Those who don't love themselves as they are rarely love life as it is either. Most of us prefer certain of life's experiences and deny or reject others. They remain unaware of the hidden things that may come wrapped in plain, or even ugly paper. In avoiding pain and seeking comfort at all cost we risk being left without intimacy or compassion. In rejecting change or risk we often cheat ourselves of the quest. In denying our suffering we may never know our strength or our greatness, or even that the love we have been given can be trusted.
Beyond comfort lies grace, mystery and adventure. I learned this early in my life, preferring a backpack to a Holiday Inn. In the rigors of extended treks with a short food supply I learned to test my mettle and developed an internal compass that was able to guide me; a moral compass. I learned that my own tendency to avoid the conventional allowed me to expand my consciousness - without the use of drugs. So what then happened?
In my experience, an accumulation of material goods created a shift in focus. I began to trust in the gifts and my ability to acquire them, rather than trust in the Giver. My compass began to point to something other than True North. And I followed along. As I began to drift off course a well intentioned friend asked me a hackneyed question; "If all your friends jumped off a bridge would you follow them?" "I don't know. Is there liquor and women at the bottom?"
What became a practice, the denial of my own beliefs, has been relatively simple to reverse; simple but not easy. It requires the practice and discipline of following my moral compass again. I have had to refocus my attention on what is, rather than what I would have things be. And I have had to re-examine my beliefs on physical and emotional pain.
Unexplained pain may direct my attention to an area of my life I have not acknowledged, something I may be afraid to know about myself or allow me to feel. It is regularly a cord that binds me to my integrity. Until I acknowledge that discomfort and its source I cannot know my own wholeness. What I believe about myself can then hold me hostage.
A wisdom from the Talmud teaches, "We do not see things as they are. We see them as we are." Time to take off the glasses.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Junkyard Wars
A television series of recent years was titled Junk Yard Wars. As I recall, two competing teams would build a device of some kind that had to do something, using only the the things found in a junkyard. I never really paid much attention, obviously. It's short life indicates few others did either.
But the concept now occurs to me that this is how Christ has built His church here on earth. Christ is building His kingdom using all the scrap people He can get His Hands on, so to speak. And he is doing it using my hands; continually fighting to win the prize at the end of the show.
For many years I used the 'hypocrisy of the pious' as my excuse to avoid any relationship with God. But sometime after He chose to save me from myself I began to realize that the entire church here on earth is filled with broken, damaged, discarded and recycled former reprobates like myself. Ok, not all of you fit the reprobate description. But my point remains the same.
While many people desire only the best, the unmarred things in life with which to build their legacy, the unblemished fruit for personal consumption, Christ is quietly gathering a raucous crowd of misfits around Himself. The God of those who have failed, the God of the unsuccessful is filling heaven with the lives of those broken here on earth. In my case, He continues to lift earth's saddest failure up to heaven's glory.
But the concept now occurs to me that this is how Christ has built His church here on earth. Christ is building His kingdom using all the scrap people He can get His Hands on, so to speak. And he is doing it using my hands; continually fighting to win the prize at the end of the show.
For many years I used the 'hypocrisy of the pious' as my excuse to avoid any relationship with God. But sometime after He chose to save me from myself I began to realize that the entire church here on earth is filled with broken, damaged, discarded and recycled former reprobates like myself. Ok, not all of you fit the reprobate description. But my point remains the same.
While many people desire only the best, the unmarred things in life with which to build their legacy, the unblemished fruit for personal consumption, Christ is quietly gathering a raucous crowd of misfits around Himself. The God of those who have failed, the God of the unsuccessful is filling heaven with the lives of those broken here on earth. In my case, He continues to lift earth's saddest failure up to heaven's glory.
On Judgements
Weeks ago I set out to expound on this topic - Judgements - to help me process some insights I had gleaned over the past year. In the process I learned that I am still a judgemental old fool at times, but a bit wiser for this exercise.
We judge others, others judge us, we judge ourselves. It is an everyday exercise in our diminishment of ourselves. Criticism and approval are each a form of judgement, and while approval may not bear the sting of criticism it often carries a subtler form of harm.
So much has been written of criticism and the damage it can do, especially to children, I don't feel compelled to add to it. I will state (a judgement I have made) that I believe we mis-use the word "criticism" and it's original intention. The Latin word from which we derive criticism, criticare, means "to construct." It is a verb, an action that indicates we are hepling to build someone up. As a society we regularly label our negative judgements of others as "constructive criticism," redundant and untrue. My observations (judgement) of critical people indicate the real intention of their judgement is to make themselves feel better by pointing out others' shortcomings.
That said, I am guilty of judging others, and society in general, with that observation. But in making this statement I must question my own motives. Am I trying to elevate myself at the expense of human-kind by pointing out that at east I recognize my judgemental nature?
This can quickly degenerate into an absurd argument; it is close to that now. I do not believe we can be free of judgements, to be merely observers in this world. And why would I want to be? The Buddhist teaching of non-judgement and non-interference, in my judgement, is only half correct. The ideal of non-judgement, merely observing this world and allowing it to pass through me is a great spiritual practice. I have studied DBT (check it out at http://www.dbtselfhelp.com/) for some time and found it to be of immense help. But as for non-interference? Frankly I judge it goes against our very human nature.
How can I sit idly by watching all that is just wrong around me and not attempt to affect some type of change. And yes, I am aware that is a judgement of wrong vs. right. If I know a friend is suffering in active addiction do I take a position of "non-interference?" Maybe you, but love of others compels I reach out and share what was given me. My faith requires I speak the truth in love." (Eph 4:15)
Approval, another type of judgement, is not without it's misuse. Children learn early on to seek the approval of their parents, siblings and friends. It is basic to human nature and an intricate part of the incentive/reward system of early childhood development. We carry that with us through life. We all (my judgement) want to feel that warm sense of satisfaction when others approve of or enjoy what we do or say. The reward of our childhood (praise, candy, coins, etc.) changes as we mature but the need for a reward remains.
That need is what fuels much of what I do; the praise of others. The pain comes in when it is withheld. In my childhood I felt like a sundial. Only the sunny hours were of importance. The withdrawl of approval, regardless of track record, creates an insecurity inside that in my case set up a desire to fill it with whoever or whatever I could.
I even judge myself for having come up with no answers in this exercise. But the questions and realizations I leave it with give me food for thought and areas of my life to work on.
We judge others, others judge us, we judge ourselves. It is an everyday exercise in our diminishment of ourselves. Criticism and approval are each a form of judgement, and while approval may not bear the sting of criticism it often carries a subtler form of harm.
So much has been written of criticism and the damage it can do, especially to children, I don't feel compelled to add to it. I will state (a judgement I have made) that I believe we mis-use the word "criticism" and it's original intention. The Latin word from which we derive criticism, criticare, means "to construct." It is a verb, an action that indicates we are hepling to build someone up. As a society we regularly label our negative judgements of others as "constructive criticism," redundant and untrue. My observations (judgement) of critical people indicate the real intention of their judgement is to make themselves feel better by pointing out others' shortcomings.
That said, I am guilty of judging others, and society in general, with that observation. But in making this statement I must question my own motives. Am I trying to elevate myself at the expense of human-kind by pointing out that at east I recognize my judgemental nature?
This can quickly degenerate into an absurd argument; it is close to that now. I do not believe we can be free of judgements, to be merely observers in this world. And why would I want to be? The Buddhist teaching of non-judgement and non-interference, in my judgement, is only half correct. The ideal of non-judgement, merely observing this world and allowing it to pass through me is a great spiritual practice. I have studied DBT (check it out at http://www.dbtselfhelp.com/) for some time and found it to be of immense help. But as for non-interference? Frankly I judge it goes against our very human nature.
How can I sit idly by watching all that is just wrong around me and not attempt to affect some type of change. And yes, I am aware that is a judgement of wrong vs. right. If I know a friend is suffering in active addiction do I take a position of "non-interference?" Maybe you, but love of others compels I reach out and share what was given me. My faith requires I speak the truth in love." (Eph 4:15)
Approval, another type of judgement, is not without it's misuse. Children learn early on to seek the approval of their parents, siblings and friends. It is basic to human nature and an intricate part of the incentive/reward system of early childhood development. We carry that with us through life. We all (my judgement) want to feel that warm sense of satisfaction when others approve of or enjoy what we do or say. The reward of our childhood (praise, candy, coins, etc.) changes as we mature but the need for a reward remains.
That need is what fuels much of what I do; the praise of others. The pain comes in when it is withheld. In my childhood I felt like a sundial. Only the sunny hours were of importance. The withdrawl of approval, regardless of track record, creates an insecurity inside that in my case set up a desire to fill it with whoever or whatever I could.
I even judge myself for having come up with no answers in this exercise. But the questions and realizations I leave it with give me food for thought and areas of my life to work on.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Jesus Was a Liberal
His comment was upsetting me on at least two fronts. First, Paul doesn't believe in Jesus, thinks Christianity to be outdated and hypocritical, that Jesus teachings are irrelevant in light of science and social mores of today.
Still, my friend had no problem pulling Jesus' name out of a hip pocket during a discussion, as if his statement was some sort of trump card. I had a brief, private conversation with him later and listened to what he knows of Jesus. Some of his understanding is accurate. But it is not enough to determine Jesus' political leanings. I gave him a copy of the gospel of John that I had available. He didn't thank me but he did take it, and I said a silent prayer he would read it.
His attempt to co-opt Christ for a political agenda ceased to bother me as I realized he was partially correct. As I examine what I know of Jesus' life and teachings I can certainly understand someone concluding Jesus was a liberal. But then....
Jesus was most certainly counter-cultural. At a time when the petty criminal by today's standards might have been put to death, Jesus risked His reputation by openly associating with them, welcoming them to a new type of faith, faith based on forgiveness. Sounds pretty liberal to me. His parables developed characters that have influenced modern cinematic themes, yet would have shocked and outraged His audiences.
One such parable concerns a certain son we call the prodigal. Most audiences of today accept the teaching of forgiveness and welcoming the appropriately recalcitrant young man back into the family. After all, who has not gotten sideways with their family once or twice. But in the context of Jesus' day a son who behaved so shabbily toward his father would have been stoned to death under Mosaic law. Ok. That makes the forgiveness all the more touching.
Near the end of the story, however, Jesus' audience would have gasped in disbelief. "But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son..." (Luke 15:20) To Jesus audience that was unthinkable. The patriarch NEVER ran. Period. This goes far beyond liberal forgiveness.
Jesus included women in his ministry at a time when women were mere possessions. In fact, any man of means owned several. By elevating them to positions in His ministry Jesus was making a statement about the value of women. Mary and Martha are referred to repeatedly throughout the gospels, and Jesus loved them. Yet he allowed their brother Lazarus to die, causing Mary and Martha great suffering, to accomplish His purpose. (John 11:9-12:1) I don't think that sounds liberal.
What else can I conclude about Jesus's leanings from His life and teachings? Jesus never mentioned homosexuals, and I think that is telling. I won't condemn if the Son of God doesn't. But He was firmly against divorce. "What God has joined together, let man not separate." (Matt 19:6). Jesus reached across racial borders. The parable of The Good Samaritan teaches charity across racial lines (the Samaritans, while Jews, were despised for their ethnic difference) but stops short of social welfare.
Jesus stopped the stoning of an adulterous woman (under Mosaic law a righteous kill) then commanded her to stop her misbehavior. Jesus regularly spoke out against adultery. This same Man who preached non-violence, liberal pacifism, "If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also." (Matt 5::39) was provoked to anger and, "... he made a whip out of cords, and drove all from the temple area... he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables." (John 2:15) "How dare you turn my Father's house into a market" sounds conservative to me.
To return to my friend Paul's original statement, "Jesus was a liberal," I would also point out that since He rose from the dead the statement is grammatically incorrect. Jesus Is a liberal, I am convinced of that. But He has very conservative values.
Still, my friend had no problem pulling Jesus' name out of a hip pocket during a discussion, as if his statement was some sort of trump card. I had a brief, private conversation with him later and listened to what he knows of Jesus. Some of his understanding is accurate. But it is not enough to determine Jesus' political leanings. I gave him a copy of the gospel of John that I had available. He didn't thank me but he did take it, and I said a silent prayer he would read it.
His attempt to co-opt Christ for a political agenda ceased to bother me as I realized he was partially correct. As I examine what I know of Jesus' life and teachings I can certainly understand someone concluding Jesus was a liberal. But then....
Jesus was most certainly counter-cultural. At a time when the petty criminal by today's standards might have been put to death, Jesus risked His reputation by openly associating with them, welcoming them to a new type of faith, faith based on forgiveness. Sounds pretty liberal to me. His parables developed characters that have influenced modern cinematic themes, yet would have shocked and outraged His audiences.
One such parable concerns a certain son we call the prodigal. Most audiences of today accept the teaching of forgiveness and welcoming the appropriately recalcitrant young man back into the family. After all, who has not gotten sideways with their family once or twice. But in the context of Jesus' day a son who behaved so shabbily toward his father would have been stoned to death under Mosaic law. Ok. That makes the forgiveness all the more touching.
Near the end of the story, however, Jesus' audience would have gasped in disbelief. "But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son..." (Luke 15:20) To Jesus audience that was unthinkable. The patriarch NEVER ran. Period. This goes far beyond liberal forgiveness.
Jesus included women in his ministry at a time when women were mere possessions. In fact, any man of means owned several. By elevating them to positions in His ministry Jesus was making a statement about the value of women. Mary and Martha are referred to repeatedly throughout the gospels, and Jesus loved them. Yet he allowed their brother Lazarus to die, causing Mary and Martha great suffering, to accomplish His purpose. (John 11:9-12:1) I don't think that sounds liberal.
What else can I conclude about Jesus's leanings from His life and teachings? Jesus never mentioned homosexuals, and I think that is telling. I won't condemn if the Son of God doesn't. But He was firmly against divorce. "What God has joined together, let man not separate." (Matt 19:6). Jesus reached across racial borders. The parable of The Good Samaritan teaches charity across racial lines (the Samaritans, while Jews, were despised for their ethnic difference) but stops short of social welfare.
Jesus stopped the stoning of an adulterous woman (under Mosaic law a righteous kill) then commanded her to stop her misbehavior. Jesus regularly spoke out against adultery. This same Man who preached non-violence, liberal pacifism, "If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also." (Matt 5::39) was provoked to anger and, "... he made a whip out of cords, and drove all from the temple area... he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables." (John 2:15) "How dare you turn my Father's house into a market" sounds conservative to me.
To return to my friend Paul's original statement, "Jesus was a liberal," I would also point out that since He rose from the dead the statement is grammatically incorrect. Jesus Is a liberal, I am convinced of that. But He has very conservative values.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Emotional Healing
God did not give man words to conceal his feelings. - Jose Saramago
Some of the most powerful memories I have of my childhood are some of the most damaging. "Men don't cry," or "I'll give you something to cry about," did genuine emotional damage. I am still attempting to rewire the circuitry in my brain. I've spent many hours in therapy and read a large number of books to assist in correcting those thought process errors, and still I have trouble with tears at times. It is difficult to develop the emotional vulnerability required to be so.... human in front of others.
While my father was speaking tongue-in-cheek (at least I hope so) when he said, "There is no such thing as happiness; just lesser degrees of misery," it was said often enough to become a mantra of sorts. For decades I knew little or nothing of happiness while I fully understood that I was just not that miserable.
The process of emotional healing regularly exposes me to new ideas and new people and new theories on healing. A few new thoughts I have come to rely on are, "Don't believe everything you think" (thank you Maureen), "You don't have to have a point to have a point" from an animated feature released in the early '70's I believe, and "Not everything that counts can be counted" - Denis Burkit, M.D.
I am especially grateful for the Burkit quote which I translate as - the things that matter are not always quantifiable. What is the value of a hug? Ask someone who has just lost someone dear to them. What is the value of a twelve-step call? Ask the newly recovering alcoholic. What is the value of a well-timed word?
I was visiting friends in Northern California around the time my divorce became final. Those were days when my emotions were blacker than I could recall before. Distanced from my family, divorced, not much time in sobriety; I felt quite unloved and unlovable.
When it came time to leave, my friend asked his two year old daughter to say goodbye. Instead, she climbed into my arms, put her arms tight around my neck, looked into my face and said, "I want to go home with you." The flash flood that started in my eyes swept through my heart, cleanly slicing it open so the love of a child could fill it to overflow.
What is the value of our words? They are priceless.
Some of the most powerful memories I have of my childhood are some of the most damaging. "Men don't cry," or "I'll give you something to cry about," did genuine emotional damage. I am still attempting to rewire the circuitry in my brain. I've spent many hours in therapy and read a large number of books to assist in correcting those thought process errors, and still I have trouble with tears at times. It is difficult to develop the emotional vulnerability required to be so.... human in front of others.
While my father was speaking tongue-in-cheek (at least I hope so) when he said, "There is no such thing as happiness; just lesser degrees of misery," it was said often enough to become a mantra of sorts. For decades I knew little or nothing of happiness while I fully understood that I was just not that miserable.
The process of emotional healing regularly exposes me to new ideas and new people and new theories on healing. A few new thoughts I have come to rely on are, "Don't believe everything you think" (thank you Maureen), "You don't have to have a point to have a point" from an animated feature released in the early '70's I believe, and "Not everything that counts can be counted" - Denis Burkit, M.D.
I am especially grateful for the Burkit quote which I translate as - the things that matter are not always quantifiable. What is the value of a hug? Ask someone who has just lost someone dear to them. What is the value of a twelve-step call? Ask the newly recovering alcoholic. What is the value of a well-timed word?
I was visiting friends in Northern California around the time my divorce became final. Those were days when my emotions were blacker than I could recall before. Distanced from my family, divorced, not much time in sobriety; I felt quite unloved and unlovable.
When it came time to leave, my friend asked his two year old daughter to say goodbye. Instead, she climbed into my arms, put her arms tight around my neck, looked into my face and said, "I want to go home with you." The flash flood that started in my eyes swept through my heart, cleanly slicing it open so the love of a child could fill it to overflow.
What is the value of our words? They are priceless.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
For David
A New Trail
If you are seeking creative ideas, go out walking. Angels whisper to a man when he goes out for a walk. - Raymond Inman
I've not hiked this trail before. An overcast mid-August, mid-afternoon start at sea level begins in a cypress grove that quickly gives way to chaparral. Snowy white butterflies abound, their presence a lift to my spirit. The trail is surprisingly lined with wildflowers. It is late in the season for this display of whites, blushes, pinks, purples and golds, in a myriad of shapes and combinations. Black and yellow lumbering, bumbling bees service the beauty; their collective individual hums combining to the level of symphony with the nearby brook.
In waist-high chaparral a pair of doe raise their heads to eye me cautiously. I've never noticed before how their ears rotate as if on an axis, ever alert to sounds of danger while their eyes remain fixed. At about thirty feet distant they bound off. Birds of a type I have frequently seen before dart in and out of seed bearing shrubs.
Strolling up the gentle grade, sages and laurels are suddenly replaced by towering giants with burled bases. The carpet of sorrel spreads verdant before me. Lizards, ever present on the trail, scamper ahead, pausing to observe the threat I do not pose before darting into cover. The muted crunch of ground granite morphs into a delicate, powdery swish with my paces. The dense shade provided by the sky scraping redwoods cools and quiets everything, the delicate rustle overhead barely audible over the soothing watercourse I am following.
Bracken's, Chain and Sword ferns line my path, and a magenta berry I do not recognize. Several rustic footbridges take turns crossing the stream - I must learn its name - and I am buoyed deeper into this paradise. Far overhead blue sky is beating back the gray; I am moving inland and upland.
I follow the log across the stream again and as though stepping through a door I am outside the redwood grove. The trail climbs in earnest, now up steps of hewn and cut lumber; ancient steps often without earth contact, undercut by erosion, held suspended by steel rods.
Sage and laurel, warmed under clearing skies and stirred by the breeze assault my senses so thickly as to be palpable, mixed with the gritty taste of granite and dust. Climbing directly away from the riparian environs I am soon afforded a clear view to the west. The Pacific, still steely under clouds, is true to her name - peaceful.
Beginning to perspire with exertion I am grateful for the ocean breeze. The warming sun and cooling breeze are a kaleidoscope of sensations. This climb might be unbearable without that air.
Many, many steps pass before I look back again. I've not surrendered as much as a vertical inch in fourteen hundred feet or more. At one seeming crest the grade merely lessens, from precarious to heart stopping, and I must take rest at trail side. A squadron of vultures, great black wings and smaller red heads play follow-the-leader in seeking the thermal lift they need, passing mere feet from my seat.
A pair of young nurses are talking shop as they near my rock perch. My greeting to them is a chastisement: "Have you hiked all this way and found only work to discuss?" The male laughs and thanks me for the reality check. His partner mouths a silent, "Thank you." I think that's what she said.
Following a ridge upward to the next wall, well it was really steep, the stiffening breeze at my back is cooling and urging me on. Wooden steps had ceased to exist a number of rests ago. Their scattered remnants speak of a trail in disrepair. The path is often ambiguous, fanning into a mosaic of grasses and dirt and coming back together, repeatedly. As I cross a saddle at intersecting ridges the trail is worn into a gully by foot traffic and runoff so deep and sheer edged as to look cut into the decomposed granite by a backhoe.
Knowing full well that the trail will run out of up, more sooner than later, I press on toward the promise of the summit - a breathtaking view of the Big Sur coast northward. Nearing the top a rock cairn entices me; stop, rest, breathe, sip, write.
By now I know the summit will not bring the promised view. As I near, the fog is cascading over the peak and ridge before me and threatening to obscure the reason for this trek. But this day has not at all been a waste of time. Through all the wondrous sights, sounds, smells, tastes and textures of the day I have been praising the God who made me for His creations, and my having the ability to enjoy and record them.
What is the sound of the wind? The rustle of the leaves overhead, on a micro level is the physical interaction of entities, of beings in contact with others. God reveals His plan in odd ways at times. He designed us to live in relationship with each other and with Him. Today He is that wind, stirring my interaction with those around me; moving the branch I am attached to into proximity with others, individual interactions creating a rustling in my being.
I learned this morning of the passing of a friend, another soul called home earlier than I was ready to face. David, the rustle you created has been stilled. I am sad I was not there to see your leaf twirl to earth, to catch it and lay it gently to rest. You were a great comfort to me through the worst of my fears about the cancer that we shared. And I miss you dearly. I am jealous, too. You now know God's peace and I still seek it.
If you are seeking creative ideas, go out walking. Angels whisper to a man when he goes out for a walk. - Raymond Inman
I've not hiked this trail before. An overcast mid-August, mid-afternoon start at sea level begins in a cypress grove that quickly gives way to chaparral. Snowy white butterflies abound, their presence a lift to my spirit. The trail is surprisingly lined with wildflowers. It is late in the season for this display of whites, blushes, pinks, purples and golds, in a myriad of shapes and combinations. Black and yellow lumbering, bumbling bees service the beauty; their collective individual hums combining to the level of symphony with the nearby brook.
In waist-high chaparral a pair of doe raise their heads to eye me cautiously. I've never noticed before how their ears rotate as if on an axis, ever alert to sounds of danger while their eyes remain fixed. At about thirty feet distant they bound off. Birds of a type I have frequently seen before dart in and out of seed bearing shrubs.
Strolling up the gentle grade, sages and laurels are suddenly replaced by towering giants with burled bases. The carpet of sorrel spreads verdant before me. Lizards, ever present on the trail, scamper ahead, pausing to observe the threat I do not pose before darting into cover. The muted crunch of ground granite morphs into a delicate, powdery swish with my paces. The dense shade provided by the sky scraping redwoods cools and quiets everything, the delicate rustle overhead barely audible over the soothing watercourse I am following.
Bracken's, Chain and Sword ferns line my path, and a magenta berry I do not recognize. Several rustic footbridges take turns crossing the stream - I must learn its name - and I am buoyed deeper into this paradise. Far overhead blue sky is beating back the gray; I am moving inland and upland.
I follow the log across the stream again and as though stepping through a door I am outside the redwood grove. The trail climbs in earnest, now up steps of hewn and cut lumber; ancient steps often without earth contact, undercut by erosion, held suspended by steel rods.
Sage and laurel, warmed under clearing skies and stirred by the breeze assault my senses so thickly as to be palpable, mixed with the gritty taste of granite and dust. Climbing directly away from the riparian environs I am soon afforded a clear view to the west. The Pacific, still steely under clouds, is true to her name - peaceful.
Beginning to perspire with exertion I am grateful for the ocean breeze. The warming sun and cooling breeze are a kaleidoscope of sensations. This climb might be unbearable without that air.
Many, many steps pass before I look back again. I've not surrendered as much as a vertical inch in fourteen hundred feet or more. At one seeming crest the grade merely lessens, from precarious to heart stopping, and I must take rest at trail side. A squadron of vultures, great black wings and smaller red heads play follow-the-leader in seeking the thermal lift they need, passing mere feet from my seat.
A pair of young nurses are talking shop as they near my rock perch. My greeting to them is a chastisement: "Have you hiked all this way and found only work to discuss?" The male laughs and thanks me for the reality check. His partner mouths a silent, "Thank you." I think that's what she said.
Following a ridge upward to the next wall, well it was really steep, the stiffening breeze at my back is cooling and urging me on. Wooden steps had ceased to exist a number of rests ago. Their scattered remnants speak of a trail in disrepair. The path is often ambiguous, fanning into a mosaic of grasses and dirt and coming back together, repeatedly. As I cross a saddle at intersecting ridges the trail is worn into a gully by foot traffic and runoff so deep and sheer edged as to look cut into the decomposed granite by a backhoe.
Knowing full well that the trail will run out of up, more sooner than later, I press on toward the promise of the summit - a breathtaking view of the Big Sur coast northward. Nearing the top a rock cairn entices me; stop, rest, breathe, sip, write.
By now I know the summit will not bring the promised view. As I near, the fog is cascading over the peak and ridge before me and threatening to obscure the reason for this trek. But this day has not at all been a waste of time. Through all the wondrous sights, sounds, smells, tastes and textures of the day I have been praising the God who made me for His creations, and my having the ability to enjoy and record them.
What is the sound of the wind? The rustle of the leaves overhead, on a micro level is the physical interaction of entities, of beings in contact with others. God reveals His plan in odd ways at times. He designed us to live in relationship with each other and with Him. Today He is that wind, stirring my interaction with those around me; moving the branch I am attached to into proximity with others, individual interactions creating a rustling in my being.
I learned this morning of the passing of a friend, another soul called home earlier than I was ready to face. David, the rustle you created has been stilled. I am sad I was not there to see your leaf twirl to earth, to catch it and lay it gently to rest. You were a great comfort to me through the worst of my fears about the cancer that we shared. And I miss you dearly. I am jealous, too. You now know God's peace and I still seek it.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Abandonment
I have been obsessed with the idea of living a normal life. That life, for most of mine, has been defined by what I call the "White Picket Dream"; a nine to five job, Monday through Friday, maybe a bit of time and a half on Saturday, going to church on Sunday morning, and a barbecue in the afternoon. There are lawns to mow, faucets in need of repair, some flowers to plant and a garage that constantly needs to be reorganized and swept.
A wife who loves me, my wife, greets me with a kiss at the end of the day. We cook dinner together, talking of our day. Dishes get done, hopes and dreams are shared; tomorrow begins with setting up the morning's coffee before slipping under the covers... and drifting off to dream of how wonderful my life truly is. It's a fairy tale existence, idyllic and much romanticized, and it never really happened that way for any length of time.
Reality intrudes loudly on that vision of normal life. The money doesn't quite go far enough to pay the bills, cover all the needs, and provide for a few wants; and differing opinions of wants versus needs create discord. The dog tears out some of the flowers and gophers get the rest. Dinner get burned because of a disagreement over how to handle the children's behavior and the need for medical equipment disrupts the the bedtime routine. A surrealistic reality supplants the dream.
In forsaking my white picket dream I find freedom. These past years of struggle and loss have taught me that life is what was going on while I was seeking what I wanted. I missed out on some really god things, lost many others and threw the rest away.
That dream of hearth and home still exists, however. It is tempered now by an acceptance of the reality, truth. By abandoning the safe comfort of certainties in favor of truth I am rewarded by more realistic dreams. Relationships with friends and family are rooted in the things that matter to each of us. By abandoning my selfish desires in favor of being 'others focused' I am also able to more quickly spot the people who cling to selfish desires, pray for them and move to windward, often the harder path.
By embracing my struggles I have been set free of worry about cause, effect and direction this life takes me. I often hear in meetings that we must live life on life's terms. I disagree. I need to live life on God's terms. I am certain to write more on that later.
A wife who loves me, my wife, greets me with a kiss at the end of the day. We cook dinner together, talking of our day. Dishes get done, hopes and dreams are shared; tomorrow begins with setting up the morning's coffee before slipping under the covers... and drifting off to dream of how wonderful my life truly is. It's a fairy tale existence, idyllic and much romanticized, and it never really happened that way for any length of time.
Reality intrudes loudly on that vision of normal life. The money doesn't quite go far enough to pay the bills, cover all the needs, and provide for a few wants; and differing opinions of wants versus needs create discord. The dog tears out some of the flowers and gophers get the rest. Dinner get burned because of a disagreement over how to handle the children's behavior and the need for medical equipment disrupts the the bedtime routine. A surrealistic reality supplants the dream.
In forsaking my white picket dream I find freedom. These past years of struggle and loss have taught me that life is what was going on while I was seeking what I wanted. I missed out on some really god things, lost many others and threw the rest away.
That dream of hearth and home still exists, however. It is tempered now by an acceptance of the reality, truth. By abandoning the safe comfort of certainties in favor of truth I am rewarded by more realistic dreams. Relationships with friends and family are rooted in the things that matter to each of us. By abandoning my selfish desires in favor of being 'others focused' I am also able to more quickly spot the people who cling to selfish desires, pray for them and move to windward, often the harder path.
By embracing my struggles I have been set free of worry about cause, effect and direction this life takes me. I often hear in meetings that we must live life on life's terms. I disagree. I need to live life on God's terms. I am certain to write more on that later.
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