the appendix at the end of this books, select the three to five values that most represent the organizing principles of your career or business."

What an opportunity! I get to define the three to five values I treasure most, that I either am or want to be. This was pretty exciting - and difficult, considering there were probably about 100 listed.

I carefully started my list:

One - Authenticity - was so obvious I didn't even make it past the end of the "A" column.

Two - Joviality - was easy (could have equally been Humor, I suppose).

Three - Wisdom - was something I have some of, but want more of.

Four - Godliness - wasn't even on the list, so I added it.

Five - And there I stopped.

Because there is a five - I just don't know how to define it.

I looked down the list, then looked down it again, then went back to front - and still did not find it.

I know what I want it to symbolize - the value of independence, the value of self-sustainability, the value of growing things and providing for one's self, the value of conservation, the value of simplicity, the value of the natural - but it's not something that I can really put into a word. How does one create a value that one cannot fully define?

But maybe to define it is simply to lose it. Maybe it is that sense of Authenticity, that I am what I seem to be (Benjamin Franklin) - and what I value is all of those things.

So maybe in fact those five values are four - or maybe eleven. Perhaps it doesn't really matter to define them as values, but as what is significant to me. Because in being significant, they are valued and if valued, a Value.

Generating Interest

"Do you see a man that excels in his work? He will stand before kings; he will not stand before obscure men." - Proverbs 22:29

How does one create an interest in something that one is not interested in?

This is the issue confronting me as I grapple with the reality that more than likely for the next 16-20 years - indeed, for the rest of my working life - I will be doing what I am doing now. The rather unhappy open secret is that I am not all that interested in what I am doing.

But interest precedes excellence - we cannot truly excel in something that we are not at some level interested in. And to excel - or at least to do everything else that I want to do - I need that excellence.

I have tried to convince myself that this is a life and death requirement, that this is my career - but what I generate is a sigh and endurance, not interest. I have tried to expose myself to industry readings - but again, the more I read the less I really seem to get excited.

There are, I suppose, exciting parts to my industry - the difficulty is that I am doing none of those things and not likely to become involved in them. Instead I plod through the daily grind of getting things done - hardly the cutting edge of anything.

Or perhaps I am once again misapplying the verse: the verse does not say "Do you see a man who is interested in and excels in his work", only "who excels".

So perhaps another illusion is indicated to me: I have thought I had to - perhaps, that I even deserved to - be interested in what I do. The reality perhaps is that interest is not required to excel - only diligence and getting things done. The interest, if it comes at all, is really more a frosting on the top of the cake rather than the cake itself.

The New Normal?

Is there a new normal in my life?

One of the last things I did last Friday before I left work was check my LinkedIn account - sure enough, a position I had interviewed for in Old Home has been filled. I am back to being in a position of not having any active interviews occurring.

Add to this the commissioning of teachers for my children's school at church yesterday - including the two of the three for positions I had interviewed for (I was very kindly told that without a teaching credential, I was not a good candidate).

As I sat there Sunday afternoon with my family gone and I alone, I considered the various things of my life that I had pursued in my past: teaching, pastoring, The Firm, performing, entertaining and writing. In each and every case, the thing had not worked out - and now, looking at it, I was forced to admit that those opportunities were truly gone - there are some doors you go through that, once passed through, cannot ever be exited.

But that was the past. Given the current economic climate and current state of my industry, the chances are greater than average that our stay here in New Home is going to be much longer than I anticipated.

So then I started to make a list - if I am stuck here and there are things that I am still interested in, can I do those and integrate them in my current life?

Suddenly my mind was surging ahead to possibilities. Yes, there is still a long road to hoe to make those things happen - but suddenly those things became possible, rather than opportunities that had passed and callings that may never come again.

Perhaps I have been waiting too long for the Old Normal to return, when in fact it is never returning - and never would have.

Welcome to the New Normal.

Why?

Heat without rainfall;
Garden's green but won't produce:
Reflecting my life?

Art and Science

My career is a science, not an art.

It occurred to me last night around 21:30 as I was pouring through documents to read in preparation for an audit by regulatory authorities. As I sat there, rolling through the pages and writing things down, realizing that I was much farther behind on things than I had thought, I suddenly came to the realization that what I am doing is a science.

I've tried to convince myself it's an art.

I believe I tried to do this as a sop to my spirit, an attempted gift to myself to make myself believe that I was not doing other than I was, that I was still involved in a thing that had nuances and craft and skill to apply. It was a way to try and give myself some level of dignity that what I do is special and extraordinary - perhaps a last vain attempt to pour a heightened level of personal meaning into my work.

While in fact there still may be nuance and craft, the reality is simply that what I do is much more of a science, "something that may be studied or learned like systematized knowledge".

On the one hand, I guess that's freeing. It means that if I want to do better or make progress, it's quite possible. Knowledge can be studied and learned. Systems can be followed. People can be taught. Others have succeeded - I need only do what they did to achieve what they achieved.

On the other hand, it's disappointing. An artist is one who, at some level, has an inborn ability that may not be held by others. By confessing that what I do is a science not an art, I'm confessing that I'm no more special in what I do than anyone else.

But, as mentioned yesterday, I can no longer afford illusions about myself or how the world works. And so art moves back into the realm of evenings and weekends, of those tasks practiced to please.

Welcome to the world of science.

Illusion

"Dillusionment is the child of illusion." - Chip Ingram

How do we create our illusions? How do we build them up in our mind until they become towering entities of the way things should be, seemingly nourished and watered by nothing but our own good wishes and wills?

I ask the question because I am become more and more disillusioned - about virtually everything in my life. I have all but surrendered any sense that my career field will be anything but what it is, that I will be doing it for a very long time yet, and that the concept of the "fulfilling job" is just that, a concept in the nebulous reaches of my mind.

I have all but surrendered the concept of being anything but a foot soldier in service to God. There was a time (illusion) I believed that I had been called to ministry or leadership; the disillusionment comes in the realization that any such opportunities are seemingly long gone and out of reach.

In personal relationships, I have all but surrendered the concept that they, too, will be anything more than they are. Great relationships of any nature are far more precious are rare than we give them credit for.

I could add to the list - interests that never went the way I hoped, dreams of doing things that never materialized - but in the end they all come to one conclusion: illusion.

Does this mean that I should attempt (so much as is possible) to abandon all forms of illusion? I'm not sure - but how to really do this in a meaningful way, and what that would mean. Because by stripping life of its illusions, it seems to leave nothing but the harsh reality: starkness with no beauty, utility with no elegance. Suddenly, there seems to be no reason to jump out of bed in the morning: the day will march on in grinding exactness, each minute fufilling the utility it was meant for.

But is this seeing life as it is, or is this too disillusionment? Have I become so disillusioned about life itself - because I had illusions (or dreams, if you will) about how it should be versus the the reality - or is the reality of the situation merely that disenchanting?

I wish I knew for sure. All I do know is that looking at the pain of disillusionment about how things are or the dour glow of reality as it is, I'm unsure which one should be chosen.

Clear and Simple

"It's strange how simple things become, once you see them clearly." - Midas Mulligan, Atlas Shrugged

We've returned from a three day vacation (thus, the lacking of posting yesterday). It was good experience - the first time, as I pointed out to The Ravishing Mrs. TB, that we have taken a vacation as a family in almost 3 years.

It was good to be away - mostly from work, but also from essentially everything else as well: no computer, no radio, no news, no TV except for cartoons and the occasional news report.

It's one of those things that hits you as you return to the shell of your world without the meat, the inevitable preparation that occurs the day before you return to work, slowly categorizing things in your mind and getting them ready to re-initiate as you prepare for your daily routine.

As I sat in the darkness this morning, preparing to get up and address the day, what I realized is that my life is truly simple - if only I would see things clearly.

To see things unclearly is to see things as society defines them and what I am supposed to "get" from them. A simple example: I am supposed to "climb" the corporate ladder because that's what people do, it is the way to increased responsibility and income, it is the way of "society". The reality is that while I acknowledge the money is important to doing the things I want to do, the corporate ladder - at least as it has been presented to me - is not something I care to do.

Because all the energy and time that go into the job beyond the work - the catering to egos, the additional hours without recompense, the shorted resources and increased expectations - do not add one iota to my enjoyment of life, one additional second to the time I'd like to spend do things I like, one additional cent in my pocket enabling me to save or spend more.

The things of importance - the things of urgency - are the very things that I need and desire to spend more time on, not the things that at best marginally or at worst make no contribution to my life.

It's all a matter of seeing things clearly. Once you do, things become simple.

Passing Along Unknowing

"It is because we do not pay attention that we pass along unknowing." - Takuan Soho

How much of our life is spent living at a low level of observation?

So much of what comes into our lives is usually not a surprise. Whether an personality dispute, a financial crisis, a company failure, or even our car running out gas, many people are often "shocked" at the "unexpected nature of the event.

What's usually clear - at least to outside observers - is that in reality, the signs are there are the time.

The relationship fails? Everyone knows you haven't been socializing or even speaking in months. A financial crisis? When you bought the house, you knew you really could not afford it but did so anyway. The car ran out of gas? The "Low Fuel" light was on; you just gamed how much fuel that really meant.

The unfortunate reality is that many of the events that occur in our lives are really plants of which we have sown the seeds far earlier. Anyone who knows corn was planted in a certain place is never mystified when the corn "suddenly" appears on the stalk. It is only the one who never planted the corn and always walked by the garden ignoring it that is suddenly surprised to see the ears blowing in the wind.

Interestingly this is seldom true of the "good" things that happen to us in our lives. We're quite aware of these - but usually because this takes effort. We are not surprised when the promotion comes to pass or the relationship blossoms or we achieve any victory because we know the seeds that were sown and we worked hard to cultivate them: the ear, when it arrives, is culmination of our effort. We are hardly shocked in the this case: we know what we planted, and we know what to look for it.

What would be the impact in our own lives if we paid attention to all matters in our lives, if we were cognizant of each action and moment as a potential seed sowing moment? I believe not only would the unexpected bad events occur much less frequently, but we would be far more aware of all that is going on around us. Instead of passing along unknowing, we would be more aware - and more able to cultivate those things that we wish- the gardens that constitute our lives.

All I Needed To Know in Life I Learned from Thirteen Assassins

1) It is not your numbers, but your skill and dedication to the cause that matters most.

2) There are men and women at every level that are willing to do the right thing.

3) There is nothing more cruel than injustice which is recognized but not acted upon.

4) If you have no sword, fight with a rock. If you have no rock, fight with your fists.

5) There is nothing more pathetic than someone who knows the right thing to do and will not do it.

6) Judge no-one by their appearance. Great skill lurks in even the rudest appearing forms.

7) Know who and what you serve.

8) Youth is no indicator of lack of dedication and skill, age no indicator of wisdom and right thinking.

9) Understand that in some cases, the only way things may get done is in an unorthodox manner.

10) Never compromise your standards and morals.

11) To catch a bigger fish, get a bigger hook.

12) Sometimes you have to gamble everything to get anything.

13) There are not insurmountable odds, only circumstances that need to be adjusted in your favor.

The Abdication of Responsibility

I'm performing what seems to be my now annual re-read of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. I've recommended the book before, and continue to do so as a well thought out and well written novel (and as always, I recommend it with the caveat that I don't endorse or believe everything Miss Rand did).

One of the many themes of Atlas Shrugged deals with the abdication of responsibility, that some individuals make no decisions lest they be blamed for them, make no decision but attempt to make others make them for them, or simply make the decision but fail to accept responsibility for the consequences. The book identifies this as a major problem of the antagonists: individuals at the top demand decisions and then refuse to accept the responsibility of the consequences, while others farther down the food chain realize that they are being asked to decide in order to be blamed - and they, too, pass their decisions to yet others farther down the food chain, to the point in the book that a telephone operator is essentially forced to make the decision to send a train into a tunnel and almost certain death.

Perhaps the reason this is so much on my mind at the moment, and so poignant, is that I am seeing a version of this played out right before my very eyes. Decisions are called for but not made, and then when the consequences inevitably play out, the outcome is translocated to another individual. Suddenly, the original people who didn't make the decision but made the consequences want to get the item resolved as quickly as possible. "No time to assign blame" they say, or "What happened in the past is not important. We need to solve this problem now." The consequences of those decisions are never acknowledged by those who transferred the responsibility. Blame - if there is any to be passed around - always falls to the lowest level, to those dealing with the circumstances or solving the problem.

Abdication of responsibility. Our society reeks of it. It's in our business, in our politics, in our economy, in our personal lives.

How did it start? I'm not sure - at some levelit's always existed - but it occurs to me that when effects were separated from causes, when individuals were told they were not responsible for what happened to them and therefore not responsible for what they did, we began a walk down a road of no return.

Because - and this is one of the hearts of Atlas Shrugged - if an individual, business, society, or political system continues to abdicate responsibility, those who are responsible, who often times hold the whole enterprise together, abdicate their involvement as well.

An easy example: Businesses and management treat their employees badly, imperially, like interchangeable parts with no real hope of advancing, and are then confused why no-one shows initiative or that calls for sacrifice and long hours are met with indifference. Or when a political system calls for additional sacrifices from the productive and the productive, who have already watched their productivity be siphoned away, simply refuse to respond to such calls and instead endeavor to lower their productivity except for themselves. Or when an individual, constantly harassed or blamed by another in the relationship, decides to simply be and not engage.

Because abdication of responsibility can work both ways - not only for those who thrive and grow in it (to a point - no system can ultimately succeed without some responsibility) but for those who are truly and ethically responsible as well. When the first group does it, it is annoying and disheartening. When the second group does it, it is ultimately fatal - to the relationship, the business, or the society as a whole.

Transfer Up and Down

Yesterday I came to see how much people treat me the way they do in my life because I accept the way the treat me.

I have learned that some people have the modus operandi of always "transferring responsibility and accountability" down - when what they really do is transfer blame. Failures to perform in the midst of trying circumstances including overwork, under-resourcing, and h0stile environments become examples of how an individual "failed" to perform their tasks.

And for many years I have accepted this.

What I came to see - in a blinding flash of insight - is that this is so because I allow it to be so. Rather than raising the questions at the time, or making cogent points as to why things cannot be as I am charged, I have quietly accepted the matter as "this is the way it is."

I'm going to challenge the status quo on this - because the transfer of responsibility and accountability is only truly effective when the elements of success are also in place. If I fail to perform, it's my fault; if I fail to perform because the appropriate resources are not available, that's the fault of those who assigned the tasks in the first place. This is not, however, a popular thought on the part of the assigners, because blame that is being assigned for failure is being pushed up instead of down.

Accountability and Responsibility are useless without the transfer of the tools to do the task - otherwise, they simply become a potential point of certain failure.

And this - all of this - I have accepted without question.

I will accept it no more.

Serving Evil

I watched the movie Thirteen Assassins last night. A samurai picture of recent vintage (and not, I might add, suitable for younger viewers), it left me only with questions as I went to bed.

At its core, the movie asks two questions:

1) In the bushido ethos of loyalty to one's lord above all, what does one do when that lord is evil?

2) What is the requirement of good men to serve evil men?

Bushido (as it became codified through the years) required the loyalty of a retainer to one's master, no matter what the consequences or what the nature of the master. This becomes evident in the moview when incidents reveal the cruelty and capricious nature of the Shogun's half brother Naritsugu is revealed to his chief retainer, Hanbei. He knows his master is evil - but he holds to the tenants of bushido that loyalty to the master is above all. In the end, 200 men die to protect a less than worthy lord, as well as all those who Naritsugu has slain in the movie or is suggested to have slain - a testament to the bushido ethic, but not to the greater morality.

Which gets to the second point: what is the requirement of good men to serve evil? At what point does bushido (or in Christian ethics, submission to a higher authority) fall before the greater moral law that evil is simply evil and then is to be destroyed? Is the law of individual honor or the law of the betterment of the whole the supreme law?

Watching the movie, one can understand the inherent flaws that existed in bushido, the flaws that eventually brought the system down. Caught on the horns of loyalty to one's lord and the Confucian ethics of a good society flowing from the good rule and morals of the rulers, a contradiction existed and continued
in the system until the Meiji restoration (in which bushido ethics found the ultimate lord, the Emperor, who would make a good society by good rule)- but a system which eventually destroyed the samurai and the bushido system that had made it possible. The question for that time, it seems, resolved itself.

But evil still exists. Good men (and women) serve those individuals and systems which are evil and malevolent. The moral questions still remain, ready for another generation to review and attempt to resolve the contradictions which, perhaps, simply cannot be resolved.

Mornings of Quiet Desolation

Today was a morning of quiet desolation.

One wouldn't think so. After all, today is Friday, the last day of the week. Theoretically a downhill run until Saturday.

But no. Not this morning. Not one bit of energy.

I got out of bed at the regular time and promptly went and flopped on the couch downstairs. Thought briefly about going to the gym, but just felt too..."blah"...so on the couch I laid.

I simply had no energy - or interest - to do anything: Iaido, study, even really make coffee. Just me on the couch, occasionally pulling the pillow off from over my head to see if it was light enough that I had to get up.

I know what it's about. I can pinpoint the cause specifically. What hurts is that the cause cannot be easily or simply remedied - and even if it can, the length of time it will take seems terribly daunting at this moment.

But that doesn't help now - even now when I am up, feeling the slow call of the clock keeping minutes, calling me away to one more day of the same. There is no sense of "It's Friday", but only a sense of "Lord, let me just survive today."

Changes That Don't Matter

Our management team at work has undertaken a somewhat disconcerting task at work: interior beautification projects.

Within the last two weeks my reports have been moved to another office, that old office has been painted and will get new carpet, the halls are being painted and decluttered, cubes are being removed to give more "space" and items that stick above the cube level are being removed. In the end, we will be working in an airy white area with blue cube walls - the prototypical "Dilbert" cube world.

The odd thing is that whatever the purpose is, I am sure of what this will not accomplish: any actual improvements to the system. Our products and services will not be better, we will not be more efficient, and this in no way increases our bottom line. It looks better to individuals as they periodically walk through, but doesn't really seem to actually improve anything.

I snort and become vaguely annoyed that it is happening at work; I ignore the fact that the same is probably true in my own life.

How often do I do the same in my own life? Repainting the outer walls, moving things around in my head or my life, trying to do things which give the impression that real change is being made, while in fact no substantive change is being made in my own life? I'm kinder to myself than I am to the others, but the reality is the same.

What real changes am I making to my own life? Not illusory or for show, but for real?

Halting the Mind

"When facing a single tree, if you look at a single one of its red leaves, you will not see all the others. When the eye is not set on any one leaf, and you face the tree with nothing in mind at all, any number of leaves are visible to the eye without limit. But if a single leave holds the eye, it will be as if the remaining leaves were not there."

"Glancing at something and not stopping the mind is called immovable. This is because when the mind stops at something, as the breast is filled with various judgements, there are various movements within it. When its movements cease, the stopping mind moves, but does not move at all.
If ten men, each with a sword, come at you with swords slashing, if you parry each sword without stopping the mind at each action, and go from one to the next, you will not be lacking in a proper action for every one of the ten.
Although the mind acts ten times against ten men, if it does not halt at even one of them and you react to one after another, will proper action be lacking?
But if the mind stops before one of these men, though you parry his striking sword, when the next man comes, the right action will have slipped away."
- Takuan Soho, The Mysterious Record of Immovable Wisdom

As I was practicing Iaido the early morning heat, I had an ephiphany.

I have often lamented that I am someone who is slow of learning and slow of action, who lacks the grace of any good athlete or artists. To watch me do Iaido is probably more painful than my sensei or fellow students admit.

But as I was moving this morning, illumination occurred.

My concern in doing Iaido is that I am too mechanical, too slow. I get through one series of movements but I stop each step: foot here, arm here sword here.

But this morning, as I was practicing my unsheathing (nukitsuke), I suddenly realized what Soho was talking about.

My mind stops at each part: right step, left step, grab the tsuba, pull back on the saya in saibiki, draw and grab the saya with my left hand. As a result my movements are slow and disjointed.

But if I didn't stop at each movement, if I just moved through - to use Soho's words, my mind not halting at any one but moving through, things become flowing - not any faster to start out with, but flowing.

But as I practice this new concept, this moving without halting the mind, I suddenly realized that the same is true of life itself.

Too often as I try to do something I try to do it too mechanically, focusing on each step in turn instead of seeing the whole. Instead of moving through like a dance I let my mind halt on things - sometimes things which are relevant, but just as often things that are not relevant: anger, resentment, unfairness, injustice. These too are things which halt the eye and mind and distract from moving and doing.

Don't be mistaken: to not halt the mind is not to think and reason. It is not to practice good judgement or to do excellent work. What it means is to see the whole for what it is and complete each part while not being consumed by each section of it.

And so I will move through the kata and through the day itself, seeing each individual leaf but not sacrificing the sight of the whole tree.

Words

How do I use my words?

I come at this discussion after a long talk with Snowflake concerning an incident at work. The incident itself is not of particular concern to this meditation, but the outcome is.

What came out of that discussion was a long night(and longer morning) sitting and thinking not of the words of others, but the words of myself. How I use them, what I say by them, what my intent of them is.

Intent. The great word we can never truly say. What is the intent of the words we use? Even honeyed words used knowingly to invoke a response implicate the speaker far more than the one who hears and reacts to them.

Words are weapons of attack and shields of defense to those who use them. The ancient Irish understood this: one of the greatest disgraces that could occur was to be verbally run down by a bard for cowardice or lack of generosity. The bard had no defense or attack except his words - but they were enough.

How do I use my words - as weapons of attack or shields of defense? The reality is that I should probably not be using them as either. Interestingly, the only time the Bible (the New Testament in particular) talks about using words for defense is in defense of the Gospel, never for personal measures.

In contrast, what does the Bible say about words in Proverbs and how we use them?

- "If you have been foolish in exalting yourself or have devised evil, put your hand to your mouth." - Proverbs 30:32

- "Wise men store up knowledge, but the mouth of the foolish is near destruction." - Proverbs 10:14

- "Whoever hides hatred has lying lips, and whoever spreads slander is a fool." - Proverbs 10:18

- "In the multitude of words sin is not lacking, but he who restrains his lips is wise." - Proverbs 11:19

- "A talebearer reveals secrets, but he who is of a faithful spirit conceals a matter." - Proverbs 11:13


- "There is one who speaks like the piercings of a sword, but the tongue of the wise promotes health.
The truthful lip shall be established forever, but the lying tongue is but for a moment." - Proverbs 12:18-19

- "He who guards his mouth preserves his life, but he who opens wide his lips shall have destruction." - Proverbs 13:3

- "In all labor there is profit, but idle chatter leads only to poverty." - Proverbs 14:23

- "The tongue of the righteous uses knowledge rightly, but the mouth of fools pours forth foolishness." - Proverbs 15:2

-"A man has joy by the answer of his mouth, and a word spoken in due season, how good it is!" - Proverbs 15:23

-"A fool has no delight in understanding, but in expressing his own heart." - Proverbs 18:2

- "A fool's lips enter into contention, and his mouth calls for blows. A fool's mouth is his destruction, and his lips are the snare of his soul. The words of a talebearer are like tasty trifles, and they go down into the inmost body." - Proverbs 18: 6-8

- "He who goes about as a talebearer reveals secret; therefore do not associate with one who flatters with his lips." - Proverbs 20:19

- "The North wind brings forth rain, and a backbiting tongue angry looks." - Proverbs 25:23

- "Do you see a man hasty in his words? There is more hope for a fool than for him." - Proverbs 29:20

and my personal favorite

- "He who keeps his mouth and his tongue keeps himself from trouble." - Proverbs 21:23

- And there's more, far more than I have covered about words and how we should use them.

But to me the question remains: what are am I doing with my words? Am I using them rightly? Even more correct, should I be using them at all?

Quantity and Quality

Over the last two weeks, as part of an experiment to test my time usage, I increased my time spent at work. This was to accomplish two things: 1) To attempt to make inroads on a list of tasks that just continues to grow; and 2) To see if, by adding more time, I could begin to do some of the daily reading and training I need to do in my own career field.

What I found over this two week period is what I have learned of my personal life: it's not just the quantity of time, it's the quality of the time as well.

More time spent at work did not translate into more work. What it did was translate into more opportunities to interact with coworkers about their issues, more opportunities to realize that I didn't really like what I was doing, more opportunities to "waste" the time I had there. This was certainly not the point of the exercise.

What it has taught me is that the quality of time I spend at work has as much - or more - impact as the quantity I spend.

What do I do when I go to work? This is perhaps the more relevant discussion to have. Do I arrive with a list of tasks to do, of things to accomplish? (I've got a list with 300 odd tasks that need accomplishing.) Or do I move into the "I'm here anyway, so I guess I'll have to do something. Please distract me as necessary."

I think part of my problem is that goal beyond work, the one just beyond the horizon, the reason that I am working for. I cannot name that, so work simply becomes something I have to do, not a means to an end. Give me that, that dream of what it is I truly hope to accomplish, and the rest will (I think) fall into place.

Suddenly the quantity of time will become far more precious - and the quality of that time far more important.

Truth and Honesty

Why do we fear honesty?

We claim we value honesty. We teach our children to be truthful and honest. We even have wise proverbs about truth and honesty: "Honesty is the best policy". As a society - perhaps even as a global one - we say that we want honesty and truth in every aspect of our communication and existence.

And yet time and time again, in our personal and professional lives, we are confronted by evidence that belies these words.

Honesty is hard. Truth is hard. To be honest and truth presumes that I have a level of comfort about myself - that I feel secure enough in who I am and what I am saying that I can weather the fact that someone else will not hear it - and a level of comfort in others - that my relationship with you (the singular you or plural you) is sufficiently that you trust me enough to hear the truth and at least accept it as it is given.

Do we also speak truth and honesty to those who we trust? Of course not. We often have to speak it to those who do not want to hear it, or do not care to contemplate the information. But that is their burden to bear, their failure to confront themselves. Their failure to accept the truth, to accept our honesty, says more about the illusions and masks of their own lives than us.

Are there palatable ways to do it? Of course. Presenting truth or being honest can be as much about how and why and where the truth is presented as it is the truth itself. In fact, the reaction to how it is presented may obscure the truth itself. It's akin to the difference of getting one's attention by touching them on the shoulder or giving them roundhouse punch: both will get their attention, but their response to it may be somewhat different.

Truth is a mirror-bright sword: To those who respect it, it is an object of honor and use. To those who are threatened by it, it is an object of fear.

Moving Day

My office situation has changed.

As a result of monies suddenly becoming available, our office situation has been remodeled. Fear Beag and Fear Mor, who have sat in the room directly outside of mine since I started work here in New Home (almost two years now), have moved to an adjacent (but currently not connected area) behind my office. The room they are in is destined to become an archive facility.

It was odd as I worked away in my office during the afternoon hearing the sounds of moving occurring, the smell of cleaning supplies, the banter that always occurs after relocation: "This is incredibly gross!" and "So that's where that got to!" It was also odd to go into the new office and see them setting up in their new space with radio blaring away as they personalized and organized their space.

When most of their items were moved I sat there, working quietly away, occasionally stopping and listening to the silence, then working on. As I sat their listening, I felt the vague stirrings of something I had not contemplated: loneliness.

Not loneliness in the sense of being alone (good heavens, they're right next door and I'm sure I'll see them a great deal). It was a more profound loneliness, the loneliness being something other than the others are.

I have always prided myself on my ability to not be position or level conscious, that even as a manager I attempt (probably not always effectively) to have a relationship with my reports of primes inter pares; that is, first among equals. I'm ultimately responsible, but my opinion and my strategies are certainly not always the best - and I'm certainly no better than anyone that reports to me.

What I felt as I went in, watched them unpacking and settling into an environment which was theirs and not ours, was that sense of separation, that aloneness that seems to inevitably come when you are the manager of others, that in some ways (willing or unwilling) you exercise responsibility and power.

In many ways, my work relationships are my social relationships - I spend far more time there than I do anywhere else. For better or worse, those relationships have become my support network, my confidants, my daily reminders that people are kind and helpful even as they are silly.

I also wonder (in the back of my head) if some of this simply stems from the self-acknowledged fact that I want desperately to be liked, to feel like I am part of something, to please others . I want (desperately want) to feel as if I belong.

If I'm honest, I can remember this feeling as well at the previous company where Songbird and I worked, when I moved from the cube next to hers to an office. Nothing specifically changed - except I no longer enjoyed the close interaction I had with my colleagues, throwing wry comments or songs over the cube walls, or just rolling around the side to talk. Suddenly such interactions were effort and not as spontaneous; suddenly I was my boss, the guy in the office who wasn't intimately connected with the inner workings of the department but swooped in from the outside to see how things were going.

I'm sure this initial feeling will pass (especially if they put a door in), and things will be back to some semblance of normality soon. The general insanity and hilarity will ensue and it will seem (at some level) as if nothing has changed.

But I cannot hide that as of yesterday, I seem to have heard the "click" of a chapter in my work and personal life closing deep in my soul, one I suspect will not reopen in the way it previously was.

Using Our Gifts

How do we use our abilities in comparison to how God thinks we should use our abilities?

I was reflecting on this as I wandered through my evening drive home and thinking a bit more about Amy Winehouse (see here for the specifics). We are all given talents: how do we use them?

I can only speak fully for myself, but I wonder if I have ever taken a moment to truly reflect on the talents (call them gifts if you like) that I have been given, how I am using them, and how God would want me to use them.

I'll take writing as the easy example. In my writing I do - here, on two manuscripts, journaling - is it done in such a way that God is glorified, or is just about recognition (or self absorption) about me?

Or take music, something which I've done off and on throughout my life. Now it's an ancillary activity to other things, but at one time I did it regularly (whether through a worship team or as a musical duo). The gift is still there - but I am truly using it at all, let alone in the way that God intended?

It's not enough to view the tragedy of wasted talent and selfishly exploited gifts in the lives of others - what are we doing about it ourselves? Are we truly using them in ways that glorifies God, or are wasting them on ourselves, simply in less overtly destructive ways.

Clutching Our Talent To Ourselves

I have been contemplating the death of Amy Winehouse this week.

(I know, it's unlike me to contemplate any sort of social or entertainment related event. Stick with me.)

The media is in the typical post-media death fashion is wringing its hands in concern, wondering how such a "fine young talent" could be whisked away at such a young age, comparing her to other musical stars who also died at 27 (interestingly, it is only music stars. No world famous archaeologists die at 27?). The usual parades of minor stars and second level experts sit on the TV screen, expressing their opinions about why this happened, how she (probably) was doing better, and what this means for the music industry.

I did not know Miss Winehouse's music, and would scarcely be able to pull her out of a line up of similar looking women. I have it on good authority (whom I believe) that she was a unique talent. She was, that I can see, an attractive looking young woman. Barring drugs, she undoubtedly had a wonderful future.

But a wasted one. Her talent is forever silenced (her first album was in 2003; a mere 8 years of stardom), her life's song sung. Wasted (I use that term advisedly) on an addiction that promised more than, in the end, it was able to deliver.

But are we any better with the use of our talents?

The reality is that each of us has also been gifted with any number of talents by God, things that we can do that few can in a way no-one can. But are we any better about using those talents in a way that glorifies God than the deceased Miss Winehouse?

Sure, we can state we don't lose ourselves in chemical dependence or overtly self destructive behaviour. But we can lose ourselves in lesser things: pursuing that which is of no value, gratifying our own pleasures rather than using them for God's glory, laying them to the side because we don't like our gifts and wish we have others, simply selling out for something we think is better. These are societally acceptable ways to do things; they do not make us any less culpable of failing to use our talents.

Pay thought to Miss Winehouse; her soul is as valuable as any others. But before you condemn here to harshly for not appreciating what she had been given, look to your own soul and talents and how you are using them. Can we truly say we are any better?

1000

This is my 1000th post.

Who'd have thought I would have gotten this far?

When I started this endeavor a little over 6 years ago (11 July 2005) I don't know that I really had any idea what I was attempting to do. I had some idea that this would be a place for me to post thoughts and ideas, but I was thinking (at the time) that this would mostly be around political and theological themes. Those (at least the politics) seem to have fallen off pretty quickly, as due to what was going on in my life (I never really seemed to find the energy or time to write them) as well as the fact that discussing anything political tends to obscure people from hearing your message.

Instead, what has evolved over time is a running log of my life and internal thoughts. There is some theology (I sometimes wish there was more, and that I could write more mightily about it) and some gardening and bees and occasionally haikus, but what it really seems to have turned into is a form of online personal journal of self discovery.

This is not an unwelcome development, just somewhat unexpected.

I've had some wonderful unexpected triumphs as well - introducing new writers to the blogsphere (Otis, Vintage Chick, Songbird, even Nighean Gheal), getting the unexpected readers as well (my father, of all people?), even occasionally making the sort of internal personal discovery that one covets but scarcely seems to be able to make.

All in all, a good thing.

What have I learned? Commitment, for one thing. With the exception of my college degree and education, I don't think I have ever been this consistent on doing anything over a long period of time.

Ability to express myself, for another. I think (I hope) I have been able to learn to better express my thoughts in a written medium. Certainly those that read can readily tell when I am happy, depressed, etc. As I can express better, I believe myself to be a far better writer than when I started this venture.

My cycles as well. I'm reliably informed by readers of this blog that they tell on a fairly regular basis where I am on my typical cycle of depression/non-depression. The fact that I am an apparently known cycler is good; now I just need to deal with the cycle.

Where do I go from here? I don't anticipate doing anything differently. I'll be posting here tomorrow same as always, staring at the keyboard around 0615 wondering what I'll be writing about.

But for one brief day, I'm not going to think about that. I reached a milestone today.

Happy 1000 to me.

A Visit With Guilt

As I crawled into the family room after too little sleep to do my morning calisthenics, the light clicked on. Guilt was sitting on the couch, waiting for me.

I didn't have any spirit. I grunted in her general direction and sort of collapsed on the floor to start push-ups.

She apparently had been up long before I had: she was showered, dressed, and had a cup of coffee in her hand as she watched me, nose on the carpet, ready to start.

"I talked with Confusion yesterday. He said he'd already been by" she chirped brightly as she raised the cup of caffeinated goodness to her lips.

"Umm" I responded, promptly losing count. Maybe I was on 15. I didn't know.

Let's call it 15.

"He said you had a good conversation but based on his relation of the conversation, I thought it might be time for me to stop by and chat with you" she continued, watching me again contemplate the floor from 3 inches away.

Sigh. I finally got up as apparently she was not going to be satisfied with less than acknowledgement.

She smiled brightly at me again as I sat down on the couch.

I gestured open handed towards her to begin.

She simpered. "Oh nothing really - just that Confusion mentioned you were wondering about things and directions, and of course that means thinking about you and what
you wanted to do versus your roles and responsibilities you have in your life. You know me - you're never really doing enough, or you're never really doing it correctly." She smiled brightly at me again as she took another sip of coffee. "I thought I'd stop by and we could talk it through."

I looked at her with a cocked eyebrow. "Talk it through?"

She smiled condescendingly. "You know, the whole 'I want to do things I enjoy and live my life' versus 'I need to do the things that I am doing because that's what I'm supposed to do'. You really need to focus on your responsibilities and being stable and reliable."

My eyebrow remained cocked. "What if I don't care for any of it?"

She smiled again. "You're not supposed to 'care' for any of it. You're supposed to do it. That's the beauty of being me" - here she smiled again - "it's not what you do, it's how you feel about it that matters. And mostly I'm here to make you feel guilty about whatever it is you're doing - or not doing."

I sat there thinking about it as she sipped away on her coffee. "Wait a minute" I said. "What you're saying is that no matter what I do, you're here to insure I feel guilty?"

She sighed. "Silly boy, it's not anything you do, generally it's only things you do that are not in line with your responsibilities. Well, I mean you should feel guilty about those too - but only that you're not doing enough on those. The others, it would be ideal if you felt guilty that you either spending too much time on them versus your responsibilities or your spending not enough time on them. But it's best, of course, if you simply just felt guilty."

"So there's no winning here for me?" I asked, somewhat confused but somehow feeling totally defeated.

"Of course not" she replied brightly. She looked at her watch, then stood up. "This has been simply fabulous. A wonderful talk, but I've got to get on. I have aerobics with Depression and Anger at 0600, and you know how they are if you're not on time.

"Oh" she said as stopped at the arm of couch, looking at me slumped in a confused defeat. "You didn't do your full round of push-ups. You're slacking off. You should feel guilty about that." And with that she flounced off humming "Let's Get Physical", leaving me in the morning darkness holding her empty coffee cup and the impending weight of all I needed to do - but couldn't or wouldn't get to.

Odd - I was feeling guilty about it all...

Perfect Placement

I'd forgotten the joy of living with a watering system you have to move.

Simply put, I got lazy. In Old Home, the watering system was installed and on a timer. All I needed to do was, well, nothing. Replace batteries, possibly, and sit and listen to the sound of the sprinklers engaging at 0630 in the morning.

Fast forward to New Home, where the sprinklers are not installed and watering is moved about on a MHU (Mobile Human Unit), i.e. me.

Due to the continuing lack of precipitation in our area, we have limited watering hours and days as well. Therefore, on my allotted days I trudge out to the front or back either as soon as I get home or early in the morning and drag hose and sprinkler around to cover my "zones" and insure everything has the minimum amount of water required to keep it going through (hopefully) the next big rain, which should have happened two months ago.

The area that gives me the most hassle is that in the very front of my yard, where the yard and street intersect. There's always a careful balance between getting right to the edge of the lawn and overlapping into the street. One doesn't want to water too much into the street (lest one appears a water hog), yet one doesn't want to water too far away from it, because the edge of the water will not fall to the edge of the lawn and I'll lose the grass I have so painfully tried to save.

It's about Perfect Placement: the placement of the sprinkler at just the right position so that everything gets watered without too much waste.

But (and there's always a but with me), the same is true of life.

Much of what we call "time management" is simply a non-corporeal version of watering our lawns. We attempt to move the sprinkler of our lives in such a way that we try to cover everything yet don't waste too much time on the street of wasted effort, where such time just rolls down into the storm drain (and thence, wherever used time flows to). We think the difficulty is that we have to get that perfect placement to cover everything and insure it gets hit with the sprinkler.

The reality is that (much like my lawn) getting perfect placement for large coverage is always going to be a bit beyond our ability. We'll always either be a bit too much on one, or a bit too little on another, or maybe miss a patch altogether as we busily move the sprinkler around our lawns, trying to ensure everything stays green.

I wonder (mostly to myself) if we've missed the boat a bit.

There are three ways to ensure full coverage of a lawn (or our time):
1) Install an automatic system;
2) Make sure our placement is perfect each and every time we water;
3) Get a smaller lawn.

We often shoot for 1 or 2. Automation is the key to everything - and if not, the key is to figure a system to ensure we get everything just enough to keep it alive. We don't often consider 3 - get a smaller lawn.

Smaller lawns, like smaller gardens or small circles of time use, allow us to lavish attention on them rather than have to rush through watering or trying to get "just enough" water on them. Likewise, when we focus ("The noble are of not getting things done" - Yutang Lin) what we often find is those things are actually richer and more fruitful that our scattered efforts to ensure that everything stays somewhat green. With the same amount of care and water, one can have a beautiful yellow rose bush (HT Vintage Chick) or an acre of weeds. The effort is the same; it's the space and amount that are different.

I'm off to move water again. Interestingly, the places I use the smaller sprinkler grown better than the ones with the larger sprinkler. Volume of water on the space, I think.

Maybe there really is something there.

How I Work

I realized last night the way I have worked through my whole life.

The thought occurred to me as I was (finally) at home having eaten dinner, fed the rabbits and dog, and generally taken care of everything that I needed to do. I was feeling happy that I had finally arrived at "my time" of the day, the time where I get to do the things that I love and enjoy.

And then it suddenly hit me in the midst of doing them: this is how it has always been.

I was relatively good at school, through an undeserved combination of some degree of intelligence and interest. I excelled, but that's not what I think about as I review those years. What I think about instead was the things that I did after school: role playing games, running around in the woods, music, reading, drama, dreaming, being with friends. School was simply something (a large something, to be sure) that I had to endure in order to get to the things that I enjoyed. Learning was (and is) a joy, but it is not directly connected in my mind with the 8 hour school day spread over 20 years. It was the things after school that I lived for.

And that is the habit I learned.

Suddenly it makes sense to me why I continue to do things (careerwise) that I don't really enjoy but endure: because I have learned that work is something you simply plow through in order to get to the parts of your life (seemingly precious and seemingly little) that you really do care about and enjoy. In fact, you probably shouldn't have any expectation of enjoying the largest expenditure of time in your life; it's just something you need to get through.

It flows over into every area of my life: my relationships, my eating habits (I tend to plow through food in order to get to the stuff I really like, generally dessert), even sometimes my viewing habits (go through the parts of the movie or book I sort of tolerate in order to get to the scenes I like).

So what do I do with that?

I'm not really sure. There are hints around the edges that this is a serious obstacle, one that if properly handled could actually make a significant change in my life and how I view and participate in work. The difficulty is that I'm not really sure how to do it (although to be fair, the problem has only been identified for the last 12 hours).

How do I change my view of what must be done versus what I want to do when I have spent my whole life looking at it in one way?

Be Still

I find myself in the unusual position of being at peace. Given me, I'm sure it's a temporary thing.

I start by blaming Silverline. It was her suggestion yesterday. "Instead of worrying and stretching and reaching about things" she intoned, "why don't you just take a mental break from everything. See what happens."

Take a break. Hhmph. Relax. Hhmph.

I am by nature a worrier - and not necessarily the most brilliant one in the world. Add to that the fact that more often than not I am also unhappy about vast swaths of my life (commonly known as "work") and you can see that this is counter intuitive to almost everything I do on a daily basis.

But I had nothing to lose, right? So yesterday, I didn't try about those things. I went, I worked away from one task to the next, I came home, I worked on my Iaido and my mandolin, walked the dog, read a bit and went to bed.

The odd thing is that the day passed (as all days do) even though the only thing that I had changed was my striving and worrying. Nothing significantly improved. A suitcase of money did not hit me on the head as I was driving home. My dream career did not give me a Monday morning casting call.

But yet, I was at peace.

I wonder (as I often do) if it is at moments like these that God slaps His forehead in frustration and says "I've been telling him that all along. He wouldn't listen to me?"

Because I suppose that in a real sense, that's Christ talks about when He said "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and all these things will be added unto you" or "Sufficient for the day is it's own troubles." That God truly is in control, and that we need to spend less time worrying and being frenetically busy and more time simply doing and seeking Him.

The Psalmists seem to have grasped this particularly well. As I read through them now (as I do this time every year) the message that keeps coming through is the power of God, the presence of God, and the plans of God. As He said to the psalmist in Psalm 46: "Be still and know that I am God." He is ultimately in control, and all my worrying or carrying on or frenzied running in place accomplishes precisely nothing with Him willing it so.

So I will try this again today: No worry. No allowance for stress. No frenzied plans. I will go about my day working and then coming home and doing other things.

I will be still, and know that God is God.

My Life As An '80's Song

I've been considering adding another category to my life: My Life Sounds Like An 1980's Song.

Music is one of those things which I wish I understood better. I play and can read music, but I scarcely understand the hold music has on our brains: music is one of the senses which, by hearing something, has the ability to catapult us back in time to where and when we were when we heard that song. It's a sort of time machine, captured in 3 minute sections.

(As an interesting side note, the sense of smell also has this ability with me).

In being transported back to those times - which for me were high school and college - I am, of course, transported back to a simpler time (virtually no responsibilities) and probably a more ignorant time (dear Lord, why didn't I think more about a career?) - which is probably natural for anyone that age. I am also transported, through that music, to a time and place where I was different person in so many ways.

In listening to the music today, I wonder if really listened to or heard what the music said.

80's music (for the uninitiated) was not some great source of inspirational, life changing lyrics and tunes (Rush fans may argue differently, but they have their own issues). If I had to make vague generalizations (really generalized) I would find their themes around 1) Love and 2) Freedom (Yes, I'm sure there were plenty of sexually related songs there but not nearly what exists currently). The here and now was paramount; the later was not really paid mention to.

I listened to a wide variety of "rock" music (now characterized as "Classical Rock"), with favorites probably being Styx, Journey, Foreigner, Areosmith, Night Ranger, Queen and a large smattering of others (Van Halen (original), Scorpions, Hagar, The Cars, and numerous one hit wonders).

But looking back, now, I wonder what song my life has become.

Is it a soulful rock ballad of love, or of love lost? Hardly an uber-pumped up song about living life on the extreme, or being a man of action.

Hmmm. For wistful music, maybe "When You Close Your Eyes (Do You Dream About Me)?" by Night Ranger or "Once in a Lifetime" by The Talking Heads. "I Can't Drive 55" by Sammy Hagar, or perhaps "Blue Collar Man" by Styx (Close runners up: "Long Way From Home" by Foreigner or "High Time" by Styx).

A far cry indeed from the music I thought spoke to me the most.

However I would like believe that, buried beneath this exterior of responsibility and duty, there exists that young man whose heart still races across the sunshine of endless fields of adventure, blood pumping to the thought of the here and now and all that the world has yet to offer, instead of what has been.

Kickstart My Heart indeed.

Work Things I Don't Want To Do Again

Work Things I Don't Want To Do Again

1) I don't want to manage people again. I like working with people as friends and colleagues, not as a supervisor.

2) I don't want to have my life's work to be categorized by paperwork in a box which occasionally gets pulled out, looked at, and then returned.

3) I don't want to spend my time working on things which are doomed to fail but no-one has the courage to admit it.

4) I don't want to be put in the position of being responsible for tasks no-one cares about but everyone expects to be done.

5) I don't want to work on things that do not, somewhere, have an impact in a good way on the lives of others.

6) I don't want to work where there is a lack of vision.

7) I don't want to work where management is glorified at the expense of those who do the work.

8) I don't want to work (if I can) where the reporting structure is much above me.

9) I don't want to work where I wake up every morning with a sense of doom about the fact I have to go to the job I have.

10) I don't want to not take pride in what I do or where I work.

With Whom Do We Spend Our Time?

"Just as water will conform to the shape of the vessel that contains it, so will a man follow the good and evil of his companions." - Imagawa no Ryoshun, The Regulations of Imagawa Ryoshun

How carefully do we pay attention to our friends and associates?

This is something that we often pay attention to in our youth - often at the insistence of our parents, no doubt - but as time and independence comes, we tend to note this less and less.

Some of this is simply forced on us - in adulthood, we often spend a great deal of time at work with individuals with whom we would probably not otherwise spend time - but some of this is perhaps caused by the fact that with less time, we simply become more concerned with spending time with anyone rather than being as selective as we used to be about with whom we spend our time.

But the reality is the same: we most often tend to adopt the mores and attitudes of those around us.

Do we pay attention to this as we should? Are we becoming better - or worse - by the associations we spend our time with - and are we as conscious of them as we should be?

Other Options

I am tentatively - and cautiously - thinking of other options.

Over the course of the last three weeks, I've had two separate incidents - one in industry, one out - that have indicated closed doors and at least two more that through careful consideration, also suggest that there is no way forward in those areas. There are truly paths that, once turned aside from, cannot be regained.

So I'm starting to think in other directions.

I tentatively - very tentatively - brought the subject up last night with The Ravishing Mrs. TB (great thing to jump someone with right after they return, no?). "What sort of thing?" was her response? "I've no idea" I replied. "I didn't get that far".

The thing that I expressed to her - and continues to chase my conscious - is the sense of direct uncertainty I have, of having little control in the event something goes wrong - like the Layoff, merely staring into the headlight of the engine as it plows you over.

Perhaps some of the reason I'm frustrated is that I keep trying to repackage old ideas as new ones rather than setting that box aside and looking for others.

Storm and Silence

Last day of silence before the storm - An Teaglach returns tonight.

I am, of course, terribly pleased. A little separation is never a truly bad thing (although I'd argue that the 3 months when I first moved to New Home was a little much), but I still miss them all terribly when they're not around (having written this, I will of course regret it the first time the sound tsunami appears).

It's been good, of course - as all my silent time are. Lots of thinking time, lots of reading time, even some time to do thing that I have needed to do.

What it has reminded me of is the fact that without reflection, without the ability and time to read and think and ponder, I am far less than I could be.

(And sleep of course, but I seem unable to control that...)

I am by nature an introvert - although to see me in a social setting where I feel comfortable you would find it hard to believe. Introverts tend to recharge not when they're surrounded by people and activity but when they are silent and isolated or with a small group. Without this time - literally for myself, but I suppose others benefit as well - I become less of what I am capable of. I think less, I reflect less, I simply feel less wise (and I'd argue that my best writing always occurs during or after such periods).

It's simply the way it is.

That said, I need to acknowledge that and accept it. It will mean inconveniences for some others (and probably less sleep, I'm guessing), but truly is the only way that I personally seem to be able to excel and grow.

All hail the return of An Teaglach - and the realization that through silence and thinking comes the best me.