Helping by staying out of the way (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

It has been a long time since I have written a formally acknowledged Sacred Life Sunday post.

This morning, I reached a tipping point which inspired this.

The world is a big mess. All those folks on the other side of the political chasm are jerks and worse. We are ruining the planet with uncaring and irresponsible actions, best illustrated lately in the Gulf of Mexico. Needless killing continues all over the globe, and we in the United States are providing both cannon fire, and cannon fodder.

What can I possibly do about it all?

My own path to peace--a path so short I can traverse it even as I type, and the keyboard will never be out of reach--is my way of helping.

Becoming a beacon, a human Klieg light intensely lighting the way from where I am to where I am peace, is my own salvation from despair. It is far more than that, though.

By making that journey of a single breath and shining my light, I grant others implicit permission to do the same in their lives, lighting their own lamps.

The very lighting of the lamps provides just what is needed to heal the wounds we have inflicted on each other and on Mother Earth.

The level at which all of the perceived troubles of our existence will be solved is the level we reach when we pause, accept our divinity, and create ourselves as peace, as Love, as accepting beings who know all is well.

The beauty of it is that no knowledge of deep-water drilling or insurgent engagement or dietary requirements for the starving is required.

We help by getting out of the way. It is by allowing all that is, to be, that we come to the aid of our fellow beings. Stepping away from the anguish allows infinite compassion. Radiating Love allows endless capacity for healing.

Breathe.

Relax.

Allow.

Enjoy.

In gratefulness, I remain your good and faithful servant in the Great Game we call life. See you next time around the game board.

Life, explained (2)

(if you just stumbled upon this post and have not read the first half of the topic, please read it first--it was published on March 7th and is the post immediately preceding this one chronologically)

Because we have these big organs inside our heads which provide a high-bandwidth flow of information about where we are and what our surroundings indicate, we can choose. That's my motivation in writing today, to remind anyone stopping by that we can choose. For anyone stuck in a feedback loop which is saying to them, over and over, that they are no good and will never acquire the stuff which will make them happy, here is an alternative song to stick in your head in place of that one.

We are infinite beings experiencing life as organisms on a spinning ball of dirt and water. Nothing is beyond our reach, yet we have chosen deliberately to focus on the experiences on this little ball, wearing these silly flesh-and-blood suits which hide our real and glorious selves. So, that was choice number one, a choice we made early enough that most of us cannot recall it: we chose to limit ourselves to what we can do while wearing Earth suits.

Choice number two was to allow ourselves to become so engrossed in the game that we completely forgot who we are. It adds to the intensity of the game, having made this choice, but after awhile, it also adds to the frustration level and can breed dissatisfaction.

This brings us to choice number three. We can choose to remember that we chose to be here and chose our limitations. As with any choice, there are outcomes we would prefer and outcomes we would not. My own preference is to know that life is a game not so that I can opt out, but so that I can enjoy it more. My own simple melody which repeats in my head and which I can hear if I slow down and become quiet is one of Love.

The thing is, Love is all there really is. Why we are able to avoid knowing this all the time, first thought in the morning and last one before sleeping, is inexplicable and crazy. I don't try to explain how we can avoid Love. I embrace it and allow the mystery to remain.

We come from Love. We live in a universe created from Love and pulsing Love and accepting Love.

Okay. Time for one last review.

Life is a game. Happiness is an innate part of us and of the game, and yet we can turn from it. It is possible to spot this turning away, and choose to turn back toward who we really are and enjoy the game even more. Love is the name of the path that we walk as we play the game. Love is the name of the breath we take. Love is the source, the flow, and the destination.

Can you come out and play?

Life, explained (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

Life. It's a game, isn't it? Or, to be a bit more specific, it's a game which involves folks who know they are playing a game, and folks who don't.

This sets up all manner of difficulty. Those who take life with deadly seriousness are not easy to get along with if you are one who knows we are here to have fun.

It's even a bit more complicated than that because even if you are one who recognizes the fun which life is meant to entail, you will forget from time to time. Those difficulties I mentioned? They take roost inside you when you forget. You have internal struggles between what you know to be true and what you think once you forget what you know.

When you are having those internal struggles, you will draw to you more of those folks who find life a terrible fight which must be won, and won by defeating others or defeating crises or...well, life.

Interestingly, in those quieter moments when you are fully present with your knowing, when you realize who you are, at least in the sense of knowing you have a place where you fit in this universe, you will discover more people around you who are also aware and at peace.

It's a clue, and a consistently solid one: what we see is a reflection of what we are feeling. So, if you are particularly frustrated by coworkers or fellow drivers on your commute or the long lines at the store, you are likely to see that frustration in the eyes of those around you. You are going to see traffic moving in fits and starts and those lines move even more slowly than you thought possible.

Let's recap.

In this life, being happy is facilitated by knowing that this is the Happiness Game. We draw to us people who feel similar feelings to what we are feeling and experiences which reinforce how we are feeling.

For many, I have just introduced another potential miscommunication spot. Happiness as I speak of it has nothing at all to do with stuff or prestige. Sure, stuff can be fun and prestige may get one a table when the restaurant is seemingly full, but neither are at the core of this.

Happiness is more about contentment, having a predisposition toward smiling and laughing, acknowledging the beauty and miraculousness of all that is, just as it is.

Another key attribute of our game: we don't play to win. We play for the sheer enjoyment that playing offers. For an elegantly simple explanation, read Finite and Infinite Games by James Carse.

Let's pause here for a day. I'll post the remaining portion of this tomorrow morning.

Partners in Health (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

I have written before about Dr Paul Farmer, the marvelously single-minded man who began his mission of bringing effective health care to the poorest places in the world back in the 1980's while still in medical school. The Central Plateau of Haiti was where he began his work.

Zanmi Lasante, the Haitian sister to the parent organization which Farmer founded more than 20 years ago, was the single-largest group of first responders after the earthquake hit on January 12th. They now have 20 operating rooms up and running to serve the people injured in the quake. It is Partners in Health/Zanmi Lasante to which the government of Haiti turned when the crisis hit. They are running the main hospital in Port-au-Prince, portions of which proved to be safe to utilize even after the massive damage caused by the earthquake.

The operating principal for Partners in Health has been, from the beginning, to help communities in such heart-wrenchingly poor places as Haiti by recruiting people from the local populace to take the reins. Greater than 90 percent of the medical professionals--more than 120 doctors and over 500 nurses--who work for Zanmi Lasante are Haitian.

The ongoing work in Haiti will last for years. Please keep this in mind as you decide your charitable giving over the months and years ahead.

Yes, the Red Cross and other such huge relief organizations will prove vital to the recovery of the people of Haiti, but the folks who live and work there, the people who have been providing for their own friends and relatives for more than 20 years, the doctors and nurses who are, themselves, Haitian, are the people of Zanmi Lasante. It is Partners in Health who will still be there five years from now when this disaster is but a fading memory in the minds of most of us.

Give now. Give as generously as you can. And, make a note on your calendar to give again in three months, six months, a year from now.

Give to Partners in Health and Zanmi Lasante.

A sacred day (My Sacred Life, Sunday, special Friday edition)

I have a pretty substantial family here in Denver, and yet I have managed to come upon this morning, this Christmas morning, with the clear intention of being by myself (apologies to the two four-leggers who will be with me) all day.

30 years ago, I spent a Christmas by myself. I was in my room in the barracks where enlisted folks in my squadron lived at Ramstein Air Base, located in southwestern Germany. Please understand that I had plenty of invitations from my fellows, the Air Force people whose families were with them who offered to share their day with me. For reasons I still cannot articulate with any clarity, that wasn't what felt right.

What felt right that day, and what feels right today, is to be by myself and experience what the holiday offers me when there is no other influence except me and my Spirit.

I remember that day, Christmas of 1979, very well. While I was fine most of the day, I did spend a few minutes in tears as I lamented the lost celebration with my family. In those days, my guitar was central to my sense of well-being, and I played a lot that day. The building was totally vacant, so I could play as loudly as I wanted without concern for bothering anyone.

Today, I may break out Ophelia, my guitar, for the first time in a very long while. Her patience is beyond compare, and I know my touch would be awkward at first. We'll see how it goes.

December, and the Ice Man (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

My wonderfully expressive wife and I had a discussion yesterday about the fact that Mother Nature has learned to read a calendar.

We both noted how, as November ebbed, we saw daytime temperatures in the 60's--I'm sure there were Denver-area golfers taking advantage on Thanksgiving Day if they could sell the idea to their families--and some plants beginning to think their long nap was already over. Then, right on the button which was the first day of December, Denver was thrust into mid-winter conditions and temperatures.

Of course, anecdotal evidence relying solely on human memory of weather conditions from one year to the next is notoriously suspect. That's the nice way of putting it.

[Geek alert: if you are made sleepy by discussion of numbers as if they were both interesting and enlightening, exit now. No further warning will be provided. Do not operate heavy machinery while under the influence of such discussions]

The National Weather Service tells me that November this year was about five degrees above average in our daily high temps and a good bit below average as far as precipitation goes. I would have bet that we had at least average snowfall, and probably above average, and I would have lost that bet. Certainly, we knew it was warm, although not as warm as last year. On November 18th, 2008, the high in Denver reached 78 degrees F, a gasp-inducing four degrees higher than the previous record for the date. Be still, my heart.

We had two significant snowfalls (almost a foot each time) this year in November, so that skews the memory. A typical November would involve five or six storms, each smaller than our storms this year, but with a precipitation accumulation which was much higher than this year's. Plus, this year's November storms brought snow with a lower moisture content per inch than is typical.

While we are less than a week into December, the numbers so far are telling and in complete agreement with what our sense of it was before looking up the data.

Temperatures are running more than 11 degrees below normal for daily highs, and we have had lows below zero twice already. The temperature numbers are not likely to improve soon since we are expecting cold and snowy weather the next few days. It's almost as if Mother Nature is trying to show off, as she is offering stock-show weather almost a month before it is due. For those of us with long memories, stock-show weather equates to brrrrrrrrrrr.

Denver hosts the National Western Stock Show every January, a more-than-two-week-long, deep dive into what are the real roots of this part of the country. It is an excuse for the national media to think of Denver as a cow town even as Denver recognizes and honors the hard-working folks who come from hundreds of miles away to celebrate and educate all us city-dwellers on what it's like to be a rancher, farmer, or llama wrangler.

To avoid getting too far off topic, I'll tie the stock show to weather remembrances of Januaries past.

In the days of yore, I was working as the night assistant manager of an Arby's restaurant in southeast Denver. As best I can triangulate, it was January of [year redacted] when I closed the store 17 times in a period of three weeks, and 15 times, my car would not start when I tried to depart for home at 3 a.m.

I know, I know...how silly of me not to get the problem fixed. In my view, the problem was that it was way too cold--about 15 below at closing time--and I knew that the problem would take care of itself soon enough. It's the attitude of the person making two bucks an hour (think slightly above minimum wage): either it takes care of itself, or one adapts. I learned to nap effectively inside the store until the manager arrived about 6 a.m. and would help me by jumping my battery.

We had a December-January weather pattern not all that different only a few years back, as the snowfall in late 2006/early 2007 was at near-record levels even as the temperatures were ridiculously low. It translated into a winter unlike any other I can recall in Denver: ruts in the icepack on our streets which lasted into March, and a deeper understanding of the lifestyle of the Minnesotan. It inspired a respect for the people who deal with it every year and an intense desire never to move there.

The bottom line today is, our memories are usually close to the truth, but they are unpredictably inaccurate. As I recall the Donald Rumsfeld lecture on known unknowns versus unknown unknowns, the corollary of unpredictable inaccuracies is one to note and avoid in real life when possible. Don't bet the next mortgage payment on something you swear happened ten years ago.

Opening to a New Dawn (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

Opening to a New Dawn

All that cynicism and world-weariness,

the many layers of grime we accumulate over decades here on Earth,

falls away when we awaken with fresh eyes.

New perspective, sensitivity restored

New, empty vessels ready to experience awe

New vision cleared of old worn-out expectations

Opening our hearts to a new day in a new way

Offers us a rebirth to simply being with rather than interpreting,

Allowing us to see with no filters and no preconceptions

As a child would, just like a baby

We can be awed by the simplest and most-common sight

Because we are seeing it as if brand new

And enjoying it as if for the first time.

It is.

It is the first time we have lived this day.

The Courage to Love (My Sacred Life, Thanksgiving edition)

It is the day we in the USA celebrate, through overconsumption and gluttony, the arrival of yet another holiday season.

Don't get me wrong--I'm not at all opposed to eating really good food, and my wife is marvelously talented at producing it. I'm fully in favor of a day when we pause and give thanks for our blessings. My concern is that we may have wandered a bit from what the intent was when the holiday was created almost 150 years ago.

Sure, there is the feast of the Pilgrims to point to back in 1621, but Thanksgiving did not become an officially recognized holiday until Abe Lincoln made it so in 1863. It was the unstinting efforts of Sarah Josepha Hale, the leading activist/author/poet/editor of her time, which finally bore fruit. The letter you see here convinced the president to back legislation before Congress to formalize the third national holiday the country established. Ms Hale spent two decades working toward this outcome.

It would be interesting to see what she would think of the holiday today, when the big event for many of us is not today, but tomorrow's massive effort by retailers both on the internet and in the malls to grab what they can from the pockets of a populace still greatly shaken by the worst economic climate since the 1930's.

I won't pretend to speak for her.

In my heart, I feel a tremendous burden of sorrow for those who will be giving thanks today without a beloved member of their family who was lost in Iraq or Afghanistan. The horrible fact that we, as Americans, are still unable to make it clear to our leaders that we are tired of a set of wars which were never about our security really hits home today as we get closer to hearing from our president that even more must die. Make no mistake: if we send 30,000 more of our young men and women to that part of the world, there will be more deaths.

In my soul, I know the everlasting evidence for hope and hold that hope as a young one clutches a favorite doll or blanket to her chest. It is all going to be okay because it is all okay right now. I won't be attempting to explain that to anyone who lost a spouse or offspring, brother or sister, and feels that loss in a most-powerful way today. But it is the core of my willingness to keep my head up and put one foot in front of the other, even in the face of the nightmare world we see today.

What hurts the most is that we all know, deep down, the answer to every problem, every war, every disagreement over what to bring for dessert to the extended-family Thanksgiving celebration.

Love.

It is not only the answer, it is the very life inside us all. Love, celebrated and yet not employed. Radiating Love is a built-in capability we all possess. Were we all to start using this tool, to start simply sharing the love inside us with All That Is, all of these seemingly intractable issues would melt faster than a May snow in Denver.

It takes courage, though, to be open and vulnerable. For, you see, that's how you radiate Love. You open your arms wide, throw your head back with eyes closed and a wide smile on your face, and you love for all your worth. Love is not just a concept. It is action, a courageous action taken in the face of all evidence which would scare any sensible person into seeking a safe place to hide.

Love expressed in this way is the big-L Love. It is the life force coming into us, and then broadcast from our souls back to the Universe which offers it to all of us, all the time.

When it feels as if there is not enough Love in the world, it means we are falling down on the job.

Even if it is just for 30 seconds today, please get up from the couch or push back from the table, and radiate Love. We have the power to fix all that is broken, and it is up to us to acknowledge it and get about our business.

Be a warrior for Love and show your courage. It is perfectly alright to be courageous in the privacy of the bathroom or out in your backyard after dark. Do it, though. Radiate Love today.

Creativity: a creature of habit (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

While I have spent a majority of my working life in pursuits not generally thought of as being creative arts, my time, particularly since being laid off 11 months ago, has increasingly been spent in areas which are more-easily associated with creativity.

Today, I'm looking to raise your awareness of what it takes, as a creative person, to end up with something which is a product of that creative energy.

As a writer, I know the single-most important exercise I can perform which will make me better is to write. Again and again. Every day I am able to.

One of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, makes the point repeatedly in her marvelous work on writing, Bird by Bird: you have to write, you have to show up, you have to put words on paper or screen over and over, even if they are lousy collections of words, before you will become proficient at it. By the way, if you aspire to becoming a writer and have not read Bird by Bird, please do. You will find it inspiring and daunting.

Liz Gilbert, whose work Eat, Pray, Love was a phenomenon a couple of years ago, did a talk at TED in February this year which still leaves me in tears even though I have watched it at least ten times. Her central point in her talk is that, if one wishes to be creative and to satisfy the inner drive to express, one must show up and do the work of creating. It need not be a sweating-blood scenario. Rather, as she details in her talk, it can be a joyful and involving adventure...and it can still be hard to keep showing up to get the work done. She paints the picture brilliantly in this talk, and if you are a creative person or someone who simply wants to understand the creative process, please watch her talk. It is an investment of 19 minutes of your life which will return huge energy and inspiration to you. "Have the sheer human love and stubborness to keep showing up." -- Liz Gilbert, closing her talk (in the process of creating this post, I watched Liz's talk again. Yep...tears again).

Brilliant choreographer Twyla Tharp, in her book The Creative Habit: Learn it and Use it for Life, makes the point, too:

"The film Amadeus dramatizes and romanticizes the divine origins of creative genius. Antonio Salieri, representing the talented hack, is cursed to live in the time of Mozart, the gifted and undisciplined genius who writes as though touched by the hand of God… Of course this is hogwash. There are no ‘natural’ geniuses… No-one worked harder than Mozart. By the time he was twenty-eight years old, his hands were deformed because of all the hours he had spent practicing, performing, and gripping a quill pen to compose… As Mozart himself wrote to a friend, 'People err who think my art comes easily to me. I assure you, dear friend, nobody has devoted so much time and thought to composition as I. There is not a famous master whose music I have not industriously studied through many times'."

Reflecting upon what it takes to produce, she writes, "...routine is as much a part of the creative process as the lightning bolt of inspiration, maybe more."

As any of the "overnight successes" in any field will tell you, there were uncounted and mountainous investments they made in their art or their passion before the world discovered them. Paul Potts, he of the amazing viral video from the British talent show which launched his singing career, spent years and came close to financial ruin over and over as he studied and pursued his love. Yes, he was a cell-phone salesman when he went on TV, but he was hardly unschooled.

How about Tiger Woods, arguably the greatest golfer of all time? Is he the most talented, or is he simply a really good athlete who also has worked harder at the game for more years than anyone else? The truth probably lies somewhere between. Certainly, he was tutored from a very young age by his dad, and there is no question that, even today, he works harder on his game than any other professional golfer. Yet, none of that would have come to much without his innate talent. The point is, he has the talent, and he has the drive and the passion to execute. He exhibits the talent in its best light by working to provide it full expression.

So, we come to this: once you have found your passion--and that's a topic for another day, the finding of it--don't fear devoting time to it. In fact, dive in! Become someone who lives to show your love for that passion by pursuing it, by doing it, by practicing it every day. Make it a central part of your life and invest your time and energy.

You will find fulfillment, joy, and a return of the love you pour into your chosen pursuit which far exceeds any measure you can imagine. That's not to say you will necessarily find it to be your life's work or the way you pay your rent, but don't measure your ROI in dollars. Measure it in the enrichment you find in your life. If you are able to make it your means of paying the bills, wonderful! It is certainly my goal to reach that point.

Are you bogged down, perhaps feeling the SOG? (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

In my wanderings this morning, I stumbled upon a friend's list of stuff she planned to learn this year. While I don't pretend to be her BFF, we have known each other long-distance for a good long while, and we sometimes talk about issues in our email messages which actually would not lend themselves all that well to a conversation over lunch in a public place. So, I felt a certain level of comfort in advising her.

She had one thing on her list which was really not something she would be likely to integrate into her life. Were she to devote the necessary energy and focus, she is fully capable, so that's not the issue. It's just that the topic involves something I think may be alien to her nature.

We all have those things in our lives, those tasks or events or people who are part of our experience which teach us, but may not be people/events/tasks we would renew acquaintance with on a weekly basis, given the choice.

I don't know about you, but for me, I ended up with a list which I only discovered recently: my shoulda/oughta/gotta list--that's the SOG which is in the title of this post. It is where I imagine my friend will move her intention to learn that hard thing which is not hers, in my eyes. Here is how that list works.

Something is added to the list because somehow, someway, it has been decided that my journey needs to include checking off doing/meeting/attending. As any well-intended person would do, I add an entry to the list.

There are two ways for items to move off of that list: they can be crossed off because they no longer apply (the event has already passed, the task has become moot, the person has moved to a country with no internet access), or the keeper of the list, me in this case, dies.

Theoretically, there is a third option: it is possible for an item to be checked off as complete, as something which has been done or attended or dealt with. It is also possible for a gravitational singularity to suddenly cause Earth to stop holding me here, freeing me to fly. I consider both possibilities to be similarly improbable.

After discovering the list, I wondered what to do. It is clear that the list doesn't serve me well, nor does it create any sort of advantage or incentive to completion of the items on the list. It, in fact, acts in just the opposite fashion: it creates a weight to carry with me, it slows my progress on the things which I am impassioned to handle, and it provides fertile ground where guilt can sprout and grow.

Now what? I have this list, it is not helping me, and I need a plan. As to the items already on the list, see paragraph above which details the two ways. No more energy need be devoted to those things already resident on the list. I have openly acknowledged that progress is unlikely, so to heck with it. I'm not going to pretend I'm working on them any longer.

Now that I know I own the list and can see it with open eyes, I know I can decide another means of handling the potential new entries which would have been made to this list, were I not now consciously deciding.

My strong preference, one I espouse with every email message I send--my tag line points to two posts I consider to be life-changing for me--is to start right where I am, and to bring all I've got to the moment.

Those concepts apply in this arena very simply: rather than make the list, such entities or events will be handled right now, today, this second. If a task, I will do it. If a difficult conversation with a person, I will have it or schedule it with that person. If an event, I will put it on my calendar in ink, or I will delete any mention of it from my records and move on, knowing I have committed to *not* attending.

That's my plan for ceasing the use of this list, or at least the expansion of it.

Yes, there are entries already noted on the list. Yes, I plan to have the list read at my memorial service. Who knows? I may out-live any remaining items on the list. Yes, the food will be excellent, the music live, and spirits light. That will be an event you want to mark in ink, not miss!

Such it is (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

Such it is

There's a sadness inside of me which brings tears, all unbidden, all needing to be felt.

Without any idea where the sadness comes from, I acknowledge and honor the feelings and cry the tears.

Oddly, the very act of crying, of allowing the sadness, provides some relief.

Is this what it is, why we are here?

Is this the name of the merry-go-round, the definition of the purpose?



Experiencing the answer, and knowing it will never be complete in my head,

I settle for what there is to be, what we are given to understand

And I nod, smile, and get up from my seat in the middle of uncertainty

And step into the next moment.

Finally, there is only the realization that all we have is one more moment, if that.



Is it enough?

It is more than enough.

It's never too late for gratitude (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

It has been a long time since I wrote a post specifically as a Sacred Life, Sunday post.

Today seems like a good time to break the habit of not writing them.

If I were to list all the areas where my life could stand improvement, I could list dozens of items. The question is, where would I be at the end of writing such a list?

Exactly.

Instead, today is a simple gratitude-driven message. Heck...gratitude-driven, gratitude-fueled, gratitude-focused!

It strikes me, this morning, that I am among the most-fortunate folks on the planet. Here's the evidence.

As has been the case for more than eleven years, it begins with my wife, Julia. She is everything to me, and as important as all that she does for me and teaches me is the fact that she needs me. If you want a relationship which lasts, be certain that you need each other. Julia and I are better people for being together. I would wager that she would agree. It's not always a comfortable situation, and that's another important point I wish to make. We grow, just as all God's creatures do, in the face of discomfort, and at least partly because of it. I am blessed beyond measure to know Julia. To be her husband is a miracle.

The four girls, really all young women now, who constitute my offspring are the center of my heart. They will change the world in ways no one can yet imagine. Each of them brings something different in their unique talents, and they all are so passionate about life and love what they do so much. It is honestly hard to remember who I was before I became a dad. It is my honor to be the father of Aubrie, Allison, Wendy-Anne, and Claire.

Because my wife and I just celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary a week ago, I'll include a photo (old style: a scanned image of a real picture you can hold in your hand) here because it is from a magical day when all of my life's blessings were within my reach, all at the same time.
I'm blessed to know Julia's lifelong friends, all of whom came to our wedding. One of them visited us only two weeks ago, her first trip to Denver since our wedding. These are special people, folks one would love to be able to count as friends. I know how lucky I am to know them, and, yes, I count them as friends.

There are several people with whom I am still in contact from my days in the Air Force, now almost 30 years distant. Darryl, Jimmy, Pat: you are gems, and I look forward to continuing to touch base for many years more. We only knew each other for a couple of years at Ramstein, so it is special to still know you today.

I'm happy to say I have seen them all since our days in the service, and I hope to see them again as our various travels bring us into proximity.

For someone as ancient as I am, my health is very good. Sure, it takes me a couple of steps to get all the parts working again if I have been seated for a long time, but I can tolerate such an issue with no problem. Overall, my odds of seeing my kids' kids all grown up are pretty good. I'm grateful to be fully functional at this point in my life.

While I have finally come to accept the fact that I will never dunk a basketball, I can still play golf (note to self: play some golf this year!) and I can probably still bowl, at least a game or two (note to self: bowl!). Both games were central to my life for many years. When I was 12 or so and lived in Texas, I would ride my bike to the golf course (or the bowling lanes) and tote the appropriate sports equipment along with me. If you have never tried riding a bike while carrying either a set of golf clubs or a bowling bag, don't try it now. You are too old. It's a skill best learned when 12.

Finally, I am most grateful to be who I am. Yes, it is a bit of an odd thank-you to offer, but I truly am as happy as I can be to be exactly who I have become, and I'm grateful to have a clear path toward new adventures which will allow me to grow and become someone I like even better.

If all of this sounds too good to be true, you need to sit down and write your own blessings list. You may be amazed to discover how much you have to be grateful for. Feel free to let me know where your list takes you!

That, them, those

I was thinking the other morning about the words of separation, the words which define "the other" in our minds and in our speech patterns.

It is no surprise that we have such words, as it is the single-greatest illusion under which we operate: that there is a real separation between our tribe and all others, our sports-team fans and all others, and, at the most-basic level, between ourselves and all others.

When I am holding something in my hand, it is "this." When you are holding it in your hand, I would call it, "that." This, and that. Here, and there. Mine, yours.

Me and all my peeps? We are "us." All others are "them."

In the current state of severe polarization, where (at least in this country) it seems no longer possible to disagree without going nuclear, the most-powerful word of the sort I am describing is, "those." It is those Republicans, or those White House socialists, or those obstructionists or those people seeking to tax us into oblivion. Those.

My days, when not spent on my job (which, currently, is to find one), are spent now in search of the rays of light in this ridiculously self-created darkness. I'm looking to learn about the people who are seeking to bridge gaps which are delusions in the first place. One would think that, if the gap is not real, it would be easier to eliminate than an actual chasm. In fact, the truth is, it is doubly difficult.

Messing with people's mythic beliefs is dangerous work. Particularly when you challenge those illusions which have no basis in fact, you are on the highway to a smackdown.

For this reason, I have all the more respect for those who disregard the hazard and move forward: folks who create programs to bring small groups of teenagers together from Israel and Palestine; people who seek to build a framework within which Americans of firmly held and opposite political views can have civil discussion to better understand where each comes from; grass-roots efforts to bring homeless people not just off the streets, but into productive roles in our world.

It is a time of great turmoil, a time where chaos reigns more than calm. It is precisely this instability which allows a space within which we can build connection, community, consensus. Of course, the chaotic nature of today lends itself equally well to increased polarization, demonization, separation created from fear alone.

My choice has been to focus on the thin threads of light. I'm holding the center while we build the rest.

Today, in my internally generated world, there are still "those" and probably will be for some time. What I believe, though, is that my "those" is less-firmly held than it was a week, a month, a year ago. I'll keep reeling them in, and they will be part of "us" soon enough. I know that, the sooner I accept them, the sooner they can begin to accept me.

Alternatives (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

I'm still actively seeking to find an opportunity to show up and offer all I have to some company which will not realize how lucky they are right away, but will come to know it soon enough.

For any folks who are joining this conversation for the first time, I have been at work looking for work for some months now. My job is to find a job.

I have learned the great joy of flexibility and adaptability. In fact, given the slim pickins I'm seeing right now, I am actively pursuing training so as to take advantage of my big expanses of available hours and to add some really cool initials after my name.

Colorado, my home for decades, is a state which does better by its unemployed residents than do some states. Because the company I worked for most recently had a large presence in South Carolina, I have come to hear of the horrific treatment that state offers its citizens who have been caught in the economic downturn.

Not surprisingly (it is always true that we are blessed), I am once again counting my blessings and feeling overwhelmingly grateful.

My most-recent adventure with the Colorado folks has garnered me a slot in a CCNA class (no worries if this is a nonsense set of letters to you: suffice it to say, it is a good area of knowledge to leap into if one is involved in IT infrastructure) which will enhance my list of skills and make employing me that much easier to justify.

I'm pursuing other training opportunities which may prove to be even more valuable for the long term. More on that as it transpires.

My Sacred Life post today is simple and to the point: if life offers you poop, go into the fertilizer business. There is great personal growth to be experienced!

Together, a sneak preview (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

In the months since I was laid off from a job I had held for more than twenty years, my Sacred Sunday posts have been rare. No accident: unless I am in a place where I can write honest, heart-inspired posts to be labeled as Sacred Sunday posts, I simply don't attempt them.

Today, I offer up my own simple and encouraging observations, and I am happy to make it a Sacred Sunday post.

It has now been more than a quarter of a year since I started being around the house a whole bunch more than I used to be. We have had a few hiccups along the way, but the over-all feeling (taking the liberty to speak for my terrifically talented and wonderfully loving wife, Julia) at this point is one of joy.

We love each other, we are each others' best friend, and we cherish our time together. No, it's not always magical or spiritual, and that's a good thing. This life is not just about enlightenment and the seeking of a higher plane. It's also about watching a soap opera together...about giggling at the antics of our dogs or the weather or the oddities of life. It can be just as bonding to enjoy a cup of coffee while we each read our choice of material in the same room as it can be to have a deep discussion.

Heck...we spend lots of our time together on separate floors of our home. In fact, we have a running joke I won't embarrass myself or my wife by describing. It involves our contacting one another using the phone (we have two lines, one for the publishing company/Julia The Author and the other as our personal line, meaning we can call each other if we tie up both phone lines).

Today's point is this: while I am not yet ready to retire from life as a corporate IT person, I am heartened to know that Julia and I have thrived during this sneak preview. At some point, and soon would be good, I will have a regular engagement which has me out of the house five days a week. We have proven to each other, though, that we will love our time together when I am done being the corporate IT guy and we live our lives together, and we determine what "all day, every day" means for us.

Remember this, my friends: it is almost never the contrived events of our lives, the scheduled honors or singing of praises which enrich our experience. No...it is Julia calling me down in the basement, and me answering the phone, "Pete's House of Pies!" and the ensuing improvisational skit which results--that's what we will remember. Sure...we will recall our dinner at Mel's which I detailed yesterday, and we will enjoy our trips to Michigan, and (eventually, but not this year, please God!) the weddings of our daughters.

In our hearts, though, will be the simple joy we offer each other as members of a two-person tribe, a small group which speaks the same language, one we developed and improved upon over many years. I wish you all this same kind of connection, this same kind of joy, this same kind of love.

Sitting idly by...NOT (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

I learned a few days ago that a good friend had been laid off. She was working for the same company which had laid me off in November.

When I heard about it, it made me more angry than I ever felt over my own loss of a job. Her life circumstances are much different than mine, and her length of service to the company was considerably shorter--this means that she was probably offered a pathetic separation package.

It is easy to blame my former employer, but I know that's not where the blame belongs. Just as any corporation which sees falling sales and rising expenses is doing these days, the people who run that company are trying to survive. Keeping their own jobs, of course, is the highest priority.

The sorrow I feel for the millions who have suffered the same fate as I did but were nowhere near as prepared for it, is intense and deep. And, it is really no consolation to know that the people who benefited the most from the crazy, uncontrolled financial markets of the last decade have lost more than they ever gained. The insanity which was the derivative-instrument market made up of subprime mortgages which, when piled all together, were supposed to suddenly merit a lower risk categorization than the mortgages did when originated brought down the high and mighty, but it also has brought all of us, all over the world, to a very difficult and tenuous position.

A few of those vile, greedy monsters will go to jail, and many people who were blameless in the schemes but were foolish enough to invest in them will lose their shirts. When you roll the dice, don't ever pretend to know what's going to happen. If you forget it is a wager and come to believe it is a sure thing, you will lose. It is only a matter of time.

I'm a student of history, and it is hilarious (or would be if it were not so sad) to see people make the very same mistakes that their parents or grandparents made about 80 years ago. People are easily lulled to sleep and often difficult to rouse. How else can one explain the fact that we in America re-elected in 2004 the worst president in the history of our nation? We simply weren't yet awake, as a nation, to how much damage a truly incompetent person driven only by self-interest can wreak in as short a period as four years.

Now, we know.

America has done the right thing in bringing to the presidency a man who has all the gumption and backbone so vitally needed right now. He needs all of us behind him now, because this is going to be a really tough task, this 'turn things around' challenge. No worries, those of you who don't like him. Feel free to rant all you want as the rest of us fix this mess.

My own situation is hardly dire, but it is discomfiting. I continue to do my best to honor my family through my service to them, to honor my country through my efforts in support of those who have the best shot at turning this thing around, and to honor anyone who shows up here with the words my heart sends.

I feel closer to my wife than ever, thanks in part to the greater amount of time we are able to spend with each other. I'm very grateful for her unyielding support of me as I waver some days on the brink of depression.

In the months since I was laid off, I have made some new friends thanks to the internet. Who knows if I would have found the time or lucked into their electronic worlds if I had a job?

It was a person I used to work with who got me off of dead stop when he sent me a job lead. That lead didn't pan out, but it did inspire me to get my resume all shined up and to get my butt over to the offices of the outplacement company to learn how they can help. Since then, I have only found a couple of leads which merited emailing my resume, but I am actively looking now.

While the pickings are slim, the simple act of proving I am willing to work by looking for work will be the magic key. The universe responds by giving us what we ask for as indicated by our own energy and actions. At this point, I have no idea how I will find a steady income, but I know I am telling the world that I am ready, willing, and able.

It is impossible to describe in a fashion which will allow you to fully grok what the value of the past two months has been to me. I learned that I am not my job. I learned that I can come back from what was a devastating blow--even knowing it was coming, I had no idea how hard it would hit me to separate from a job I had held for more than twenty years. I learned who my friends are--the people I used to work with who made the effort to stay in touch are just the people I would have guessed would do so.

Most importantly, I got to know myself better as I worked through the grief. My appreciation and valuation of myself is sweeter today than it ever has been because it is real and honest, not a false front put on to fool the people I meet and work with.

Some employer out there is going to get really lucky at some point soon. They will have the chance to hire me.

Timing (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

This morning, as I continue my slow progress ('progress' is the key) through all the junk in our basement, I ran across the gift certificate that my gorgeous and sweetly caring wife, Julia, gave me for my birthday.

(point of clarity: did I have piles to sort through, tossing old and retaining relevant? You bet I did. Did those piles look like the illustration above? Um...no. But it was not quite as bad as the following illustration, I promise...and I am not about to tell you which of the two is closer to the truth.)



My birthday is in February, so while I knew I had this great treat--a one-hour massage--in my back pocket, I had not really gotten motivated to locate the certificate. I knew I had it, and I thought I had until some point early next year to use it.

Did I have it? Yes.

Did I have until some point early next year to use it? No.

This wonderful gift, given to me ten months ago, was one my wife had purchased well in advance. No, not just a week or two...two months in advance.

I was shocked to see that it expires on December 7th. Dang! My first thought was, "it has expired!" because of the number of things I have on the schedule for this coming week which had me thinking Dec 8, 9, 10, etc. Then, after a moment of calendar math (do not try this at home without a certified Calendarian Mathematician involved, as you might strain a brain muscle), I realized that I had one last chance: today.

After logging on and viewing available appointments at the Serenity Now massage-therapy practice (these folks are good. No, great!), I saw that there was exactly one appointment which would meet my preferred schedule. Needless to say, I grabbed that appointment, and early this afternoon, I will be as loose and relaxed as one can be after my massage...the just-in-time one, that is.

Timing. It's a wonderful thing when it works in your favor.

What the...oh! Now I remember! (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

It has been a rare fall in Denver, one in which the first snowfall of any measure did not occur until after Thanksgiving. And, as you can see, this was hardly an event to measure with anything longer than an eyelash.

Still, even a little moisture is helpful. Plants in Denver tend to shut down and go dormant by Halloween, although this year's warm fall has caused odd things, such as the forsythia in our front yard deciding now was a good time to have flowers on its branches (I would have included a photo, but I don't want to encourage such out-of-bounds behavior). I hope the colder weather this week will encourage it to go back to sleep.

It has been a confusing season for local human beings, too, and my prayer is that we all, plants and two-legged critters alike, figure this out by Spring.

Sunday, is it? (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

Today, it feels right to highlight a regular part of my life which seems to come around about once a week: Sunday.

My Sacred Life Sunday focuses, today, on the day itself.

For me, Sunday is typically a day of getting some chores done. There's laundry to be processed, a back yard which I will mow one last time before the lawn mower is given some months off until next spring, a basement which is crying out for attention as I have allowed it to accumulate stuff without first organizing what is already down here ("here" because my computer is in the basement, so it is where I sit right now).

Julia and I will spend some quiet time together, and I'm sure she will also do some writing today. I have a stack of books from which I'll pick one or more and read a bit today, and I'll write some (in addition to this little post) as I'm inspired to.

There may be napping--it's God's way of telling us she truly does love us--and there will certainly be steaks coming off the grill about the same time Sixty Minutes is getting cranked up with the stop watch ticking.

For us, having a fairly predictable, reliably calm and peaceful Sunday is a wonderful way to end the weekend and lead into the scramble the work week can be sometimes, but leading me there well-rested and at peace. It's a good starting point for Monday!

I can remember as a teenager playing golf on Sunday afternoon. I played a great deal of golf in those days, often spending the entire day most weekdays at the course during the summer as my friend and I got a lift from his dad on his way to work, and a ride home when he was done working for the day. Sundays, though, usually left me sad during the school year, as I would gradually become a little depressed as I would walk up the last couple of fairways. The end of that round of golf meant it was time to get ready for the next week of school. I didn't mind school that much, it just wasn't as much fun as weekends were.

It is still true today that I usually enjoy my weekends more than I do time at work, but I no longer waste any of my Sunday bemoaning my coming appointment with my job the next morning. This much, I have learned in my decades since. Don't spend your fun time fretting that it will soon end! Instead, be fully alive and in your own enjoyment during those times. Monday comes soon enough, and you can regret its arrival while you are trying to find the alarm clock to silence it on Monday morning.

Right now, it is dawn here in Colorado, and I have the whole day open in front of me.

I think I'll get a load of clothes going in the washing machine now. Even chores offer a variety of satisfaction, as one sees the results. Yesterday, it was raking the leaves under our big crabapple tree in front. Today, once it warms up a little, I will make the back yard look all new with its fresh haircut. And, there will be a large amount of clothes now soiled which will be fresh and clean.

I know which way I will vote if it comes down to some time spent organizing in the basement or time spent napping. Maybe there will be time for both!

Here's to us all having exactly the Sunday we are plotting even now (those of us already awake), and may the surprises which life tosses into our carefully made plans prove to be just the ones we would have hoped for had we been so wise as to do so.

A politician unlike most (My Sacred Life, Sunday)

VOTE!

That's not a request, it's a requirement. All of us, all 188 million of us who are registered and eligible, need to vote. Please note that, nowhere in this post will there be any advice as to who to vote for. That's your call, and I trust your judgment. [gulp]

Today, I'm featuring the words, both inspiring and humorous, of my district's member of the Colorado State Senate, Senate Majority Leader Ken Gordon. More than eight years ago when he first ran for the State Senate, Ken knocked on my door. He came in on that hot day to have a glass of water and spent a few minutes talking with my wife and me as he sat at our kitchen table.

We volunteered for Ken that year, hanging campaign literature on front doors in a precinct not far from our home which was also within Ken's Senate district. We backed a winner, and more importantly, we backed a man who I honestly believe has had more to do with the relative civility in the Colorado State Senate (after first spending eight years in the State House) than any other single person, while, at the same time, helping produce and pass legislation which has proved a great benefit to the people of the state.

Ken leaves his Senate seat as of this election cycle in January, and we are hoping that the Governor will find a place where Ken can continue to contribute his passionate and effective leadership to the state. He is, by nature, an introverted man, making it all that much more amazing that he has been able to not only get out front to seek election, but to lead in both the Colorado House of Representatives and the State Senate. Ken is a "get it done" guy, but one who doesn't cut ethical corners, doesn't denigrate anyone opposing him, and doesn't take special-interest PAC money. Never did.

First of all, the inspiring piece Ken wrote a couple of months ago on voting, on Americans and their obligation in this area, and on our overall seeming lack of dedication to our duty. Ken is answering his own question, that being what has he learned in his years as an elected representative and then state senator? I would like to point out that Ken wrote this prior to the collapse of the stock market. He, in fact, predicted that a crisis was going to be required before Americans would wake up.

Ken Gordon said, in an email message I received on September 9th:

I think the American people have forgotten how to tell a good candidate from a bad one. The worse candidate with more money almost always wins. Mindless name-recognition television ads work. Cheap-shot ads work. Negative campaigning works. These work because many of the American people don’t pay attention to substance, or they can’t recognize it.

I admit that I am a Democrat and have attitudes about this that may be conditioned by that fact, but I don’t believe that an electorate that was paying attention would have re-elected George Bush. Democrats who don’t deserve to win have benefited by this attention gap as well.

As someone who pays attention to policy discussions, I watched the 2004 election results in horror. The decision we make in a Presidential election is a life and death matter to thousands of Americans in the armed forces and hundreds of thousands of people in the Middle East. It is crucial to whether we are able to preserve the Earth and whether people get to see a doctor when they are ill. There could not be a bigger decision that an American makes than who they elect to public office, and yet so many people treat this decision as though it is less important than shopping or going to a movie.

They act as if participating as a citizen in the goals and values of our country, a right for which over a million American soldiers have died, is someone else’s job.

Americans misunderstand the right to vote. They think they "get to vote." They don’t "get to." They "have to." Democracy is not just a benefit. It is a responsibility.

We are a prosperous and powerful nation but, primarily, it is because of the work of previous generations from which we benefit. My father grew up during the Depression and fought in the Second World War. He kept up with current events and he never missed an election. He knew that prosperity and peace did not just happen.

I’m afraid it is going to take another major crisis to teach contemporary Americans that lack of attention to government can result in a terrible misery. Help show me that this fear is not justified.

We all need to be advocates for the deep-seated values that created this country. Justice, freedom, equality and prosperity do not just happen. If we think that they do, if we think that somehow they are here as a gift, rather than as the compensation for sustained endeavor, we will lose them.
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And, so that I'm not presenting only the serious side of elections in America, here is another Ken Gordon bit, this his lighthearted boost for early voting by listing ten tongue-in-cheek reasons to wait, instead, and vote on November 4th.



Top Ten Reasons to Wait Until Election Day to Vote

10. Maybe I'll run into that nice guy Dan, who I stood next to for three hours when I tried to vote in 2006.

9. My babysitter said she needs more hours or she is going to quit.

8. I like to experience different kinds of weather, such as, snow and sleet while waiting in line. It reminds me of Valley Forge.

7. I like to be at the mercy of electronic technology glitches. It makes me feel like I am in Las Vegas.

6. I can be on television when the camera crew comes by to show how long the lines still are for the 10:00 PM news.

5. This campaign season hasn't been long enough, so anything to make it last.

4. Standing in line gives me an opportunity to count the number of bricks on the south side of the fire station.

3. If I multiply the number by four, I have a pretty good idea how many bricks are on all four sides, and I only needed to count one side.

2. If the computers go down and the line stops moving, maybe a volunteer will buy me pizza.

1. If I have to wait for hours to vote, maybe I could be the last person in the nation to vote and cast the deciding ballot.
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I know I am not alone in pointing out that Colorado will miss you in the Senate, Ken. Your years of service have been exemplary in both effectiveness and in honest, morally sound leadership.