Back In The Learning Again

So today I had one of those interviews that makes one scramble after the fact, thinking to see what one can do to move forward on it to get the job.  Good things about it:  It is a promotion, it is a greater area of responsibility, and it is local (which in my line of work do not come up too often).

One thing that moments like these do is make me realize that I have fallen behind in doing the study that I need to be doing.

If you are a long time reader of this blog, you know that I love to do a lot of very different activities.  I love generalization.  I love to know a great deal about a great many things.  But this falls down when I comes to what I do for living:  I scarcely have an interest in learning more except when it relates directly to what I do.

This contradicts one of my basic premises of course, that all knowledge is useful and can be related to almost any circumstance given enough thought about the matter.  You should think that I would have more interest in the larger issues that surround my income (and trust me, there are many avenues that I could explore).  But  I do not.

Why?  I do not wonder that it is somehow connected with the sense of distaste I have come to associate with my job, or rather with people associated with my job.  I do not mind so much what I do, but I often mind who I do it with - or rather, who I do it for.

Which is a bit short-sighted if you truly consider the matter - after all, people will come and go but the career field will remain.  I could have another 20-25 years easily doing what I am doing now.  So why am I not working to maximize those opportunities.

And so I picked up the texts again tonight.  There is no time like the present to begin working on the future.

Summer 2016 Garden Planted

So I got the rest of my garden in this weekend.

I have drastically (at least this year) cut back the among of space I am growing in.  This for two reasons.  The first is practicality:  With this space (the long strip in back behind the house) I can more easily manage it for weeds and care.  The second is financial:  I can easily water this strip (and with a little creative arrangement, catch my citrus trees as well) in one fell swoop instead of having to water multiple places.

What did I plant?  Beans.  Lots and lots of beans.  Some peppers (three kinds).  Okra. Corn (every year with the corn, even if I have not yet hit on the combination that will grow for me).  Some lettuce  some hot weather greens.  And Black Eyed Peas (which have already sprouted).

It is certainly not the biggest garden I have grown.  And (if pressed) I will confess I have limited anticipation of a truly successful harvest.  But this is an experimental garden in a number of ways.  The soil has been greatly overlain with the outcome of the rabbits cages (broken down wood pellets, hay, and rabbit poop) and I have more to add.  The area means that I can daily control for weeds and growth. It is exposed to direct sun for most of the growing day.  And the watering is as about as controlled as I can get it this point (barring an automatic sprinkler and drip sprinkler heads).

So I am hopeful, in nothing else perhaps that I am starting to work a little more towards a sustainable garden that I can manage.  If I can get to the starting point here, I can more intensely manage.

I hope, anyway.  If not, hope springs eternal.  And fall is not too far away.

On Recent Economic Turmoil

I long ago gave up any pretensions to predicting anything.  I have been through my own set of "The Sky Is Falling" scenarios which have seldom manifested themselves in anything other than my mind.  As a result of this hard won experience, I have been less inclined to give my thoughts on any such matters (or really, much of anything at all any more), content to watch and listen and quietly nod as other opine.

And neither am I an economist.  I sat through Micro and Macro economics and to be honest, all I really learned is 1)  what elastic and inelastic are; and 2)  The the modern economy is a very fragile thing, a thousand connections built in such a way that potentially a failure in one are will ultimately break the entire mechanism.

As a result of all of this, I do not really understand the financial shenanigans that have erupted following the Brexit vote.  I do grasp the fact that markets do not like uncertainty and there is plenty of that right now, but the loss of value - around the world - escapes me.

But I do get the fact that there are connections and implications.  I do not necessarily understand what is causing this, but I do understand the results of it - and none of them work out well for us in the end.

More practically for myself, market turmoil means less products from my company are being sold.  If less products are being sold, that means that that eventually our revenue stream falls.  At best it means that we will have a minimal bonus or maybe no bonus at all; at worst it means that a number of  us will be looking for jobs in an environment where a lot of people will be.

All of sudden everything takes on a new cast.  At work, I begin to carefully watch the activities of those around me, looking for signs that decisions are being made or signs are being given off about cut backs (having been laid off once, I am especially sensitive to anything that looks like management is tightening its belt - and usually that includes lay offs); at home, I begin to question expenditures - including my own - in the context of "Do we really need it?, of looking more closely within to fill the time instead of to without.

It is not that I have a sense of immediate financial doom; I have long ago given up on that.  What I am left with is that rather omnipresent sense of dread that follows one around everywhere, the sense that we are constantly living on a precipice.

And that one day we - or at least I - will go over.

A Little Gomez Adams Monday

You know, we do not do humor a lot here at The FortyFive.  A friend of mine sent this to me and I greatly enjoyed it.  So instead of everything that is undoubtedly going on during a Monday, both the  usual items as well as the continued activities from the Brexit, enjoy this instead.  RIP, Raul Julia

Depth of Soul

There are veins that run within our souls,

veins that if we follow them lead to either

the very depths of thought

or the doors of despair.

It takes strength to go deep:

to look inside a soul and see the failures,

the weaknesses, to be reminded

of every single thing that has ever gone

wrong.

To ponder such things; to think on them.

To wrap our hands into them and weave them,

warp and woof,

into a useful tapestry of our lives.

This is the challenge of depth.

Any fool can look into the mirror of the soul,

sigh, and walk away.

But only a person of depth can look into such a mirror,

sigh - and then continue to stare until the blurry

becomes clear.

On Depth

One thing that reflecting this week has brought to my attention is that I lack depth.

I lack of depth of knowledge - about my career, about my family, about my varying hobbies, even about God.

Oh, I have a great deal of knowledge, some of it rather detailed.  I study a lot of things.  I have a lot of experience.  But what I find is that I missing the depth that it would feel like such study and experience should bring.

Depth is frightening to me, of course.  Depth indicates that one is going to take a period of time - years, in most cases - to really come to understand a subject.  In some cases, it means sacrificing new information in exchange for concentrating on the things that are currently in one's life.

Perhaps make my Rule of Five started this process. For the first time in perhaps a long while - maybe ever - I have a road map of the sorts of things that I want to spend the rest of my life working on.  It is right there: the subject, and by extension the knowledge about the subject.

Take my career, for example.  I have done it over 18 years now.  But do I really know what I should know about it?  Or do I too often skate around the fringes, trying not to burden myself too much with knowing about something that I perceive as not being that relevant to my life?  (Except, of course, it pays for everything).

Depth is costly.  Depth means that investment - perhaps of money, most certainly of time - needs to made.  It is road of choices, of moving beyond the off ramps because the thing has not been pursued to its limit.

Rhetorical question:  What would it look like if I took the items on my Rule of Five and subjected them to a depth test, a listing of what I really needed to know to exhaust the issue, to become an expert?  Not for the sake of being recognized as such of course, but to truly come to a knowledge of these things?

I know the answer, of course.  Investment of time.  Investment of energy.  A willingness and a commitment to persevere until the knowledge is obtained, the expertise achieved.

Rhetorical question two:  And what would such a thing feel like, to truly know instead of knowing around the fringes?

Rhetorical question three;  If insane is defined as doing the same thing again and again and expecting a different outcome, why do I choose to pursue insanity?

Open Hand

Last night at Iai we did open hand.

Open hand is the equivalent in our art of karate (which, literally, means "Empty Hand") and is the extension of our art into the realm of hand to hand combat.  The belief of our Soke is that if one knows the sword, one will know all other weapons.

So last night was open hand.

Open hand is largely blocks and punches and falls and locks.  Lots of locks:  ankle locks,wrist locks, arm locks.  Falls and recoveries.  Up and down,

As you can imagine, I am a bit sore.

It is good.  I love the ebb and flow of open hand.  Frankly (and perhaps oddly), I love being taken down for the sheer sake of learning.  I especially love being hip thrown - there is something above being flipped over onto a mat that is just mesmerizing to me, even after so many years.

It is a mental challenge for me of course.  Prior to 2009 I had never really performed martial arts and so the concept of engaging someone in combat is always a little difficult for me.  I worry about injuring others unknowingly or accidentally.  But this is part of training as well, not just learning to trust others but to trust yourself and to learn control.

When this publishes, I will probably be creaking out of bed in the morning and muttering about sore muscles.

I foresee a great deal of stretching in my immediate future.

But life is very good.  Martial arts has made a very positive impact on my life.

Being Glad To Be Small

There are days like today when I am glad I am small.

I have the sense that the world is moving quickly to a conclusion that does not work out well for anyone.  There seem to be so many places where one small thing - one thing - need only go slightly wrong and I fear the world as we know it begins to ignite.

On days such as these it is a relief to be small and know the problems of the world are not mine to solve - or worry on.

Arguably it is a humble life - and probably will be for the rest of it, to be honest.  In mapping out my Rule of Five for my life, I realized that I have mapped out everything I pretty much want to work on for the next 30 years that is realistic for me to do.  Remarkably, most of them are doable right now, just where I live. We could stay here and I could still make most of them work.

Our needs, beyond living, are few.  My wants are few as well - I have the "bigger ticket" item like I suppose most of us do, but mine are within the realm of reaching with a little economy and patience.  Beyond those, there is not much to want - except more of the time to do them and less overhead to pay for.

In such days, to be big - to be noticeable - is to be responsible for things beyond one's control.  It is to be higher up on the radar of others, to be one of the first to be focused on instead of one of the last.

Maybe tomorrow will ignite.  I cannot fully know.  But now I - for perhaps the first time, or at least certainly for the first time in a while - get that where I am right now makes my life both possible and attainable.

That is not a bad place to be.

Rule of Five

In my constant attempts to 1) Simplify my life and 2) Work on the process of goal setting, I have realized that I am setting my own bar far too high - not with what I am capable of, but what I can actually capable of doing within a year, my typical time frame.

What I realized is that I need less, not more.  I have been working on constructs to help me with this, so I came up with The Rule of Five.

Five things.  Five Areas.  That is what I am capable of working on at one time.  Convenient, because 5 is also the number of fingers on my hand.  Look at my hand, remember the things (I am simple that way).

For example, the Five Areas of My Life where all my goals fall:  Faith, Family, Financial, Fitness, Future  (the letters matching are not required of course, but make a spiffy mnemonic device).  Within each of these areas are sub-tasks of course - but I now have a framework to look at anything I am currently doing, look at my hand, and say "Does this fit into one of these?  If not, why am I doing it?"

Or the Five Attitudes I need to practice:  Godliness, Humility, Kindness, Self Discipline, Commitment.

And so on.

I am sure this idea is not new to me, as I am (generally) going behind others reinventing the wheel.  But what this has done for me given me a framework to attach what I should be working on in a way that always sticks with me and does not require me to be grabbing for a planner or notebook to see what is next.

It is simple.  And I am man always in search of a little more simplicity.

The Wheat Thief

Behold the Wheat Thief:

I may miss the wheat growing,

but I love his coat.

The Culling Of Facebook

So I am about done with Facebook. Finally.

This weekend finally pushed me over the edge - well really, this weekend and the political campaign in general to date.  

There is a perfectly legitimate reason of course - Facebook (and Twitter) have completely destroyed the ability to discuss an issue in a meaningful sense.  They have "dumbed down" the discourse of the day into - at its worst - 140 characters.  Hardly the sort of thing that makes for the society of ideas that we claim ourselves to be.  And rather amusing (in a dark sort of way) that easy connectivity has lead only to an inability to speak among ourselves.

But recent events have pushed it further - now, unless you specifically come out in favor of or against something, you are on the other side.  There is no more "neutral" ground to be held.  And frankly, the level of hate - yes, that is the word I used - has become unsustainable.

I suppose there are options, like significantly changing whom I see - but frankly that seems like a lot of work for not a lot of benefit.  Just easier  and more realistic to cut the cord all at once.

I will probably still keep it for a bit - oddly enough, for something that has only become a part of my life for the past 9 years I am surprised how difficult the concept is of quitting for me to warp my head around.  But already I am checking it much less than I was; very soon I suspect I will not check it at all.

It strikes me as a little odd that I consider life without the thought of seeing the so many I do every day.  But let us be honest - if 90% of the seeing is causing me more pain and anger than joy, is it really worth it just for that 10%.  

But the fact of the peace that comes over me when I think about it tells me it is probably the right thing to do.

The Silence

Silence is a palpable thing for me.

I write to you in silence now - not just the silence of a lack of noise with everyone gone, but the silence of a house with limited activity.  The two are completely different - the first indicates merely a lack of vocal activity, the second a peace that infuses the atmosphere.

There are no electronics on right now except for mine, no light except the one that I write on.  I can hear the chirping of crickets outside and the hum of  something electric inside, with the occasional sound of traffic flowing by. The only sound beyond that here is the click-clack of my keyboard and the swoosh that my feet make when I move them on the carpet.

Were I in other rooms, I could tell you the sounds I would hear if I were there:  the quiet crunch crunch of the rabbits eating their hay or pellets, or the louder crack of the guinea pig eating his guinea pig chow (guinea pigs are louder than rabbit.  I never thought about that before).  In another room, the occasional rustle of the parakeet as she resettles on the perch or moves; from the garage, the occasional cry of the male quail, confused by the light from outside, thinking it morning at 11 PM.  Beyond that, perhaps the hum of the refrigerator.

And nothing else.

This is a version of true silence, the silence I hear differently at The Ranch when I walk and only the wind blows throw the trees.  I can hear things there I cannot hear anywhere else; perhaps the same is true on a lesser scale here in the midst of urbandom.

It is this silence, this peace, that I treasure more than anything else.  This is rest and refuge to me; this is the thing I desire so much.  In this peace I can do many things and still be at peace:  practice cuts, pull weights, write, garden, read, pluck strings, think thoughts.

At this silence is my core - the inexpressible part of me that flows out through activities, that thrives (ironically enough) within the lack of activity and sound around it.

The burdensome question:  how do I take this silence with me wherever I go so that I can do out there what I can do in here?

A Giant Hole

This Saturday I tried an exercise I cannot remember ever trying:  I completely stayed in.

No trips anywhere.  No talking to anyone.  Except for a quick check on Facebook to see where everyone was, no current events.  No shopping.  No spending money.  Just me alone in the house.

The silence was very revealing.

Oh, I did things.  Cleaned the house.  Mowed the lawn.  Changed the quail.  Completed harvesting my garlic.  Read.  Watched some low budget movies.  Practiced Iai.

And was taken by the huge silence in my soul.

Here it is, the perfect opportunity, the one so many people dream about.  A day completely available to do whatever you want.  Anything.  No requirements on what to do or having responsibilities to complete.  Just time available for the filling.

And yet, nothing seemed to satisfy.

This got me to think as I was into the evening.  Activity after activity was engaged in and then stopped, trailing off into "I am bored".  It was if I was trying to fill a hole that could not be filled by anything that I had available.

What hole?  A good question, as I was not aware of its existence.  But as I thought about it, it suddenly made sense.  This sort of activity is not unknown for me and often represents my modus operandi:  get involved in an activity, follow it for a while, and then stop.  As if I had total lost interest - or as if I was trying to fill something up and, realizing that such an activity would not work, moving to the next one.

I do not know that I have a name for this hole.  I have ideas, but no names.

But now I have something to think on.  After all, it is not often that a heretofore unknown gap exists in one's life, one that is suddenly revealed to hold so many other things in its orbit.

A Heartfelt Plea for Salvation

This is not the post that I originally wrote for today.  I wrote one, but felt compelled - I have no other word - to write another instead.

This weekend, at least fifty people died in Florida in two shootings, one in a nightclub (the majority) one a single shooting somewhere else - a young singer with a promising career gunned down.  (No, I am not going to discuss the whys and wherefores - that is for other sites and other discussions.)

My topic this morning is eternity.

I am willing to bet that every one of those people woke up on the morning of their death with not a thought in their mind that this day was going to be their last.  They more than likely got up and went about their day as they did every day, with perhaps (like so many) a thought of the coming week or coming summer on their mind.

For them, eternity came all too soon.

I am burdened as I write tonight by the real sense that world is becoming far more chaotic, far more destruction oriented, than it has ever been my in my lifetime.  Certainly some will say I am overreacting, that people have always said such things.  And (I must concede the point) they are true.

But for fifty people, chaos and destruction engulfed them in a horrible moment.

Eternity is closer than we think.  Seldom does one arise thinking "Today, tonight - perhaps at 7 PM - I will die".  Seldom do we dwell on the awesome thought of what is after this life - or if we do, we think of it in generic terms we learned long ago or our ideas of what it should be like.

I am a Christian.  I have (I hope) never made any claims otherwise or persuaded you who read and do not believe that I am either overly zealous or practice a false righteous. I am a flawed man - badly flawed - and have my own share of struggles and sins.

But I plead with you friends:  be saved.

The best description of the Gospel I ever heard or read was from a book by Ben Patterson called Waiting:  Finding Hope When God Remains Silent in which a friend of his, asked to explain the Gospel in 10 words or less said "We're all b_stards  but God loves us anyway."

Harsh language (for me at least) but I do not, in this one instance, apologize for it.  That is what a sinner is:   a terrible, terrible bearer of evil who simply cannot, ultimately, do enough good for their salvation.  We can try.  We can pretend that we can earn our way into God's good graces (after all, is that not how the rest of life works?) or even pretend that He accepts our best efforts.  But are sinners - dead, as it were, a corpse, unable to give ourselves (or anyone around us) life.

We cannot.  But we do not have to.

The second part of the sentence states the miracle:  but  God loved us anyway.  Loved us even though we as His creation rejected Him.  Loved us so much that He paid the price - the sinless sacrifice - that we could not pay for ourselves.

"For God so loved the world that He sent is only Son into the world that whosoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.  For God did not send His son into the world to condemn the world but that the world through Him might be saved.  He who believes in Him is not condemned, but he who does not believe in him is condemned already because he has not believed in the name of the only Begotten Son of God."  John 3:  16-17

"Now when they heard this, they were cut to the heart, and said to Peter and the rest of the apostles "Men and brothers, what shall we do?"  Then Peter said to them "Repent, every one of you, and let every one of you be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit." - Acts 2:37-38.

It is simple and yet so profound:  Repent - turn away from both the sins (and every one of us has them, not only the ones common to all but the ones we love best) and your hope that you can, by your good deeds, earn your salvation.  And believe - believe that Christ paid the price of your sins and that He is the Son Of God, The Lord and Saviour of the world.

I have no special knowledge, friends, and am hardly anything to bear such news.  I am a broken man, a coward that too often hides behind a passive silence, a man who constantly struggles against his own sin and so often fails.

But there is a Heaven and Hell, a fate that awaits all of us.  And Hell is not the picture of the fantasies that we have allowed ourselves to make it, merely a hot place where "Well, I'll at least be with all my buddies".  It is a place of unending - eternal - torment, a place that humanity was never originally designed to go.   (I would be remiss in the regard if I did not refer you to Jonathan Edwards sermon Sinners In The Hand Of An Angry God.)

My friends, you may think me simple in posting this, or over-reactionary.  You may think me a religious kook or a simpleton believing fairy tales.

Life goes quickly.  Even if you are young and feel that death and old age is a long way off, I can assure you that it is not.  Time flies faster than the fleetest bird, running quicker than the antelope with the cheetah pursuing.

And ultimately, as 50 people found out this weekend, death finds us all and finds most of us unexpectedly and most likely unprepared.  As I mentioned above, most of us do not rise from bed in the morning thinking that today will be our last day.

But today or 70 years hence, death will find us.  There is no safe space from it, nowhere we can go to outrun it or hide from it.  Eternity is closer for most of us than we think.

I pray you, friends, give heed to the eternal destination of your souls.  Tomorrow is vouchsafed for none.

Disappearing Wheat

Headless stalks betray

the love of rabbits for wheat:

a convenient snack.

The Sound Of Rolling Dice

Change is in the air, darn it.

I cannot see it.  But I can feel it.

The feeling is washing over me more and more.  And there are real, practical outcomes of this.

For the first time in forever, I contradicted a superior in a meeting.  Laughed out loud at a suggestion they made which was 10 times more difficult and less relevant than the one that we had come to weeks before.  And when I mean out loud, I mean shockingly so.  There is no forward there now, only the establishing of hard won positions.

I have openly begun discussing the possibility of not being there much longer at my current place of employment.  I have begun - oh, how I have been down this road before - of beginning to look at the activities and things in my life, to begun to ask the question "Would I still do this?  How will I do this?"

There is nothing of course, nothing but the sense that a corner has been turned.  The dice are rolling, even if I cannot see where they end up from my view of the table.

But hearing the sound, I know they will eventually stop.

And I want to be ready to leap when they do.

A Little Solitiude

So it turns out I have a little bit of a break.

The entire household has shipped out to The Happiest Place on Earth today, leaving me all alone for a week.

In a way this is always very odd to me.  One gets used to the hustle and bustle of a house filled with people, going about their business.  Now the house is strangely silent, the sounds of crickets and the neighbor's air conditioner all that fills the night.

People always ask "What are you going to do with yourself?"  After all, being alone theoretically offers one a great deal of possibilities.

Not really for me, though.  I am rather a homebody.  The quiet suits me.

I have reading planned of course, and the normal chores that I have around the house (the rabbits and guinea pig appreciate the attention).  Maybe a little gardening now that the weather has (hopefully) dried out.  Plenty of time to think of course, and maybe to do a little forward planning.  It feels, after all, as if we are on the cusp of change.

A little solitude is actually a welcome thing.

Loneliness

Ruby Red wine glows
in the glass, but stings my throat
like a broken heart.

Back To It

So today is the first day back in the office after almost two weeks.

The two week period has been a natural break of sorts for me.  The change in the work environment has been so palpable, such a divide between before and after, that the break has created a closing chapter of sorts to seven years worth of work.

Our pastor this morning, in a sermon about work and living it out, made a point that we needed to make a point about work not owning us, owning our lives.  In that sense this break - away auditing to see other companies, practicing my sword art - has been a good and needed reminder and break that my work is not my life.  It cannot be, now:  my hands have been pried off of all that responsibility and roles and reduced to a (yet unknown) position.

Perhaps a relief.  I need no longer worry about (at least so long as I am here) the problems of office politics or greater strategies for getting ahead or even trying to make a better impression.  That is all removed from my power now.

Two courses now.  The first is to look for new opportunities.  The second is to look to those parts of my life that are beyond the eight hours a day and work on those.

It was a good seven year run.  I am looking forward to the next chapter.

On Seminar

Seminar is over.  

This is my fourth time training with Soke.  Every time I do it has seemed a little bit different.

The very first time I went it was within my first year of starting Iai. I was completely out of my element and was more concerned with not embarrassing myself than with anything else.

The second time I went it was two years later, and I went without my own sensei.  This time the concern was very much around representing my dojo well - and not being an embarrassment.

The third time was an additional two year later/ 5 years into my journey.  Here I actually did manage to embarrass myself (unintentionally of course, but still) and spent the greater part of Seminar desperately trying to not call any more attention to myself.

And now the fourth time is complete.

This time there was much less concern about embarrassing myself (other than the general sense of not sticking out as being so bad)  and much more concern about learning to do things the right way, about paying attention to what Soke was doing and then trying to replicate that.

We talked a great deal (more than I remember in past Seminar, but maybe I am just paying attention differently)  about the importance of our spirit when we practice, of the expressions we carry on our faces when we cut, of the spirit of Iai and its place in the larger place of things.

It was good.

I have a great deal to work on until the next time I see Soke again:  technique (always technique), expression, and spirit.  But I am coming to anticipate these visits rather than fear them - after all, it is becoming less about how I appear and more about how much I am learning.

This, I think, represents the progress that Iai truly means to teach.

More June Rains

There is so much rain

"Waterworld" may not be

just a fantasy.

Could Be, Who Knows

As I sit here and write at 2300 hours on Tuesday night, I am exhausted.  We finished Embu tonight, a public demonstration of Iai.  This is the end of the third day of the Seminar,  the end of 14 hours of training.  My calves are sore and my right knee is starting to say unkind things to me.  By all rights, I should be asleep already.

And yet, my mind is racing and sleep seems to be the farthest thing from my mind.

I feel a great current moving underneath my life, as if things are shifting around me in ways I cannot see or understand.  It is that sense that an ending of something is approaching and the beginning of something else is at hand.

I cannot define this thing completely.  I cannot say what the nature of the changes are.  I can sense hints, like something moving in murky water which only the currents of the water speak to something being there.

I know that changes are occurring at work and maybe that is part of the feeling.  I know that being away for almost two weeks removes someone from the fray.  I know that when I eventually have to return to real life all that I previously faced will be there.

But circumstances are changing.  Or at least I feel they are changing.  Or maybe it is just that I am changing.

But, to quote West Side Story, "Could it be?  Yes it could.  Something's coming, something good.  If I can wait."

Here is to the change I can sense even if I cannot now see it.

Choosing Action

So one thing that training provides one is focus - and lessons.

In training on Sunday Soke made the following statement:

"Once you begin an action, you must think five or six steps ahead to its completion.  And once you choose an action you must continue to move through it to completion.  But you must move - once you attack you must continue until you defeat the enemy."

It got me to think a great deal about drive and action.

I am not, by nature, a driven person.  I tend to drift along with flow, happy to engage with whatever is going on at the moment.  In some ways, this is a reasonable philosophy to hold.  If I am in a regular environment, I tend not to worry about things.  I can easy change plans or priorities as the circumstances dictate.  And generally that is a good thing.

I am not, however, as good at accomplishing things longer term.  In fact, I am generally pretty bad at it.  Which is a bit of an issue if you actually want to move certain things forward in your life.

I am not very good at strategy.  I am not terribly good at creating a plan.  And I am certainly not good at following up on said plans.

But Soke's statement made me think. Because Iai is, after all, really about life.

I understand the concept he was trying to communicate.  Once an action is begun you cannot end at that action.  You have to have the next attack or next block thought.  But one has to remain fluid; once a series of actions has begun, it can become like a cascade - one has to continue down the line of attack or defense one has chosen.  And always, one must keeping attacking, keep moving, until the opponent is defeated.

I am not really good at any of the points, but I am especially bad at the last one.  I start and stop things in spurts.  Which is never really the way to get anything done of course.

It comes back to that thing I hate to do of course, commit.  To commit is choose something - and not choose something else.

But it becoming relatively clear, if for no other reason than the theme that keeps reappearing in my life, that this is a step that I need to start taking.

Choose one action, then choose a dozen more.  Always keep moving.

But choose.

Iai Training

Today started the week of Iai training.

Oddly enough, this is not something I could have imagined doing before I started Iai.  A whole week of vacation spent, dedicated solely to the purpose of a hobby which brings me personal pleasure but seemingly does little else to advance my life.

What a luxury.

My legs are spent tonight of course; 5 hours of training plus an 8K run in the morning will do that to a person.  And the next 5 days promise to be much of the same.

Yet I welcome it.  For a week, all of the issues of my life, all of the problems and small time emergencies that consume so much of the waking part of my life, get to be pushed aside while I immerse myself in 430 years ago when the sword was king.

The Rise Of The Delegator

I have come to understand that the last failure mode of any human association or organization is the rise of the Delegator.

Any association, any endeavor is in the beginning started by Doers.  These are the people that make things happen, that start things, that are not only cognizant of the fact that decisions must be made to accomplish things but have the decisiveness and fortitude to make them. When faced with a choice, they make it.

And things move forward.  And the endeavor grows.  And perhaps experiences success.  But ultimately the Delegator arrives.

The Delegator is chiefly known for two things.  The first is their inability to make a decision.  They will dither and worry and avoid making a decision as long as possible, either in the hopes that someone else will make the decision for them or that the need for the decision will pass.  Action may be called for – but the Delegator will stand to the side until they are forced into a corner.

The second item of identification is their very name.  They delegate.

They delegate the grunt work of the actual day to day operations.  They delegate the work of setting things in motion.  They may delegate the day to day management of things. They hold actual power and recognition to themselves but push the work to get that power and recognition to others.

What does this do?  It saps the drive and initiation from any organization.  Work for a Delegator, work with them, and one rapidly loses any sense that one’s work or effort leads to anything.  Decisions that must be made are never made – and if one takes the initiative and makes the decision more often than not one is either criticized or told that in fact that belongs to the realm of others.  Of the Delegator.  

Instead, one finds one’s self quietly pushed into the silences of silos, reliant on the Delegator to provide direction which often never seems to come.

Where does this leave one?  Ultimately with a stark choice.  Choose the path of least resistance and ride the organization or association down with those that will make no decision.

Or be different.  And do not delegate one’s future to one who delegates.

Sunset To The Past

Sun set over hills:

Does the past block my vision

of the present light?

A Return Of Sorts

So today I returned back to a part of Old Home, to the places that The Ravishing Mrs. TB and I lived when we first got married.  It is a fortuitous occurrence in this week of our wedding anniversary.

It is an odd thing, traveling the highways and roads that I traveled 23 years ago when we first got married.  As I write this, I sit in the same town where we first lived when we got married.  I had dinner 5 doors down from the print shop that I worked at then.  The print shop is gone, replaced by some other business, but the streets still remain the same.

A flood of memories invoked themselves unasked, in some ways memories from a time long passed.   Before children.  Before my career field that I am in now.  Before so many things of the things that figure into our lives even existed.  In some ways a very very different me.

But not a me I would necessarily change.

So many different paths over the years, so many chances to chose another course that led somewhere else or to something else.  Occasionally I wonder what those paths might have been.

I find myself content.

23rd And Me

So this weekend was our 23rd Wedding Anniversary.

That surprises me, just a little bit.  Not so much the fact that it is 23 years - good heavens, I had no real conception of how long we would make it in the first place - but on people's reaction.

I posted a short comment and picture on Facebook, mostly about the dinner and only (I thought) coincidentally about our anniversary.  I received a great deal of support and like and comments and "reactions" (whatever those are supposed to be).

My first thought was "Is 23 years really that rare?"

It does not feel like some kind of worked for accomplishment, not like trying to lift a caber and turn it or the constant worry about if a garden will take.  In a way, it was just sort of showing up - and continuing to show up.

It is not like I think people imagine it would be.  There are bumps in the road.  Long periods - sometimes years, it feels like - of lingering issues that seem to hang around.  And perhaps it is a common complaint, but marriages of this length are scarcely like those of the movies.

I still midlife crisis every now and then, of course. As I alluded to earlier,  sometimes it feels like everything is the same - and will continue to be same, time without end.  The exotic allures, the course of "freedom" beckons.

And then goes away, of course.  There are commitments to keep and bills to pay and children to be responsible for and pets that need attention.  That is the nature of this life, and certainly I have been around enough to grasp that most of what I see is only the side I want to see, not the side as it actually is.

And there are compensations, of course.  I wish I was conscious of all of them.  But one, I think, I now know:  most people think that you sticking with it is something special.

And perhaps that is not all a bad thing.

Lightning Storm

Last night and early Sunday morning, driving through New Mexico, we came across a lightning storm in the distance.

It originally started as a small set of distant flashes that was noticeable; as we got farther from the last town the sky really began to light up to the northeast.  Sheet lightning in a night so dark you could not make out the clouds until the lightning cast the outlines and the shadows the clouds.  Strikes in a night that you could see the entire bolt hit the ground in a blazing outline, sometimes so bright and accurate that the lightning seemed pour out its fury on the ground, at other times to to curl around itself as it went down.

On and on it went, sometimes continuing on faster pace, with strikes and sheet lightning alternating lighting up the sky almost to the point of  brightness, other times the strikes few and far between, illuminating the darkness like a piercing flickering candle.  As we continued to drive we steered around the edge of the storm, pacing it for a good two hours through the changing landscape and descending elevation until we finally passed beyond its edge and into the general clouds beyond.

At one point, looking over the New Mexico terrain that sloped down and then up into the distance, I saw a single light sitting in the middle of the pool of darkness that was the ground.  That was the place to be, I thought.  Living out beyond anyone else, just sitting on the porch at night and watching the lightning light the sky and the ground in turn.

I am not ultimately sure what that says about me and my desire for aloneness and beauty.  What I do know is that in that time I found a piece of my soul dancing in between heaven and earth, descending and rising on the bright flashes on a dark night.

Reorganization 2.0

So today we went through another corporate reorganization.

I was not caught in the major reorganization, which was significant.  But I was caught in a minor one, which was significant enough for me.

I have changed reporting structures again.  The dual form of reporting up was not working, so there is a new single line of communication - essentially what we had for almost 7 years until about a month ago.  That system worked, apparently - just not with me.

There has been a "leveling".  I have been stripped of 3 of my 4 team members, who are now reporting on equivalent level up - a team I have spent 7 years building.  My job responsibilities, while not quite redefined, are shrinking in scope to well under half of what they used to be.  And instead of reporting directly to The Head, we are all reporting to a Subhead who reports to The Head.

I have, in other words, been practically demoted.

I am not happy.  I have indicated this, both to The Head and to The Subhead.  I am essentially capped:  I am precisely one level below The Subhead so the chances of moving up are rather limited.  Even more so arguably, as with reduced areas of responsibility come reduced abilities to make the sorts of impressions and do the sorts of work that get the sorts of attention that makes such things possible.

Everyone is sympathetic, of course:  of course we understand, it is for the betterment of the company, there will more opportunities for growth and expansion, do not feel like you have been put aside, it is really for the better.  You are doing a fantastic job, keep up the good work, and we are 100% behind you.

I am really, really trying not to be bitter about this.  Really.  It would be lying to say it is not hard - except I have no-one to direct the bitterness at.

There is little enough to do about the situation, of course:  what is done is done and to be anything less than 100% supportive will brand you in ways not good to consider.  On the positive side, I am still employed.

But all that echoes in my mind is the ringing sound of echoes getting closer as the potentialities of my current position - and perhaps my career - shrink in like an old volcano sinking in on itself, leaving only a crumbling cones and broken lava tubes to mark its passing.

Memories and Images

Sometimes I wonder what has happened to others.

It used to be quite a mystery, of course: people would leave our own circle of living, leave our own geographic area, and then would disappear off the face of our known earth.  Perhaps we would hear of them from a friend of a friend or a relative, but they had effectively moved beyond our own orbit.  We might picture where they were or what they were doing, how their lives had gone.

Now, of course, we have the Internet.  And Facebook and Linked In and 40 other ways to keep in touch with other people.  And yet, I still find myself wondering what has happened to others.

Oh, I can find them of course.  They will pop up as soon as you search for them.  But all it is now is a carefully crafted image, what one wants everyone else to see.

To be fair, I do this as well.  My "On-line presence" (sounds so official) is in some ways very different from the way I would present myself in my more personal space.  Part of it is essentially image management - after all, everybody (including your company) can find you now.

But the mystery is gone, in a way.  No longer does one wonder where those others are or what they have done.  It can easily be found out - or rather, the image can be found out.    But them, who they were or who they are, has become submerged beneath that image.

Which makes it sadder, in a way.  Before one had to imagine.  Now one has the outer image without the core.

It strikes me as strange that in this world of interconnected technology, we find ourselves more isolate dfrom such memories than we perhaps ever thought possible.

Drained II

An epiphany of sorts today.

I realized, as I sat at my desk balancing visitor after visitor with requests for information or questions and e-mails clamoring for attention amidst coming and going to meetings, that I simply do not have the energy to maintain this sort of working life.  I have no time to recharge.

I am, by every test I have ever taken, an introvert - so much heavily so that I almost always top out the chart.  This surprises some people when they see me interacting in social settings - I can be witty, personable, engaging - the life of the party.  This works, as I have come to understand, because that is not a taking of energy by others but exchanging of energy with others.

But what I am doing in my workday now is completely different.

Everyone has a need.  Everyone has a question.  Everyone wants something from me - if not in person, then via e-mail.  This has become my day, a steady stream of individuals coming with questions or requests.  They are most good natured about it of course, and I suspect scarcely any of them wish me ill will, but still they come.  And ask.

There is no exchange of energy in these interactions, no building of excitement - just a steady drain of energy as one after another, people come with their needs.

And leave me mentally and psychically exhausted.  Literally.  I have nothing left to give by the time I leave for home.  Add to that a commute approaching an hour or more and then another group of people at home who have a different set of requests and needs for interaction and you can see where this ends up.

I have often wondered over the years why I can stand commuting to the extent that I do.  I truly do not mind the concept of long drives - and now I know why.  It is a small chance to recharge from the daily drainage of energy.  It also explains why I set such aggressive goals at the beginning of year yet always seem to lose steam, or how I can come out of a weekend ready to go and find myself with nothing by Wednesday.  I have given myself time to recharge via vacation or weekend - but the batteries do not have enough regular down time to maintain that level of energy.

What to do about the situation, that is the question.  It is not as if I can wall myself away from everyone (oh, how I wish!) and recharge time seems no more likely to appear now than ever.

But it is the germ of a concept and realization, the fact that I require a more balanced approach to my interactions to pace myself and (really) make myself the most functional me that I can.   People are not going to like it.

On the other hand, I surely do not like the way I feel now and how my life is working out.  Ultimately, that should trump all.

Iai On A May Evening

Last night I went out to practice iai.

Yesterday was a Monday, the sort of Monday that has you swearing that you will submit your resignation letter in the first 10 minutes after arrival and never really improves after that.  The sort of Monday filled with meetings that never really seem to resolve anything and a commute that leaves one drained just in time to try to generate something of a personality.

And so I went out to practice iai, increasingly my refuge (along with writing) to maintain my sanity in a life seeming gone not so bad as bland and tasteless, a sort of endless poi dish that one takes day after day knowing it is nutritious but having no other redeeming qualities.

At first I began almost going through the motions, doing the most basic of kata to warm up; then,  I began to notice the world around me.

The sky was that blue-green that almost defies description, the color that only appears right at evening and right before morning, transient as the moment just before sunrise  and just after sunset.  The weather held its coolness from the morning rains with a light breeze, mocking the fact we already halfway through May.

Our yard is exceptionally green this year, an outcome of the rather large amount of rain.   Our new resident hare, Joey (so named by Nighean Dhonn) was out about an evening silfay, cautiously eating the grass while watching me practice.  Fireflies began to pepper the yard, far more than I have ever seen any year since we moved here, their yellow-green luminescence moving in and out as if they were teleporting across space instead of moving through it.

The crickets (or frogs, I am never sure) sang their background chirps as the high pitched squeaks announced the evening bats out for the hor de' oeuvres of the night.  A random toad,  as pale as the concrete he hopped across, appeared out of nowhere   on his way to a rendezvous with a nameless appointment he did not seem inclined to share.

All of a sudden I found myself practicing iai not alone but in the midst of world going on about its business - or rather, kindly welcoming me into its business.  I was no more a stranger to this dance of movement and sound and light than any of the other creatures there.

In a sense, I think it was iai in its most pure form, of being one with nature as one practice the forms, sliding in and out of the fireflies, not alarming the hare, seen as nothing more than a thing of shadows not to be feared by a toad.  The sky in its strange and seldom appearing color reflected the purity of form to which the apprentice always strives:  memorable yet not standing out, unique yet blending into the balance of whole.

I cannot say that this moment made up for the day before.  I can say that it gave a sense of peace and serenity where none previously existed.

Nukituske

Mind and soul commit:
the black saya is thrown back,
mirror bright blade drawn.

May 2016 Garden Update

So how is the garden doing in May?

You will remember my citrus from last year that were overwintered (with not great results)? Well they are growing:

Even the ones I thought I killed

are showing new life (This is a Mexican Lime.  Apparently they will reproduce from the root stock, one of the few citrus trees that will):

Overwintered (by accident) peppers (Bell and Jalapeno) are growing - if you look down, you can see the peppers:

The garlic is starting to fall over and the leeks are coming up.

Volunteer pumpkins have returned:

And the grain and onions are doing well:

Overall very happy!

Blogger or Wordpress

Greetings to The Fortyfive Nation (all eight of you, anyway)!  I have a global question that I would like to throw out there and see what the feedback is.

Do I stay with Blogger?  Or do I go to Wordpress?

I have been with Blogger since I started blogging in 2005.  Overall the interface is okay and I have had very little to complaint about - except the fact that Blogger is owned by Google, which I sort of do have problems with.

If you have ever had or held a blog, you know the rather daunting task when you are considering creating a new one - let alone updating and migrating the one that you have maintained for any number of years.  It is a pain, I imagine - just updating the links to other people's sites alone is going to be a pain.

But still, I am at the point where I wonder if it is the right thing to do.  Certainly my friend Otis has said his wife's new blog (Saturated In Seattle) has gotten a great deal more traffic since she moved over there.

Thoughts?  Opinions?  Experiences?

Saturated in Seattle

So ordinarily I do not link other stories in place of my own for a posting.  It is a poor blog author that constantly relies on others for their material.

Today is an exception.

My friend Vintage Chick, who has been working on a different sort of blog journey, posted something today that is definitively worth sharing.

You know I do not do politics here and religion as a rule, and this post edges over into that.  But it deserves to be read and considered.

Read the words of someone that can actually write.

Saturatedinseattle

"Available At Your Local Bookstore"

Last week as I was driving around, I heard an advertisement for a book on the radio (small bit of irony right there).  The narrative, driven by dark sounding dramatic music and telling us that the novel was ripped "right from today's headlines" ended with the statement "Available at your local bookstore, Amazon.com or iTunes."

Which made me think  "Local Bookstores?"

I remember the bookstores of my youth.  There were two, beyond the library where we got to check things out.  One was a local, single store in a strip mall (I still have some of those books).  The other was "Citadel of Books".  It was this store that formed my impressions of what a bookstore should be:  Towering shelves of books in pine shelves of varying heights with long rows, wandering up and down the aisles lost in literary wonder.

How times have changed.

I lived through the growth and essentially the death of a medium.  I remember the first time I went to a Walden's books.  "Wow", I thought, "so many books".  Then I went to a Barnes and Noble.  "Wow, it is so big"  I said to myself.  "They must have everything."  And then I went to Borders and had a similar experience.  "Wow, so much more like Citadel of Books"  I said.

But Borders is now gone.  The small independent bookstore of my youth is gone.  All that remains is Barnes and Noble as a new book seller.

I do not really enjoy going in Barnes and Noble at all.  The selection is limited.  The prices are high (stupidly high).  And the atmosphere - green themes with dark brown bookshelves - is hardly the sort of adventure I experienced once upon a time.

I shop the used book stores now.  There is far more of a sense of adventure in finding something that you are looking for or even finding the unexpected - and the prices are a sheer luxury.  Sure, I very seldom get the latest books, but those are (generally) not the books I am looking for.

Or Amazon.com.  Cannot beat the selection and the prices -if you shop carefully - are just as reasonable as a used book store.

(No Kindle or iBooks for me.  I simply cannot enjoy reading on a screen.  I think this may partially stem from having to look at a computer screen all day.  And the fact that the book is an object, a familiar thing I can manipulate and highlight and easily go back to).

A final thought hit me as I rolled the radio station over to something else.  I have seen the bookstores go, first the independents, then the local chains, then the national chains.  Will I live to see the day that, like a beached whale, the last great bookstore chain goes under leaving only ghostly remainders in the form of empty big boxes and the remains of a once thriving industry to be found only in the kiosks of airports?

Accept And Unrealistic Expectations

So now that I have these unrealistic expectations, what the heck do I do with them?

This is the other side of acceptance - not just that one accepts the way that certain things are but that one actively works on the expectations that one was clinging to, that one finds something to do with them.  Because they sure do not seem to want to be dealt with of their own accord.

They constantly speak in your ear, suggesting that you are "surrendering" or "caving in".  They try to push you towards success related literature, pointing out that you are giving up perhaps at the point that success is about to become yours.  Anything, they suggest, except abandoning them to the cold.

I have my own secret weapon, of course.  I call it "Failure".

I have remind these sweet siren singers of the times that I did follow their unrealistic promises down the rabbit hole of dreams, of what happened when the bottom dropped out of the hole and down I fell into the rocks.  Of the countless times as a youth I "fell in love" only to embarrass myself horribly.  Or the time I took a position based on other people telling me that I would be a great leader, only to be a terrible one and leave after half a year.  Or the time I was going to be wealthy as Midas and only ended up losing a great deal of money and eventually having to lose the house we never should have bought.

I bring these failures to the unrealistic expectations and point to them, saying "Look at this.  This is where following you gets me.  Off with you now.  Join forces with those things that I can impact.  Or abandon me to whatever you think my fate will be.  But what you promise will never come to pass."

They always seem to abandon the cause and slink away, of course.  Because if one thing is true of unrealistic expectations, it is that they is that they are very proud and demanding.  They would rather expire than join the energy with those things that can be accomplished.

Accept

Sometimes you come to the realization that there are simply things which you have to accept.

This tears at the fabric of our societal understanding, of course.  We have been taught that we are able to make our own fate, to chart our own course, to turn any situation or circumstance into the one that we desire. In fact, I would go so far as to say that it is almost considered a failure to not be able to do such a thing.

But sometimes, the reality is that some things simply cannot change.

Some of these things depend on circumstances beyond our control, things which we can neither directly nor indirectly impact.  Some of these depend on people who will not change, not have we the power within us to make it so.

Either way, the initial realization can be a crushing blow - after all, we interpret the failure to be something caused of our own inabilities, of our weaknesses, of our lack of trying.  We may try to fight this blow by redoubling our efforts.  And perhaps then we try to go to the other side of ignoring the situation, or even acting out against it.  Perhaps we may sink into a depression over it.

And then, one day, we learn to accept it.

Acceptance does not change it, of course.  The situation is still the same.  The relationship is still not what we wanted it to be.  But in acceptance comes the ability to move on.

Maybe the thing will not change.  But let it not be an anchor to weigh us down in the rest of our life.

Commit

I have a long term problem in the practice of my iaijutsu, specifically when I am asked to attack.  I always aim to the side, never directly at the target.

This is something that I have done for  years.  Why, you might ask?   It is a legitimate question.  I carry with me a very old reluctance to risk hurting someone, an aversion acquired many years ago but still as fresh in my mind as it was the day it happened.

And so I aim beside the target, not at the target.

This creates issues for my sensei on two levels.  On the first level, of course, it is very difficult to demonstrate a technique when your attacker is never cooperating in the attack.  The second - the one that just entered my awareness tonight - was a frustration with me, or rather a frustration with the fact that I have studied for almost 7  years and still am reluctant to strike.

"Commit"  he said tonight as I once again moved my attack to the right.  All of a sudden, that word became one of the profoundest things I had heard in years.

Commit.  Drive out all doubt.  Drive out all extraneous things.  Drive out the hesitation and reluctance.  Commit.  Strike.  Cut with authority.

Understand the profoundness of this moment.  Not just in iai.  In life.  Choose - we cannot all do everything.  And then when you have chosen, act with authority.  Remove doubt from your mind.  Strike every time as if you mean to win.

I am not sure that I know what enlightenment feels like.  But tonight I received a very dim taste of it.

Overwhelmed

Howling in my mind,
My face maintains composure,
belying the facts.

Silence

The bridge hangs,
suspended over the gorge,
cables twanging in the rushing air.

You walk forward,
eyes trained on the other side,
carefully ignoring the yawning gap beneath you.

In the center you stop and look up:
the azure blue sky speaks a tale of peace,
the clean warmth of clouds above the spires.

And then it happens:
The high pitched snap of cables
coming undone.

And at that moment,
suspended above heaven and earth,
you realize all the support under you has vanished,
leaving only the silence of the clouds
to catch your fall.

A Place of Service

Sometimes I forget my place in my life.

I am a supporter, a believer in others, a servant.  My job, my task, is to lift others up - to help them see in themselves what they cannot see.  Often it is buried in the muck of a life where circumstances or others have buried them or not treated them well.  My goal is to clean up those dreams and skills and aspirations, recall them to what is possible, and help them to believe and then move forward.

It is a task.  It is something that I enjoy doing.  But sometimes I forget my place in life.

When this happens, I get myself too involved in the life of others (Trust me, I have done this).  I have made their happiness and their success as much about me as it is about them.  Rather than just being a supporter and second violin in the orchestra, I try to make myself a lead character and first violin.

This never goes well, of course.  The point of believing in people and lifting them up is that they will take wing and fly to new heights - not that their stories somehow entwine with mine.

The end is actually always the same, of course - they find their way up and onward (that is what I am trying to help with, of course) and I find myself feeling left behind and isolated.  No reason to feel that way of course - what I thought and what was actually going on were two very different things indeed.  Yet I always somehow am surprised at the end even though it is the same every time.

It is not that I regret what I do.  It a necessary thing, not only for those who need encouraging but for me - I need to do it.  The problem is the unrealistic baggage I bring along with it.

To serve - to truly serve - is to remember that the very best of service is the one that exists as a memory in the back of the served's mind, the sense that they really did do it without the recollection of any expectations or demands that were placed on them by the ones serving.

The Second Act of Second Marriages

I am now apparently in that phase of living (and apparently have been for several years) where many of my friends are in the "Second Marriage" stage of life.

Most of them were divorced the first time for various reasons.  I do not always know the reasons and do not always ask, of course - people share what they feel they need to share when they need to share it.  Some seem to have ended relatively pleasantly, others with a level of animosity.  Most, on the whole, have moved on to at least acceptance and moving on with their lives.

But here they are.

It is interesting because lots of them are in that "first stage" of second marriage where everything is newly wed bliss and extreme happiness. It is odd to myself, who have been married over two decades, to see and experience this.  After all, up to this point most of my acquaintances were either unmarried or had been married for a considerable time.  Odd to think that suddenly I am greatly exceeding the span of peoples' relationships.  I am used to dealing with younger people in the throes of a new relationship.  Not so much the older ones.  It is as if I have been planted into a new scene with familiar players but a plot from a previous act.

It does make one think a great deal about one's own marriage.  After all, it feels like (no statistical data) here that I am in the minority.  And those who are in the second round seem to be at a relational place I am not and have not been for years.  The simple fact of the living through a marriage with its accompanying children, finances, and events has a way of drawing everything into the "life is so ordinary for me" scenario.

Which is why I have to constantly - and forcefully - remind myself that it is not about the simple act of relationship.  It is a picture, a picture of Christ and His church.  I do not know that it is always helpful to me in the most positive of ways.  But it does keep me on the track of remembering that to fail here is not just a failure for me, it is a failure for my outward facing witness to Christ.

I can fail  myself.  I cannot fail Him.

The Conundrum of Consultants

So today we had a consultant on-site.

We get consultants from time to time.  This one seemed to be a good one:  knew the material, had plenty of experience, spoke the language, had a plan.

The individual in question also went through our current program:  strengths, weaknesses, changes we will need to make.  And therein lies the issue.

After the suggestions, the "you will need to do this", the "this is what my experience indicates", there were nods around the room, agreement.  Senior Management present of course indicated that this was the course that we would need to take, immediately and with all effort.

The frustrating part, of course, is that a great deal of this has been previously suggested.  And ignored.

Suggested by internal employees of course. By us, those charged with trying implement such things a a basis.

What is it about organizations that completely value the same advice if it comes from an external person than an internal person?  Presented with the same facts, the same rationalizations, the same justifications, the one at the task day in and day out is ignored and put down, while outsider - for whom one is paying a considerably larger sum of money - is taken as almost god-like in their advice.

It eludes me, this willingness to pay more for advice and guidance that already exists.  Are companies so lacking in trust in their employees that they must validate those opinions outside?  Or is that employees are only expected to be able to X, while consultants do Y?

I am not completely sure.  But I am reminded of two things:

1)  To treat employees as if their experience is irrelevant and useless is to suggest to them they have no value where they are.

2)  To bring in consultants and see what they do and how they are treated is to suggest to employees that there may be other options.

Weather Watch Aftermath

The pre-dawn morning
is cloudless, belying the
lightning and wind.

Weather Watch

So tonight we are sitting under the mother of all weather watches.

The weather today was hot.  And foolishly humid the sort of weather I call "Voodoo Weather" for no other reason than that it feels wrong and mysterious, the sort of weather in which bad things happen. The weather extended into the evening, in which the clouds were a sort of misty color lit by the sunlight in a way that I cannot fully describe and have certainly never before seen.

The wind is whipping along now (around 10 PM) blowing the humid weather through.  The expectation?  "Severe Thunderstorms, possible grapefruit sized hail, damaging winds, tornadoes (not likely for us)".   Add fun with lightening strikes and we have all the making of "fun" around 3 AM, when the first front blows through.

This is not the weather that I grew up with at all.

It is all vaguely concerning of course - the thought of hail being the most exciting (or concerning, take your pick).  Tornadoes are unlikely and, given the rain we have had of late, the chances of a lightning strike starting a fire are pretty minimal. Wind is a concern of course, but most of the big trees (maybe three) would fall away from the house; the fence would be toast (but that is an insurance item).  Hail remains the single largest danger.

I will let you know how the weather goes.

Of Dream Jobs and Scut Work

This popped up in my Facebook feed:

It made me think a lot.

On the whole, I am a fan of Mike Rowe, or at least what I have read and seen of him.  He espouses a good work ethic and the value of labor and skills, not just college.

And his quote spoke volumes to me.

I am, I suppose, like Millennials in at least one way:  I want to have a dream job.  The engaging career.  The thing that lifts me out of bed in the morning and drives me to work all day.  The job that pays more than enough and allows for the time to do the other activities that I truly want to do.

Sounds great, does it not?  The operative word in the phrase "dream job", though, is "dream".

The reality is that I, like lots of others in my age cohort, have a career.  Perhaps not the one we had dreamed of.  Perhaps not the one we planned on when we were children ("When I grow up, I want to work in a cubicle farm and sit in front of a computer screen all day" - said no child ever).    But it is a a career.  It pays the bills - it may even leave us a bit to fund what we want to do.

My problem - my own, not anyone else's - is I have allowed myself to believe the idea that there is that dream job out there, that perfect career that I have somehow been denied and forced instead to endure the lesser thrill of necessity.  In the back of my head, that career is out there for me - if I just search a little farther I can find it.

The reality, though, is I am rapidly running out of time - in fact, it may be too late.  As I have written years ago, if I am very fortunate I will be able to finish out my effective working life working in the career field I am in without having to "start over" in a new line of work not of my primary choosing.

The one change I need to make, as I sit here vaguely disappointed with the oncoming train that is Reality, is how I spend my time.  The reality is this:  I spend most of my time desperately trying to not do anything remotely related to work.  The reality is - especially in this global environment - it is necessary that I spend at least part of my time on tending to that part of my career, to continue to make myself at least employable if not promotable.

There is the rub of course - by doing that, I invest more of my precious time not at work in  work instead of in the things I really want to do - in some cases, on the things that in my mistaken belief I think will come to replace the work (maybe, someday, in a retirement pocket money sort of way).

But - and this comes back to Rowe's statement - it is part of the scut work.  And while it may not be magnificent, it at least fills the time in a way that might result in an improvement to my bottom line.  Which indirectly pays for me to do the things I really like to.

It is called growing up - something which almost, constantly, I seem to struggle with in my work.

Time to hang the dreams up with the nightshirt.

All I Needed To Know In Life I Learned From Rabbits

1.  There is never not a good time for love.

2.  When you are out, run like you never intend to be put back in.

3.  Always be grateful for the little gestures like snacks.  Even if they are the same every day.

4.  Sometimes we are meant to be with others.  Sometimes we are not.  Never force the issue.

5.  Always kiss the hand that feeds you.

6.  Remember to groom.  Look your best at all times.

7.  Hopping is a perfectly acceptable means of locomotion.

8.  Always eat enough roughage.  Good dietary health is very important.

9.  Sleep - be sure to get enough of it.

10.  Everybody loves a snuggle bunny.  If you do not have someone that fills this role, be someone that fills this role.

Sprummer

Rain in the morning
sun and heat in the evening:
Rain coat or sun screen?

Of The Small And Silent

Today as I was driving to work in the rain, I got to thinking about all of the great things that I was supposedly going to be and do in my life.

I was, at various times after college, destined (I use the term loosely) to be a performer, a professor, an import/export business owner, a pastor, a real estate broker, an elder/deacon, a writer. When I say “destined”, I mean that this was the thing that was going to be the focus of my life, that would be the vehicle for my success. Big things, public things, visible things. I was to be important and respected, a man of parts in a world that sorely needed one, to set policy and solve problems and be the visible leader of great things and great change.

None of that, as you know, worked out. Every one of those avenues ended up leading to a dead end and the thing that I had chosen after graduate school, the industry that I am currently in, – mostly for desperation of a steady paycheck and benefits - became the one that has essentially been my constant companion for 90% of that time.

This thought wove itself in and out of my head until, at work, a small discovery was made. An error, an oversight -not vastly significant but one that should have been caught by several (including me) but was not.

And all of a sudden I realized my life has become of the small and the silent, of the details that underlie the main focus of activity – critical work, necessary work, but the quiet work of the backstage at the play, of the editor on the author's work, of the lineman that provides power to the coder.

I have resented this role, to be sure. This is the role not of the great, of the mover and shaker, of the significant but rather of the shadowed, the small, the silent. But if I look at all the time past since I graduated from school, every road that lead to a cliff forcing me to retrace my steps, my life keeps coming back to this.

There is a message here for me, I think. And not necessarily a message I have always wanted to hear.

Maybe this is really is my role. Maybe the path to my success or influence, to whatever degree it will exist, is to be based not on being grand and doing the great things but quite the opposite: the filling of small gaps, the completion of the silent tasks, the completion of the minor tasks that make the thing complete even when no-one else realizes that those are the things that made it happen. Maybe it is less about how that success or influence is achieved and a lot more about my ego in the whole matter, the fact that I may be effectively invisible and largely unacknowledged except as part of the grand summation, not as the great individual.

But that is really my problem. The question is, will I let my perceived need for greatness and recognition get in the way of actually doing the sorts of things I was perhaps put here to do?

Why My Focus Is Hard To Communicate

Sometimes I forget, in my constant world that seems to always focus on the alarming and the final failures of civilizations, that not everyone focuses on the same thing.

It probably does not surprise you that (for the most part) the individuals I interact with on a daily basis have little idea of what my concerns are about the nature of things - one or two perhaps, but I suspect many have simply departed in the frantic pace of life into other things.  By and large, they are concerned with things in the here and now - entertainment, sports, the goings on at the places where we congregate, occasionally a natural disaster or two.

But the proposed and ultimate goals of my life are, for the most part, invisible.  Why is this?

It is not (I hope) from some sense of lack of concern for those around me.  These are individuals whom, on the whole, I care about.  And certainly not from some misguided attempt (again, I hope) to conceal any knowledge of upcoming events - of which I have none - from them in a sort of evil twisted genius plot.

I suspect that it is mostly because it simply takes too long to explain.  And it too often seems to veer into matters political.  And even if you make it that far, it is even more difficult to explain how that impacts what you are doing.

Think about it:  without being a "tin foil hat" guy, it is hard to make an argument that the world is getting to be a better or more stable place.  That involves no thinking that there is some sort of giant government cabal, simply an admission of the fact that the world is a very complex place that is inter-related in ways that impact us all.  Instability somewhere really does create issues elsewhere and economies of trade and efficiency assume populations that are able to buy and earn money.  The one thing - the only thing - I really learned in Macro Economics is how true fragile the economic system is - not fragile from easy breakage but fragile from the sheer number of factors that can impact it to its detriment.

Without that assumption, the idea that people would consciously seek to pull away from any part of the system seems less of a calling or necessity and more of a personal interest sort of thing:  "I like soccer.  You like building a complete gardening and making things from wood.  I just buy the things of wood.  Why do you waste your time?"

It is difficult in such moments to verbalize the words  "I do it now because I can, before I have to because it is all I can do"  without sounding like a completely ungrounded fool, a wild eyed fanatic looking for the end of the world to come.

But it is not really the end of the world so much as the end of our world, at least the world we know. Always hard to communicate in a surrounding of climate controlled comfort and with coffee and snacks so close at hand (was it the same in June 1914 Austria?  Rome in 409?  Constantinople in 1452?)  So I generally sigh, give a little self depreciating smile, and am thankful for the comments on cheese or whatever else I have made.

It is, in the end, much easier.  And perhaps it is the actual only meaningful way I can communicate such things, not in what I see but in what I do.

An Eternal Purpose I Cannot See

Sadness.
Deep, abiding sadness.

Clicking on the keyboard,
Hit "Enter".
Watch the circle spin, waiting for the next step to complete.
Click over two tabs, see if the document moved on.
Sigh, and start the process over.

E-mail flashes:
"Can you do this?"
"Why did you do that?"
"I need."
"I want."

Endless brake lights,
creeping along a wet road.
Turn the radio on, then turn it off:
Get drawn into an issue you cannot solve
then resolve to turn it off again.

Sadness.
Deep, abiding sadness.

It is not that I question that You are here, Lord,
it is that I question how any of this accomplishes Your will:
how a day spent in the trivia of information
that will be useless in five years,
and sitting in traffic that moves slowly
does anything of eternal meaning.

Sadness.
Deep, abiding,
lost,
sadness.