It's all about trust.

In mathematics, three points (in the same plane) determine a line.

In plotting my course in life, I often ask myself the question, "What is God trying to teach me these days?" Then I look for patterns, insights, or three things that line up.

Today I had a mini-epiphany: It's all about trust.



Over the last two days I've been re-reading a book called "The Gabriel Method," by Jon Gabriel. It's a book I first read last July, and it has helped transform my eating habits. I decided that I needed a bit of a refresher course. Jon suggests that one reason a person puts on extra weight is some primal response to freezing to death, starving to death, or being chased and eaten. As I read the book this time around, I asked myself, "What am I afraid of? What do I believe is threatening my personal safety?"

Jon suggests that fear, sadness, anger, longing, and resentment are all threats to safety. It was a good question, and I was able to list a few places where I have nagging fears, lingering sadness, unresolved anger and resentment, and a few unfulfilled longings. I was a bit surprised at some of the issues this simple self-questioning unearthed.

But I'm not one to shrink from issues, I lift them up to God. "What's at the heart of all these issues? Is there a pattern? Are they inter-related?"

If prayer is like talking into a phone, Bible reading is like listening at the ear-piece. I had recently done some reading in Colosians, but I was generally untouched. I contemplated starting in at Matthew, where the New Testament begins, but then I recalled a passage I'd been thinking about the night before.

When I wake up in the night, I do memory work. I mentally recite things I've memorized: 50 US states and their capitals, the provinces of Canada, the 12 signs of the zodiac, the 44 US presidents in order, the countries of Central and South America. Sometimes I recite the names of the 66 books of the Bible. Last night, in addition to a few of the above, I recited what I could of the 23rd Psalm. I only got about 1/2 of it right. It's been some years since I worked on it.



So I pulled out my Bible and read slowly through the 23rd Psalm. It turns out that one theme in the poem is trust. Not unlike US currency, the psalmist proclaims, "In God we trust."

Fear, sadness, anger, longing, and resentment can all be evidences of feeling threatened: of being unsafe.

"The Lord is my Shepherd..." "He leadeth me..." "He restoreth my soul..." "...Thou art with me..."

These words inspired me to trust in God. "Unless you are converted and become like a child, you shall in no wise enter the kingdom of God." A child trusts their Father. A child allows their Father to quiet their fears, calm their anger, resolve their longings and resentments. A child trusts their parent to keep them safe. Hmmm...

Recently at school I've had two sets of parents who were very concerned about how their children were being taken care of academically. One parent came to the realization that she needed to trust the teacher and the school. I've seen a transformation.



The second set of parents is consistently on guard, concerned, and watchful that their child is "protected." This set of parents doesn't trust the teacher nor the rest of the staff. It's not that we are incompetent or unreliable: they just don't trust us. And it shows.

It's the same school, the same teachers, and the same school year: in one situation, trust exists. In the other, it doesn't.

In life, I have a choice, just like these parents: I can live in the calm of informed trust, or in the storm of irrational mistrust.

Today I remembered one of my favorite verses: "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths." (Proverbs 3:5,6)

I'm not abandoning my ability to reason. In Isaiah God says, "Come, let us reason together." Anyone who reads my blog knows that I'm a thinker: an analyst. But ultimately, I'm not trusting in my ability to figure things out and come up with a plan. Instead, I'm going to "trust in the Lord." He will keep me safe. "...and he shall direct thy paths."



Or as the 23rd Psalm says, "I will fear no evil, for Thou are with me."

Today, I lined up three points (two sets of parents, and one set of personal fears). The common issue? Fear or trust. That's what God is trying to teach me these days. That was my mini-epiphany. And I choose trust.

A Rictameter (not): 2010!

Sciptor, a true word lover, offered this nugget of knowledge recently over on his blog: "A rictameter is an unrhymed, 9-line poem with a syllable count of 2/4/6/8/10/8/6/4/2 in which the first and last lines are the same."



Always on the lookout for new forms to try out... I give you...

2010!

2010 commences.
Old: set in stone.
Trip around the sun now complete.
Highs and lows, ebbs and flows: spirals drawn.
One year ends, another begins -- One decade passes, another begins.
Pastels or browns, success or failure: probably both.
Trip around the sun barely begun.
New: unset and open.
2010 commences.



Happy New Year! Carpe anum!

PS:

Being the proof-reader that I am... I discover that I've misread the directions/definitions. Rictameters involve syllable counts, not word counts. So this is not a Rictameter!

As a teacher, I am always amazed at how often my students don't read the directions, and they end up missing the point. As a teacher, I am too often amazed at how often I do the same. The nice thing is... my students catch me! Or sometimes, I catch my own mistrakes. Sometimes I don't. ;-)

Christmas: Tis the Season to be jolly?

Christmastime means a lot to most people. I think the majority simply enjoy the season with family and friends. There are some general hassles connected with cramming so much into so little time. (And there are expenses.)



There is also a minority who don't particularly like Christmastime. Family isn't always easy. Friends can be bothersome. And some of us have memories that we'd rather not visit. (Some folk simply aren't Christian! How awkward?)

My wife and I went away this year for Christmas. My kids are out of state, and we decided that Palm Springs was a better alternative than hanging out. I have two weeks off, so we'll have some "hanging out" time at home after the 25th.



While in Palm Springs we watched some TV. I saw an episode from Heat of the Night. The main character didn't really like Christmas. Too many bad memories. He got me thinking... of Christmas 1996... The date is recorded on my first wife's tombstone, marking the day of her death and "promotion." Those were sad times: Christmas memories that could easily still haunt me. And sadden me.

While in Palm Springs I also caught part of the movie, "You've Got Mail." It's the story of a man and woman who meet via AOL. This was back before sites like e-Harmony existed. It was a romantic comedy. Once upon a time, I met a widow on AOL. She lived in New York. I lived in California. We exchanged e-mails, support, advice, prayers, and eventually... wedding vows. Our eleventh anniversary was December 19th. We got married over Christmas Vacation my first year of teaching. Christmas memories of happier times.

The last two years children and grandchildren have visited us from out of state. We had some great times, and clogged drains. This year... on November 15th... my oldest daughter had twin boys. No visit this year! (But some nice phone calls.)

Past memories... which are certainly not viewed with 20/20 vision. What I see though is a mixed bag of sad and happy.



Current moments? Two weeks of Christmas vacation! The first three days, I was sick with a cold. This has happened before. I relax from the stress and strain of daily life and my body says, "Good, I've been meaning to tell you... you're sick."

With Kleenex in tow, Leslie and I then spent four days in the Palm Springs area. We got home yesterday. The weather was good. The view was lovely... snow covered mountains rising across the green of a fairway. We took two day-trips to Joshua Tree National Park. It was beautiful, but I had forgotten my camera. Oops. (I do have some great mental slides.)

Christmas is followed by New Year's. I'm glad for that. Not because we have any big plans, but because it stimulates me to look forward. What am I motivated for in the coming year? Enough of contemplating the past, what do I want to fill my current moments with? How will I orchestrate my present to bring me into a pleasant future?



Christmas past is beyond our control. The future is too.

What we have is now. And right now... things for me are pretty good. The dramas and traumas are low-key. My days have lots of bright moments and occasional triumphs!

The tapestry of life is varied. Sometimes the hues are dark, sometimes pastel. That's just the way it is.

Bottom line? For the majority of you... Merry Christmas! (It was ordinary. That's a good thing.)



For some of you... Christmas is over. Yay!

For some of you... who may be in the midst of troubling times... May the God of all consolations lift up your fallen spirits and give you renewed hope for the coming year! (For you... it's not the season to be jolly. But after a bit, the season you are in will change. That's what seasons do! Better times will come.)

Regardless of the type of Christmas you've had, time marches on. The old year is almost over. In fact, the second decade of the New Millennium is upon us!

My wishes for all of you is... Happy New Year! (Look for it.)

Communication : Pitfalls and Potentials

One of the joys of blogging is discovering (and creating) a far-flung community of like-minded thinkers. Writing is thinking, and only the few are willing to pay the price exacted by regular excursions into the realm of personal thought.



DawnTreader, from Sweden, has a weekly post where she shares a meaningful quote. This week she posted a quote from the book Slow Man by 2003 Nobel Prize winner: J.M. Coetzee --

"There are the words themselves, and then, behind or around or beneath the words, there is the intention. As he speaks he is aware of the boy watching his lips, brushing aside the word-strings as if they were cobwebs, tuning his ear to the intention."

I see in this quote, a potential recipe for madness. Let me explain...

I am a truth seeker and a traveler. I grew up on the tail-end of the hippie generation, graduating high school in 1971. Even back then, I had an analytical bent. I enjoyed math, literature, and sports. But perhaps even more, I longed for deep personal interaction.



One of my sisters once said to me, "Why can't you just be shallow, like the rest of us?"

My sister did and does perhaps represent the majority opinion and life-style. For many, and perhaps most, life is rarely deep and meaningful. Usually it's just there.

Against this back-drop of shallowness, an analytical, caring, seeking, listening person is out-of-place. Coetzee's character, who brushed "aside the word-strings as if they were cobwebs, tuning his ear to the intention..." reminds me of an earlier self, a self who nearly drove himself crazy.

Back in the day, often during parties, hanging out with friends, or even playing chess with a friend, I would listen for the meaning behind the words. "What do they really mean..."



This not only led to isolating speculation, it led to alienation... I was often at least one step removed from a conversation. I was listening to the words, but at the same time searching for the intention, the motivation, the true meaning of what was being said.

It was maddening. Like a computer caught in an infinite loop, my brain and psyche would thrash upon itself fruitlessly.

I think this went on for several months, and I grew in despair. Some of my friends became worried. But one of them set me free!



"Don, what if people were just saying what they mean, and meaning what they say?"

"What?"

After processing that profundity for a while, I tested it, and he/she was right. (I say he/she because I can't remember who said it to me. Surely a Zen master in disguise. I think her name was Ann.)

Since then I have learned that most people, most of the time simply say what they mean and mean what they say. If I have any doubt, I just ask a simple follow-up question. How liberating!

I have also learned that some people, some of the time, cloak what they mean in what they say. These people are in touch with a depth inside of themselves.

These are the people where "brushing brushing aside the word-strings as if they were cobwebs, tuning his ear to the intention..." is an appropriate response. With these people, deep, meaningful conversation is possible.



One meaning of converse, is to share views by talking. It involves give and take, questions and answers, regarding and being regarded. Like a dance it has beauty and grace.

Conversation of this graceful sort reminds me of another quote from SeptemberMom's blog: "In life as in dance: Grace glides on blistered feet." Alice Abrams, the author of that quote, implies that artistry requires "blistered feet."

The Art of Conversation is no different. Done poorly, it can lead to misunderstanding and pain. Done well, it can lead to friendship, community, insight, and growth.



In conversation, one size does not fit all. Not all who walk, dance.

December Reflections

Recently I began to visit a daily photo blog. DawnTreader, the blogging photographer lives in southern Sweden. (How cool is that?)

Her pictures and post titles often invite fiction or, sometimes, poetry.

Today her picture inspired me to "pen" a brief poem.

DawnTreader's post is entitled: Tuesday Blue: December Reflections. Here is her picture:



Here is my poem:

December Reflections

Everything seems a bit blue
and upside down.

Nothing is clear
but strangely blurred.

Life is such a riddle.

But then...

I discover I'm looking down
instead of up!

I'm not even seeing what's real,
just some doubly reversed image.

No more December distortions!

Coffee capers!

I like to laugh. Sometimes I laugh at myself, and sometimes I laugh at my friends. Lots of times, my friends laugh at me. We seem to take turns.

Three days in the past week we've had rain here in SoCal. We get a lot more sunshine than rain, so we are unaccustomed to the simple things rain brings, like carrying an umbrella.

My morning routine was thrown off this week simply because my hands were a bit more full: an umbrella requires a whole hand!



As I left the house, I had an umbrella in one hand, a lunch pail, soft briefcase, coffee mug, and keys in the other. I have large hands, so I was able to navigate everything to the car. The difficulty came at open-the-car-door time.

I put the mug on the car roof and pried open the driver's rear door. Slipping my lunch pail and briefcase in, I then closed the umbrella, shook it off, tossed it in the back, and slid myself into the driver's seat. My glasses were slightly speckled, but I was otherwise not the worse from the light sprinkles.



I performed a three-point turn-about and started up the block. Several houses down I reached carefully for my coffee cup which was... not in the cup holder. Oops.

Realizing my mistake I slowed the car. The coffee mug was metal, and I expected that it lay in the road in front of my house. Just then I saw a silvery shape pass in front of the windshield, I heard a thump, and I watched coffee splash all over the front hood of my car.



Completing my stop, I jumped out of my car to retrieve my mug and its cover from the roadway. I was greeted by the strong smell of fresh coffee. Looking at my car, I also saw steam rising as the coffee freed itself into the atmosphere.

I shook my head, looked around for traffic, and climbed back into the car, mug in hand. I put the car in reverse and returned to the front of my house. I pulled out the garden hose and rinsed the fresh coffee off of my car. Duh!

Slightly wet, I turned off the hose, returned to my car and completed the journey to work... ooffee-less.



Later in the day, a coworker called me on my cell. My wife answered it, since I'd left it on the kitchen counter, next to my wallet. My coffee caper was not my only morning foible.

Who knew that umbrellas were so disconcerting? Or maybe it's just me.

* * * *

Later in the week as I was recounting my mishap with a co-worker for her amusement, she shared her own coffee caper.

During her morning routine she was putting together lunches, making coffee, and feeding her dogs. Her mother-in-law had passed away earlier in the week, and she was still in a bit of a fog. Duty called, even though part of her was processing the loss.

Whatever upsets our routines, umbrellas or bereavement, mishaps happen. That explains why she noticed, just in time, that instead of filling the coffee filter with coffee, she had filled it with dry dog food. Oops.

* * * *



Sometimes I laugh at myself, and sometimes I laugh at my friends. My bereaved friend found comfort in the laughter, and I was reminded that God must have a sense of humor seeing that we are so funny.

My coworker friend pointed out, "We were made in God's image. Is it so strange to think that we and God should share something so human as a sense of humor?"

I hadn't thought of that. Until then.

Perhaps that explains why, I like to laugh.

Time marches on! And so do we.

I enjoy keeping up with my friends who blog. Chase is one of them.

TS Kuhn, author of Structure of Scientific Revolutions, suggested that scientific communities progress as a unit. (The current Climate-gate saga serves as an example.)

I think blogging communities do the same. We get each other thinking.

Chase recently returned from a year in Taiwan. He's been home about two months. He notes that his experiences seem to have happened a lifetime ago.



As I pondered his post... I waxed poetic:

If Yoda wrote poetry…

Russian nesting dolls are we?
Old me’s contained in new?

Pearls are we?
A grain of earth at core…
building coat after coat of living splendor…
one day at a time?

Travelers are we?
Old journeys wrapped in new?
Early days encased in present?

And what of tomorrow?
Then who will we be?

Answer me that!




* * * * * * * * * *

Via the wonder of the internet, we can build communities that stretch across the globe. How cool is that!

And together... we step forward... and grow.