Rawan, over on her picture blog (365), posted a picture with this caption: "Spent most of my day in bed feeling iffy. Days like these, I hate being a girl."
Back in grade school, comments like this would have gone over my head. (As they should at that age.) However, with two older sisters, I remember once glancing in my sister's room and seeing her curled up on her bed in obvious pain. I was grieved at her discomfort.
I asked my all-wise mom about it, and she "explained" to me something about "cramps."
I must not have gotten a very clear picture of the ailment, because my reply to my mom was, "Well, I hope I never get that."
I never did, but Rawan does. And I feel bad for her. I can understand her comment, "Days like these, I hate being a girl."
I had a friend 15 years later who was still a bit fuzzy about girls and women. Here's what he did...
Attending a weekly church prayer meeting, grins and quizzical looks were exchanged after my friend inserted this in a lengthy prayer, "And o Lord, please help the sisters as they encounter the mysteries of womanhood."
What?
One of the dangers of opening your mouth is that you sometimes put your foot in it, or at least provide an unplanned rift of laughter at your goofiness. (Even in a prayer meeting.) We all chuckled at the prayer... but my condolences to Rawan and company as they encounter and deal with the many "mysteries of womanhood." (We never quite figured out what he meant. I guess that's why they are mysteries.)
I am so glad that my public education included a junior high class called "Family Life and Sex Education." The class did a much better job of illuminating my unschooled brain than my mother did. It at least explained some of the gender-related mysteries of anatomy and physiology.
You can catch follow Rawan on her blog: Rawan's Random Thoughts
Happy Sunday!
Here's a video that gives a great slant on improving the world (through one of the mysteries of womanhood?)
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
I've been burned!
January 14th, 2010 would have, could have been my 32nd wedding anniversary. But it wasn't.
Part of the traditional wedding vows I recited back in 1978 included these words: "...until God by death shall separate you."
Yesterday, while running some errands, I stopped by the graveyard to pay an anniversary visit to Patti's grave. On the gravestone are two names, separated by a line: Her name and mine. "Til death do us part..."
Fourteen years after her death, there is still love, warmth, and fondness, but there are no new memories. Death put a stop to that.
Besides the names on the gravestone, there are a pair of roses, one on each side. There is also a quote from Hebrews 11:13 -- "These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth."
As I stood, I talked, I prayed, I sang, and I also pondered... What do I feel?
I've used the word heartbroken before, but this time, I found another label: I felt burned. God had burned me. "Til God by death shall separate you..."
Another verse came to mind... "That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire..."
And, "Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you..."
Part of life involves being burned. Whether you aspire to be a man or woman of faith or not, fiery trials come. (Sometimes, instead of heartbreak, we get deliverance. But other times, bad things happen.)
These bad things try our faith in God. "In God we trust" is no longer an absolute, it becomes a question. Will I trust God?
On the cross, as he was expiring, Jesus said, "Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit." As he was being burned, by family, friends, townsfolk, countrymen, and foreigners, he choose to believe. Even as he was being "burned" by God.
Pioneers blaze a trail, so that others may follow. "...fixing our attention on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of the faith, who, in view of the joy set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."
Fiery trials aren't meant to consume, they're meant to refine. What makes the difference? Faith in Another.
"That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth..." These is something more precious than gold: a proven faith.
Another pioneer of faith named the Apostle Paul came to a conclusion about fiery trials: "For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
A line etched in stone, symbolizes a separation, a loss, a burning. But what goes on?
As I stood at Patti's grave, I was reminded of a question that has echoed in my mind before, "Is it enough that I am your Friend?"
"...because God has said, 'Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.'"
"What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?"
Life burns. Sometimes the burnings are small and repeated. Sometimes they seem to be a maelstrom. But in the worst of times, the challenge is to look to Another. "...fixing our attention on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of the faith..."
And what have I discovered in my refining moments? I was never alone.
Just like in days of old when King Nebuchadnezzar threw Daniel's three companions into a real fiery furnace, something amazing happens.
The king "...leaped to his feet in amazement and asked his advisers, 'Weren't there three men that we tied up and threw into the fire?'
They replied, 'Certainly, O king.'
He said, 'Look! I see four men walking around in the fire, unbound and unharmed, and the fourth looks like a son of the gods.'"
No, never alone. Not even in the fire.
When Job was being "burned" by awful circumstances, he made this determination: "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him..."
Will you?
"These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth."
And I left the cemetery with new insights.
Later, that evening, as I was watching TV, a scene included a song, by John Bunyun, a man "burned" in his own time...
Strangely appropriate:
He Who Would Valiant Be
He who would valiant be
'Gainst all disaster
Let him in constancy
Follow the Master
There's no discouragement
Shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent
To be a pilgrim
Who so beset him round
With dismal stories
Do but themselves confound
His strength the more is
No foes shall stay his might
Though he with giants fight
He will make good his right
To be a pilgrim
Since, Lord, Thou dost defend
Us with Thy Spirit
We know we at the end
Shall life inherit
Then fancies flee away!
I'll fear not what men say
I'll labour night and day
To be a pilgrim
Part of the traditional wedding vows I recited back in 1978 included these words: "...until God by death shall separate you."
Yesterday, while running some errands, I stopped by the graveyard to pay an anniversary visit to Patti's grave. On the gravestone are two names, separated by a line: Her name and mine. "Til death do us part..."
Fourteen years after her death, there is still love, warmth, and fondness, but there are no new memories. Death put a stop to that.
Besides the names on the gravestone, there are a pair of roses, one on each side. There is also a quote from Hebrews 11:13 -- "These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth."
As I stood, I talked, I prayed, I sang, and I also pondered... What do I feel?
I've used the word heartbroken before, but this time, I found another label: I felt burned. God had burned me. "Til God by death shall separate you..."
Another verse came to mind... "That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire..."
And, "Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you..."
Part of life involves being burned. Whether you aspire to be a man or woman of faith or not, fiery trials come. (Sometimes, instead of heartbreak, we get deliverance. But other times, bad things happen.)
These bad things try our faith in God. "In God we trust" is no longer an absolute, it becomes a question. Will I trust God?
On the cross, as he was expiring, Jesus said, "Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit." As he was being burned, by family, friends, townsfolk, countrymen, and foreigners, he choose to believe. Even as he was being "burned" by God.
Pioneers blaze a trail, so that others may follow. "...fixing our attention on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of the faith, who, in view of the joy set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."
Fiery trials aren't meant to consume, they're meant to refine. What makes the difference? Faith in Another.
"That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth..." These is something more precious than gold: a proven faith.
Another pioneer of faith named the Apostle Paul came to a conclusion about fiery trials: "For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
A line etched in stone, symbolizes a separation, a loss, a burning. But what goes on?
As I stood at Patti's grave, I was reminded of a question that has echoed in my mind before, "Is it enough that I am your Friend?"
"...because God has said, 'Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.'"
"What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?"
Life burns. Sometimes the burnings are small and repeated. Sometimes they seem to be a maelstrom. But in the worst of times, the challenge is to look to Another. "...fixing our attention on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of the faith..."
And what have I discovered in my refining moments? I was never alone.
Just like in days of old when King Nebuchadnezzar threw Daniel's three companions into a real fiery furnace, something amazing happens.
The king "...leaped to his feet in amazement and asked his advisers, 'Weren't there three men that we tied up and threw into the fire?'
They replied, 'Certainly, O king.'
He said, 'Look! I see four men walking around in the fire, unbound and unharmed, and the fourth looks like a son of the gods.'"
No, never alone. Not even in the fire.
When Job was being "burned" by awful circumstances, he made this determination: "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him..."
Will you?
"These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth."
And I left the cemetery with new insights.
Later, that evening, as I was watching TV, a scene included a song, by John Bunyun, a man "burned" in his own time...
Strangely appropriate:
He Who Would Valiant Be
He who would valiant be
'Gainst all disaster
Let him in constancy
Follow the Master
There's no discouragement
Shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent
To be a pilgrim
Who so beset him round
With dismal stories
Do but themselves confound
His strength the more is
No foes shall stay his might
Though he with giants fight
He will make good his right
To be a pilgrim
Since, Lord, Thou dost defend
Us with Thy Spirit
We know we at the end
Shall life inherit
Then fancies flee away!
I'll fear not what men say
I'll labour night and day
To be a pilgrim
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Get 'er done! (or not)
Saphron, a fellow blogger, recently solved a few household maintenance problems. Her problems weren't huge, but they were still intimidating.
Life is full of problems. Have you noticed?
It's not always the size of the problem that halts us. Often it's just not knowing where to start.
I've been studying Creative Problem Solving for three decades. (I'm not old... I've just been young for a long time.)
Teaching at an elementary school for the last two years, I've learned to distill my 30 years of experience down to a simple six step process for Creative Problem Solving. I call the process: Get 'er done.
"Get 'er done" is a catch-phrase made popular by Larry the Cable Guy. So much of the time we just complain about our problems instead of fixing them. Larry tells us what we need to do: Get 'er done!
But how?
Here are some simple steps that even fourth grade students learn to use... even when I'm not around:
1) What kind of a problem is it? (Read the directions if available.)
2) Do I have a strategy? (Create a plan. Look in your bag of tricks.)
3) What's my first step? (Get going. A rudder only works when the ship is moving.)
4) What's my next step? (Once you start, things become clear: one step at a time. Pretty soon, you've solved the problem.)
5) Check your answer! (Did my solution work? Find a way to check your answer.)
6) Happy Dance! (The performing arts taught me this. Celebrate the victory!)
This process works for math, household projects, relationships, child-training, etc.
Saphron learned to use a screwdriver! Lately I've been learning to use trust.
Problems got you stymied? Maybe you just need to "Get 'er done!"
This summer I re-learned how to wax my cars. I hadn't done it for 15 years or so. They've made it a lot easier. So today, before I settle in for some serious football-on-the-TV time, I'm going to wash and wax a car. I know what kind of a problem it is... I have a strategy... It's time to move on... to Step One. (See before and after pics...)
Have a great week!
Life is full of problems. Have you noticed?
It's not always the size of the problem that halts us. Often it's just not knowing where to start.
I've been studying Creative Problem Solving for three decades. (I'm not old... I've just been young for a long time.)
Teaching at an elementary school for the last two years, I've learned to distill my 30 years of experience down to a simple six step process for Creative Problem Solving. I call the process: Get 'er done.
"Get 'er done" is a catch-phrase made popular by Larry the Cable Guy. So much of the time we just complain about our problems instead of fixing them. Larry tells us what we need to do: Get 'er done!
But how?
Here are some simple steps that even fourth grade students learn to use... even when I'm not around:
1) What kind of a problem is it? (Read the directions if available.)
2) Do I have a strategy? (Create a plan. Look in your bag of tricks.)
3) What's my first step? (Get going. A rudder only works when the ship is moving.)
4) What's my next step? (Once you start, things become clear: one step at a time. Pretty soon, you've solved the problem.)
5) Check your answer! (Did my solution work? Find a way to check your answer.)
6) Happy Dance! (The performing arts taught me this. Celebrate the victory!)
This process works for math, household projects, relationships, child-training, etc.
Saphron learned to use a screwdriver! Lately I've been learning to use trust.
Problems got you stymied? Maybe you just need to "Get 'er done!"
This summer I re-learned how to wax my cars. I hadn't done it for 15 years or so. They've made it a lot easier. So today, before I settle in for some serious football-on-the-TV time, I'm going to wash and wax a car. I know what kind of a problem it is... I have a strategy... It's time to move on... to Step One. (See before and after pics...)
Have a great week!
Sunday, January 3, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
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. ;-)
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. ;-)
Saturday, December 26, 2009
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.)
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.)
Monday, December 21, 2009
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
