My relational circle is probably getting ready to contract again.
Last week I wrote about our inability to communicate with each other on the Internet. That was last week. In the intervening period of 4-5 days, things have not gotten much better. In fact, I have just had mounting evidence that the thing is much worse.
The thing that depresses me all the more about the whole thing is that I do not believe that people view the inconsistencies in their life as such. Social media has accelerated the issue I suspect, but I am sure that the latent tendencies were always there.
We have come to view our lives as compartmentalized I am this over here for these things but over there for something else. In this part of my life I can find this hilariously amusing, but in this part of my life I need to be deadly serious about something. We perhaps seldom consider how these two things which are seemingly so different look to those outside of use.
Our lives no longer reflect any sense of attempting to bring them into some kind of unified whole, that what we say and do and practice is consistent across all situations.
Consistency. We do not value it. There is a thought I had not considered before.
How does this relate to my relational circle? There are two ways to relate to people. The first, the one that possibly matters the most, is how we relate to others. As a Christian, I get no slack here. I must be able to engage with and speak to all people. I am Christ in their lives, perhaps the only example of Him they will see. My ability to live consistently and relationally matters. That does not stop.
The second is how others relate to us. Here, I think, we can engage in a little more selective practices. The best example I can think of is something where everyone else around you is doing it but you do not have to do it - in fact, there may be prudent reasons for you not to be around it or to carry the thoughts of it around with you. And so you start to taper off those times when such things occur or avoid situations that would put you in contact with them.
And so, I think, with me.
Life is short. My energy and time are limited. Discordant thinking and negative thoughts increasingly have no place in what I am trying to accomplish.
Monday, November 23, 2015
Friday, November 20, 2015
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Failure to Communicate
We have lost the ability to speak to each other in words that others can hear.
Our debates have become Internet memes, background pictures with clever words meant to shame or embarrass our opponents without any thought beyond that of gaining the intellectual upper hand.
Our discussions have become short sentences - tweets or snapchats or short phrases on Facebook delivered without contact or context, then responded to in anger or righteous superiority of our position.
We have lost the ability to speak. We have lost the ability to be kind.
Oh, we say that we are interested in communication. We spend our days on our phones and computers, chatting and texting one another. Our lives have become full of words - and yet empty of of communication.
We are rapidly losing that most basic of interactions that are supposed to differentiate us from all other species, the ability to communicate.
I spend my days wrapped in sadness, slowly withdrawing more and more from the communication and technological mediums available to me as all I see and read and hear is anger and fear and hatred - so little kindness, so little consideration of others and how our words impact them.
I weep for the future - not so much that I fear something particular happening, but rather that no matter what will happen, we will have lost our ability to communicate about it.
Our debates have become Internet memes, background pictures with clever words meant to shame or embarrass our opponents without any thought beyond that of gaining the intellectual upper hand.
Our discussions have become short sentences - tweets or snapchats or short phrases on Facebook delivered without contact or context, then responded to in anger or righteous superiority of our position.
We have lost the ability to speak. We have lost the ability to be kind.
Oh, we say that we are interested in communication. We spend our days on our phones and computers, chatting and texting one another. Our lives have become full of words - and yet empty of of communication.
We are rapidly losing that most basic of interactions that are supposed to differentiate us from all other species, the ability to communicate.
I spend my days wrapped in sadness, slowly withdrawing more and more from the communication and technological mediums available to me as all I see and read and hear is anger and fear and hatred - so little kindness, so little consideration of others and how our words impact them.
I weep for the future - not so much that I fear something particular happening, but rather that no matter what will happen, we will have lost our ability to communicate about it.
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Redbird Singing in the Dead of Night
So Redbird turned in her notice today.
It was not unexpected - she has been unhappy for more time that I can almost remember now, stressed to the point of creating physical issues and mental pain. She has been to this precipice perhaps 50 times since I have known her. And today was finally the day.
I talked with her in the afternoon after the thing was done. There was a peace about her, a peace that I had not seen in months - but a peace I was all too familiar with from others that have gone before her on the same journey. It was all the cares of the job simply melting away, leaving nothing but the future behind. Maybe not knowing what was coming next, but knowing that whatever it was it was not what the past had been
As she was reminiscing over the things that had brought her to this point, she said something that hit me deeply: "I realized that there were people here that I had worked with for 9 months, people who had not known me before things started to go bad - and all they know of me is that person: angry, emotional, sad, bitter. They do not know the real me, the fun happy me, the me that exists away from this before everything went so badly."
That thought struck me to the core.
Yes, I understand that happiness can be choice. At the same time, like it or not, we are influenced by the environment around us. And sometimes that environment can weigh on us heavily indeed.
What would it be like if we worked, lived, and loved in an environment where we enjoyed what we did, who we spent our time with, and cared about the things that deeply mattered to us. What would we be like? How would others perceive us? Would they see us as we are now, or would they see us as we wish others to perceive us?
I wish I knew. Others can see farther down that road than I can at this point.
Fly High Redbird. Fly Free.
It was not unexpected - she has been unhappy for more time that I can almost remember now, stressed to the point of creating physical issues and mental pain. She has been to this precipice perhaps 50 times since I have known her. And today was finally the day.
I talked with her in the afternoon after the thing was done. There was a peace about her, a peace that I had not seen in months - but a peace I was all too familiar with from others that have gone before her on the same journey. It was all the cares of the job simply melting away, leaving nothing but the future behind. Maybe not knowing what was coming next, but knowing that whatever it was it was not what the past had been
As she was reminiscing over the things that had brought her to this point, she said something that hit me deeply: "I realized that there were people here that I had worked with for 9 months, people who had not known me before things started to go bad - and all they know of me is that person: angry, emotional, sad, bitter. They do not know the real me, the fun happy me, the me that exists away from this before everything went so badly."
That thought struck me to the core.
Yes, I understand that happiness can be choice. At the same time, like it or not, we are influenced by the environment around us. And sometimes that environment can weigh on us heavily indeed.
What would it be like if we worked, lived, and loved in an environment where we enjoyed what we did, who we spent our time with, and cared about the things that deeply mattered to us. What would we be like? How would others perceive us? Would they see us as we are now, or would they see us as we wish others to perceive us?
I wish I knew. Others can see farther down that road than I can at this point.
Fly High Redbird. Fly Free.
Tuesday, November 17, 2015
Achieve Greatness
I will simply say that I went out this weekend and achieved greatness, at least greatness larger than anything I thought possible. It is completely possible - but I simply had to go do it. And ask permission of no-one, not even myself.
The possibility exists. We need only to lead ourselves to embrace it, not constantly check over our shoulder to see if others permit it.
Monday, November 16, 2015
Friday, November 13, 2015
Of Cups and Charity III
My finishing thought yesterday was "What if the Church gave in such a way that it made a significant difference? What would the world look like?"
Or more fundamentally, could we change the way government functions as we know it?
The Church has one mission; to proclaim Christ crucified and resurrected. To do this it has three methods: witness of the Word, witness of our lives, and witness of our actions.
Of these three, the Word or lives would be considered easier by most - it is easy for most (not necessarily me) to preach the Word or to work on being more holy. It is the witness of our actions, however, that can often be the most difficult - but the thing that the world pays attention to most.
There are arguably many reasons for the growth of government many sectors including the social (which, of course per my policy, we will not handle here). But is is possible to contemplate that part of the reason that the government entered charity in the first place was that the Church was failing in its mission to accomplish it?
Governments since time immemorial have engaged in periodic care of the needy - witness Rome and the "panem et circensus (bread and circuses)" or its price control of grain. This has probably stemmed as much from a desire to avoid instability as a desire to assist - or in some unfortunate circumstances, a desire to control.
Christians should be different. Our motivation should not be for stability or control or perhaps even to assist (noble as it is) but rather the share the love of Christ in a tangible fashion, to do the good that God tells us He wants us to do.
Am I saying that the people in government who handle such things are evil or controlling? No. They are doing a job. But more fundamentally I am asking if the job they are doing is something that Christians should be doing - not to put them our of work but for us to live our calling.
Could this be done in short order? Of course not. And calls to simply halt things always end at the same place: that no-one will step in to fill the gap. And too often that is a legitimate complaint against Christianity. So it will take time: time for us to practice giving in larger and larger ways, time for us to build credibility as people who will always do what we say will do. This is a long term goal, probably longer than any of our lifetimes.
But who knows - if the Church were sincerely to engage in this activity, to really make an effort, would God not intervene in our behalf?
Funny thing - He says in such situations He will.
So let us get with it. Start somewhere. But never be satisfied with less when we can do more.
Or more fundamentally, could we change the way government functions as we know it?
The Church has one mission; to proclaim Christ crucified and resurrected. To do this it has three methods: witness of the Word, witness of our lives, and witness of our actions.
Of these three, the Word or lives would be considered easier by most - it is easy for most (not necessarily me) to preach the Word or to work on being more holy. It is the witness of our actions, however, that can often be the most difficult - but the thing that the world pays attention to most.
There are arguably many reasons for the growth of government many sectors including the social (which, of course per my policy, we will not handle here). But is is possible to contemplate that part of the reason that the government entered charity in the first place was that the Church was failing in its mission to accomplish it?
Governments since time immemorial have engaged in periodic care of the needy - witness Rome and the "panem et circensus (bread and circuses)" or its price control of grain. This has probably stemmed as much from a desire to avoid instability as a desire to assist - or in some unfortunate circumstances, a desire to control.
Christians should be different. Our motivation should not be for stability or control or perhaps even to assist (noble as it is) but rather the share the love of Christ in a tangible fashion, to do the good that God tells us He wants us to do.
Am I saying that the people in government who handle such things are evil or controlling? No. They are doing a job. But more fundamentally I am asking if the job they are doing is something that Christians should be doing - not to put them our of work but for us to live our calling.
Could this be done in short order? Of course not. And calls to simply halt things always end at the same place: that no-one will step in to fill the gap. And too often that is a legitimate complaint against Christianity. So it will take time: time for us to practice giving in larger and larger ways, time for us to build credibility as people who will always do what we say will do. This is a long term goal, probably longer than any of our lifetimes.
But who knows - if the Church were sincerely to engage in this activity, to really make an effort, would God not intervene in our behalf?
Funny thing - He says in such situations He will.
So let us get with it. Start somewhere. But never be satisfied with less when we can do more.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Of Cups and Charity II
So how should Christians practice Charity?
Yesterday I had small suggestion, potentially the easiest one: Give what we spend on our pleasures to a worthy (in my case Christian) organization. But that is just a starter. I would like to go a bit deeper.
Some folks would make the argument (I suppose) that if one merely spends money at the places that are "doing good" this may be sufficient. It is probably a step in the right direction, of course - but to quote an old adage which applies "Do your giving while you're living so you're knowing where it's going" - the concept being, of course, that once the money leaves your hands it may or may not go where it is supposed to go, and that any organization that is not a well run charity inevitably eats up money in overhead.
So how should Christians practice charity?
One suggestion, based on C.S. Lewis' quote yesterday, is give generously. To the point that it "pinches" us a bit (I use that word in quotes as if by "pinching" we define things as we cannot afford small luxuries, it is hardly a pinch). A second and required one is, of course, to continue to give to our local church. If we have made the commitment to it we are commanded to support it.
The third is to give strategically.
What do I mean? Example: the church my wife is employed at, once a year, does a single day mass offering for a local Christian based charity. This is not a charity they are associated with deeply. This is not to replace the regularly weekly giving. This is a one time over the top act of generosity for which the intention is to drastically change the course of that charity.
Imagine if Christians gave like this - not just as we are to do per Scripture - but on top of that in a way that strategically blessed both specific ministries and the people served by them. Imagine if a city was able to say "Hunger? Homelessness? If people are hungry and homeless in this place, it is because they choose to be. The Christians here have made it such that the resources are freely available to all who need it."
One thought as we ponder this for tomorrow's posting: if Christians, if the Church, gave like this, what would it look like to the world?
Yesterday I had small suggestion, potentially the easiest one: Give what we spend on our pleasures to a worthy (in my case Christian) organization. But that is just a starter. I would like to go a bit deeper.
Some folks would make the argument (I suppose) that if one merely spends money at the places that are "doing good" this may be sufficient. It is probably a step in the right direction, of course - but to quote an old adage which applies "Do your giving while you're living so you're knowing where it's going" - the concept being, of course, that once the money leaves your hands it may or may not go where it is supposed to go, and that any organization that is not a well run charity inevitably eats up money in overhead.
So how should Christians practice charity?
One suggestion, based on C.S. Lewis' quote yesterday, is give generously. To the point that it "pinches" us a bit (I use that word in quotes as if by "pinching" we define things as we cannot afford small luxuries, it is hardly a pinch). A second and required one is, of course, to continue to give to our local church. If we have made the commitment to it we are commanded to support it.
The third is to give strategically.
What do I mean? Example: the church my wife is employed at, once a year, does a single day mass offering for a local Christian based charity. This is not a charity they are associated with deeply. This is not to replace the regularly weekly giving. This is a one time over the top act of generosity for which the intention is to drastically change the course of that charity.
Imagine if Christians gave like this - not just as we are to do per Scripture - but on top of that in a way that strategically blessed both specific ministries and the people served by them. Imagine if a city was able to say "Hunger? Homelessness? If people are hungry and homeless in this place, it is because they choose to be. The Christians here have made it such that the resources are freely available to all who need it."
One thought as we ponder this for tomorrow's posting: if Christians, if the Church, gave like this, what would it look like to the world?
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Of Cups and Charity
I have been weighing - in a sad sort of bemused, "I really do not want to think about it" way - about the ongoing kerfuffle that is the Starbucks cup controversy. On the one hand you have group of Christians proclaiming that Starbucks has proclaimed "War on Christmas" while on the other hand you have a group stating that this is simply not the question and those who are offended are simply being overly hurt about a simple cup. There is a third group as well, those (Christian and otherwise) who state that it should not not matter what Starbucks does. Go act like a Christian (and depending on if you are a believer or not the answer varies what that actually means) and simply ignore the whole thing.
(You know I do not do politics or religious controversy on this site; trust me, this is not going where you think this is going).
For the record, I think everyone involved - every one of the three sides listed above - is acting like a damn fool. But that is not the point.
My point is really directed towards those who profess Christ. And I think it is a bit bigger than whether or not we should be concerned about a cup of anything, let alone coffee.
More directly, the question is whether we should be concerned about coffee at all.
The simple reality is that we are commanded to do good, to live out God's love and God's commandments, to demonstrate both His love and His purity. His purity, His commandments, are something which we as individuals have to live out before others. His love, we live out in the community around us.
And there are needs. This should surprise no-one. Serious needs, the sort of needs that the church of Christ should be uniquely qualified to address (we do, after all, have a relationship with the God of the Universe. He has been known to address a problem or two).
So the question is, how are we spending our lives, our time, and our money?
Are they dedicated to us? Are we so concerned about this here, this now, that we must meet our every desire? Has something as simple as fancy coffee become such a need for us that are willing to do battle over the cup it comes in?
I have to rank myself in this mess as well. I am far too concerned with my own agenda. I have my lists as I am sure you have yours: lists of things I want, places I want to go, things I want to do. All about me. All about mine.
C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity “I am afraid the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare…If our charities do not at all pinch or hamper us,… they are too small. There ought to be things we should like to do and cannot do because our charitable expenditures excludes them.” This, I submit, needs to be the starting point for all of our spending and charitable giving - remember it was the widow that gave all that Christ commended, not the rich that gave little.
What does this mean on a practical level? In a very embarrassing (or should be embarrassing) sense, simply start with the question "Do I spend more on _______ (fancy coffee, food, books, insert anything here) than I give?"
Hurts, does it not?
Is there something inherently wrong with Starbucks coffee? Not at all - but if I spend more on Starbucks than I give to the work of God (in whatever form), then I have a problem that all the complaining or inane words about "sharing the love of Christ over a Peppermint Mocha" will not wash away.
For me, what does that mean? It might mean something as simple as taking the money I would spend on Starbucks (not that I go there that often) or on a lunch and give it. Give it to the Church. Give it to the Christian charity of your choice. Consciously. Willingly. Silently. And hopefully.
Will this save the world? Quite probably not - if correctly done, the world will not know it was done at all ("Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing" - Matthew 6:3). But good will be done. And through the organization or Church, God will be glorified.
Does this mean I can never enjoy any of the things I would like? I do not think so - but it does mean I should act responsibly. Do I like coffee? Make it at home - if you are dying for good coffee (or so I understand) and want to help out some Brothers, try Mystic Monk coffee (do good, enjoy good). Or find a group (arguably for Christians, we should try to start with a Christian group and then work from there if we cannot find one) that offers the thing we want. It may be a little more expensive - but the expensive includes enabling them to the do the good we are called to do.
I do not know that my thinking is fully developed on this - and I will probably take a few more blog posts to get through this. But there is a root here, a root that needs exposing and pulling. I would argue this is a moment of great opportunity for followers of Christ. We can make a difference in a way that no-one else can. But we will hardly get there by either arguing over cups - or asserting that our needs trump the requirements of the charity commanded us.
(You know I do not do politics or religious controversy on this site; trust me, this is not going where you think this is going).
For the record, I think everyone involved - every one of the three sides listed above - is acting like a damn fool. But that is not the point.
My point is really directed towards those who profess Christ. And I think it is a bit bigger than whether or not we should be concerned about a cup of anything, let alone coffee.
More directly, the question is whether we should be concerned about coffee at all.
The simple reality is that we are commanded to do good, to live out God's love and God's commandments, to demonstrate both His love and His purity. His purity, His commandments, are something which we as individuals have to live out before others. His love, we live out in the community around us.
And there are needs. This should surprise no-one. Serious needs, the sort of needs that the church of Christ should be uniquely qualified to address (we do, after all, have a relationship with the God of the Universe. He has been known to address a problem or two).
So the question is, how are we spending our lives, our time, and our money?
Are they dedicated to us? Are we so concerned about this here, this now, that we must meet our every desire? Has something as simple as fancy coffee become such a need for us that are willing to do battle over the cup it comes in?
I have to rank myself in this mess as well. I am far too concerned with my own agenda. I have my lists as I am sure you have yours: lists of things I want, places I want to go, things I want to do. All about me. All about mine.
C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity “I am afraid the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare…If our charities do not at all pinch or hamper us,… they are too small. There ought to be things we should like to do and cannot do because our charitable expenditures excludes them.” This, I submit, needs to be the starting point for all of our spending and charitable giving - remember it was the widow that gave all that Christ commended, not the rich that gave little.
What does this mean on a practical level? In a very embarrassing (or should be embarrassing) sense, simply start with the question "Do I spend more on _______ (fancy coffee, food, books, insert anything here) than I give?"
Hurts, does it not?
Is there something inherently wrong with Starbucks coffee? Not at all - but if I spend more on Starbucks than I give to the work of God (in whatever form), then I have a problem that all the complaining or inane words about "sharing the love of Christ over a Peppermint Mocha" will not wash away.
For me, what does that mean? It might mean something as simple as taking the money I would spend on Starbucks (not that I go there that often) or on a lunch and give it. Give it to the Church. Give it to the Christian charity of your choice. Consciously. Willingly. Silently. And hopefully.
Will this save the world? Quite probably not - if correctly done, the world will not know it was done at all ("Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing" - Matthew 6:3). But good will be done. And through the organization or Church, God will be glorified.
Does this mean I can never enjoy any of the things I would like? I do not think so - but it does mean I should act responsibly. Do I like coffee? Make it at home - if you are dying for good coffee (or so I understand) and want to help out some Brothers, try Mystic Monk coffee (do good, enjoy good). Or find a group (arguably for Christians, we should try to start with a Christian group and then work from there if we cannot find one) that offers the thing we want. It may be a little more expensive - but the expensive includes enabling them to the do the good we are called to do.
I do not know that my thinking is fully developed on this - and I will probably take a few more blog posts to get through this. But there is a root here, a root that needs exposing and pulling. I would argue this is a moment of great opportunity for followers of Christ. We can make a difference in a way that no-one else can. But we will hardly get there by either arguing over cups - or asserting that our needs trump the requirements of the charity commanded us.
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Six Days A Week
So yesterday we bought a new to us van.
This was not the way I intended to start the day. But the van had another go around this weekend and the cost for the repairs reached the point that it was more than the van would be worth - and that would be if there were no other issues with it. Even I am forced to work on some level of financial sense in that respect.
But that is not really the point of today's post.
While I was there, I asked our salesman - a younger sort of fellow - how he ended up selling cars.
This is a question I have learned to ask others, especially in situations where I do not otherwise know what to say. I am always interested in how people ended up where they are, especially in something like car sales, where it is not a career that a lot of people think of going into.
He said he had been doing it about three years and had sort of stumbled into it - had been doing manual labor sorts of jobs up to that point and a friend asked him if he wanted to try it. "I was nervous about walking up to people and asking them if they wanted to spend money" he said "but then someone told me 'that is what they are there for -to spend money.'" He said the rewarding part of the job was helping people get cars when they thought their credit was too poor and that overall he did not mind the work too much.
The only thing that he did mind a bit was theyhours - six days a week with one day off. He is a hunter and said that it made it more difficult with only one day off (Sunday), but what were you going to do.
The one day off thought buried itself in my brain as we moved to the finance manager - mid-forties, a four year old daughter. Chatting away with him as we filled out the innumerable forms and signed I glanced above his desk at his schedule: six days a week with Tuesdays off in his case.
By the time were done we had probably exceeded both of these gentlemen's scheduled hours by 40 minutes.
It has been a long time since I have had to work anything more than five days a week - and it is now almost 7 years beyond the days of having no job at all and over 10 years since the days of the Firm, where income did not really match expenses. In my forgetful sort of way, I do not recall as often as I should what those days were like - or even worse, the days before I came into the industry at all where I was working retail and teaching to make ends meet.
There is nothing more noble about working six days any more than there is something more valuable about working five days- the thing that stuck with me as I drove home - that feeling of effort and doing what it takes to make ends meet.
I complain - probably more than I should - about what I do right now. There are seemingly numberless reasons why things are not what they should be (and if you have read here long enough, you may be familiar with some of them). But for all of that I have a lot of benefits that lots of others do not have, like only working five days a week or vacation or even reasonable benefits.
Am I thankful for them? Or am I always consumed by how inconvenient things feel and how unhappy I think I am, wanting something more fulfilling? Perhaps the fulfillment is not so much in what I do but in what it allows me to do. Perhaps if I looked more to the benefits of what it accomplishes in my life and less about how I feel I might change perspective.
Because I am sure to a great many number of people out there, 5 days a week that covered the bills would seem like the promised land.
This was not the way I intended to start the day. But the van had another go around this weekend and the cost for the repairs reached the point that it was more than the van would be worth - and that would be if there were no other issues with it. Even I am forced to work on some level of financial sense in that respect.
But that is not really the point of today's post.
While I was there, I asked our salesman - a younger sort of fellow - how he ended up selling cars.
This is a question I have learned to ask others, especially in situations where I do not otherwise know what to say. I am always interested in how people ended up where they are, especially in something like car sales, where it is not a career that a lot of people think of going into.
He said he had been doing it about three years and had sort of stumbled into it - had been doing manual labor sorts of jobs up to that point and a friend asked him if he wanted to try it. "I was nervous about walking up to people and asking them if they wanted to spend money" he said "but then someone told me 'that is what they are there for -to spend money.'" He said the rewarding part of the job was helping people get cars when they thought their credit was too poor and that overall he did not mind the work too much.
The only thing that he did mind a bit was theyhours - six days a week with one day off. He is a hunter and said that it made it more difficult with only one day off (Sunday), but what were you going to do.
The one day off thought buried itself in my brain as we moved to the finance manager - mid-forties, a four year old daughter. Chatting away with him as we filled out the innumerable forms and signed I glanced above his desk at his schedule: six days a week with Tuesdays off in his case.
By the time were done we had probably exceeded both of these gentlemen's scheduled hours by 40 minutes.
It has been a long time since I have had to work anything more than five days a week - and it is now almost 7 years beyond the days of having no job at all and over 10 years since the days of the Firm, where income did not really match expenses. In my forgetful sort of way, I do not recall as often as I should what those days were like - or even worse, the days before I came into the industry at all where I was working retail and teaching to make ends meet.
There is nothing more noble about working six days any more than there is something more valuable about working five days- the thing that stuck with me as I drove home - that feeling of effort and doing what it takes to make ends meet.
I complain - probably more than I should - about what I do right now. There are seemingly numberless reasons why things are not what they should be (and if you have read here long enough, you may be familiar with some of them). But for all of that I have a lot of benefits that lots of others do not have, like only working five days a week or vacation or even reasonable benefits.
Am I thankful for them? Or am I always consumed by how inconvenient things feel and how unhappy I think I am, wanting something more fulfilling? Perhaps the fulfillment is not so much in what I do but in what it allows me to do. Perhaps if I looked more to the benefits of what it accomplishes in my life and less about how I feel I might change perspective.
Because I am sure to a great many number of people out there, 5 days a week that covered the bills would seem like the promised land.
Monday, November 09, 2015
Friday, November 06, 2015
Always Playing Defense
Today I had my every other week meeting with my boss. We talked, as we always do, about the goings on in the department and any emergencies. And then he asks the question he has always come to ask: "Is there anything bothering you?"
Why yes, yes there was.
I expressed my concern about a new marketing initiative that has been rolled out by our sales group, a fairly encompassing one that seems to involve a heck of a lot of change for (from my vantage point) not a lot of benefit. My concern, I told him, was that in the entire presentation they did not mention anything about the function of my department - a function, I pointed out, that ultimately allows to do business in most global markets.
He thought about it for a moment and then agreed. He pointed out that what we do is something that is never really appreciated the way it should be - "It is like playing defense" he said.
I must have looked a bit quizzical, because he continued. "My child plays soccer. He is a defender. As a defender, you get blamed for all the goals scored against you. If your team scores a goal, everyone celebrates the offense. But no-one celebrates the defense and they only seem to get remembered if something gets through. Does it make sense?"
I concurred that it did, both from Nighean Dhonn's years in soccer and my following of hockey. I was well aware of the fact that the defense seldom gets accolades, only blame.
"It is like that for what we do as well" he said. "Everything can happen upstream and everyone celebrates but all the bad decisions, bad designs, complaints from customers - it all becomes our department's fault. We are the ones that get blamed."
We talked for a few more moments about other things and then we sailed off to our separate destinations. But his thought stuck with me all day.
Playing defense. As I continued to ponder the thought, let the words roll around in my head, I realized that this was precisely what I have been doing for most of my life. Playing defense. Trying to avoid things getting through to something else, avoid things going wrong, avoid getting blamed.
We all have to play some level of defense, I suppose. We all have to make sure that things go well and bad things do not get through. But playing a defender for years upon end is wearing. It trains you to think a certain way: to avoid letting things through rather than trying to push things through to score. It becomes a way of living that is reactive rather than proactive, of trying to shore up walls rather than thinking of ways to attack the enemy and their walls.
If I think about the totality of my life I am forced to admit there are only a handful of times that I have not played defense. Professionally, this has only happened four times: when I got a manager's job from my cousin out of college so I could move back to my hometown, when I took a job teaching, when I left a job teaching to get into my current industry, and when I took the leap to work at the Firm. 4 times over 25 years. Not an impressive count. My personal life probably rates higher, as I would count every time I have tried a new thing and succeeded (even partially) as a victory.
But why the difference? Why is professional so different from personal?
Because in personal, all the risk and results are under my control.
It is like my recent gains - and my continued improvement over four years - in Highland Games. All of this is 100% under my control. There is nothing for me to defend in the case - only goals for me to attack.
Professional is different. Professional - at least for what I have done for almost 20 years now - is a constant battle of defense. I cannot control of most the factors that control my job. Bad decisions upstream make my life difficult, but I have little ability to influence them. I can see the disaster coming but I can do little to blunt the results. All I can do is brace for impact.
I am deeply tired of playing defense. I am not sure how to rectify this issue immediately but I have a pretty good idea of how to start: throw open the gates, come down off the wall, and start advancing.
It may be a really good way to get cut down - or to cut your way through.
Why yes, yes there was.
I expressed my concern about a new marketing initiative that has been rolled out by our sales group, a fairly encompassing one that seems to involve a heck of a lot of change for (from my vantage point) not a lot of benefit. My concern, I told him, was that in the entire presentation they did not mention anything about the function of my department - a function, I pointed out, that ultimately allows to do business in most global markets.
He thought about it for a moment and then agreed. He pointed out that what we do is something that is never really appreciated the way it should be - "It is like playing defense" he said.
I must have looked a bit quizzical, because he continued. "My child plays soccer. He is a defender. As a defender, you get blamed for all the goals scored against you. If your team scores a goal, everyone celebrates the offense. But no-one celebrates the defense and they only seem to get remembered if something gets through. Does it make sense?"
I concurred that it did, both from Nighean Dhonn's years in soccer and my following of hockey. I was well aware of the fact that the defense seldom gets accolades, only blame.
"It is like that for what we do as well" he said. "Everything can happen upstream and everyone celebrates but all the bad decisions, bad designs, complaints from customers - it all becomes our department's fault. We are the ones that get blamed."
We talked for a few more moments about other things and then we sailed off to our separate destinations. But his thought stuck with me all day.
Playing defense. As I continued to ponder the thought, let the words roll around in my head, I realized that this was precisely what I have been doing for most of my life. Playing defense. Trying to avoid things getting through to something else, avoid things going wrong, avoid getting blamed.
We all have to play some level of defense, I suppose. We all have to make sure that things go well and bad things do not get through. But playing a defender for years upon end is wearing. It trains you to think a certain way: to avoid letting things through rather than trying to push things through to score. It becomes a way of living that is reactive rather than proactive, of trying to shore up walls rather than thinking of ways to attack the enemy and their walls.
If I think about the totality of my life I am forced to admit there are only a handful of times that I have not played defense. Professionally, this has only happened four times: when I got a manager's job from my cousin out of college so I could move back to my hometown, when I took a job teaching, when I left a job teaching to get into my current industry, and when I took the leap to work at the Firm. 4 times over 25 years. Not an impressive count. My personal life probably rates higher, as I would count every time I have tried a new thing and succeeded (even partially) as a victory.
But why the difference? Why is professional so different from personal?
Because in personal, all the risk and results are under my control.
It is like my recent gains - and my continued improvement over four years - in Highland Games. All of this is 100% under my control. There is nothing for me to defend in the case - only goals for me to attack.
Professional is different. Professional - at least for what I have done for almost 20 years now - is a constant battle of defense. I cannot control of most the factors that control my job. Bad decisions upstream make my life difficult, but I have little ability to influence them. I can see the disaster coming but I can do little to blunt the results. All I can do is brace for impact.
I am deeply tired of playing defense. I am not sure how to rectify this issue immediately but I have a pretty good idea of how to start: throw open the gates, come down off the wall, and start advancing.
It may be a really good way to get cut down - or to cut your way through.
Thursday, November 05, 2015
Important and Urgent
Yesterday I tried to pay attention to what I was doing. Using the Urgent/Important grid, I tried to filter my activities through it such that I was making the best use of my time, doing both urgent things as well as important things.
But not everybody sees things the same way.
What I found was that people - via voice or person or e-mail - kept showing up with their issues. And all of their issues are important, things that must (in their world) be dealt with right now.
I had never seen it that way before - oh certainly, I have encouraged people to come ask questions and want to be a resource. But maybe for the first time, what I found is that people's view of important and my view of my time are at odds.
The reality is this: people come because they want their problem solved. But sometimes (I am not sure how often at this point) it is more of a reaction by others to not have to do the hard work, to bring the issue to your attention in hopes that you will solve it. Or, perhaps more disappointingly, they will bring the problem to you with the solution in mind but not reveal what their solution is, hoping that you will either confirm it or suggest a better one.
The reality is that most people have far better ideas than they think and often know what they should do. Where it breaks down is that they seem to lack the self confidence to express these ideas - instead, they hope that someone will confirm the idea independently.
I know that these are slightly different problems. I also know that both of them are destroying my life.
It explains why I feel drained when I leave the work every day - I spend a great deal of time applying to others to help them, always draining the bank account and seldom refilling it. I also leave with few of the things I need to get accomplished being done; I am often trying to help others do their jobs.
What I am going to do about this? Not sure, really. I almost lost it yesterday on someone, which is also not a long term plan for success. But neither can I continue to relapse into always doing things for others (any others - not just reports and peers but managers as well).
The way is there before me. I just have to make sense of it.
But not everybody sees things the same way.
What I found was that people - via voice or person or e-mail - kept showing up with their issues. And all of their issues are important, things that must (in their world) be dealt with right now.
I had never seen it that way before - oh certainly, I have encouraged people to come ask questions and want to be a resource. But maybe for the first time, what I found is that people's view of important and my view of my time are at odds.
The reality is this: people come because they want their problem solved. But sometimes (I am not sure how often at this point) it is more of a reaction by others to not have to do the hard work, to bring the issue to your attention in hopes that you will solve it. Or, perhaps more disappointingly, they will bring the problem to you with the solution in mind but not reveal what their solution is, hoping that you will either confirm it or suggest a better one.
The reality is that most people have far better ideas than they think and often know what they should do. Where it breaks down is that they seem to lack the self confidence to express these ideas - instead, they hope that someone will confirm the idea independently.
I know that these are slightly different problems. I also know that both of them are destroying my life.
It explains why I feel drained when I leave the work every day - I spend a great deal of time applying to others to help them, always draining the bank account and seldom refilling it. I also leave with few of the things I need to get accomplished being done; I am often trying to help others do their jobs.
What I am going to do about this? Not sure, really. I almost lost it yesterday on someone, which is also not a long term plan for success. But neither can I continue to relapse into always doing things for others (any others - not just reports and peers but managers as well).
The way is there before me. I just have to make sense of it.
Wednesday, November 04, 2015
Of Stones and Success
So something happened for two Games in a row that has never happened before: I did not come in last in every event.
The events of choice? Braemar Stone and Open Stone. In both cases my throws exceed someone - perhaps not by much, but by some.
This is something I would never have predicted.
I am not an athlete by nature (or at least, I never thought I was) and the point of this exercise is not to glory specifically in my own abilities - after all, ultimately we compete against ourselves. The point, however, is to understand what has brought to the point that I am at least minimally competitive in something that is not something I would have said is in my mental DNA. In other words, why can I not take this kind of focus and effort and pour it into every other area of my life.
Imagine: If I can do this in approximately 4 years with something I have never done before, what could I accomplish if I was doing it in something I was already skilled at? What is the thing that enables me to push forward in this area when in so many others I feel like I am simply on hold?
My initial thoughts were not all that grand. It is something I enjoy - but that is something that is not necessarily that transferable to other things. It is something that I can quantify progress in - but again, not necessarily that transferable to other things. And it is something that I do not worry about failing in.
Hello, what is that?
I do not worry about failing in Highland Athletics - if I have a bad game or bad event, I merely move on to the next thing. And it is not like I ever really fail - just by competing and continuing to compete, I succeed.
But this does not feel true in the rest of my life.
Things have consequences - or perhaps I merely put consequences on them. Call it old habits of the perfectionist - if I cannot do it well, I will simply stop doing it. Or, if I cannot move forward in doing it but cannot quit it, I will simply slowly lose interest until doing it feel like doing something something in rote.
So how do I change this? The answer is seems surprisingly simple:
1) Do not worry about succeeding or failing. Simply do. If you fail, just let it go and move on.
2) Where possible, do things that you enjoy. You will always do things that enjoy better.
3) Figure out some way - any way - to quantify progress and keep track. You work better with goals or targets to hit.
The question is, is this as simple as it seems? And if so, can I implement it?
The events of choice? Braemar Stone and Open Stone. In both cases my throws exceed someone - perhaps not by much, but by some.
This is something I would never have predicted.
I am not an athlete by nature (or at least, I never thought I was) and the point of this exercise is not to glory specifically in my own abilities - after all, ultimately we compete against ourselves. The point, however, is to understand what has brought to the point that I am at least minimally competitive in something that is not something I would have said is in my mental DNA. In other words, why can I not take this kind of focus and effort and pour it into every other area of my life.
Imagine: If I can do this in approximately 4 years with something I have never done before, what could I accomplish if I was doing it in something I was already skilled at? What is the thing that enables me to push forward in this area when in so many others I feel like I am simply on hold?
My initial thoughts were not all that grand. It is something I enjoy - but that is something that is not necessarily that transferable to other things. It is something that I can quantify progress in - but again, not necessarily that transferable to other things. And it is something that I do not worry about failing in.
Hello, what is that?
I do not worry about failing in Highland Athletics - if I have a bad game or bad event, I merely move on to the next thing. And it is not like I ever really fail - just by competing and continuing to compete, I succeed.
But this does not feel true in the rest of my life.
Things have consequences - or perhaps I merely put consequences on them. Call it old habits of the perfectionist - if I cannot do it well, I will simply stop doing it. Or, if I cannot move forward in doing it but cannot quit it, I will simply slowly lose interest until doing it feel like doing something something in rote.
So how do I change this? The answer is seems surprisingly simple:
1) Do not worry about succeeding or failing. Simply do. If you fail, just let it go and move on.
2) Where possible, do things that you enjoy. You will always do things that enjoy better.
3) Figure out some way - any way - to quantify progress and keep track. You work better with goals or targets to hit.
The question is, is this as simple as it seems? And if so, can I implement it?
Tuesday, November 03, 2015
Monday, November 02, 2015
Why I Throw
Yesterday I had the purest form of Highland Games I have every participated in.
It was in a pasture owned by someone who, for his birthday, decided he wanted to have Highland Games. The competitors were all known to each other, all Masters (over 40). There were only a few friends of the birthday man there to watch - no crowds, no announcer, just 7 throwers (5 men, 2 women) under warm November skies in a pasture. One trig to throw from, one set of standards to throw over. That and the implements were all.
It was the greatest of all throwing days.
Why? Because this was the very origin of the Highland Games themselves: friends and associates coming together to throw to challenge themselves and each other to feats of strength. No glory but in achievements, no cheers but that of their friends. No prizes but of the simplest sort - except the badge of participation, which is ultimately all any Highland athlete can lay claim to.
People sometimes ask me why I throw. I am certainly neither the youngest nor the strongest on the field. And it is seldom that I walk away from the field with more than a t-shirt to show I participated. There is little glory to be gained and certainly no prize money to be had.
I throw because I can.
I throw because 99.9% of the world will never do what I do - for many, they would never dream of trying what I am doing. I throw because every time I hurl a stone or weight or line up to a caber, I am trying to better myself, become a little more excellent. I am trying to achieve a little bit more.
And I am surrounded by people doing exactly the same thing. Seeking to better themselves, to become more excellent at what they do as well.
And we all do it in one big happy group, full of jokes (sometimes coarse) and jeers. And underlying it all, a sense of brotherhood. And (if you asked them to look deep down in their souls) love.
We came to celebrate our friend. And we came to do what we love - not for money, not for glory, but for greatness. For greatness in ourselves. For the greatness we see in our friends when they throw.
I went home with a roll of athletic tape and a container of deer chili. And a mind full of memories of doing something I love so very much with the people I love.
It was a very good day.
It was in a pasture owned by someone who, for his birthday, decided he wanted to have Highland Games. The competitors were all known to each other, all Masters (over 40). There were only a few friends of the birthday man there to watch - no crowds, no announcer, just 7 throwers (5 men, 2 women) under warm November skies in a pasture. One trig to throw from, one set of standards to throw over. That and the implements were all.
It was the greatest of all throwing days.
Why? Because this was the very origin of the Highland Games themselves: friends and associates coming together to throw to challenge themselves and each other to feats of strength. No glory but in achievements, no cheers but that of their friends. No prizes but of the simplest sort - except the badge of participation, which is ultimately all any Highland athlete can lay claim to.
People sometimes ask me why I throw. I am certainly neither the youngest nor the strongest on the field. And it is seldom that I walk away from the field with more than a t-shirt to show I participated. There is little glory to be gained and certainly no prize money to be had.
I throw because I can.
I throw because 99.9% of the world will never do what I do - for many, they would never dream of trying what I am doing. I throw because every time I hurl a stone or weight or line up to a caber, I am trying to better myself, become a little more excellent. I am trying to achieve a little bit more.
And I am surrounded by people doing exactly the same thing. Seeking to better themselves, to become more excellent at what they do as well.
And we all do it in one big happy group, full of jokes (sometimes coarse) and jeers. And underlying it all, a sense of brotherhood. And (if you asked them to look deep down in their souls) love.
We came to celebrate our friend. And we came to do what we love - not for money, not for glory, but for greatness. For greatness in ourselves. For the greatness we see in our friends when they throw.
I went home with a roll of athletic tape and a container of deer chili. And a mind full of memories of doing something I love so very much with the people I love.
It was a very good day.
Friday, October 30, 2015
A Commute with Depression
So Depression slipped into the car with me this afternoon as I was getting ready to drive home.
He is one of my least favorites. He always has that know-it-all opinion about him that always infuriates me and that smirk that tells me he knows precisely what I have been thinking.
"So I guess things did not go so well today" he said with a grin as I started the car. I merely muttered back in return as I turned my head around to back out and then get the car in alignment to head out of the parking lot.
"In fact, it has been a pretty lousy week, right?" he questioned again with his grin plastered on his face as I looked both ways to get into traffic. "And the best part? The best part? It is only Thursday. You still have Friday to look forward to."
I grimaced. "We are not having this conversation today" I replied. "I am simply not in the mood to have it."
"Oh, but we have to" he replied with an almost serpent-like hiss to his voice. "We have to. We have to discuss how your life seems to be going nowhere fast and what we are going to do about it. Because we have to do something about it. We cannot merely just endure this sort of thing. After all, we have endured so much already."
I shook my head as I took the overpass turnoff to get on the main highway home. "No, we do not. We do not have to discuss this now. I am tired. I am angry. I am frustrated. And that is not the time to discuss things like this. It leads to nowhere that is good."
He sat quietly for some moments as I rolled through the two stoplights and onto the route uphill. He pursed his lips a bit and then said seriously "I know the real problem of course. You are without hope. That is a terrible thing."
Stopped in traffic, I looked straight at him. "I am not without hope" I replied angrily. "I am merely in a bit of a tight spot right now."
He nodded slowly. "Tight spot, yes. Tight as in you are stuck. Stuck in your job. Stuck in life. Stuck without the hope of going somewhere else."
"I am not stuck!" I yelled him out loud now, pounding the steering wheel in my frustration, the edges of tears peeking out of the corner of my eyes. "I chose this! I continue to choose this! I have responsibilities to meet. And responsibilities trump hope at times."
We rolled to a stop at the next light as I tried to slow down my breathing and calm down. "It is really okay" I finally croaked out to him. "I just need to wait a little longer. Things will get better."
He nodded back slowly. "Sure, sure" he replied. "Just a little more patience, right? A little more hanging on? " He ignored my focus on the road as we continued on to the next stop light. "Tell you what" he said as he reached down and disengaged the safety belt. 'I will just slip out here. This has been a good little discussion. Let us save the rest for next time - say, perhaps, tomorrow." And with that he was gone, slipped out and gone into a sea of cars before I could say another word.
I sat through the light, looking at the seat where he had been sitting, hearing his voice echoing in my head. Tomorrow. And Tomorrow. And Tomorrow.
But at least if I thought I would be here to have the debate tomorrow, that itself became a form of hope.
He is one of my least favorites. He always has that know-it-all opinion about him that always infuriates me and that smirk that tells me he knows precisely what I have been thinking.
"So I guess things did not go so well today" he said with a grin as I started the car. I merely muttered back in return as I turned my head around to back out and then get the car in alignment to head out of the parking lot.
"In fact, it has been a pretty lousy week, right?" he questioned again with his grin plastered on his face as I looked both ways to get into traffic. "And the best part? The best part? It is only Thursday. You still have Friday to look forward to."
I grimaced. "We are not having this conversation today" I replied. "I am simply not in the mood to have it."
"Oh, but we have to" he replied with an almost serpent-like hiss to his voice. "We have to. We have to discuss how your life seems to be going nowhere fast and what we are going to do about it. Because we have to do something about it. We cannot merely just endure this sort of thing. After all, we have endured so much already."
I shook my head as I took the overpass turnoff to get on the main highway home. "No, we do not. We do not have to discuss this now. I am tired. I am angry. I am frustrated. And that is not the time to discuss things like this. It leads to nowhere that is good."
He sat quietly for some moments as I rolled through the two stoplights and onto the route uphill. He pursed his lips a bit and then said seriously "I know the real problem of course. You are without hope. That is a terrible thing."
Stopped in traffic, I looked straight at him. "I am not without hope" I replied angrily. "I am merely in a bit of a tight spot right now."
He nodded slowly. "Tight spot, yes. Tight as in you are stuck. Stuck in your job. Stuck in life. Stuck without the hope of going somewhere else."
"I am not stuck!" I yelled him out loud now, pounding the steering wheel in my frustration, the edges of tears peeking out of the corner of my eyes. "I chose this! I continue to choose this! I have responsibilities to meet. And responsibilities trump hope at times."
We rolled to a stop at the next light as I tried to slow down my breathing and calm down. "It is really okay" I finally croaked out to him. "I just need to wait a little longer. Things will get better."
He nodded back slowly. "Sure, sure" he replied. "Just a little more patience, right? A little more hanging on? " He ignored my focus on the road as we continued on to the next stop light. "Tell you what" he said as he reached down and disengaged the safety belt. 'I will just slip out here. This has been a good little discussion. Let us save the rest for next time - say, perhaps, tomorrow." And with that he was gone, slipped out and gone into a sea of cars before I could say another word.
I sat through the light, looking at the seat where he had been sitting, hearing his voice echoing in my head. Tomorrow. And Tomorrow. And Tomorrow.
But at least if I thought I would be here to have the debate tomorrow, that itself became a form of hope.
Thursday, October 29, 2015
Sunrise, Sunset
One of the great things about this time of year is the sunrises and sunsets:
I am fortunate that I am driving Nighean Dhonn to school every morning and hit the overpass precisely at the best moment to capture the sunrise. The colors have been exquisite - helped on, no doubt, by our recent run of storms.
For an extra treat tonight, I got a fantastic sunset to boot as I was headed home in the evening:
It makes me sad to think that with Daylight Savings Time I will miss these masterpieces.
I am fortunate that I am driving Nighean Dhonn to school every morning and hit the overpass precisely at the best moment to capture the sunrise. The colors have been exquisite - helped on, no doubt, by our recent run of storms.
For an extra treat tonight, I got a fantastic sunset to boot as I was headed home in the evening:
It makes me sad to think that with Daylight Savings Time I will miss these masterpieces.
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Actual Life/Preferred Life
My life has really broken itself into two phases.
On the one hand is the part that takes of most of the time, the mundane. Let us call it My Actual Life. It is the life of work and home, family and responsibilities, things that need doing and things that I am responsible for.
On the other hand is the part of my life that seems to possess the least of my time, the exciting. Let us call it My Preferred Life. Herein the list is much smaller: Iai, Highland Athletics, Reading, Language, Writing. These are the things that I love to do, that empower me rather than making me feel disempowered.
Here is the terrible thing: the split is pretty significant, as in 90% Actual Life and 10% Preferred Life.
The problem - I suspect the problem that most people face - is that they come to live for their Preferred Life. They muscle through the Actual Life to try and get to the few brief moments of a week or a month that are supposed to make the whole thing worthwhile. And for those brief moments, they do.
But then the 90% comes crashing back in.
I try and sustain the sensation for a while, convince myself (somehow) that this the way things are supposed to be, that I am being responsible and that this is the way that most everyone lives their life. But I am finding those excuses becoming thinner and thinner over the years. The 90% becomes less and less worth the 10%.\
I wish I had a clearer path, something that would start to transform that 90% into more Preferred Life, like an alchemist turning lead into gold. There is a secret out there, some magic stone that I am missing that will do this.
Or at least I hope there is one. Because ultimately the 90/10 split is not sustainable. At least, not for my sanity.
On the one hand is the part that takes of most of the time, the mundane. Let us call it My Actual Life. It is the life of work and home, family and responsibilities, things that need doing and things that I am responsible for.
On the other hand is the part of my life that seems to possess the least of my time, the exciting. Let us call it My Preferred Life. Herein the list is much smaller: Iai, Highland Athletics, Reading, Language, Writing. These are the things that I love to do, that empower me rather than making me feel disempowered.
Here is the terrible thing: the split is pretty significant, as in 90% Actual Life and 10% Preferred Life.
The problem - I suspect the problem that most people face - is that they come to live for their Preferred Life. They muscle through the Actual Life to try and get to the few brief moments of a week or a month that are supposed to make the whole thing worthwhile. And for those brief moments, they do.
But then the 90% comes crashing back in.
I try and sustain the sensation for a while, convince myself (somehow) that this the way things are supposed to be, that I am being responsible and that this is the way that most everyone lives their life. But I am finding those excuses becoming thinner and thinner over the years. The 90% becomes less and less worth the 10%.\
I wish I had a clearer path, something that would start to transform that 90% into more Preferred Life, like an alchemist turning lead into gold. There is a secret out there, some magic stone that I am missing that will do this.
Or at least I hope there is one. Because ultimately the 90/10 split is not sustainable. At least, not for my sanity.
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
Monday, October 26, 2015
Friday, October 23, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
What Are You Thinking About?
People ask me that sometimes - "What are you thinking about?" will come the question. "Nothing" comes the response. And I mean that - a lot of the time I simply have no thoughts in my head It is not that I do not have anything to think about but rather that I have apparently trained myself, especially due to years of long commutes, to simply tune out thought and simply be.
That can be difficult to explain to people.
The question - and it is a legitimate one - is if I also use that as an excuse to avoid thinking about and dealing about situations I do not want to discuss.
It is convenient, of course: "Nothing" becomes the excuse for not talking about something not because you have nothing to say but because you do not want to say it either from concern about what will happen or simply because it sounds rough and perhaps even hurtful. And perhaps I begin to play a mind game on myself with this: by giving myself the excuse to say I do not think anything at all about it I do not actively consider it when perhaps I should.
Sometimes I feel - especially lately - like there is a large stopper between my heart and my mouth, a sort of physical block that prevents me from saying things, perhaps things that need to be said or should be said.
It needs to be resolved, of course - because the large block that continues to hold back pressure will eventually rupture, with results far worse than any sort of controlled release would ever be.
That can be difficult to explain to people.
The question - and it is a legitimate one - is if I also use that as an excuse to avoid thinking about and dealing about situations I do not want to discuss.
It is convenient, of course: "Nothing" becomes the excuse for not talking about something not because you have nothing to say but because you do not want to say it either from concern about what will happen or simply because it sounds rough and perhaps even hurtful. And perhaps I begin to play a mind game on myself with this: by giving myself the excuse to say I do not think anything at all about it I do not actively consider it when perhaps I should.
Sometimes I feel - especially lately - like there is a large stopper between my heart and my mouth, a sort of physical block that prevents me from saying things, perhaps things that need to be said or should be said.
It needs to be resolved, of course - because the large block that continues to hold back pressure will eventually rupture, with results far worse than any sort of controlled release would ever be.
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Director and Star II
So you may be wondering "How did go, not being the Director nor the Star of your life?"
Frankly, it was abysmal.
How can this possibly be, I hear you asking. Surely with yourself out the way, you could simply stand back and watch great things happen. But it was like that all.
The biggest thing I noticed was this sensation, this feeling, of a giant hole inside of my soul. It was the strangest sensation but it was noticeable and there. Mentally removing myself from the starring role, I found that there was nothing there instead.
This was not what I expected. I guess I sort of thought that God would immediately fill that space in with Himself, that somehow the Star would make himself readily apparent now that the stage was cleared.
But perhaps He does not work that way.
I went through the day - had to, of course. Did my tasks, ran my meetings, worked on things that needed doing. And felt totally empty. Just as I do when I write this.
I shall try tomorrow, of course. Open the curtains, bring up the lights, highlight the scenery, and wait. But maybe this time I shall try with simply no idea that I shall experience anything at all.
Because Stars and Directors follow their own scripts, not the scripts of the walk-ons.
Frankly, it was abysmal.
How can this possibly be, I hear you asking. Surely with yourself out the way, you could simply stand back and watch great things happen. But it was like that all.
The biggest thing I noticed was this sensation, this feeling, of a giant hole inside of my soul. It was the strangest sensation but it was noticeable and there. Mentally removing myself from the starring role, I found that there was nothing there instead.
This was not what I expected. I guess I sort of thought that God would immediately fill that space in with Himself, that somehow the Star would make himself readily apparent now that the stage was cleared.
But perhaps He does not work that way.
I went through the day - had to, of course. Did my tasks, ran my meetings, worked on things that needed doing. And felt totally empty. Just as I do when I write this.
I shall try tomorrow, of course. Open the curtains, bring up the lights, highlight the scenery, and wait. But maybe this time I shall try with simply no idea that I shall experience anything at all.
Because Stars and Directors follow their own scripts, not the scripts of the walk-ons.
Monday, October 19, 2015
Director and Star
So another one of those sermon thoughts that sticks with you long after the sermon is over.
In the course of discussing the Day of The Lord and what it would be like, he used an interesting analogy: it is sort of (in a very weak way) like one's birthday, where everything about is about one for one day. It will be like that, was the point: God will be the Star, and everything will be about Him on that day. There will not be any question about why things are not about us, any more than we question why people are giving us gifts on our birthday.
The problem comes in our current lives, he pointed out. We like to treat God as the Director of our lives: He is the one setting up the circumstances and managing the people and scenes in our lives, but really we are the star of our own life. It really is supposed to be all about us. Or so we like to think. Unfortunately (for me, at least) I have the entire thing not only reversed but upside down: it is not an either/or for our lives. God should be both the Director and the Star of our lives.
This is where it breaks down for me, of course: if not the Director nor the Star of my own life, what am I? The selfish ego me reaches out and cries that I am no more than a spear carrier in a cast of thousands, a red shirt security guard in Star Trek who is going to be killed within the first thirty seconds of the episode - my job to demonstrate how this week's alien kills.
That is not the way it works in God's economy, of course. In Matthew 6: 31-33 Jesus says:
31 “Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. 33 But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you." (NKJV)
In other words, God through Christ says "Yes, I am meant to be the star of your life. Yes, I know it means that if you truly follow Me, you will feel like you are no longer paying attention to anything in your life that matters in your daily life. In fact, you will probably feel like you are not doing anything for you at all. But I will take care of you. By making me the star, you glorify Me. And I, in turn, will take care of you."
It sound wonderful in theory, but hard in practice. There is nothing worse than constantly wondering why your plans do not work out, why your goals do not ever seem to get accomplished, why your ship never seems to come in.
The reality is if your life is always about you, then everything that never works out and never comes to pass will seem like another impediment to the screenplay of your life. If, on the other hand, you move aside and let the true Star of the show come forward, such things will fade into the background both of time and eternity - because with the Star in place as He was meant to be, the screenplay will suddenly go forward as it always should have.
And the Star has promised never to forget a single supporting actor or actress.
In the course of discussing the Day of The Lord and what it would be like, he used an interesting analogy: it is sort of (in a very weak way) like one's birthday, where everything about is about one for one day. It will be like that, was the point: God will be the Star, and everything will be about Him on that day. There will not be any question about why things are not about us, any more than we question why people are giving us gifts on our birthday.
The problem comes in our current lives, he pointed out. We like to treat God as the Director of our lives: He is the one setting up the circumstances and managing the people and scenes in our lives, but really we are the star of our own life. It really is supposed to be all about us. Or so we like to think. Unfortunately (for me, at least) I have the entire thing not only reversed but upside down: it is not an either/or for our lives. God should be both the Director and the Star of our lives.
This is where it breaks down for me, of course: if not the Director nor the Star of my own life, what am I? The selfish ego me reaches out and cries that I am no more than a spear carrier in a cast of thousands, a red shirt security guard in Star Trek who is going to be killed within the first thirty seconds of the episode - my job to demonstrate how this week's alien kills.
That is not the way it works in God's economy, of course. In Matthew 6: 31-33 Jesus says:
31 “Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. 33 But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you." (NKJV)
In other words, God through Christ says "Yes, I am meant to be the star of your life. Yes, I know it means that if you truly follow Me, you will feel like you are no longer paying attention to anything in your life that matters in your daily life. In fact, you will probably feel like you are not doing anything for you at all. But I will take care of you. By making me the star, you glorify Me. And I, in turn, will take care of you."
It sound wonderful in theory, but hard in practice. There is nothing worse than constantly wondering why your plans do not work out, why your goals do not ever seem to get accomplished, why your ship never seems to come in.
The reality is if your life is always about you, then everything that never works out and never comes to pass will seem like another impediment to the screenplay of your life. If, on the other hand, you move aside and let the true Star of the show come forward, such things will fade into the background both of time and eternity - because with the Star in place as He was meant to be, the screenplay will suddenly go forward as it always should have.
And the Star has promised never to forget a single supporting actor or actress.
Friday, October 16, 2015
Thursday, October 15, 2015
On Reading Jane Austen
I should not read Jane Austen.
Traveling back from an out of state business visit, I had the opportunity to read Persuasion. I had only read Sense and Sensibility and seen screen adaptations of Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and Emma.
I should not read Jane Austen.
Jane Austen fires one with a sense of the romantic and the glorious. To read her is to be pulled breathlessly into a world of morals and manners, of loves unspoken and then at the end realized, of sacrifice and ultimate triumph.
I include a passage from Persuasion in which the main male protagonist, Captain Wentworth, has written a letter to Miss Anne Elliott:
"I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own, than when you broke it eight and a half years ago. Dare not say man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan - Have you not seen this? Can you fail to understand my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings as I think you have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice, when they would be lost to others - Too good, too excellent creature!. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating in
F W.
I must go, uncertain of my fate, but I shall return hither, or follow your party as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's home this evening, or never."
Does the romance and love not drip off the page? And in the context of the book (which I highly recommend) does this not come at the climax, a love delayed but not denied?
And then I ask the question "Why is life not actually like this?"
I should not read Jane Austen.
Traveling back from an out of state business visit, I had the opportunity to read Persuasion. I had only read Sense and Sensibility and seen screen adaptations of Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and Emma.
I should not read Jane Austen.
Jane Austen fires one with a sense of the romantic and the glorious. To read her is to be pulled breathlessly into a world of morals and manners, of loves unspoken and then at the end realized, of sacrifice and ultimate triumph.
I include a passage from Persuasion in which the main male protagonist, Captain Wentworth, has written a letter to Miss Anne Elliott:
"I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own, than when you broke it eight and a half years ago. Dare not say man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan - Have you not seen this? Can you fail to understand my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings as I think you have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice, when they would be lost to others - Too good, too excellent creature!. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating in
F W.
I must go, uncertain of my fate, but I shall return hither, or follow your party as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's home this evening, or never."
Does the romance and love not drip off the page? And in the context of the book (which I highly recommend) does this not come at the climax, a love delayed but not denied?
And then I ask the question "Why is life not actually like this?"
I should not read Jane Austen.
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Despair and Writing
I write best when I am despairing.
I wish I understood this combination. I would like to write best when I am happy or bored or something else which is more ordinary and less painful. But it apparently does not work that way, at least for me.
In despair perhaps there is pain - and the only way that I can relieve that pain is to write. It is not that I write specifically of despair; indeed, the writings under this influence range from happy to sad to downright profound (to the point that I can hardly recognize that the words came from me). But despair is the trigger; without despair, I am merely plodding through, trying to chase a Muse that simply will not be caught.
Can I force myself to despair more? Seems a bit counterintuitive, does it not? Yet that is the very thing that makes me write more prolifically and more skillfully than ever. So it is almost a challenge to my sense of well being: Want to write? Despair more. Put yourself in emotionally challenging and painful situations. Make your heart bleed and your soul cry for that which it can never have and then which has passed beyond and all that is beyond the reach of repairing.
Suffer. Cry. And find that your Muse offers the the comfort not of a hug or kiss, but simply words. Words from the heart and soul, words that seek to move the pain out of the secret places of myself and onto the page.
I wish I understood this combination. I would like to write best when I am happy or bored or something else which is more ordinary and less painful. But it apparently does not work that way, at least for me.
In despair perhaps there is pain - and the only way that I can relieve that pain is to write. It is not that I write specifically of despair; indeed, the writings under this influence range from happy to sad to downright profound (to the point that I can hardly recognize that the words came from me). But despair is the trigger; without despair, I am merely plodding through, trying to chase a Muse that simply will not be caught.
Can I force myself to despair more? Seems a bit counterintuitive, does it not? Yet that is the very thing that makes me write more prolifically and more skillfully than ever. So it is almost a challenge to my sense of well being: Want to write? Despair more. Put yourself in emotionally challenging and painful situations. Make your heart bleed and your soul cry for that which it can never have and then which has passed beyond and all that is beyond the reach of repairing.
Suffer. Cry. And find that your Muse offers the the comfort not of a hug or kiss, but simply words. Words from the heart and soul, words that seek to move the pain out of the secret places of myself and onto the page.
Monday, October 12, 2015
Friday, October 09, 2015
Pathetic Little Gifts
Sometimes we give the most pathetic little gifts.
Oh, we do not believe them to be so. We see them as great things, meaningful extensions of ourselves. We infuse them with depth and emotion, in our mind's eye making them ambassadors of great and lofty goals and expectations - dare we say daydreams? - waiting to blossom upon receipt.
Until the light of day comes.
In that minute these gifts are revealed to be what they actually are: small mud pies offered (almost by a child, it seems) at the same time gold and precious stones have arrived. The luster such things have acquired in our own imagination are stripped away, leaving the occasional mud pieces and sticks to fall on the marble floors.
The receivers will always be gracious of course; any gift offered as a gift is heartfelt and to be accepted as such. The thanks will come but somehow it never makes its way into our own consciousness - we are still fixated on revelation of the reality of what we have given, seemingly shocked the fact that the reality is not as we had imagined.
It is not that we should never give gifts - no indeed, there are probably not enough gifts given in the world. No, the problem is really within ourselves. Sometimes we become so engrossed by the (imagined) deep and meaningful nature of our gifts that we forget the original point of giving the gifts: they are ultimately never really for ourselves, they are for those to whom we give them. And it is not the the receivers are ungrateful - indeed, they are almost universally very grateful. What has occurred is that we have created in our own minds a vast and complicated story of how they will be received and what will be understood from them.
So perhaps in reality it is not that we give pathetic little gifts. Perhaps what has happened is that we have given perfectly good gifts - infused not the joy of giving, but rather with the weight of things they were never meant to bear.
Oh, we do not believe them to be so. We see them as great things, meaningful extensions of ourselves. We infuse them with depth and emotion, in our mind's eye making them ambassadors of great and lofty goals and expectations - dare we say daydreams? - waiting to blossom upon receipt.
Until the light of day comes.
In that minute these gifts are revealed to be what they actually are: small mud pies offered (almost by a child, it seems) at the same time gold and precious stones have arrived. The luster such things have acquired in our own imagination are stripped away, leaving the occasional mud pieces and sticks to fall on the marble floors.
The receivers will always be gracious of course; any gift offered as a gift is heartfelt and to be accepted as such. The thanks will come but somehow it never makes its way into our own consciousness - we are still fixated on revelation of the reality of what we have given, seemingly shocked the fact that the reality is not as we had imagined.
It is not that we should never give gifts - no indeed, there are probably not enough gifts given in the world. No, the problem is really within ourselves. Sometimes we become so engrossed by the (imagined) deep and meaningful nature of our gifts that we forget the original point of giving the gifts: they are ultimately never really for ourselves, they are for those to whom we give them. And it is not the the receivers are ungrateful - indeed, they are almost universally very grateful. What has occurred is that we have created in our own minds a vast and complicated story of how they will be received and what will be understood from them.
So perhaps in reality it is not that we give pathetic little gifts. Perhaps what has happened is that we have given perfectly good gifts - infused not the joy of giving, but rather with the weight of things they were never meant to bear.
Thursday, October 08, 2015
Rabbitude
Tonight as I was watering in the backyard at dusk I noticed a bit of movement down by the fence by where the old fruit tree - mostly dead now - backs into the corner. The movement resolved itself into a rabbit, sitting in the grass, watching.
I was a bit surprised as it did not start with the water being only five feet away or so - it just sat there, watching me, then hopped more into plain view. It was plainly there for a reason and plainly not scared of me at all.
I turned to water something else and then looked back - and was surprised to see the rabbit had hopped up to the patch of expiring black-eyed peas that I have growing (they are dying out due to the end the season, not for a lack of watering). Without further ado he pulled one of the leaves off and sat there devouring it, clearly not at all concerned with what he was doing or if I was likely to chase after him to catch him.
I admit that I was surprised by this boldness. We have rabbits that visit (I assume that they are the same ones, as in dusk it is difficult to tell them apart) and have become surprisingly nonchalant about our presence there - in fact, sometimes they will simply crouch down in the grass when Syrah the Mighty is there, and then raise back up when she has left. But I cannot recall a time where I have seen such a blatant move.
It is a bit concerning of course - after all, rabbits eating garden things are things that I am not going to eat. But I have a soft spot in my heart for these rabbits and can hardly begrudge them for eating something that is dying off anyway.
The whole experience, of course, has given me a new word: rabbitude. The act of being bold with panache while knowing that everyone knows that this is atypical behavior for you.
It is the unsurprising that sometimes carries the day - or in this case, the dinner.
I was a bit surprised as it did not start with the water being only five feet away or so - it just sat there, watching me, then hopped more into plain view. It was plainly there for a reason and plainly not scared of me at all.
I turned to water something else and then looked back - and was surprised to see the rabbit had hopped up to the patch of expiring black-eyed peas that I have growing (they are dying out due to the end the season, not for a lack of watering). Without further ado he pulled one of the leaves off and sat there devouring it, clearly not at all concerned with what he was doing or if I was likely to chase after him to catch him.
I admit that I was surprised by this boldness. We have rabbits that visit (I assume that they are the same ones, as in dusk it is difficult to tell them apart) and have become surprisingly nonchalant about our presence there - in fact, sometimes they will simply crouch down in the grass when Syrah the Mighty is there, and then raise back up when she has left. But I cannot recall a time where I have seen such a blatant move.
It is a bit concerning of course - after all, rabbits eating garden things are things that I am not going to eat. But I have a soft spot in my heart for these rabbits and can hardly begrudge them for eating something that is dying off anyway.
The whole experience, of course, has given me a new word: rabbitude. The act of being bold with panache while knowing that everyone knows that this is atypical behavior for you.
It is the unsurprising that sometimes carries the day - or in this case, the dinner.
Wednesday, October 07, 2015
Monday, October 05, 2015
Abandoning The Cause
There are moments when one feels like abandoning the cause.
It can come in a variety of forms, personal or professional or volunteer or even religious. It can come after a short period of time, but I think that it comes after a longer time.
Enthusiasm wans. Little things that were issues getting magnified into larger issues. The energy to do simply is not there. Or maybe it is the will. I am never quite sure of such things. Bottom line, one simply feels like giving up. Packing it in and going home. Locking the door and never going out again.
I have threatened - at least, I have threatened in my mind - to just start driving one day and not come back. Just keep going until I hit the Pacific and then maybe make a right and head up the coast. It is fantasy of course, mere stupidity. After all, I have a fairly extensive list of responsibilities that I have to meet.
Not joys, responsibilities. It feels like all that my life is dominated by such things at this point. And that leaves me feeling like simply abandoning the cause. All of them.
I will not, of course. I will get up tomorrow because that is what adults do and go do my job and my responsibilities. Children will be provided for. Animals will be fed and plants watered. My job will have the benefit of my attention and I will accomplish my tasks. Bills will paid. All the things a responsible person does.
But yes, probably, I will be driving to the Pacific in my mind.
It can come in a variety of forms, personal or professional or volunteer or even religious. It can come after a short period of time, but I think that it comes after a longer time.
Enthusiasm wans. Little things that were issues getting magnified into larger issues. The energy to do simply is not there. Or maybe it is the will. I am never quite sure of such things. Bottom line, one simply feels like giving up. Packing it in and going home. Locking the door and never going out again.
I have threatened - at least, I have threatened in my mind - to just start driving one day and not come back. Just keep going until I hit the Pacific and then maybe make a right and head up the coast. It is fantasy of course, mere stupidity. After all, I have a fairly extensive list of responsibilities that I have to meet.
Not joys, responsibilities. It feels like all that my life is dominated by such things at this point. And that leaves me feeling like simply abandoning the cause. All of them.
I will not, of course. I will get up tomorrow because that is what adults do and go do my job and my responsibilities. Children will be provided for. Animals will be fed and plants watered. My job will have the benefit of my attention and I will accomplish my tasks. Bills will paid. All the things a responsible person does.
But yes, probably, I will be driving to the Pacific in my mind.
Fall Garden 2015
So today began Fall Garden 2015.
I am somewhat scaling back and recalibrating how I garden. After I opened up the space nearer to the house in April I noticed a few things: It had more exposure to sun, it was easier to weed, and it closer to the house and therefore easier to water. This has changed how intend to try garden this year.
The space is not huge - perhaps an additional 20 square feet, 2 feet long and 10 feet wide. It is still a bit planted with some volunteer peppers and tomatoes and the second growth of Sorghum. Rather than replant the whole thing in winter crops (which will crowd out the spring and summer, which always gets me) I have decided to narrow my choice to garlic (which always grows), spinach (sometimes yes, sometimes not so much yes), and leeks (never tried here. Why not? Leek soup and Leek pie are great!).
The space to north, which is a bit under the neighbors oak, which is usually where I garden, will be partially turned over to barley and winter wheat. The rest will lie fallow under what is rapidly becoming a fair amount of detrius of dissolved wood pellet bedding (with rabbit urine) mixed with hay and rabbit manure, ready for spring.
My hope? The first is that the change in location will help more things grow. The second is that with a smaller space to manage, I can cultivate it more productively and intensely. The third is that by managing my space, I can get more by timing my plantings.
Worst case, at least I will have garlice.
I am somewhat scaling back and recalibrating how I garden. After I opened up the space nearer to the house in April I noticed a few things: It had more exposure to sun, it was easier to weed, and it closer to the house and therefore easier to water. This has changed how intend to try garden this year.
The space is not huge - perhaps an additional 20 square feet, 2 feet long and 10 feet wide. It is still a bit planted with some volunteer peppers and tomatoes and the second growth of Sorghum. Rather than replant the whole thing in winter crops (which will crowd out the spring and summer, which always gets me) I have decided to narrow my choice to garlic (which always grows), spinach (sometimes yes, sometimes not so much yes), and leeks (never tried here. Why not? Leek soup and Leek pie are great!).
The space to north, which is a bit under the neighbors oak, which is usually where I garden, will be partially turned over to barley and winter wheat. The rest will lie fallow under what is rapidly becoming a fair amount of detrius of dissolved wood pellet bedding (with rabbit urine) mixed with hay and rabbit manure, ready for spring.
My hope? The first is that the change in location will help more things grow. The second is that with a smaller space to manage, I can cultivate it more productively and intensely. The third is that by managing my space, I can get more by timing my plantings.
Worst case, at least I will have garlice.
Friday, October 02, 2015
Thursday, October 01, 2015
Moths and Flames
I realized today that people are either moths or flames.
Most people are moths: they are irresistibly attracted to the lives of others. They cluster around the lives of those that are flames, basking in the warm glow of their lives and their existences, which at some fundamental level they substitute for their own. In fact, they are so entranced by the lives of others that they build their lives around them to the point that their interests, their live, their thoughts are merely the imitation of the flames that they dance about.
But a few people are flames: they burn brightly with the light of inner achievement and activity. They are not overly entranced with the lives of others; instead they are comfortable with the fact that they can define their own interests and desires, not have to adopt them whole cloth from the lives of others. They may be bold or subtle, bright or subdued, but they definitely - in their own way - light up the night.
I suppose at some point in life we are either one or the other, either drawn to the lives of others in imitation or burning brightly for ourselves. Arguably we should always seek to achieve more the status of flame and less the status of a moth.
Why? Because when we are so entranced by the flames of our lives that we do not pay attention to how close we are getting to them - and so we are consumed by them.
Most people are moths: they are irresistibly attracted to the lives of others. They cluster around the lives of those that are flames, basking in the warm glow of their lives and their existences, which at some fundamental level they substitute for their own. In fact, they are so entranced by the lives of others that they build their lives around them to the point that their interests, their live, their thoughts are merely the imitation of the flames that they dance about.
But a few people are flames: they burn brightly with the light of inner achievement and activity. They are not overly entranced with the lives of others; instead they are comfortable with the fact that they can define their own interests and desires, not have to adopt them whole cloth from the lives of others. They may be bold or subtle, bright or subdued, but they definitely - in their own way - light up the night.
I suppose at some point in life we are either one or the other, either drawn to the lives of others in imitation or burning brightly for ourselves. Arguably we should always seek to achieve more the status of flame and less the status of a moth.
Why? Because when we are so entranced by the flames of our lives that we do not pay attention to how close we are getting to them - and so we are consumed by them.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Time To Move On
It is time to move on in my career.
The parting shot has slowly been building all week. With the big push of the recent months past, work has slowed down considerably - considerably enough that I am re-engaged in the very bottom layer of tasks on my "To Do" list, the sort of mind numbing tasks like cleaning out documents to check if they are still in process and deleting or pushing them through. Important work some say; painful underutilization of my skills, says I.
But the final blow seems to have come yesterday.
My dear friend Nighean Ruadh was notified that after a year on the job, she is doing such a good job that they are adding to her job duties. They like and trust her and like her attitude and are willing to have her do more for the company. Very exciting stuff and I am very proud of her.
Then came the sinking realization that I have not had a new job responsibility in four years.
Think of that. Four years and no change in my job. No increase in responsibilities. No real new talents or skills acquired. Just four years - six years all old - of essentially treading career water, hoping against hope that either I would move to the next level or find something else that would move me there. If you have followed my blog long enough, you know that precisely neither of those two things have happened.
So where to now?
I keep finding other things to do with my energy. Part of it, I know, is that I simply like doing other things than work anyway. But if I am brutally honest with myself, I think part of it is the fact that I simply do not want to start the painful effort of a sustained job search that results in a job.
It is hard. It is painful. It requires hours that I would like to spend doing other things. And in my case, it will require the effort of retooling my resume to make it non-career specific in hopes that I can move out in something more as my chances in my industry here are limited.
I do not want to do this. My soul shudders as I think of the undertaking and the multiple rejections I am sure to take.
But then I think of my friend and realize that if I want that feeling of recognition and doing more, I am going to have to something different.
Because this is sure not working.
The parting shot has slowly been building all week. With the big push of the recent months past, work has slowed down considerably - considerably enough that I am re-engaged in the very bottom layer of tasks on my "To Do" list, the sort of mind numbing tasks like cleaning out documents to check if they are still in process and deleting or pushing them through. Important work some say; painful underutilization of my skills, says I.
But the final blow seems to have come yesterday.
My dear friend Nighean Ruadh was notified that after a year on the job, she is doing such a good job that they are adding to her job duties. They like and trust her and like her attitude and are willing to have her do more for the company. Very exciting stuff and I am very proud of her.
Then came the sinking realization that I have not had a new job responsibility in four years.
Think of that. Four years and no change in my job. No increase in responsibilities. No real new talents or skills acquired. Just four years - six years all old - of essentially treading career water, hoping against hope that either I would move to the next level or find something else that would move me there. If you have followed my blog long enough, you know that precisely neither of those two things have happened.
So where to now?
I keep finding other things to do with my energy. Part of it, I know, is that I simply like doing other things than work anyway. But if I am brutally honest with myself, I think part of it is the fact that I simply do not want to start the painful effort of a sustained job search that results in a job.
It is hard. It is painful. It requires hours that I would like to spend doing other things. And in my case, it will require the effort of retooling my resume to make it non-career specific in hopes that I can move out in something more as my chances in my industry here are limited.
I do not want to do this. My soul shudders as I think of the undertaking and the multiple rejections I am sure to take.
But then I think of my friend and realize that if I want that feeling of recognition and doing more, I am going to have to something different.
Because this is sure not working.
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Monday, September 28, 2015
The Moment of Giving Up
Is there a moment when you give up?
A moment when suddenly it has become pointless,
the moment you decide that the struggle
is no longer worth it?
Is it a moment you can recognize,
a moment you can taste?
Is it something your remember
what was playing in the background
as the decision was made?
Does it become something you can look at
like an old faded photograph
from a previous generation,
slightly discolored and grainy
but bearing witness to the event?
Is it any of this?
Or is it, more likely, simply something
that is realized after the moment has fled,
the fading lights of the house in the mirror
you never realized you passed.
A moment when suddenly it has become pointless,
the moment you decide that the struggle
is no longer worth it?
Is it a moment you can recognize,
a moment you can taste?
Is it something your remember
what was playing in the background
as the decision was made?
Does it become something you can look at
like an old faded photograph
from a previous generation,
slightly discolored and grainy
but bearing witness to the event?
Is it any of this?
Or is it, more likely, simply something
that is realized after the moment has fled,
the fading lights of the house in the mirror
you never realized you passed.
Friday, September 25, 2015
Selfishness
Selfishness is an terrible, beautiful thing.
It can become a blinding light in our lives, burning white hot in its intensity. It crowds out all else: common sense, decency, morals, even God.
It seems innocent enough at first: a quiet interest in something, perhaps even a passing fancy. But as time passes we find that it is hardly passing: it slow grows in our mind, an object which becomes The Thing from which we can derive great personal pleasure.
And we need it.
Given enough time and space it will come to consume all of our thoughts, all of our life. It becomes the raging fire to which our life is dedicated to, the Holy Grail we would sell our very souls for to seek. We can push ourselves to the point that thing is so needed that other people, other relationships become obstacles in the quest for The Thing.
Even to the point that we will deny the happiness of others to achieve It.
I wish I had a better way to fight it. I do not of course: I fumble my way through, perhaps try to divert my mind or bring it back to where it needs to be. And sometimes I am successful - only to find myself lapsing back, hypnotically entranced by the dancing shadow flames of desire.
It matters not that The Thing will not ultimately live up to what we think it will: we know in our heart of hearts that it will.
Until that day, that the fire collapses, the illusion slowly drifts away, and all we find is ourselves holding the ash - not of the The Thing we desired so badly, but of the rest of our lives.
It can become a blinding light in our lives, burning white hot in its intensity. It crowds out all else: common sense, decency, morals, even God.
It seems innocent enough at first: a quiet interest in something, perhaps even a passing fancy. But as time passes we find that it is hardly passing: it slow grows in our mind, an object which becomes The Thing from which we can derive great personal pleasure.
And we need it.
Given enough time and space it will come to consume all of our thoughts, all of our life. It becomes the raging fire to which our life is dedicated to, the Holy Grail we would sell our very souls for to seek. We can push ourselves to the point that thing is so needed that other people, other relationships become obstacles in the quest for The Thing.
Even to the point that we will deny the happiness of others to achieve It.
I wish I had a better way to fight it. I do not of course: I fumble my way through, perhaps try to divert my mind or bring it back to where it needs to be. And sometimes I am successful - only to find myself lapsing back, hypnotically entranced by the dancing shadow flames of desire.
It matters not that The Thing will not ultimately live up to what we think it will: we know in our heart of hearts that it will.
Until that day, that the fire collapses, the illusion slowly drifts away, and all we find is ourselves holding the ash - not of the The Thing we desired so badly, but of the rest of our lives.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
The Relational Compact
We all dwell in relational compacts.
For those of you that slept through Political Theory (instead of those of us fools who majored in it), this is an idea based on Jean-Jacques Rousseau and the Social Compact which, in his view, was the agreement that we all make when we come together as a society. We surrender certain of our rights, and in return we gain the benefits of living in a group. The group exists through the mechanism of the compact, this often unspoken set of rules and benefits that undergird society.
The same exists for our relationships as well.
Think about it: in almost every relationship you (or I) inhabit, there are rules. They are quite probably not spoken of openly between the individuals but everyone senses that they are there. They are boundaries and limits around what we can do between each other.
Included in these are the things we cannot say, the words we cannot voice, the actions we cannot take. Oh, they exist in our mind rightly enough, but the relational compact forbids us from mentioning them by name or deed. To do so would be to violate the most fundamental laws of relationships: doing that which is simply not to be done.
And so we dwell within the compact. We move about our daily lives, interacting with each other on levels which may not approach actual honesty or fulfillment but do keep us together, functioning as a social unit in whatever we find ourselves.
Occasionally of course, I fantasize. I wonder what it would be like to break the social compact, to do what please me more than what the social compact requires. Tell people what I think. Take actions which I would ordinarily not, things which would have radical implications.
And then, of course, I do not. The Relational Compact ultimately seems to dominate all that I do.
Because breaking it seems to be the most heinous of crimes. Odd, for something that is unwritten and invisible.
For those of you that slept through Political Theory (instead of those of us fools who majored in it), this is an idea based on Jean-Jacques Rousseau and the Social Compact which, in his view, was the agreement that we all make when we come together as a society. We surrender certain of our rights, and in return we gain the benefits of living in a group. The group exists through the mechanism of the compact, this often unspoken set of rules and benefits that undergird society.
The same exists for our relationships as well.
Think about it: in almost every relationship you (or I) inhabit, there are rules. They are quite probably not spoken of openly between the individuals but everyone senses that they are there. They are boundaries and limits around what we can do between each other.
Included in these are the things we cannot say, the words we cannot voice, the actions we cannot take. Oh, they exist in our mind rightly enough, but the relational compact forbids us from mentioning them by name or deed. To do so would be to violate the most fundamental laws of relationships: doing that which is simply not to be done.
And so we dwell within the compact. We move about our daily lives, interacting with each other on levels which may not approach actual honesty or fulfillment but do keep us together, functioning as a social unit in whatever we find ourselves.
Occasionally of course, I fantasize. I wonder what it would be like to break the social compact, to do what please me more than what the social compact requires. Tell people what I think. Take actions which I would ordinarily not, things which would have radical implications.
And then, of course, I do not. The Relational Compact ultimately seems to dominate all that I do.
Because breaking it seems to be the most heinous of crimes. Odd, for something that is unwritten and invisible.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
2016 Physical Goals
I had to come up with physical goals for next year this afternoon.
The Ninja asked for them. I tried to defer a question on them to Nighean Ruadh but she pushed my right back to The Ninja. I squirmed and coughed and tried to come up with something different, but in the end I sat down and drafted them up.
What came out of them was somewhat surprising.
They are not fully approved yet and so I will not really discuss them except in generalities, but they came down to strength and speed for use in Iaijutsu and Highland Athletics. This strikes me as kind of amusing as this is not something I would have ever predicted about myself 10 years ago, or even 6 years ago when I moved.
They included things like types of distances, number of games, and some things around Iai. The relatively amazing thing to me is that, with a great deal of work, they are things that are (I think) obtainable.
To be clear, they are hard. They will stretch me. They will make me work harder than I ever have in my life on such things. But what I have come to discover is that the hardest things - like an endurance run I never thought I could do - make me the strongest when I am through with them.
So I am hopeful. And a little scared. This will be good.
But it will be harder than I think I can possibly anticipate.
The Ninja asked for them. I tried to defer a question on them to Nighean Ruadh but she pushed my right back to The Ninja. I squirmed and coughed and tried to come up with something different, but in the end I sat down and drafted them up.
What came out of them was somewhat surprising.
They are not fully approved yet and so I will not really discuss them except in generalities, but they came down to strength and speed for use in Iaijutsu and Highland Athletics. This strikes me as kind of amusing as this is not something I would have ever predicted about myself 10 years ago, or even 6 years ago when I moved.
They included things like types of distances, number of games, and some things around Iai. The relatively amazing thing to me is that, with a great deal of work, they are things that are (I think) obtainable.
To be clear, they are hard. They will stretch me. They will make me work harder than I ever have in my life on such things. But what I have come to discover is that the hardest things - like an endurance run I never thought I could do - make me the strongest when I am through with them.
So I am hopeful. And a little scared. This will be good.
But it will be harder than I think I can possibly anticipate.
On Suicide
Suicide was in my mental edge of vision today.
Two events pushed this in - one, an article from a complete stranger on how his brother took his own life in June, the other the news from a Throwing Friend that his father had committed suicide as well.
Both were surprises. Both were, so far as I know, left without explanation or reasoning. Just gone, leaving the survivors behind in pain and confusion.
I am not a counselor nor a psychologist. But I do know a little bit about the road leading down there.
It was a long time ago - maybe 30 years gone now. Life was simply not getting any better and did not seem to have the hint of getting better. I was 17 or so and simply did not feel that anything was going to improve. And so I started toying with the idea of simply ending the seemingly unending pain of simply being.
If you have never gone through this sort of depression you cannot imagine what it feels like. It is a sort pain, yes, but the worst part about it is that it feels as if it will never end. There is no sense that tomorrow is going to come, just a long tunnel of bleak that simply feels as if it will never end.
How serious was I? Fair question. Probably not all that serious in that there was no "serious" attempt but serious enough that I tried to damage myself. Serious enough that others took it seriously.
I was fortunate or blessed. I got help. Am I great? Nope - surely if you read here regularly, you know that. What I have come to reach is a sort of truce: I get depressed but I understand that it is not a never-ending tunnel. While there may never be full sunlight at least the cloud cover will allow patches of sunlight through.
The point of this excursis, I suppose, is that to those who are suffering and to those that are near them. To those that are suffering, nothing is forever in this life. I cannot know your pain fully, but I can tell you that whatever you face is not never ending, unless you freeze it so in death.
To those who are near them, understand that in suicide the ending of pain is usually the primary objective. It is not that that they do not care, it is that the pain is more overwhelming than anything else currently going on.
It is real. And people's struggles are real. That is why it is critical to listen, even when one does not feel like they have the time or inclination to do so. The sympathetic ear of one voice can be enough to give someone the realization that someone cares, that the tunnel is not without end.
Be mindful of others, because you never know what they are truly going through.
Two events pushed this in - one, an article from a complete stranger on how his brother took his own life in June, the other the news from a Throwing Friend that his father had committed suicide as well.
Both were surprises. Both were, so far as I know, left without explanation or reasoning. Just gone, leaving the survivors behind in pain and confusion.
I am not a counselor nor a psychologist. But I do know a little bit about the road leading down there.
It was a long time ago - maybe 30 years gone now. Life was simply not getting any better and did not seem to have the hint of getting better. I was 17 or so and simply did not feel that anything was going to improve. And so I started toying with the idea of simply ending the seemingly unending pain of simply being.
If you have never gone through this sort of depression you cannot imagine what it feels like. It is a sort pain, yes, but the worst part about it is that it feels as if it will never end. There is no sense that tomorrow is going to come, just a long tunnel of bleak that simply feels as if it will never end.
How serious was I? Fair question. Probably not all that serious in that there was no "serious" attempt but serious enough that I tried to damage myself. Serious enough that others took it seriously.
I was fortunate or blessed. I got help. Am I great? Nope - surely if you read here regularly, you know that. What I have come to reach is a sort of truce: I get depressed but I understand that it is not a never-ending tunnel. While there may never be full sunlight at least the cloud cover will allow patches of sunlight through.
The point of this excursis, I suppose, is that to those who are suffering and to those that are near them. To those that are suffering, nothing is forever in this life. I cannot know your pain fully, but I can tell you that whatever you face is not never ending, unless you freeze it so in death.
To those who are near them, understand that in suicide the ending of pain is usually the primary objective. It is not that that they do not care, it is that the pain is more overwhelming than anything else currently going on.
It is real. And people's struggles are real. That is why it is critical to listen, even when one does not feel like they have the time or inclination to do so. The sympathetic ear of one voice can be enough to give someone the realization that someone cares, that the tunnel is not without end.
Be mindful of others, because you never know what they are truly going through.
Monday, September 21, 2015
Friday, September 18, 2015
The Mystery of The Disappearing Quail
Fortyfive Nation, I have a mystery for you.
The Situation: I go outside this morning to feed the quail as I always do. I open the swing down door and put in the ration of meal worms. No-one rushes out but that is not particularly surprising as it was a little earlier than I usually go out and so darker. No big deal.
For some reason I come out later before I eat breakfast to check. Still no-one has swarmed the meal worms. I open the cage up. Inside I find one traumatized quail with injuries and two quail that are missing completely. The latch was closed. There are feathers scattered around but very little blood indicating an attack. What happened?
1) Someone thieved two quail and left the third. Possible, but does not explain the injuries on the third quail.
2) A predator (I'm thinking a raccoon) - Possible, although the lack of blood and the fact the latch was replaced in position makes me wonder.
3) Three...I got nothing.
Quail Three is in the converted hamster cage recovering in the air conditioning. I would give its chances at not that great, except these quail have really surprised me as to their ability to recover from injuries. Here's hoping.
Two lessons for those that seek to prepare for emergencies:
1) Local wildlife will become an issue, especially as the easy pickings (otherwise known as garbage) disappear. Imagine rabbits in your garden but much worse.
2) Two legged wildlife can also become an issue. Be prepared to disguise, conceal, or even more actively protect (as in moving closer to the house, perhaps even in your garage) that which is valuable.
The Situation: I go outside this morning to feed the quail as I always do. I open the swing down door and put in the ration of meal worms. No-one rushes out but that is not particularly surprising as it was a little earlier than I usually go out and so darker. No big deal.
For some reason I come out later before I eat breakfast to check. Still no-one has swarmed the meal worms. I open the cage up. Inside I find one traumatized quail with injuries and two quail that are missing completely. The latch was closed. There are feathers scattered around but very little blood indicating an attack. What happened?
1) Someone thieved two quail and left the third. Possible, but does not explain the injuries on the third quail.
2) A predator (I'm thinking a raccoon) - Possible, although the lack of blood and the fact the latch was replaced in position makes me wonder.
3) Three...I got nothing.
Quail Three is in the converted hamster cage recovering in the air conditioning. I would give its chances at not that great, except these quail have really surprised me as to their ability to recover from injuries. Here's hoping.
Two lessons for those that seek to prepare for emergencies:
1) Local wildlife will become an issue, especially as the easy pickings (otherwise known as garbage) disappear. Imagine rabbits in your garden but much worse.
2) Two legged wildlife can also become an issue. Be prepared to disguise, conceal, or even more actively protect (as in moving closer to the house, perhaps even in your garage) that which is valuable.
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Man Cave and Study
A few days ago this showed up in my inbox:
I love this.
I love this for two reasons:
1) The first is that I love the implication of what it is calling men back to: greatness and wisdom. These are traits which are valuable in any culture. No one ever said "Be less great. Be less wise". It is calling men to a higher plane of living.
2) The second is that it notes the subtle change in culture that has plagued us for some time.
The Man Cave. Grasp the implications. The place where men retreat from the world rather than engage in it. A cave - a place to hide, a place where usually only the desperate and outcasts of a society would hide. A place of darkness and boundaries. In our current situation, a place where men gather with other men in a sort of inward looking engagement.
Compare this with the study. A place of learning and knowledge. A place where men train themselves intellectually to go out into the world. A place where men gather to discuss matters of import.
One is a place of consumption and entertainment. The other is a place of training and engagement.
I have never had a study. I have always wanted one but with multiple children the potential study is always being converted into a bedroom. I have had to make do with a desk or even a table top; my study is never more than 2" by 3". But wherever it has been I have put the small reminders of my life and what I want it to be. It my place to think, to study, to ponder, and to prepare.
Less Man Cave. More Study.
I love this.
I love this for two reasons:
1) The first is that I love the implication of what it is calling men back to: greatness and wisdom. These are traits which are valuable in any culture. No one ever said "Be less great. Be less wise". It is calling men to a higher plane of living.
2) The second is that it notes the subtle change in culture that has plagued us for some time.
The Man Cave. Grasp the implications. The place where men retreat from the world rather than engage in it. A cave - a place to hide, a place where usually only the desperate and outcasts of a society would hide. A place of darkness and boundaries. In our current situation, a place where men gather with other men in a sort of inward looking engagement.
Compare this with the study. A place of learning and knowledge. A place where men train themselves intellectually to go out into the world. A place where men gather to discuss matters of import.
One is a place of consumption and entertainment. The other is a place of training and engagement.
I have never had a study. I have always wanted one but with multiple children the potential study is always being converted into a bedroom. I have had to make do with a desk or even a table top; my study is never more than 2" by 3". But wherever it has been I have put the small reminders of my life and what I want it to be. It my place to think, to study, to ponder, and to prepare.
Less Man Cave. More Study.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Trapped And Reactions
Feeling trapped is a terrible thing.
Hope seems to dwindle a little a time. First of all "soon" is the watchword, then "someday", then "I do not think it is every coming." And that point, the match has been lost.
It begins to affect your reactions with folks. Your frustration at the situation looks for outlets that it cannot otherwise find, and turns itself on those who are around you. You cannot really yell at people above you, of course, because that just goes very badly, so it tends to channel to those around you. Good nature tends to expire as the corridor seems to get longer and longer without relief.
How does one combat such a situation? That is always the struggle in such circumstances. You want to be understanding, to be the compassionate and the person you have always been, but always in the back of your head is the sense that this is never going to end and at some level, some ridiculous level, the behavior that makes it all tolerable is the same behavior that will someone, somewhere, is using against you as part of the endless corridor of nothingness.
I wish I had a better answer. I truly do. I find myself quite snappish at people whom I should not be so at. My patience seems to have dwindled to a faded memory of what it used to be. And my happy go lucky demeanor has become a hollow shell of what it once was.
The ultimate resolution, I suppose, is to escape the trap. But sometimes that is more easily said than done.
Hope seems to dwindle a little a time. First of all "soon" is the watchword, then "someday", then "I do not think it is every coming." And that point, the match has been lost.
It begins to affect your reactions with folks. Your frustration at the situation looks for outlets that it cannot otherwise find, and turns itself on those who are around you. You cannot really yell at people above you, of course, because that just goes very badly, so it tends to channel to those around you. Good nature tends to expire as the corridor seems to get longer and longer without relief.
How does one combat such a situation? That is always the struggle in such circumstances. You want to be understanding, to be the compassionate and the person you have always been, but always in the back of your head is the sense that this is never going to end and at some level, some ridiculous level, the behavior that makes it all tolerable is the same behavior that will someone, somewhere, is using against you as part of the endless corridor of nothingness.
I wish I had a better answer. I truly do. I find myself quite snappish at people whom I should not be so at. My patience seems to have dwindled to a faded memory of what it used to be. And my happy go lucky demeanor has become a hollow shell of what it once was.
The ultimate resolution, I suppose, is to escape the trap. But sometimes that is more easily said than done.
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Monday, September 14, 2015
A Sudden Moment of Focus
And then the moment comes when you realize you want to move things to the next level.
I do not know that I have ever been conscious of this process before, at least not in the way I am this morning. It seem likely, based on my immediate experience, that there is some sort trigger - some event, some encounter - that makes one suddenly decide, in an instant, that the time has come to move up. To level up.
Suddenly things take on a new light.
Activities done in pursuit of this thing, whatever it is, are no longer just practiced for the sake of doing them. Instead there is a purpose for them. More does not always mean better. It is the quality of what is being done and how it contributes to the final goal that becomes of importance. Realistically this means a refocusing of time and effort on the activities that one is doing - not just the immediate ones of choice but all activities connected with it. Time and effort need to come from somewhere else.
What is the result of all of this? I do not know that I can fully tell as I have never been fully conscious of this process before. There is certainly a sense about me that is different, something that has changed in the last 12 hours that was not there before. A refocusing - I do not know any other way to say it - that empowers in a way that nothing else I have felt has ever done.
It is not that the goals were never there. It is just that suddenly, one understands what one has to do to get there.
I do not know that I have ever been conscious of this process before, at least not in the way I am this morning. It seem likely, based on my immediate experience, that there is some sort trigger - some event, some encounter - that makes one suddenly decide, in an instant, that the time has come to move up. To level up.
Suddenly things take on a new light.
Activities done in pursuit of this thing, whatever it is, are no longer just practiced for the sake of doing them. Instead there is a purpose for them. More does not always mean better. It is the quality of what is being done and how it contributes to the final goal that becomes of importance. Realistically this means a refocusing of time and effort on the activities that one is doing - not just the immediate ones of choice but all activities connected with it. Time and effort need to come from somewhere else.
What is the result of all of this? I do not know that I can fully tell as I have never been fully conscious of this process before. There is certainly a sense about me that is different, something that has changed in the last 12 hours that was not there before. A refocusing - I do not know any other way to say it - that empowers in a way that nothing else I have felt has ever done.
It is not that the goals were never there. It is just that suddenly, one understands what one has to do to get there.
Friday, September 11, 2015
A Mind Over-Extrapolating
Sometimes the mind gets away from itself.
I am subject to the over-extrapolating of circumstances. Always have been. I can take any circumstance and extend it in my mind to the worst degree possible in pretty short order. It usually results in some level of depression and hopelessness about whatever the circumstance in question is.
Take work, for example. My constant inability to get beyond where I am and the seemingly ever-changing organizational structure, if left to my mind, sends me down trails that never work out well for me. My mind takes over, takes the worst of situations I have experienced in the past, and plays new movies on the screen of my mind, movies of changed positions and uncomfortable work situations and bad personal relations. The sort of things that leave you feeling trapped and hopeless for long periods of time.
I would love to say that I have some kind of antidote for this sort of thinking, some way of taking this thinking and turning it on its head. I do not, of course - for me, this sort of thinking begets more of this sort of thinking and circumstances, of course, are seldom such that I am able to magically find something else to pull me out of my pit. And the saddest part, I suppose, is simply the wave of pointlessness that tinges everything that I do after that point - after all, if there is no good way out, any effort in that direction will only result in no improvement.
Surely there is a way out of this sort of thinking. Surely at some level, initiative and effort will ultimately result in some sort of good entering the situation. Surely life cannot be as bleak and without a sense of hope in such situations.
But if that is so, is my mind simply too feeble to see it?
I am subject to the over-extrapolating of circumstances. Always have been. I can take any circumstance and extend it in my mind to the worst degree possible in pretty short order. It usually results in some level of depression and hopelessness about whatever the circumstance in question is.
Take work, for example. My constant inability to get beyond where I am and the seemingly ever-changing organizational structure, if left to my mind, sends me down trails that never work out well for me. My mind takes over, takes the worst of situations I have experienced in the past, and plays new movies on the screen of my mind, movies of changed positions and uncomfortable work situations and bad personal relations. The sort of things that leave you feeling trapped and hopeless for long periods of time.
I would love to say that I have some kind of antidote for this sort of thinking, some way of taking this thinking and turning it on its head. I do not, of course - for me, this sort of thinking begets more of this sort of thinking and circumstances, of course, are seldom such that I am able to magically find something else to pull me out of my pit. And the saddest part, I suppose, is simply the wave of pointlessness that tinges everything that I do after that point - after all, if there is no good way out, any effort in that direction will only result in no improvement.
Surely there is a way out of this sort of thinking. Surely at some level, initiative and effort will ultimately result in some sort of good entering the situation. Surely life cannot be as bleak and without a sense of hope in such situations.
But if that is so, is my mind simply too feeble to see it?
Thursday, September 10, 2015
Working Out and Making Progress
So something happened yesterday that has never happened before.
As I may have mentioned before, I have engaged a strength coach (or rather, he allowed me to engage him. He is kind of a big deal in certain circles). My coach (hereafter known as The Ninja), has provided me with a program since the beginning of August. It is a simple program but one which, almost atypically for me, I have been following regularly. Three days a week, I cut into my lunch and walk across the parking lot to go work out at our corporate gym. I have been supplementing with some calisthenics programs loosely based on Bruce Lee and running and Iai (of course).
It is hard to measure progress when one is by one's self. One can look at the initial results perhaps, and and determining "I am moving more weight" or some such, but then one returns to the mirror and the scale and seems to see very little change at all. One might feel a bit better or more energetic, but there is no sense that progress is being made.
Until one gets an outside opinion.
Most folks at work know I go over to work out. I do it at lunch, so every day they see me tromping over in my tennis shoes and my old green Messenger bag with my change of clothings. There are comments made about it, of course, but nothing more than occasional offers to spot or the good wishes of a coworker. I have not said much about my goals in this area, more of just a general sense that this is something I am doing to get in better shape.
And then today, as I am wandering through to get a a drink of water, one of my coworkers says "You are bulking up."
I stumble a bit. "Actually, I am losing weight" I respond, thinking that bulking up can only mean one thing and that is getting heavier (I have lost about 8 pounds over the last 6 months).
"No no" he replies, "not bulkier like that. Muscular looking."
I laugh it off of course, make some silly comment about having to fit through doors sideways now, and stumbled back towards my desk. My heart was singing inside, of course. One does not hear that sort of praise often - and I, almost never.
Most of the times we do not get the privilege of realizing that we are making fundamental progress. But rarely - very rarely- we actually get to see the progress being made.
As I may have mentioned before, I have engaged a strength coach (or rather, he allowed me to engage him. He is kind of a big deal in certain circles). My coach (hereafter known as The Ninja), has provided me with a program since the beginning of August. It is a simple program but one which, almost atypically for me, I have been following regularly. Three days a week, I cut into my lunch and walk across the parking lot to go work out at our corporate gym. I have been supplementing with some calisthenics programs loosely based on Bruce Lee and running and Iai (of course).
It is hard to measure progress when one is by one's self. One can look at the initial results perhaps, and and determining "I am moving more weight" or some such, but then one returns to the mirror and the scale and seems to see very little change at all. One might feel a bit better or more energetic, but there is no sense that progress is being made.
Until one gets an outside opinion.
Most folks at work know I go over to work out. I do it at lunch, so every day they see me tromping over in my tennis shoes and my old green Messenger bag with my change of clothings. There are comments made about it, of course, but nothing more than occasional offers to spot or the good wishes of a coworker. I have not said much about my goals in this area, more of just a general sense that this is something I am doing to get in better shape.
And then today, as I am wandering through to get a a drink of water, one of my coworkers says "You are bulking up."
I stumble a bit. "Actually, I am losing weight" I respond, thinking that bulking up can only mean one thing and that is getting heavier (I have lost about 8 pounds over the last 6 months).
"No no" he replies, "not bulkier like that. Muscular looking."
I laugh it off of course, make some silly comment about having to fit through doors sideways now, and stumbled back towards my desk. My heart was singing inside, of course. One does not hear that sort of praise often - and I, almost never.
Most of the times we do not get the privilege of realizing that we are making fundamental progress. But rarely - very rarely- we actually get to see the progress being made.
Wednesday, September 09, 2015
Teachers and Bosses
There are two types of people that have immediate power over our lives: Teachers and Bosses. In some ways they both play similar roles. But the outcomes are very different.
Bosses - call them managers or shift supervisors or even professors - are those that seem to exercise influence over most of our lives. They can be tolerable or terrible, power mad or occasionally even great. They can teach us some great lessons or they can ensure that our lives can become a very unfortunate place to be. What unites them is the fact that they exercise power over our lives and in some cases our destinies, power that derives simply from the position that they occupy in our lives.
Teachers - call them coach or sensei or mentor or even a real teacher - are different. They can exercise vast influence over lives, from reigning in our small vices to completely changing the course of our lives. The difference is that we ultimately put ourselves under their guidance and control. It is not something that we are forced to do - instead, we do this willingly in the hopes that we will emerge changed and improved on the other side.
I have had many bosses. I have had few teachers - and the teachers I have had always improved me. They have been hard on me - in some cases, far harder than even the worst of bosses. But I have always trusted that in their difficulty, they have had my ultimate growth and success in mind.
Why? Because to put ourselves in the hand of a teacher is to put ourselves in a position of vulnerability and trust. It is to surrender some level of rights of ourselves to another, to make ourself vulnerable in a way that if the teacher fails, will at best embarrass us and at worst hurt us. It is to believe that someone can come into our lives and exercise power over us in a way that will ultimately be to our benefit, not our detriment.
Bottom line? Wherever possible seek out Teachers in every aspect of your life. Bosses - at least all the ones except the Teachers - view us as something which is required for achieving their own goals. Teachers view us as work in progress towards a better, fuller, richer us.
Bosses - call them managers or shift supervisors or even professors - are those that seem to exercise influence over most of our lives. They can be tolerable or terrible, power mad or occasionally even great. They can teach us some great lessons or they can ensure that our lives can become a very unfortunate place to be. What unites them is the fact that they exercise power over our lives and in some cases our destinies, power that derives simply from the position that they occupy in our lives.
Teachers - call them coach or sensei or mentor or even a real teacher - are different. They can exercise vast influence over lives, from reigning in our small vices to completely changing the course of our lives. The difference is that we ultimately put ourselves under their guidance and control. It is not something that we are forced to do - instead, we do this willingly in the hopes that we will emerge changed and improved on the other side.
I have had many bosses. I have had few teachers - and the teachers I have had always improved me. They have been hard on me - in some cases, far harder than even the worst of bosses. But I have always trusted that in their difficulty, they have had my ultimate growth and success in mind.
Why? Because to put ourselves in the hand of a teacher is to put ourselves in a position of vulnerability and trust. It is to surrender some level of rights of ourselves to another, to make ourself vulnerable in a way that if the teacher fails, will at best embarrass us and at worst hurt us. It is to believe that someone can come into our lives and exercise power over us in a way that will ultimately be to our benefit, not our detriment.
Bottom line? Wherever possible seek out Teachers in every aspect of your life. Bosses - at least all the ones except the Teachers - view us as something which is required for achieving their own goals. Teachers view us as work in progress towards a better, fuller, richer us.
Tuesday, September 08, 2015
The Rest of The Year
So where do I want to end this year?
That is really the question, is it not? With the departure of Labor Day the year picks up speed as we move downhill towards the end of it - before I know it, Christmas will be upon us and then the end of the year.
And do not kid yourself - the weekends are full. Between now and Christmas, I believe I have only four weekends that do not currently not have something filling them up. Na Clann's activities, Throwing, a Training Session, testing - there is a lot packed in. Add in the things I tend to do - Nanowrimo, winter planting - and things seem a bit overwhelming indeed.
So where do I want to end this year?
As I have played it over in my mind, the remaining portion of this year is largely an activity in staging to move into next year. A launching pad, if you will, for what is to come. It means that I will have to get next year's goals in order, of course - but that is something that I have been to lax about in years past. Just as when we cut a target in tameshigiri we cut through the target, not to the target, so the work at the end of this year is meant to move me seamlessly into next year.
Where do I want to end this year? Really, it is where I am going to want to start next year. On 01 January: feet running, sword drawn, charging into the next year with the intent of making it my own, instead of it making me its own.
And knowing where I need to go, it will make the charge that much more effective.
That is really the question, is it not? With the departure of Labor Day the year picks up speed as we move downhill towards the end of it - before I know it, Christmas will be upon us and then the end of the year.
And do not kid yourself - the weekends are full. Between now and Christmas, I believe I have only four weekends that do not currently not have something filling them up. Na Clann's activities, Throwing, a Training Session, testing - there is a lot packed in. Add in the things I tend to do - Nanowrimo, winter planting - and things seem a bit overwhelming indeed.
So where do I want to end this year?
As I have played it over in my mind, the remaining portion of this year is largely an activity in staging to move into next year. A launching pad, if you will, for what is to come. It means that I will have to get next year's goals in order, of course - but that is something that I have been to lax about in years past. Just as when we cut a target in tameshigiri we cut through the target, not to the target, so the work at the end of this year is meant to move me seamlessly into next year.
Where do I want to end this year? Really, it is where I am going to want to start next year. On 01 January: feet running, sword drawn, charging into the next year with the intent of making it my own, instead of it making me its own.
And knowing where I need to go, it will make the charge that much more effective.
Monday, September 07, 2015
Friday, September 04, 2015
In Pursuit of The Perfect Noto
Of all the moves in Iai, none is more undernoticed than the noto.
Noto, or the sheathing of the katana into the saya (sheath), is an action that occurs at the end of almost every kata. For every nukitsuke (draw), there is a noto. Some are dramatic, some are subdued, some seem common in comparison. But ultimately there is always a noto.
In martial arts, every aspect of every thing is important - in that sense it is the ultimate pursuit of a perfection which will never be fully attained. The noto is as valued and trained on as any other aspect of iai. There is a correct way and a way which is less correct. The body, the angle of the saya, the crossing like a "t" that is made across the body as the saya and katana are moved together - all of this matters. To perform a poor noto is as undesirable as a bad cut. Everything matters.
In the six years I have been practitioner of Iaijutsu, I have probably performed thousands of notos in class or in practice. Arguably only in the last month have my notos become consistent enough that I can perhaps believe that I have begun to understand how to actual perform them. Perhaps.
This is stunning if I sit to think about it. 6 years to learn to perform a single action. And a single action which is in some ways the least difficult of all the actions that I do. In a world that values convenience and instant gratification this seems beyond a throwback, especially in that this is something which the world will never see and (most likely) never understand the value of.
But there is value in the pursuit. Every time I practice a noto, every time I seek to move my shoulders less or keep my back straighter or my blade straighter, I force myself a little deeper into the discipline of the pursuit of excellence. I make a little deeper commitment into doing things correctly not for the public recognition of the fact but rather for the sake of the art itself.
And thus I find that in pursuing the perfect noto I am in fact pursuing the very nature of excellence itself, a thing which I may never fully attain - but is fully worth chasing after.
Noto, or the sheathing of the katana into the saya (sheath), is an action that occurs at the end of almost every kata. For every nukitsuke (draw), there is a noto. Some are dramatic, some are subdued, some seem common in comparison. But ultimately there is always a noto.
In martial arts, every aspect of every thing is important - in that sense it is the ultimate pursuit of a perfection which will never be fully attained. The noto is as valued and trained on as any other aspect of iai. There is a correct way and a way which is less correct. The body, the angle of the saya, the crossing like a "t" that is made across the body as the saya and katana are moved together - all of this matters. To perform a poor noto is as undesirable as a bad cut. Everything matters.
In the six years I have been practitioner of Iaijutsu, I have probably performed thousands of notos in class or in practice. Arguably only in the last month have my notos become consistent enough that I can perhaps believe that I have begun to understand how to actual perform them. Perhaps.
This is stunning if I sit to think about it. 6 years to learn to perform a single action. And a single action which is in some ways the least difficult of all the actions that I do. In a world that values convenience and instant gratification this seems beyond a throwback, especially in that this is something which the world will never see and (most likely) never understand the value of.
But there is value in the pursuit. Every time I practice a noto, every time I seek to move my shoulders less or keep my back straighter or my blade straighter, I force myself a little deeper into the discipline of the pursuit of excellence. I make a little deeper commitment into doing things correctly not for the public recognition of the fact but rather for the sake of the art itself.
And thus I find that in pursuing the perfect noto I am in fact pursuing the very nature of excellence itself, a thing which I may never fully attain - but is fully worth chasing after.
Thursday, September 03, 2015
Wednesday, September 02, 2015
Tuesday, September 01, 2015
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