My spiritual journey

Our ski adventure

2012-01-18T21:14:00.002-06:00

Home ... all of us well, no bones broken, nothing torn that would require surgery! Quite the successful weekend ski getaway, all told. I felt bad for Dwaine, who trekked to the top of the mountain and retrieved lunch, shoes, and other assorted items while the rest of us went skiing. He did get preboarding on Southwest Airlines, though, being less than a week out from surgery when we departed.

I was a ski school dropout. You've heard the song, "Beauty School Dropout?" Yes, I flunked ski school -- the one for those "first experiencing" skiing, no less -- and sent myself to the remedial class the second afternoon, after falling (not quite literally) far behind my so-called "beginner" peers. Here's the story.

I was the one who was late to the party ... by the time I had fussed with all the apparel, gotten both ski boots on, made an extra trip to the bathroom, and ascertained that our older son had given up on the rest of us and gone ahead, Andrew and I were late for ski school. Andrew, being habitually late, was unconcerned by the small detail that our group had left and gone up the mountain already without us. We stood forlornly by the "first experience - ski" sign at the base of the mountain, just the two of us, until a helpful instructor noticed us. He then proceeded to personally escort us to join the group at the midway station, where ski school was starting. He even carried my skis for me! The boys wound up in one group together, while I joined a second group.

I learned that first morning to put on skis, put them on again if they popped off, how to ski one-legged, and finally, how to sort of ski down a very gentle slope without injuring myself or anyone around me. My group was actually a perfect fit for me, consisting as it did of one person who came down with altitude sickness and had to leave, and another person who fell down on her skis whenever she moved. Between those two, the instructor didn't make much progress with the rest of us.

We removed our skis and went to the summit in enclosed gondolas (no barbaric chair lifts for the likes of us) to lunch, and I was promptly separated from the group. No worries, though. I quickly found my lunch waiting with my faithful hubby, Dwaine. PB&J sandwiches I had made the night before, naturally chilled water, and an apple -- the best lunch ever!

It occurred to me at some point that I didn't know where or when my ski group was to gather for the rest of the full-day lesson. Dwaine went off to watch the boys ski while I absorbed the fact that not only was I lost, my shins were being mercilessly squeezed by ski boots that had to have been invented by someone with a sadistic streak. The pain was radiating up my legs, through my whole body, and to my brain till I could think of nothing else. Through the mental fog, a thought finally struck: I'd had enough fun for one day. As much fun, in fact, as I could stand. So I staggered through the snow back to the gondola, dragging all my ski gear with me, and went on the long ride down the mountain, where I got fitted for a better-padded ski boot that they apparently reserved in the back only for people who complained enough.

That was my first day. A good day it was, especially the half-day bit, as we were to return for another full day of similar excitement the following day. The kids fared better than I did, being natural daredevils, and actually bumbled their way down the mountain without either killing and maiming (that I know of) or being killed themselves, and with only about a dozen falls apiece. What a victory! We were all in bed, enjoying the absolute motionlessness and warmth, by 8:30.

The next day was even more promising. It turned out that I had never turned in my ski school ticket the day before. What this meant, a helpful attendant at the rental place explained, was I could go again! Yippee!

This time, I was no longer having my "first experience," so I was bumped up to "beginner." By the way, I was early, not late, for the day two lesson. This time, the group summited right away. We spent the morning learning to stop and turn down a very gentle hill, taking a nice little conveyer-belt ride back up to the top in amongst loads of about 6-year-old kids that were also skiing and snowboarding there. Just my speed! But then, right before lunch, the instructor took us to a terrifying-looking hill and announced that next, we would ski down this slope. There was a cliff on one side, and trees lining the other, plus a steep turn to avoid the cliff. Yikes! I started very tentatively before falling over, just short of the tree (to avoid the cliff side of the hill.) After I got to my feet with assistance, I skidded down a short way before falling again. I have no memory of how I finally got down that hill to the chair lift that we had to ride to get lunch, this time.

After the lunch break, I knew that I was out of my element. I went up to one of the instructors on the mountain and asked -- begged, actually -- to switch to an even more "beginner" group, the one that would have just finished learning to put on their skis in the morning. Of course, since I was paying, regressing was no problem. I went happily to the remedial class and spent the afternoon skiing even more slowly than I had in the morning, on tiring legs. Once again, the instructor capped off the lesson by taking us to the terrifying slope! This time, I managed to -- very slowly -- weave my way down, back and forth, very very slowly. Did I mention how slowly I was going? Somebody walking down the slope in snowshoes would have gotten to the bottom quicker.

I only fell twice, and got up by myself both times. Getting up on my own was truly my greatest accomplishment while skiing!

On day two, the boys went all the way down the hill on a difficult green slope about 6 times. Next time, they want to learn to snowboard! Yes, there will be a next time, sometime. The best part is that Dwaine will get to ski then!

Sorry, we took no pictures while at the summit, (that would have been Dwaine's job, and that explains it). We snapped a few just before we piled in the car with our luggage to drive out of snow back to Denver. Those don't look too convincing. Not only do we not have our ski gear on, Andrew --- in typical fashion -- isn't even wearing a coat. I haven't loaded them to the computer, and it's too much trouble to get them posted here at this moment. Besides, you don't come here for pictures!

Thomas Merton, the contemplative life, and grace

2012-01-08T14:41:00.001-06:00

Almost done with "The Seven Storey Mountain." The second half is easier and more interesting for me, when he really gets enraptured by everything about Catholicism and his vocation as a contemplative monk.

He describes grace as well as I've seen it done anywhere. He spoke of the Baroness de Hueck, who worked with the black community in Harlem during World War II. She came to speak at St. Bonaventure College in New York, where he taught. He described her as nondescript, drab, and of course a woman -- meaning that he didn't expect her to inspire much attention or interest! But he said he came in to the hall while she was speaking and immediately became aware of the rapt attention of the audience on what she was saying. It was because of the strong, simple message she carried, and her conviction in her work. In fact, he later watched her ministering to ordained priests, carrying that divine power with her wherever she went.

This was more than an individual alone could ever do. This is where grace comes in, and a person is able to channel the power of the holy spirit, that transforms an individual human being into a channel for doing God's work in this world.

Merton's greatest love was writing, it seems, and he experienced God through his writing. He is still alive to us today because of the body of his work. How amazing for all writers, the immortality given by the written word! (Hopefully, the writing is good, not mediocre! Wouldn't it be simply ghastly to be mediocre for all eternity?)

Some other amazing thoughts from Merton. If we wish to be saints, we pray to be so. God does the rest, the part that we cannot do. We cannot predict the outcome of any action where God is involved.

I've gotten to the part where Merton experiences a complete surrender to the will of God, and is able to rest in it for the first time in his life. This is shortly before he is accepted as a Trappist monk. (They are a silent order except that they also chant and sing.) He realizes that it no longer matters whether he becomes a monk or if he's drafted into the Army, because it is God's will. But before this, he went through tremendous suffering about whether he should be a priest.

Finished reading his book tonight. I need to buy it and reread the Epilogue often. Simply devastating, his brother's young death in WWII. All those young men whose lives have been cut off by war!

Merton is also an Enneagram Type 4. Here's more information on Type 4's if you are interested:

http://www.enneagram.net/type4.html

Impermanence

2012-01-05T21:51:00.001-06:00

Last night called to mind a life-changing experience I had. I went to a meditation session given by a Tibetan lama, Tulku Tsori Rinpoche, at the Haven for Hope, perhaps more than a year ago. This is the lama who is the spiritual guide for my Buddhist friends who live in Floresville. (Yes, imagine that -- Buddhists in Floresville! They're everywhere!)

What was striking about this experience, for me, was that I was as calm and settled as I have ever been in my life. I had that moment of spiritual transformation that people have when they are around a saint -- I wanted to follow the lama around everywhere, leave my life behind and serve him so I could have this feeling always. It's described in the Bible, when people experience Jesus and drop everything, leave their everyday lives behind to follow him.

I remember the lama talking about "impermanence" -- a central concept in Buddhism -- and how it was his kick-start to each day. Other people drink coffee, he declared. I think about -- his nostrils flared as if he was smelling the coffee brewing -- impermanence!

Well, personally, I'm still totally hooked on coffee -- among other things. I guess I can meditate on impermanence all right in the mornings, so long as a steaming cup of joe is close by. Yeah, that'll never change! (I say with assurance.) Is there coffee in heaven? A pivotal question!

Addictions aside, I have become much more aware of impermanence in life. It's amazing because things can last for a seemingly long time, like my marriage (24 years) ... Dwaine's previous job (30 years) ... where we live (18 years) ... but even these solid structures in our lives can change in a flash. Dwaine's job was gone, after 30 years, and they gave him two weeks to find his footing again. That's how change often happens, a sudden shock like a natural disaster, and you look around and say, what in God's name just happened here? Where did my comfortable, safe and predictable life go?

Dwaine's got a kidney stone, about a week and a half out from our planned vacation to go skiing! He will have surgery early next week. The trip was the first big "going-away" vacation we were thinking of since we went to South Padre over Spring Break. I don't think we have gone anywhere more than a couple of days at a time since then. On top of everything else, Dad's fighting a cold that so far has gotten worse, not better. Everything is up in the air, like always, but this time I can see that so clearly.

The old me would have been very upset at the thought of canceling a beloved vacation, especially for a bad reason! I clung to those bright spots in the dull background of my life, like vacations.

But these days, I feel more content with my life where I am, and don't hold out as much hope of a vacation magically transporting me to some incredibly happy place. Father Rohr described this phenomenon. He said he could be on the most beautiful beach in the world, and it just wouldn't be good enough. Why? It would dawn on him ... "Oh yeah, I'm still me." He could never find a place to travel that was such a paradise that he could leave behind all that personal baggage, the conflict and turmoil of his own soul!

I am slowly learning to get to a place of relative calm, peace, even happiness, wherever I am, in whatever circumstances. Of course, I haven't tested this theory under any real great adversity, so it might not hold up.

Those mood swings that used to be a deep part of me have changed -- this is one area where I can say, Thank God for impermanence! The best part of constant change is seeing some of these stubborn bad habits finally give way, after years of work.

Speaking of impermanence, this is what brought it to mind. Dwaine and I had ourselves a little adventure last evening. I had just finished cooking dinner and putting everything out on the table. Dwaine was in the shower, an odd time for him to be, but he was feeling unwell and knew a shower would help. While he was finishing, his phone rang twice -- two missed calls. When he listened to the message, he came out to the dining room and told me, "This is a call I really don't want to make." I could see that something was really wrong.

He had gone in for an afternoon CAT scan to confirm if he had a kidney stone. The hospital had just called and said, "You need to call the radiologist right away!" Dwaine had to listen to the message again, write down the phone number, and then call. That was the longest minute or so that he and I have experienced in quite some time. So while Dwaine was fumbling with the phone, I sort of automatically started grabbing the dinner stuff off the table again and putting it back. If one thing was clear, it was that we weren't going to be dining at home!

I sat down beside him as he made the dreaded call. I tried to appear outwardly calm, but my mind was racing. What could it be? A burst appendix? Dwaine wasn't in much pain. We didn't know for sure if it was really a kidney stone at that point.

The radiologist had been unable to talk to Dwaine's doctor, and ordered him to the ER right away based on a large kidney stone that could be causing a blockage. So we went. It was the usual four-hour ordeal (which was actually quick by ER standards), and eventually we learned that the radiologist was overreacting -- there was no sign of infection, and Dwaine's condition wasn't an emergency sufficient to stay at the hospital, so long as he followed up with a urologist right away.

I started thinking about all the things we usually take for granted, like being able to sit down and eat dinner! It was such a relief that nothing was terribly wrong, this time. This was not a cancer diagnosis, or a death sentence, though Dwaine was scared out of his wits when he got the message. We joked later about the worst thing the radiologist could have said: "We've just determined, Mr. Smith, that you are clinically dead!! Get to a morgue, now!" Now that would be reason to panic. Except I suppose it's too late to panic when you are dead already!

All that nonsense, done for another year

2011-12-26T20:57:00.000-06:00

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night, and thank God that's done with!

I sit here dressed in one of my Christmas presents. It's called a "Forever Lazy." My hubby knows me too well -- he bought it. Another way to describe it is that I look like a cross between a giant Smurf and Teletubbie. (Sorry, no pictures are forthcoming!) I'm dressed in a sort of blue fleecy onesie for adults, complete with a zippered behind and hoodie. Needless to say, this outfit was made with someone like me in mind. I may actually keep it on hand to wear, year-round, after showers.

We have decided to go skiing in a few weeks (as in snow skiing -- *first time ever*), and I really wanted to wear this outfit under my ski pants and jacket, but Dwaine forbade me to. Wouldn't it be delightfully ironic to be secretly wearing a "Forever Lazy" while learning to ski?

So anyhow, I was sitting in this outlandish gear, doing my evening meditation practice (10 minutes is what I can manage, most days) and feeling grateful for how our holidays were this year. My Dad is still alive, not in the hospital, and the strongest he has been since June, when all this really got bad. (Though he does have a deep-sounding cough that he insists is getting better.) In fact, the doctor was urging him to get more physical activity, and we were talking about him getting out to walk the track at the gym just before he came down with this mountain cedar/cold. Getting out is something he doesn't do enough. I think he has a lack of energy, but also a lack of interest.

Other people we know through church have been hospitalized over the holidays, or have a loved one hospitalized or in frail health. Then, of course, there are those people in so many places around the world where there is never a sense of security, either for food or health or personal safety. Do we know how very blessed we are?

The 10 minutes of stillness has revealed quite a bit of wisdom to me. You wouldn't think it would be enough to make much difference. I had been feeling angry at Dad about things I won't go into -- now, that's a typical feeling that I have had toward him, off and on, my whole life. Somehow, I was able to get past that and also see my deep-seated need for him, and the bond we share. I realized what a terrible loss I would suffer if he died (a problem not too fantastical to contemplate, these days).

I have been able to sit with this most recent experience of cancer, the third major episode in my life where it has ravaged a loved one, with Mom being first, and my mother-in-law second, where I have seen what cancer can do to a person up-close.

Many of my thoughts over this holiday have been of Dad, and just wanting to tend to him and really demonstrate my love for him in simple ways.

I am making progress reading "The Seven-Storey Mountain" by Thomas Merton. It's sort of like scaling a mountain, reading this book. Not an easy read, but I know this is a book that I must read. I can't get by without it, anymore. He has an uncanny way of taking the spiritual pulse of whole countries, and time periods. He certainly got around in his younger days. Much of the description is of taking various freighters back and forth across the Atlantic from America, to England, to France, along with detailed descriptions of various places in each of these locales.

A note on the 10-minute daily practice: Practice is a way Buddhists describe their approach to life, including meditation. I like this description, because it implies you never graduate to something better, or best. You never have to rate yourself, and worry over whether you might get a B-, or even an F. Meditation, while simple, is not easy, and it defies easy characterization. I suspect it is a highly individual experience, just like faith in God. So you just keep practicing, forever. Like life.

A Zen moment

2011-12-19T15:08:00.002-06:00

There's something very Zen about skimming our little pond of fallen leaves.

Skimming off the leaves is like breathing ... a task that has no beginning, no end, no concept of success or failure. It is a task that is smooth and flows gently over the surface of life.

I leave the pond, and more leaves blow in. This is not a good or bad thing, it just is.

Without the leaves, I could not skim the pond. Without this work that I can do in my leisure time, my joy would diminish. I bow to the leaves that continue to fall! May my joy be in finding them, and in all that action implies -- no urgent crisis, a pause from other work, and the desire to be outside.

(This is a manmade pond with a liner in the front yard, just to toss in a splash of cold reality. No natural pond would survive during this drought, the worst one-year drought in Texas this century, according to the newspaper.)

Quick Survey (please take)!

2011-12-17T14:27:00.000-06:00

How often do you think a blogger should publish a new post? A lot of serious bloggers do so every day, or even several times a day. Let me know what you prefer. What are the advantages of more posts? Fewer posts?

I, personally, find daily posts overwhelming, because I'm not here in blogland that often. I can't keep up with the dailies, although I admire their perseverance.

However, I think I need to do better than a post every few weeks, so I have developed a plan of action. For now, anyway. I pre-write several posts when I have the time, then I post them every few days. That way, you are not overwhelmed with thousands of words in one post (not to mention, hundreds of changes of subject!) Sneaky, huh? You think you're reading fresh material, when it's actually recycled from a week ago! (This one is fresh, though, I'm typing it in right now, live.) There are advantages to having a post sit for a while, one being that it is generally better edited before going to press.

I am planning to produce new posts more than once a week, for now. From January through April, though, I won't be able to be so faithful.

Update on exercise -- the holidays get everything out of whack! I didn't follow my own exercise advice very well this past week.

When I got up this morning, my hubby invited me to go see a tuba band perform on the River Walk, etc., etc. I politely declined, because I really had missed going to the gym. Plus, I don't enjoy being out and about so much when I haven't been home and the chores are stacked in mountainous piles, just waiting! It's actually rather stressful for me. I am naturally a homebody (or if not that, a gym rat, I guess). So, yeah -- which would you rather do? Go out enjoying the holiday spirit with the family and do a little shopping, or have a marathon gym session and then catch up on chores at home? Weird, right? (It turns out both boys went with Dwaine -- a holiday miracle, that!)

I hadn't exercised at all for four days, so it felt like such a gift to go to the gym for an hour and a half today. I gotta tell you, an occasional long workout session is so refreshing! Wow! I felt limp when I was done, and could hardly walk as I finished up the third set of everything. My limbs had gone to jelly -- that's the sign your muscles have been challenged! Whoo-hoo! I oozed my way out the door, like a slug, and into my car. It was great.

We are going to a holiday potluck this evening, so I am not a total stick in the mud about getting out! I do recall, last year around this time, posting how much I sympathize with the Grinch around this time. All that madness out there interferes with my nice, organized little plans for my life.

Exercise regularly, in moderation

2011-12-13T20:43:00.000-06:00

Here’s a post on one of the loves of my life, exercise. On thescale of my personal must-do’s in my life, exercise comes above writing andreading (which I love). Exercise is my most important leisure activity.

The holidays are a good time to keep exercising, or to add someregular exercise into your day to offset the abundance of food. Here are somerules I live by when it comes to exercise:

A short workout is better than no workout at all.

Choose a a type of exercise you enjoy!

There is no such thing as “too little” when it comes to adding dailyactivity.

If I am too tired after a workout to enjoy the rest of my day,then I worked too hard.

About 30 minutes, most days, of moderate to vigorous exercisekeeps me feeling great. If I have less time, I make the workout strenuous (forme, that means dripping sweat by the time I finish. Forget the expression, “Womenglow!”)

Do check with your doctor, of course, before starting a newexercise program!

There are some really enjoyable ways to get a good workout and getcloser to your spouse/significant other, at the same time.

Don’t go all out the first day in a gym. You will be sore for along time, you will not want to go back, and you may really hurt yourself.

Don’t compare your progress, or your exercise program, with anyoneelse’s. Your body is unique. One of my favorite expressions that one of mypersonal trainers used was, “Listen to your body.”

No excuses!

If you think you’re too busy to exercise, multi-task. While youwalk, catch up on phone calls.

The more complicated it is, the less likely you will stick to anexercise routine. Ditch the special equipment and do something that is simpleand fits your schedule, like brisk walking or jogging.

Use your body weight to build muscle: squats, pushups, situps,pull-ups, and planks are a few examples. These are things that we can all do athome.

Stretch after working out, when your muscles are warm. Skip thestretching before a workout unless it is dynamic (moving muscles) and alsoserves as a warmup.

Don’t skip the warmup! Injuries happen when you demand too much ofcold muscles.

Even seasoned athletes don’t love every minute of exercise. It’ssupposed to be hard, and tiring, and frustrating too. When I jog, one of myfavorite activities is checking my watch – “Can I be done yet?”

Cross-train to burn more calories and keep yourself challenged.Your body quickly adapts to new workouts and becomes more efficient (thus burningfewer calories). One of the ideas touted by the insane workout, P90X, is“muscle confusion,” where your muscles never know what to expect from the nextworkout and don’t have time to adapt.

Cardiovascular exercise, which raises your heart rate over aperiod of time, is just as important as weight training. One supports yourheart health and circulation. The other preserves your muscle mass as you ageand helps with strength and balance.

Exercise is more important, the older you get.

You are never, ever too old to exercise! Exercise is foreverybody.

Your health is important enough to make a financial investment, ifthat’s what it takes for you to exercise. If you have enough money to eat out,you have enough money to join a gym.

Eating mindfully over the holidays

2011-12-11T12:44:00.001-06:00

Here is a faintly obnoxious holiday suggestion post, along the lines of eating more mindfully! I hope to add another free advice column on the importance of exercising regularly and in moderation at some point. Enjoy!

Eating mindfully
It just so happens that I am wearing a mouth appliance for the next three weeks. Over the Christmas holidays, to be precise. I am having my bite (as in, how my teeth fit together) adjusted in early January, before tax season madness, and as soon as we have a new pot of medical money available.

The particular device I am wearing is called a "deprogrammer," and it prevents my teeth from touching together at all. I wear it around the clock, except for eating and brushing. The idea is that my bottom jaw can now float freely, not bound by the fit of my bottom and top teeth, till it finally rests at its preferred place in about 3 weeks or so. It needs that time to be "deprogrammed" from its habitual position. If my jaw is happily realigned, the theory goes, it might also stop me from grinding or clenching my teeth. This all sounds a bit new-age, but it is the latest dental fad -- which is to say, it's completely new age! But I'm a firm believer in living by faith, as well as by reason.

In January, after my jaw finds its happy place, the dentist is going to gently shave off some jutting peaks on the tops of my teeth that are preventing my mouth from closing together very well, and encourage my teeth to fit together at that jaw position. As I explained to my sister, my problem right now is I am unable to bite off hangnails, or anything else in that size range, because of a small gap between my front teeth. I can still bite an apple, or carrot. Just no fine nibbling, and I do miss that.

I've decided that everyone should try wearing a mouth appliance -- a retainer, or something similar -- over the holidays. It forces you to eat more mindfully! You can't just stuff things in your mouth unaware. No food is going to sneak in, unaccounted for, when I am wearing this thing. Why? Because I have to take it out in order to chew. The procedure -- check for clean hands, reach inside my mouth and unhinge, and dig out a special container to store the deprogrammer -- is lengthy enough that I could actually change my mind, and decide not to eat whatever it is, assuming it's not a meal. (Not that it's happened yet.) In theory, it could become inconvenient enough that I would pass up some snack freebies here and there.

I've worn the deprogrammer before, this being the second go-round of dental improvements. Each time, I forget I'm wearing it when I go up for communion on Sunday morning and then have to walk back to my pew seat, juice-dunked bread in hand, and remove my mouth appliance before I can partake of the Lord's supper.

On a side note ... for possibly the first time in my life, I have experienced the bliss of eating movie popcorn mindfully. Usually I'm like most other people -- shovel it in, chew, chew, then go get a free refill! I really love movie popcorn, and I know it's absolutely X-rated food, which just makes it that much more thrilling to enjoy, in a furtive rapid-fire way in the darkened theater. (Don't think about Pee-wee Herman.) If you eat anything quickly enough, there aren't any calories!

What caused my mindful chewing was the fact that my sister and I arrived to the movie theater about 45 minutes early yesterday, in the middle of an unusually wet and dreary day. We went in and bought our snacks on autopilot, before it dawned on me that we could have dodged the raindrops to do a bit of nearby shopping. So there we were, popcorn and drinks in hand. The theater was empty, warm and dry (though playing overly loud commercials). I wanted to save my popcorn for the movie, but I didn't want it to be old and cold by the time I started eating it. The dilemma! What to do? So I took one or two kernels at a time and enjoyed the delicious, crispy, salty and buttery finish. Let's face it, popcorn is a food that is almost inedible without seasoning and some kind of fat added. (Have you ever tried plain air-popped popcorn?) But add the gloss of fat (coconut oil is to die for -- probably literally) and salt, and wow!

Speaking of eating, I believe my hubby has our egg salad lunch almost ready to go! Time to pop out the deprogrammer and do some noshing. The hard part is remembering to put it back in again.

Happiness ... grace ... the usual smorgasbord

2011-12-10T21:34:00.001-06:00

I finished "The Happiness Project." I feel so much ownership of this book, this project. Like it's a book I could have written or would love to write, except (obviously) I didn't. Like it was my project! I didn't have to modify it to suit my individual circumstances. Sometimes, it was like reading my own thoughts on the page. It was just the right time in my life to read this book, just the right moment for it to have the maximum effect. The last time I felt this way about a book was when I fell in love with Scott Peck's "The Road Less Traveled."

I guess the main reason for that special synchronicity is that I reached many of the author's conclusions on my own, within the past five years or so, after some deep (and ongoing) soul-searching. The most important conclusion is that it is so very important to be happy, and to show it by being cheerful! And it's not easy, let me tell you. Don't ever dismiss someone who is endlessly optimistic and think they come by it easier than those who are obviously in distress, or that they must be intellectual lightweights. This world is not made to encourage people who are thoughtful and still manage to stay cheerful.

But knowing me, I cannot quite let go of always having a finger on the pulse of the world's woes, somehow. That pulse is often weak and thready. The patient seems to be on life support, and sadly neglected.

I was listening to an old "Speaking of Faith" podcast about a monastic commune in North Philadelphia. The speaker, who was one of the founders of the community, recalled a cartoon he had once read about the "big" questions we all ask about life. One friend asks another, "Don't you ever want to ask God why he allows all this suffering and these bad things to happen in the world?" The other friend thinks a moment, then replies, "Guess I'm afraid to." "How's that?" "Because He might turn around and ask me the same thing!"

That is the point I was trying to make earlier today in a discussion with my hubby about all the tempests-in-a-teapot swirling around at church lately. One member offended (for a very long time, apparently) because people greeted her as a visitor and didn't recognize her as a member; others accusing the pastor of lying; griping about the money shortage, and pointing to decisions the leadership made over the past year as having been to blame. Postings on Facebook about wicked leaders and how people follow blindly like lemmings. Etc., etc.

Anyhow, Dwaine mentioned how he thought the wicked one was hard at work in our church recently. Just to be sure, I asked -- do you mean someone in particular, or the Wicked One, you know, Satan? He meant the one in upper case. He mentioned this to the wife of one of the higher-ups in the bigger church administration, and she rather breezily replied, "Oh, I don't believe in that."

With Dwaine, beliefs are of paramount importance, and he doesn't take well to the liberal views espoused by some in our church leadership. So I quickly mentioned there could be different interpretations of that statement. For instance, espousing belief in someone or something may give it a power it doesn't deserve. But he persisted in thinking she was sticking her head in the sand, and ignoring evil does not stop it.

From there we moved to what does give something or someone power, and I said that people's actions do. We carry out all the good and all the bad things that I've seen in my lifetime, besides natural disasters and the like. We give the power to whatever supernatural powers we throw our weight behind. (Good works, or bad)

Whereas Dwaine said, no, we are very limited in ourselves. We have no power apart from the One who has it all. (Grace)

I'm inserting our arguments from a theological point of view parenthetically. Grace, or good works -- which must we have? This is one of the great paradoxes of Christianity. There are many paradoxes, for those who have the ears to hear. See, Christians have their own koans. That's a cool word, referring to the eastern practice of meditating on an absurd riddle or parable, one that has no solution (such as the sound of one hand clapping). Gretchen Rubin mentioned koans in her lovely book that I referenced at the top of this blog post.

So, back to Christian koans. How about the trinity? Jesus, fully human and fully divine? His mom, a virgin? Look at all the parables Jesus told about "the kingdom of heaven." Some of the parables describe it thus: It's like a mustard seed, like yeast, a hidden treasure, a net to catch fish. I've never completely understood any of Jesus' parables. Some of them are more like riddles. What is he talking about, and where is the kingdom of heaven supposed to be?

My current belief about the kingdom of heaven is that it is here and now, and we bring it into being with our skillful striving together. I'm not so sure whether it is better described as a place or as a way of being.

Cry-yyy-yyy-yyy-ing

2011-11-21T22:32:00.000-06:00

Over you! Cry-yyy-yyy-yyy-ing, over you! (Remember that song?)

I guess I have had problems with emotions overtaking me, always. One of those is anger, and I still struggle with it. It's easier to see this quality (more like weakness) in others, like my son tonight when he lost some essential college paperwork and was storming around his room, tossing things around. (He got accepted to A&M and UT! We knew he would, but it's still exciting.)

Emotions can be so powerful. Sometimes, I have the experience of being an emotional barometer for others. I can sense the mood in a room or a group of people, and it's a natural tendency for me to pick up those emotions, like a chameleon, and put them on. Does this sound familiar? Someone else is angry, so you are too. Everyone's upset -- including you. People are crying, and you feel like crying, too.

This is a universal human tendency, to be influenced by the emotions of others. I think that Type 4's (on the Enneagram) can have this ability in a more pronounced way.

Recently, I was driving home and passed a serious auto accident that was causing a huge traffic jam on the other side of the highway. There were lots of emergency vehicles, mostly fire trucks, and I could see at least one vehicle that had been badly damaged. As I approached the accident, I felt sadness wash over me, and spontaneously started crying. (Praying, too.)

This evening while taking my 12 minutes of meditation, another wave of sadness crashed over me. Extreme sorrow -- the kind that temporarily locks up breathing in its intensity, then releases. I experienced it just for a short time, and then it passed and I was at peace again.

Both these times, it felt as though the emotion was originating outside of me and passing through me. Of course, this would be a delightful fantasy for any particularly melodramatic person -- these tears, they aren't self-indulgent at all! They are expressing the great pathos of our existence, the endless sorrow that is out in the world, and serving a noble purpose.

It's hard to tell the nature and quality of tears. Dorothy Parker wrote a short story that is seared like a brand in my memory, because it described one of my lifelong habits. The protagonist of the story would read about all the terrible things happening to the poor, the oppressed, and children around the world, and she would just sit and cry so hard about all these things. That's all she ever did -- have a good cry about it all. Anyhow, I was just looking online to try to find the story I remember, without success.

I've gone through stages where I banished crying. The tears seemed completely selfish and, more importantly, useless too -- just didn't help matters at all that I could see.

But the reality is, life holds an ocean of tears. Just to dip a toe in that ocean is all I can manage, because it would be all too easy to be submerged and not come up for air ever again. How else could anyone respond, but to share the tears?

A newer quality that I have enjoyed is being overcome, completely bowled over, by joy. You're not supposed to label emotions as good or bad-- they all arise, they all have the same amount of validity (this is my friend Karen's advice) -- but some are definitely more fun than others!

The most important lesson I've learned is that being gripped by emotion does not require any accompanying action -- none at all! Wise indeed is the person who can let the emotion arise, and observe it and its causes without doing anything, at least at that moment.

In fact, a strong emotion of any kind is a warning to pause, take a deep breath, and not make any hasty decisions. Don't hit the send key, if texting or emailing! And please, please don't vent on Facebook for hundreds of "friends" to see. (It's one thing for young people to lay it all on the line on their Facebook status. This is their socially safe place to express themselves. But adults? "Discretion is the better part of valor," or some such.)

By the way ... check out the newest blog I'm following, "The Happiness Project." One thing I love about this blogger is that she posts often! (Note to self ...)

Faithfulness

2011-11-20T18:40:00.000-06:00

I know I have been less than faithful about posting here! My creativity is being expressed in other areas of my life right now. I have really enjoyed one year of working at a mentally stimulating job, and I have learned an enormous amount of technical detail about accounting and federal income taxes. It's surprising to think of creativity in such a context, but the brain does enjoy growth in multiple directions. My brain has been very nourished and stimulated by my job. Also, the overall atmosphere of the office, though it is quiet, is also warm and friendly. People all get along with one another (it's a small office!) and everyone has a sense of humor, particularly my boss. Most of all, I have been encouraged to learn and grow professionally more than I could even imagine doing someplace else. What a gift!

Of course, I continue my quest for regular exercise and the greatest degree of fitness I can squeeze into my busy life.

Then there are my kids. Yes, they still need me, though sometimes they wouldn't want to admit it! Austin is at the point in his life where he is making decisions that have more of a long-term impact than ever before, and he really needs the guidance of both parents to move in a wise direction. (He really hates it when our advice contradicts his desires, though!)

Andrew is growing into a young man before my eyes, and also needs a lot of guidance at this critical point in his life. More than even guidance, they both need lots of love and attention from me and Dwaine.

Then there's my husband! Gotta make some time for my main squeeze. And there are the others in my family and circle of friends.

I need to become more serious and intentional about daily prayer and meditation. I notice it falling by the wayside, recently, and I am rededicating myself to a small (10-15 min.) daily practice. This practice will be helped by a contemplative prayer workshop I will be attending in a week or so at the Oblate Center in San Antonio. I feel like I am floundering, a bit, in not having a little more structure and intentionality to my quiet time with the Lord. This invitation to the workshop, from someone at church, came at a great time in my life and was actually an answer to several prayers. My spiritual guide, Cecilia, was very excited when she learned I planned to go. It turns out she has taught the "Lectio Divina" for years and her family is close to David Kauffman, the musician and speaker for the evening.

Another gift I have been given recently by someone (in my new Toastmasters group) is the book "The Happiness Project" by Gretchen Rubin. I feel that the author is such a kindred spirit, in many ways! She describes many emotional entanglements that I completely understand, and have experienced. Some of it may be the common experiences of two women and mothers. Perhaps she is also an Enneagram Type 4. She has a similar approach to her life. She stresses that the specific steps to greater happiness are individual, and I wouldn't take all the same steps she is taking, but many of them feel like the right direction that I also need to go or that I am also traveling (I am a little bit older and hopefully further along on that journey!). So rather than me having to go through all the effort to create my own happiness project, I can just read about hers and absorb some of the glow! Ha!

Here's a nice quote that she mentions in the book: "When the student is ready, the teacher appears."

I have seen several things in my life that could easily be described as coincidences, "where God chooses to remain anonymous."

An essay from my son

2011-11-15T21:21:00.000-06:00

I made the mistake of asking my 15-year-old son what he thought of me. Asking a question like this is like a self-inflicted wound; nothing good will come of it. So why did I feel compelled to ask my son, a moody teen, his completely distorted view of me? Some questions truly have no answers.

He said, "Well, to tell you the truth, Mom, I think you're depressed."

Thanks a lot, buddy! I thought. "Then what about Dad?" I demanded. They didn't get along at all. He had to have some far worse comment about his dad!

"Naw, he's fine," he said casually.

What this really reveals is how hard it is to be a mom, and how hard I've tried for the past 17 years. It's not a bunch of fun and games, I can tell you! There's no user's guide, and society's attitude seems to be whatever you're doing as a parent, it is wrong! Too permissive -- too strict -- either too controlling, or not enough boundaries, etc.

My main parental technique seems to be riding the kids about something they need to do, ought to do, and should be doing Right Now, but aren't. Followed by worrying about whatever it is they are actually doing.

So one of my goals in life lately is to have more fun! (Some fun? Any?) I guess I haven't been too much of a failure in that regard. Read on to see what my 17-year-old thinks of his family, and me -- the one who is a "stress reliever" and helps him see "the lighter side of life"!

By the way, due to numerous scheduling conflicts, I quickly fizzled in the quest to write 2,000 words a day. Although -- allow me to gloat for a moment -- I apparently inspired my dear friend, Sardine Mama (there's an imaginary hyperlink here) to feverishly pen at least a few thousand words, earlier this month! (I can't vouch for her productivity since that time.)

I have several higher priorities in my life right now, listed roughly in order of the time they take: working, sleeping, doing stuff with/for my family, housework, eating, working out, meditating, volunteering, and a wee bit of reading here and there. Oh yeah, forgot that hour-and-15 or so commute every day. That tacks on some time.

I asked Austin's permission to reprint one of his college essays, which he gave, so I will run it below. Every word is completely, 100% certifiably true! (Especially the "My mom is amazing" part. Yeah!) The most amazing part of all is that this was written by a 17-year-old, yet it has simply glowing things to say about mom and dad. Hmmm, we must be terribly permissive parents for him to adore us this much right now! Let me go worry about that while you read on:

I have been blessed with an outstanding opportunity for greatness, and it is in the form of my loving family. My family is and always will be there for me. I have learned that the people that truly care about you are your family, and my family exemplifies that quality to no end.

I have made mistakes in the past, and probably will make more in the future. My dad has shown me, though, that when I make mistakes, I can learn from them and get back up as a better and stronger person than I was before. I have been out past curfew at times before, but he sits me down and talks to me about the importance of having a time to be back rather than just restricting me. He reasons through his punishments and helps me realize my mistakes so that I can try to be better in the future. He has looked through any wrong that I have done, because he loves me. His love is what keeps me strong and willing to continue trying, even when it seems that I should just give up and take the easy route. He is a person of character, and I am proud to say that I am growing up to be like him.

My mom is amazing. She has learned to control her emotions and always reason and give me the best support that she can while still being the best mother that I could ask for. I know that she cares so much about me and only wants me to succeed and become a great person that has class. I can always rely on her for emotional support, even though I may not show it at times. I love being able to talk to her about anything that comes up because it is a stress reliever. She helps me to see the lighter side of life and to learn to focus on what is really important to my future and me. She is an inspiration to me on how I should treat myself and others, and I will always be grateful to her for showing me the meaning of unconditional love.

My brother is the guy I can turn to, to have a great time. He and I have bonded together through years of being two wild young boys tearing through our house. He is a caring and compassionate person who never stops helping me whenever I need it most. I can spend hours just talking with him about life and any hardship that I am dealing with. We used to spend whole days together just playing imaginary and enjoying each other’s company. When I need someone to have fun with, I turn to my brother. He is a person that will never hesitate to help me in any way possible, be it money, emotional support, or even schoolwork. He shows me to that helping out people that are close to you is an experience like no other.

Surrounded by people like this, I know I can succeed at anything that I try. I have great role models that I will for sure imitate when I raise a family myself. I love my family, and they have shown me how to love others through their love for me.

Barely fiction

2011-10-31T19:30:00.001-05:00

My sister told me about a novel writing contest, of sorts, that is supposed to begin in November. I cheated and started writing some stuff a couple of days ago. More than anything else, I wanted to see how long 2,000 words/day is (to get to 50,000 words in a month). Pretty darn long! Here's the website describing the contest:
http://www.nanowrimo.org/

My sister told me one "rule" is no editing, or minimal editing. Turn off the editor, and just write!
Here's one of the stories I wrote. I found that I didn't have a novel just waiting to be written down, as of yet, but I do have plenty of stories that I can just lift from my daily life. So I'm doing that at the moment. I must admit this has not been refined by an editor's gentle touch -- it's quite rough around the edges, so be forewarned.

She wanted to hug them all and not miss any of them, even though they were all hot and sweaty from the dancing. It had been such a fun evening, such a contrast to her first impression of this place as a fortress, seeing the tall fences surrounding the compound that was these girls’ temporary home. These fences were designed to keep everyone in. The last time she had seen such high fences was at a jail. They made her want to run away before she got trapped inside them, too.

It was the annual Halloween celebration at the Methodist Girls’ Home. Though her husband’s men’s group put it on, she always came out to give the girls a little attention from another woman, some smiles, maybe even some hope in their lives.

These girls were here as one stop in what could become a revolving-door life, where nothing was secure and no relationships were lasting, not even the crucial ones with Mom and Dad. These girls all had faced serious parental issues before being removed from their homes and brought here. Some had parents who were serious drug users. Others had been abused or neglected. Most of them had siblings who had been placed elsewhere.

Here they all were, these teenage girls, some on the verge of adulthood. What kind of prospects did they face? The chances of getting adopted were slim indeed at their advanced ages. They could hope for a loving foster family, but going down that path guaranteed that their lives would continue in an uncertain, changing direction. Others would be reunited with their families, if the potential for harm was judged to be not too terrible.

Sheila thought of her own two teenage sons and the drama that was already embedded in their lives, just from the raging hormones that made their behavior so inconsistent, and the built-in ups and downs of high school relationships. The last thing anybody needed at that age was an unstable family life.

The dancing felt so good. Everyone relaxed and just had fun trying to learn the steps of a few line dances without running over their nearest neighbor. Some of the guys in the men’s group weren’t so young anymore, and they danced – hobbled might be the more accurate word, she had to admit – on the fringes of the girls. Her husband, charming as always, was dancing in the midst of a group of girls who were all helping him learn the moves.

One young girl was clearly the best dancer of the group, and the natural leader. Sheila found herself watching her to see which direction to move, and mimicked her natural grace as she wove her body to the beat. It was a little difficult, dancing in the stuffy full-length Renaissance dress that trailed the floor and threatened to trip her at every turn. But dressing up had been part of the fun. Maybe these girls didn’t get to dress up for Halloween, but Sheila and her husband could wear costumes for them.

One girl, wearing an old gray T-shirt and sweatpants, stood aside and didn’t dance at all. No one was making her dance. Sheila noticed her, apart and alone, the only still figure in the room.

Sheila had decided to sit with the girls, earlier, when they had pizza, sodas, and hot Cheetos for dinner. What a combination! Sheila’s stomach, always rather finicky, rebelled at the thought of this greasy, spicy and sugary combination. No wonder they wound up dancing so frantically – all the sugar, caffeine, and calories gave them lots of energy.

Using her Sunday school name, Sheila had introduced herself as Mrs. Monroe. The men had stayed back in the kitchen or brought drink refills, but no one else from the group sat with the girls while they ate. The girls were clearly interested in her and asked where she lived, what church she attended, and whether her husband was the man dressed up as a swashbuckling Renaissance man, which of course he was. She told them about her two sons and their ages, then said it was a good thing that the group eating pizza wasn’t a bunch of boys – they would have had to order twice as much food! The girls giggled and said, “Oh, there are some girls here who could eat a whole pizza for themselves.” But no one did. They ate their one or two pieces, chewing slowly, some of them dipping the slices in thick gobs of Ranch dressing. They seemed endlessly grateful for the meal, saying “thank you” over and over again.

After dinner, Sheila noticed as one girl after another went to receive some kind of medicines from an attendant. She could only speculate as to what the drugs might be – anti-narcotics? Anti-depressants? ADHD or bipolar meds?

The dancing drove these thoughts away, as Sheila and her husband focused on learning the steps of every line dance with the girls. After several songs had passed, the laughter got louder and the movement more chaotic. Sheila started feeling a little claustrophobic, surrounded by so many writhing young women. Looking around, she realized that she was the only visitor still dancing with the girls. Sheila gradually danced off to one side and backed herself away from the action, watching in awe along with the men’s group as the girls burned off some energy. They looked like they were having so much fun, enjoying the moment and setting aside their uncertain futures to just dance.

Afterwards, it was as though they were all fast friends. Each girl came up to everyone in the men’s group to thank them again for coming out. Sheila quickly decided to give these girls hugs, every one of them if they would allow her to. She wasn’t a masterful hugger the way some people at church were. It didn’t necessarily come naturally to her. But at this moment, she thought the greatest gift she could give these girls was a real hug. Even if she had to grab hold of a bunch of hot, sweaty, smelly bodies to do it. It was the closest way she could think of just giving them a little bit of the love that was otherwise so lacking in their young lives. If she could have handed them some hope to go with it, she would have.

But maybe that’s what the dancing was all about.

In a mystical groove

2011-10-06T21:35:00.000-05:00

I am really enjoying my 10 mins daily of quiet contemplation. Amazing what a difference such a small amount of time can make. Here are things I am thinking of: bringing more awareness with me wherever I go, mysticism, presence and the spirit. Let the spirit lead, and be free to be your highest self! "I have been to the mountaintop. And I'm not afraid of anybody. I'm not worried about anything. Because I have seen the glory of the promised land!" (Dr. Martin Luther King, not an exact quote)

Did I mention both my boys will be in tuxes this weekend? It is Peanut Festival time here in our little town of Floresville, and I did not realize what a big deal it is for many high school seniors like my older son, who go to coronation and become dukes, duchesses, princes, and princesses for a short, magical span of time. Many go from there to the carnival, and we do pray that they change their outfit beforehand!

From a coronation to a carnival -- this is that sweet in-between time of being not quite an adult, but no longer a child anymore for these young people. Then they get to ride on floats or drive cars for the big small-town parade, all dressed to the hilt. Andrew is not a senior, but is attending a formal sweet-sixteen party that afternoon. I've got to take lots of pictures!

It is amazing and miraculous to see my sons, two people who are so much in the process of "becoming." I have to look closely at them each time I see them (which for Austin is not every day; he sleeps here, but we are on different schedules). I have to scan for the latest changes in their faces, their physique, their expressions of increasing maturity. The last time of such a rapid, wild ride was when they were toddlers! I believe we can all return there at any time in our lives and continue to change and grow dramatically, if that is what we earnestly desire.

In which I am mentioned, by name, on Zen and Tech podcast!

2011-10-04T18:22:00.000-05:00

This is my exciting moment of the day ... first, a bit of background. I recently (as in less than a week ago) emailed the newly launched Zen and Tech podcast with a suggestion for a topic for them to cover. This podcast is about making use of technology to destress your extremely busy life ... more, it's practical suggestions from a licensed therapist on how to live more in the moment and start some daily practices to slow yourself down. Actually, you don't require any technology besides whatever device you are using to tune into the podcast itself. Otherwise, I wouldn't get much out of it! Here's their intro: "ZENandTECH, hosted by Georgia and Rene Ritchie, helps you center your inner geek, deal with the stresses of a connected life, and nurture your superhero in training." The idea is that we can all be superheroes, to which I say, Amen!

Funny how several of my podcasts make use of the word "geek." There's a message in there somewhere.

My idea for the show came from Alan Watts, who I mentioned in the last post. I want you to listen for yourself, which is why I haven't revealed what my suggestion was.

Here's the amazing bit. First, I got a reply right away from the therapist who co-hosts the show, Georgia, in which she gushed about how much she loved my idea. I thought to myself, what a sweetheart! I guess she does this for everybody who submits a comment to make them feel encouraged and listened to.

Then today, I got another email from Georgia, and this time she said she used my idea for the most recent podcast, #18. Already!! I've never gotten such a quick response for anything. I guess she really did love the idea!

Here's the link. It plays on YouTube (ha, ha I was about to spell it utube; that's how much of a techie wizard I am!) but I always have it as audio on my podcast, and listen while driving to/from work. I don't know how to actually embed the image in my blog, sorry!

http://www.zenandtech.tv/category/zenandtech/

This link displays the current weekly podcast. But if you see this later and click on the link, search the previous podcasts till you find No. 18. That is, if you can figure out how! You can always go on iTunes to find the exact episode without having to subscribe.

At the end, Georgia mentions the idea for the podcast came from a reader ... "Oh, I forgot her name!" she continues. Then Rene Ritchie comes to the rescue and quickly looks up my email online. Yes, I know there are many, many Julia Smiths out there, but it was actually me, myself, moi!!

Meditation journey

2011-10-03T21:18:00.000-05:00

Cherished reader,
I want to share with you a bit about my brief experiences meditating (10 mins a day, probably 6 days/week for the past few weeks). See, I do mean brief! Short in time, and short in experience of practice. I wish to meditate every day, but some are so hectic that it's late in the evening when I realize I didn't have that quiet time. I don't force this time on myself when I am too tired, but leave it for the next day. This is something my soul has been yearning for, like a homing device that connects me to an essential self like a tether.

I may have mentioned that my little meditation ritual is to ask to come into God's presence, and then I try to wait. And be calm. And not think. However, every time there are many things to think of, and they course through my head in a rapid, jumbled succession. That's the "monkey mind" for you. Tonight, I caught myself several times thinking of what I would write about here! Though it may be quite worthwhile, planning a blog post is not the same as meditation!

My friend Karen has been urging me strongly to meditate for a long time now, and she's of course very happy I finally started. (Did I ever tell you she is an Enneagram Type 8, the leader/boss?) She usually does have good ideas for me, though I refused her latest book suggestion. Her word of advice on meditating was not to constantly judge my experiences or think, "I'm not making progress" or "I'm not doing it right"; rather, just to have these experiences. But how can I not judge? It's the most human thing to do. How else do we know where we are, and where we've been?

What is amazing is when the meditation goes to a deeper place than I usually inhabit. One early time, I was visited by our most wonderful dog, Sandy. She came right up by my right leg, just exactly her old self, wagging her tail with her trademark grin, and that doggy smell, with the scars of the spider bites on her back still, and I could sense her there very strongly. Her presence was so loving that I started crying, and that is how that meditation concluded. This is not something I consciously invoked, because I have remembered it several times since, and recalling it is not the same as her actual presence there with me in my meditative state. (Sandy died a few summers ago, of old age.) Austin says she was the best dog ever, and she is.

Tonight, I wondered what it would be like to be in God's presence. Then I began sensing a reunion of sorts. I was in someone's arms, crying inconsolably. However, my meditative self was observing from a distance and was not caught up in the raw emotion. Thank God! I saw that God was hugging and rocking me with a full-bodied, matronly form that was large and soft, and smelled of cigarette smoke. Yes, it was Mom! She was comforting me, or some iteration of me. Mom may have died, but she has never left. She would never abandon her children.

I am reading a little book that is collected from lectures and writings of Alan Watts called "Myth and Religion." He's one of my podcast "favorites," a British philosopher, Episcopalian priest, and scholar of Eastern religions who died in 1973 or so at around the age of 57. He had moved to the USA and taught at Harvard before moving to California. Reading him is making me still less fettered to any particular belief system. It feels strange, to be so unmoored. "What do I believe?" you ask. I know less and less any answer to that question. I do know I am tired of demagogues, those who "know" what they believe, and those who would label. I shake myself free of any such associations. Watts, by the way, is relentlessly critical of the church and how it seems to have led the opposite way of Christ's example. It's all about what you believe (are you in the Christian "club" or out of it?), and moral judgment, rather than caring for your fellow human being as an equal. Did Christ exact a creed from his own apostles before letting them follow him?

Some people find the greatest comfort in thinking that they know exactly what is true. They stand on the authority of the Bible, or some other thing, and proclaim it infallible and above human questioning. I find that avenue to be a trap that prevents me from seeking and growing. In the end, there is so much more that I do not know than what I do know. As Watts proclaims, he is no guru, and his most fervent wish is for all his "followers" to find their own ways and have no further need of his advice! Every authority we have here on earth is a fellow human being, just like you and me. Therefore (again Watts), no one has any authority that we have not given to them. You choose your own authority figures, who you will trust or obey or believe.

I also wanted to tell you that Andrew and I ran a 5K at Sea World on Saturday and both took first in our division, woo-hoo! Now, Andrew came in 6th in the race overall, whereas I was about 101 of 212 participants, but still won my division of women ages 41-50 (of whom there were a total of 10). This was a fabulous opportunity; the entry fee went entirely to their conservation fund, with free parking and admission to the park all day long. We stayed for the fright-fest which got rolling at 6 pm -- my legs were so tired after walking the whole park all day long! Andrew was the trouper and wanted to stay for the Frightful freaky forest (Frightmare? It used to be the Haunted Forest), which would have been a whole lot more scary if it had been dark.

Now for the cheater on the 5K: this was designed to be quite the recreational (vs. competitive) race. Why? Sea World had a variety of animals on display throughout the race route. Most sensible people pulled over to watch and enjoy all these creatures! Two boa constrictors, owls, penguins, Beluga whales vocalizing, even a sea lion on the back of a cart! However, Andrew and I raced right on past it all, with our eyes on the prize.

The last 5K I did was in April and I have not run since (I went out about 3 times before this race just to make sure I still knew how). I have been doing the elliptical and bike and weights at Anytime Fitness regularly, which is what pulled me through. So I was totally pumped about that success. I think my time was nearly the same as in April, when I came in 7th in my division at a SAWS run!

Subtle is the Lord

2011-09-24T17:20:00.001-05:00

Part of the homework my spiritual guide assigned me this past month was to reflect on my image of God. (The other part was to start thinking about spending 10 minutes a day in meditation.)
Aack! Maybe this is how spiritual guides separate the wheat from the chaff, or something -- weed out the faint-hearted and hold on to the true believers, or criminally insane (a fine line there). Not sure which category I'm in!

Describing God has proven incredibly difficult for me to do. Perhaps it is because "my" image of God (not to be confused with the actual Lord, as such) has been changing, evolving, becoming something yet to be defined. Maybe, never to be defined with any precision. I think I prefer God to be truly mystical and beyond the reach of human comprehension, or perhaps I just realize my limitations here.

After contemplating the state of my confusion for the past several weeks, I think I am ready to write about it.

First, I have a bone to pick with God. (Where did that expression come from?) I shared with Karen how hurt and angry I feel at God for my Dad's situation. Dad's situation is symbolic of the suffering everyone encounters in life. If God were all-powerful, S/He would not want his creation to suffer the way we do, every day. The suffering of my Dad, and my family by extension, is minimal compared to the daily brutalities endured by people in other parts of the world, who are starving to death alongside their children, dying of preventable diseases, homeless and traumatized by violence, illiterate, poor ... That is the real story. My Dad's struggle with cancer is a microcosm of the enormous suffering and groaning of this world. Perhaps in the pangs of birth; more on that later.

So my God is not all-powerful. That does not compute, because then God would not be loving or compassionate.

I also thought about trying to paint God instead, a swirl of all colors, brilliant and mystical. I'm no artist, but that is how desperate I am. Words fail me in this instance.

Einstein said, "Subtle is the Lord." I think he was thinking of quantum physics at the time, but don't quote me. I am taking more of the scientist's tack on this Lord business, lately. Sort of a skeptical view, like Carl Sagan. He seemed to recognize, reluctantly, an intelligence in every aspect of the cosmos that defied the usual secular explanations of random events. But where is the creator now? Certainly this is not the same being as God, our personal savior, God the father/mother.

That is, this Creator set us all in motion, the entire universe, and is letting us spin merrily (or not) away, without any more tinkering. God is not involved in shaping history, neither global nor personal. There is no personal intervention in our lives. Therefore, it would seem by logical extension that there is no power in prayer, which I know from experience is a false statement. Here is another contradictory feeling I have often, that certain events in my life have been planned, for me to discover or learn from. And yet it seems that God is impossibly remote and unconcerned when I see all this suffering.

Today, it occurred to me that I should try to find Biblical references to people who are in the presence of God. What does this mean to them? How does it feel? Being with God has been very much on my mind, as I begin to find 10 minutes a day to consciously spend "in the presence" of God. At the very beginning, I asked God to be present with me. But this sounded out of tune, and I realized what I was asking already was; it was I who had strayed away and needed to come into the presence of God, not the other way around. "Come into his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise," says Psalm 100.

Another Biblical passage that speaks to me while in meditation is God's exhortation to Moses at the burning bush: "Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is hallowed ground." I meditate in sock-feet or barefeet, and it bothers me that my feet may get dirty as a result. But wasn't that the point? Moses had been in hiding long enough. Time to get his feet dirty. This is one passage I had to re-enact, in part, to understand better.

Anyhow, I looked in the concordance to find other instances where people are in God's presence. This led to the delightful insight that God is often referred to as the Presence in the Bible, especially the Hebrew scriptures. I like that. The Presence.

My own inadequate attempts to meld the influences of physics and Buddhism, together with Judeo-Christianity, all together in my spiritual journey (think "Kumbaya" here), lead me to think that God, as a separate being, is not all-powerful. The power is invested in, embedded into, all of the creation. The creator apparently gave away this energy in quite a profligate way. We are all energy, and how we use the energy is what directs the universe. I mean every thing in the universe. We all share the same building blocks of energy, however poorly we may understand them. How can we as humans make effective use of our energy? By being present, fully present, in each moment. This is how we become God's agents, little pieces of God. You see how difficult this is to describe.

I think as we become more present, we also lose our boundaries and merge into a higher consciousness. Time for some new-age music here! An imaginary bell rings once -- to start meditation time -- and let's see, I am imagining some cacophony of exotic, Indian-sounding instruments playing quietly, in the background. Or perhaps we should be listening to "Kumbaya." Chant with me now: OOOOOHM, OOOOOHM, with slow, deep breaths, all together. Aaah! I feel so energized! Don't you?

The suffering of the world is the sign that the grand potential of this collective energy, consciousness, has not been fully born into the world yet. Many people, most everyone actually, are still trapped in their ego boundaries. (Me, too.) This idea of God is also consistent with Buddhism, which always makes me happy. There is suffering; there is an end to suffering. "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." Two human attempts to describe something that is wonderfully hard to describe in human terms, and harder to understand.

I need to put some pictures here sometime. First someone needs to take them! Austin's senior pics are the most current we have on hand.

Moodiness

2011-09-03T16:30:00.001-05:00

If you are highly susceptible to emotional states (a characteristic of Enneagram Type 4's), you will be at risk of being moody on a regular basis. This is an issue I have struggled with my whole life.

Today, I found myself crying (quietly) on the way home after a long morning in Floresville. My hubby and I had worked out together, then gone shopping to HEB. Yeah, my life is pretty dull! But I haven't gotten to the really sad part yet, in case you were wondering. Somewhere in there, we had also gone to see if our 17-year-old spent the night where he said he did. We were there around 9:30 am, way too early for teenagers to be up and about yet. But no truck (Austin's latest set of wheels) was anywhere to be seen. I hate when I've lost track of one of my children, which is happening with greater frequency with my high school senior lately. I don't know what in the world I will do when he goes off to college! I'll have to write him off as permanently lost, I guess. He eventually turned up, on his own schedule, which was about 2 hours later than my nerves would prefer, driving home from a different friend's house, where he had gone sometime in the wee hours of the morning. He will be gone all day today with band, get home late after the football game in SA, and have to open at Sonic in the morning. Somehow, he will get through it all. Ah, youth!

But let me not imply that Austin's presence is not still felt back at home, even when he's rarely here. He still leaves behind a mountain of laundry and a room in permanent disarray, just to remind us that he's really not gone yet. Only when all his dirty socks, clothes, stray shoes and laptop and plugs and game controls and discs and dirty dishes and snack wrappers, no longer grace various places throughout the house, will we know for sure that he's no longer living at home. Or maybe those things will linger behind forever. Maybe the house will never be clear of the messy, smelly clutter that only a teenage boy can create. We walk by his room and notice, always, a distinct odor. Sort of like the musky animal smells at the zoo, or of a male cat spraying his territory. Yup! Must be a teenage boy sleeping somewhere in the depths of that den. Lately, it's been overlaid with a heavy, lingering smell of grease, courtesy of Sonic.

So back to my hopeless downward spiral into despair, earlier today. The alleged reason for my tears and feeling of being in a bottomless void was this recurring theme in my life lately: losing my son. (I will lose both of my kids in the next few years, but I'm focusing on one at a time here.) I cried because a cruel, uncaring God had cursed me with two sons, no daughters. The problem with sons is they can't wait to flee the nest. I know this is somewhat irrational, as my younger son has much less inclination to leave home, and in fact, we may have to pry him loose from his nest here sometime because he is so comfortable here! But as we were coming home, I was reflecting on a larger theme: the emptiness and futility of my life to date. The misery was easy to expand upon -- I had one parent in the grave and the other seemingly well on his way; children getting ready to grow up and leave me far behind; precious few friends; and a husband who wasn't even aware how upset I was. (Actually, this is a good thing, as what I hate most is for someone to be nagging at me when I'm upset -- "What's wrong?" Makes it so much worse, because I can rarely explain in a way that anyone else would understand.)

After lunch, I realized that there was another reason for my bottoming out, and it had to do with low blood sugar. No kidding! Yeah, my body got me, yet again. It's amazing how much a physical issue -- like low blood sugar -- can feel just like the world coming to an end, things falling apart, the shadow side of everything becoming dominant. It always takes me by surprise when it happens.

So, my child is still gone for the day, and still on his way out the door. I have the right to be sad about it. But I guess my world isn't coming to an end just yet. Not today, anyhow.

The Saddest Story Ever

2011-08-25T20:49:00.001-05:00

I have a small story to share from a novel I have checked out from the library with the intention of reading, which was recently featured in the SA Express News as a book that would come to life brilliantly on screen-- "A Confederacy of Dunces" by John Kennedy Toole. There's a reason that in all probability, you have never heard of him.

Here is what the book jacket says: "Turned down by countless publishers and submitted by the author's mother years after his suicide, the book won the 1981 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. Today, there are over 1,500,000 copies in print worldwide in 18 languages."

It just broke my heart to read this. And it encouraged me to inspire other authors. Particularly if your mother is not still alive to earn you your rightful place in history. She should have won an award, too! Poor woman. What a tragedy. Anyway, finish writing that book (Carol!) and never despair of getting it published and finally earning the global accolades you so richly deserve. Or not. But don't give up!

I may have to make "The Saddest Story Ever" a regular on my blog. You know, the story or picture that grabs you and doesn't let go, that no amount of tears could ever fix, that haunts you for days. There are so many, and they add meaning and pathos to life.

By the way, this is a very funny, quirky story. That's why I wanted to read it, something to laugh and guffaw about! His character sketches are brilliant, wacky as all get out, and completely genuine. Mr. Toole, why didn't laughter save you from despair?

Enneagram type 4; and college choices

2011-08-18T22:21:00.000-05:00

I have mentioned my discovery of the Enneagram, a personality profiler, if you will ... similar to a zodiac or horoscope. Back in January, I went with my friend Karen to an Enneagram workshop. At the time, I thought hmmm ... not for me! But I continued to pursue it, thinking that I might be missing something important otherwise. The work paid off. A few months ago, I discovered that I was a type 4 (of 9 possibilities), and this was something of a revelation to me.

Type four personalities are "the need to be unique" or "special." Thus, the first surprise was for me to discover that there were other people out there who saw the world in a similar way to me! I still hold to the view that every human being is unique. But apparently, we are not so distinct that we can't be grouped together into common types that do describe certain qualities amazingly well.

One of the hallmarks of a type four is disavowing labels, insisting on not belonging to any stereotypical group at all. I have always approached life from the perspective of the outsider. I was the outsider throughout school, and I remain an independent outsider from religion and politics, among other things. I thought this was somewhat unique to me, because I changed schools and moved so often, so it was only natural that I would never be part of the "inside" group.

Being on the outside shaped my whole personality, so that I strongly identify with minority groups, the oppressed, underdogs everywhere. If I am a member of any group, I am one of these. It is strange to look at me, a white upper-class American, and imagine that I could support the rights of the people who are the most despised by others. It's because they are my brothers and sisters, so much more than people who are in positions of power.

I also strongly advocate diversity, starting in my own family. This has been quite difficult to practice, because I do have the human tendency to want to influence others, especially those I love. I certainly do give my share of nudges, but I insist on the right of every person to have their own (well thought out) opinion and viewpoint, even when I heartily disagree with it.

I feel a lot of conflicting emotions at the thought of Austin wanting to attend A&M University and join the Corps and the Aggie band. Gee, maybe it would be good if A&M is no longer part of the Big 12, because it would be awkward to have a big Longhorn fan (my hubby) and big Aggie fan at a UT-A&M game! Which side of the stands would we sit in, for instance? Aack!

I am glad Austin is thinking of going somewhere that is not a big party place -- or shall I say, not the biggest party place in Texas, which would have to be located in the city of his namesake? Because he certainly could get hooked on partying! But will A&M be a diverse place where he can meet all kinds of people? Do people in the Corps have a sense of humor, and do they ever question authority, or just blindly obey it? Double aack!

On the other hand (like Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof) ... I think Austin will thrive in an atmosphere of discipline, and maybe he recognizes that he needs that. He says he wants to get into shape! You know I would support that wholeheartedly.

The hardest thing for a parent to do is to get on board with qualities of their child that are totally alien to them, and figure out how to love all that anyhow. I think the best thing Dwaine and I can do for our children is to give them our blessing. This is a way of saying that we may not have chosen all the same things our children will for themselves, but it's been a great pleasure and honor having them as part of our family, and we love and support them as they make their way inexorably to adulthood.

Ooops, I wonder if it is a quality of type fours to digress. One thing I certainly embrace is that we type fours know how to feel emotions. Deeply! And we are often wonderfully creative as a result. Yeah, sometimes amazingly depressed and suicidal as well. But let me tell you about how exercise can save your life in that regard!

Tapping into the well of human emotion is deep and powerful, and an amazing gift. To me, it makes life worth living. And I guess worth dying for, too.

Speaking of emotion, I am pumped at having the chance to help out kids at Floresville High School polish up their college application essays (by email). I recently emailed one of the English teachers there, who graciously allowed me to come volunteer a couple of days in May to get juniors started drafting their essays, with this offer -- and she said all the senior English teachers were interested! I actually love writing and editing and don't get to do much of either one these days, and I've really enjoyed helping Austin make his essays better (even if he hasn't). If it helps someone get into college or get a scholarship, that would be amazing.

Good news!

2011-08-15T13:41:00.010-05:00

I have good news: my husband found a new job! He actually had another solid job interview last week, too, but couldn't pursue it because they want him to start so quickly. Isn't that a miracle, that he had two good job prospects in this economy?

I am so happy for him and hope that this job will be fulfilling and interesting for him. Since this is a public forum, I can't go into the reasons he decided to leave his old job, interesting as that might have been.

Dwaine had actually never written a letter to resign from a job position. Ever. He was a lifelong employee of Southwest Research Institute until they had a mass layoff in 2009. The letter he wrote to his current company was exceedingly gracious and carefully thought out, and a credit to his character.

This new job involves on-the-job training for something that Dwaine has never done before. I think the position is Computer Architecture? Some fancy, technical-sounding name like that. Apparently, not too many people do this kind of thing, whatever the heck it is. The person who was in the position before knew Dwaine from SwRI and felt he had all the right skills for the job, and apparently, everyone else agreed.

We also celebrated Dwaine's birthday recently! He picked out a restaurant and delighted in being all secretive about where we were going. He printed out something (a gift certificate, I later found) and quickly grabbed it off the printer with a great flourish before prying eyes could see. Austin got increasingly anxious as the hour to eat approached. A large part of his joy in life is in eating, you see. Quantity, not quality, is what he seeks. I think he actually got both when we finally discovered our secret destination.

It turned out the mystery restaurant was an all-you-can-eat Brazilian steakhouse downtown. Austin was so concerned that we were going to a high-end restaurant with paltry portions that he actually packed a mini-box of Corn Flakes in the car, which gave me quite a laugh at the end of the meal! In fact, I was ready to dare him to try to eat ]the Corn Flakes except that I was worried his stomach might explode.

Out of all of us, Austin got the most meat for his money. I am sure that he ate not ounces, but pounds of meat. Chicken, sausage, ribs, and lots and lots of beef, prepared many ways, with different marinades, wrapped in bacon, or crusted. He rolled out of the restaurant, occasionally moaning in discomfort and making other noises that caused us to give him a wide berth.

I chose to eat from the "salad bar" because I knew I couldn't possibly do justice to all the meat selections, nor did I have any desire to try. I put the "salad bar" in quotes because it was another huge selection of foods, heavy on protein, to include smoked salmon, shrimp, mozzarrella balls, lobster bisque, and black beans. The salad bar was a part of everyone's meal, though only Dwaine tried a substantial portion. Austin was going for the meat all the way. I worry about that boy! He is capable of overstuffing himself, from the Bud Jones full-plate chicken fried steak to last night's meat bonanza. He's putting on the pounds, too. Not overweight, yet, but nearly there. Not a good place to start off college next year.

We then walked off at least 75 calories (i.e., 10% or less of the dinner tally, in some of our cases much less) by going down the River Walk near the Pearl Brewery to see the tail end of the bat exodus from under the bridge. I love that part of the River Walk, with its native plants and joggers and bikers. It is uncommercialized and has a completely different feel from the River Walk that usually swarms with tourists and locals, closer to the mall. We actually saw a crane catch and devour a crawdad out of a swampy bypass of river, on a recent outing there. (Did I blog about that? Just got a feeling of de ja vu.)

Dwaine's new adventure starts Aug. 29. My new adventure (career) started Sept. 28, 2010. It certainly feels weird to both be working new jobs! But that is the modern economy, it seems. There isn't any reward for working many years at the same company any more, and it seems like every job is much more precarious than it used to be.

It's me!!!

2011-08-15T13:04:00.000-05:00

I actually have a day off from work where I'm not planning to go see Dad, or go with him to a doctor's visit (though I do need to call and check that all is, in fact, well with him at the moment). He has actually been home for about a couple of weeks now, trying to rebuild his strength and get enough food in him!

I took the most lovely walk this morning, up and down the driveway. The place has been transformed by the 6/10-inch of rain we got Saturday evening. It's like a whole different world out there, with hope literally growing up anew. The trees and plants have all revived somewhat, the dirt looks moist rather than bone-dry, and the greenery is vibrant, especially in the morning when it's not ungodly hot out yet. This walk was such a treasure to me, too, because I haven't had much extra space in my life recently. I know there are many other people who know exactly what I am talking about, probably few of whom would ever read this, but anyhow -- what a blessing! To be able to walk ... to have the day off work ... to not be at the side of a critically ill parent, because he's doing better! I pray that continues.

I am reading a wonderful book by one of the great spiritual mentors of my life, Scott Peck, called "In Heaven as on Earth." The book is about his vision of what heaven is like. So this is a theme in books I've read recently, I guess! I like to go into the library at times and just browse the shelves. It seems that whenever I do, a book sort of leaps out at me and it is just the book I need to read. That's how I found this one.

Of course, I love Peck, and he thinks so much the way I do (that's a major reason I love him). He has also influenced the way I think. Nonetheless, it is interesting how unique each person's vision of heaven is -- based on the books I have read -- and how mine differs from those of others. I am struck by how important the "place" aspect is. As in Jesus's statement, "I go to prepare a place for you." Everyone's idea of the construct of this place is quite different, to the point that heaven perhaps would need to be custom-tailored to fit each individual personality. Isn't it so amazing, the endless abundant diversity of creation?

As for me, I would require a verdant and lush place, much like Earth, I think. I'm not talking Hawaii here or any exotic locale ... something like my own yard in the early morning would be beautiful. Seeing, feeling, smelling the splendor of all that life makes me feel very close to God. (Oops, sounds like I would need my senses still to function to be able to appreciate it all.) I don't think this is a clinging need. It feels more like the essential need to be as near to God as possible. By God, I mean so much more ... please don't misunderstand and insert the Christian God here, limited by people's narrow views. I mean, I mean -- the universal creative potential that binds us all together. Something that is really beyond words and thoughts, that is inexpressible at its core. It is something I long for, very deeply, and I think we all do.

I mention "place" because my friend Karen is fond of saying that heaven is not a place, but a state of mind. Well, yes and no. I don't know about you, but I can't imagine existing without being somewhere! Perhaps that is just because I (like most other humans) am so locked into these mental constructs formed from my surroundings, ideas that are fixed and temporal, and probably not very accurate in describing reality. But I have to believe the evidence of my senses while I am living here in this body.

Here are some other ideas Peck's book gives me to think about. Try this one: what we see as our own greatest flaw, could be the very thing God is using to achieve His/Her purposes. That's what the apostle Paul said in 2 Corinth. 12:9 that the risen Christ told him: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." It's striking how often this message is repeated, I noticed while looking up this verse.

The character in heaven sees himself as quite impatient, and views that as a sin. But he is told that perhaps that is exactly how God wanted him to be, and behave, and it could be his greatest strength.

Another idea is that God's wish for our service is for us to do what we absolutely love to do. I've never been good at this. In fact, it seems like I have to feel like I am suffering in order to truly be serving God. The more, the better! In fact, I can't really be serving God unless it is quite painful. Anything that is not painful can't be serving God -- it has to be selfish and unimportant. This is one of my greatest life struggles, and I think it is because I have always assumed I know what God wants me to do -- it has to feel like work, and be time-consuming, and a great obstacle for me.

But yet God apparently led me to this new career, where everything just fell into place and feels (relatively) effortless, full of ease even.* (*It's still work -- note my delight at beginning of post about having a day off!) Could that be how it is supposed to feel to really be serving? And if this job really is the result of divine intervention, I have to admit I have no idea what God's plans are for me, after all. Why in the world would it serve God best for me to be a CPA and do tax work? Just because I enjoy it and seem to be good at it? I don't get it!

I am going to continue posting if I have time. I have a backlog of unexpressed thoughts that desperately need to be written down. However, so I don't bore you with one (just one) endlessly long and rambling post, I will draft additional posts with different subjects (still possibly endlessly long and rambling!) and try to come back and post one each day. How's that for an effort to be readable?

Did you call your representatives in Congress?

2011-07-29T21:09:00.000-05:00

I called my senators tonight. (My representative, I'm not so concerned about.) The Washington office had a voice mailbox that was full for both of them, so I sent in comments via their webpage. I called their San Antonio office -- not sure if I successfully left a message for Sen. Hutchison, but the local numbers for Cornyn were routed back to his Washington office where --guess what? -- the mailbox was full.

U.S. Senate

U.S. House of Representatives

This 230-plus year experiment in democracy seems to be going badly awry. Hope we can get through this self-inflicted crisis!

I like the cartoon in a recent SA Express-News. The leaders of Afghanistan and Iraq are holding an American newspaper with the headline about the deadlock over the debt ceiling, and one says to the other, "I don't think this nation is ready for self-governance yet!"

Relentlessly positive

2011-07-21T21:31:00.000-05:00

Quote of the day: I have to stay relentlessly positive, or life would beat me down into a quivering pulp. This thought made me chuckle, in a gallows-humor sort of way.

Walking at twilight, I watched as the leaves of the trees changed color. First they softened and became more vulnerable, less solid. Then their shrinking silhouettes took on a wraithlike appearance, pallid and yellow. Their color looked worse than my Dad's, actually. With the blue sky faded to gray, the leaves faded too. The dark of the evening revealed something that cannot be seen in the bright midday sun. Perhaps this is another description of impermanence. Sorry, I'm not much of a poet, but I like to try on occasion!

I saw a raccoon, at least it looked like one, cross the driveway ahead of me. This is perhaps the same one that visited our watering hole (pond) one evening a few weeks back and attracted all kinds of unwanted attention from us and our pets, because we happened to be outside. Tonight, I wished it well and then continued on my way, while it went on its.

Here was my inspiration for the week, a man who is active in the masons. Back story: Dwaine has developed a midlife interest in the masons and was seeking them out to join them. Apparently, the usual way to join is by invitation or bloodline, or some such. Dwaine's dad was in the masons at some point, about 150 years ago (minus a few years, I guess). But I think Dwaine's wild hair came more from reading Dan Brown (the mystique was too intriguing to pass up) and wishing to belong to a group, specifically a secretive men's group.

So we visited the Harlandale group, Austin & I along for moral support (Andrew would have been there but is gone on a youth mission trip this week). Dwaine had been in touch with one of the group's leaders, Ed, and was warmly welcomed as a visitor. They were doing the officer induction and all the new officers were wearing their special mason aprons and had their families present, from kids and grandkids to grandparents.

They seemed like decent folks, and meeting one man in particular made the whole evening worthwhile for me. His name was Ed, and a nicer man I couldn't imagine. As we got to talking, he gave us a little of his life history. He ran a funeral home along with his wife for many years, and told us the story of the time they had a big fight and he fired her. What a mistake, he soon realized. So he had to hire her back at a significant pay raise!

He lost a lung to cancer some years ago. Then recently, he came down with a cold and cough, went in for some tests, and got the news that there was cancer in his one remaining lung. So he's taking chemotherapy. He told us that he thinks attitude is really important. He said he'd go into the cancer treatment facility and see a bunch of glum faces. So he'd start telling stories and jokes, and soon most everyone would be smiling. He's serving as secretary again this year -- one more year, he insists, no more. He said that before, and wound up with the job for 20-something years!

What a great inspiration for me to hear Ed's story, at this moment in my life! I like to debate the idea that there is a personal God involved in the details of our lives. But then things like this happen, special people and life events cross my path, and God's fingerprints are all over them. I am still smiling. If Ed can go through his epic struggle and still encourage others, then what do I have to complain about? Besides, complaining never solves problems, it just adds to the misery.

Signing off as positively yours truly, Julie

Learning from suffering

2011-07-15T09:38:00.000-05:00

One really nice thing to happen from this unfolding personal tragedy -- I'm not trying to be ironic or anything, but there really are good things that spring from bad things -- is that I'm no longer afraid of hospitals. I don't hate being in them. I have logged many hours at Methodist Hospital now, so many that I saw a number of familiar faces in the cafeteria a couple of days ago. That's the lady who takes Dad's lunch order ... the person from radiology ... the chaplain ... the PCA (whatever that means, a nursing aide).

The hospital is a happening place! Lots of life-changing stuff going on here. Lots of truly caring people helping others, from all the nurses to the doctors and aides. I feel a lot of compassion for them all, and for the people who, like my Dad, don't want to be here but have no choice in the matter. Their families and they have been sucked into a vortex and here they are, in a whole different reality from their everyday lives.

Another good thing is that Dad's Chinese wife is learning to become more independent. She is having to find her own way now, in many ways. She takes her citizenship exam next week, and I will be going with her.

I'm typing this on the hospital computer while they wash Dad's bedsores. Gotta go back to see him now.

My sister's post

2011-07-14T20:48:00.003-05:00

Click on the title to link to my sister's post about Dad. Poetry. Warning --- sad!!

Two wine night

2011-07-14T20:18:00.000-05:00

You've heard of the two or three dog night ... well, this is a two wine night for me. As in two glasses of wine. I, have become, comfortably numb!

Let's see, what can I talk about that does not involve that topic that is consuming my days and everything else in my life right now, my Dad? (Pray for him if you pray; send positive energy -- he needs it all.)

Harry Potter -- the last installment is coming out tonight! Dwaine asked Andrew if he wanted to go stand in line for the midnight showing and Andrew said, yes, and Dwaine said, except I don't want to stand in line all those hours! But how fabulous for those people who are lucky enough to be able to stand in line for hours to see the last Harry Potter film. That they have the space in their lives, and the resources, and such a commitment to having fun, and nothing better to do. Wow. Do any of those people know how charmed their lives are, to allow them to fritter away hours like that? I hope they have a blast, I sincerely do. I hope all that enjoyment and positive energy flows out and touches others, too.

How sad to think that young kids now will not have any more HP books to look forward to. It's like a generation of fantastic youth science fiction is coming to a close. Although the Potter books became much too dark for my taste, too grim for the lovely spark and great optimism of youth. I don't think life is so terrible, or that evil is on the brink of winning, even now.

There are always things to thank God for. For instance, thank God I don't live in Somalia right now ... or Iraq, for that matter. Thank God I am not fighting the fight of my life against cancer, the way Dad is. (With a broken right arm, no, make that a shattered right arm! In case you weren't sufficiently impressed.)

Another top news item, voting to increase the debt limit. C'mon, folks, if you (Congress and president) can't come to a serious agreement now to both decrease spending and eliminate tax cuts, when will you ever have the discipline and motivation to do it in the near future? Certainly, nothing will happen the rest of this year or next year's big election year. I agree that Obama should veto a bill allowing him to unilaterally increase the debt limit with no substantial agreement. Our country will not survive in the long run without coming to terms with the exploding national debt. (This is not the wine talking!) Republicans cannot demand so much and make no concessions themselves. That's not how the art of compromise works, which is what our great country was founded on.

Y'know, the way things are going convinces me more every day -- it's better to swallow your pain pill and make the tough sacrifices that life demands now! NOW! Don't wait. Don't ignore and hope it goes away. Believe me, it doesn't. It only gets worse. I speak to our government, and to each one of us as individuals.

Quick funnies

2011-07-10T21:23:00.001-05:00

For an update on my dad, contact me.

A couple of quick funnies.

Andrew went out back to pour out some pickle juice (at my request). He had only socks on. First, he was going to "borrow" some slippers he found by the back door, thinking they were mine. When I told him those were Dad's, he changed his mind (as he frequently gets in trouble for borrowing and messing up Dad's stuff.) Next he found one lonely shoe on the back porch. Not sure whose shoe -- could be Austin's, the most likely suspect to leave a shoe behind for several weeks. So Andrew decided that it would be easier to put on the one shoe and hop out back, about 30 yards. Away he went, like a one-legged kangaroo. He almost fell over when he had to unscrew the lid and toss out the pickle juice! Then he came hopping back. I should have filmed it. This, in the mind of a 15-year-old, is much easier than taking the time to find and put on two of his own shoes.

Next story. Andrew and I went shopping at Goodwill after he finished his Zoo Naturalist shift. Things have stabilized in my life at the moment, to the point that I decided to keep my commitment to play Mary, Jesus's mom, during Vacation Bible School next week. So I had to shop at Goodwill to find something to wear. This was my dilemma -- what would the mother of our Lord wear? Nothing quite measured up, of course. There were no glowing white outfits anywhere to be found, no halos at all. I finally picked two rather drab, plain long dresses that I will adorn with scarves. I'm sure Mary would think they were just fine.

While we were there, Andrew spied three classmates, all girls. When they turned and saw him, there was quite a ruckus. "Ooh, Andrew! Andrew!" they all cooed, and giggled, and screeched, for what seemed like forever. One girl hugged him. I had to wander off to hide my laughing fit. Later, I promised Andrew that this was a moment he would never live down, asked if he always had this effect on girls, and made him blush anew.

This evening, Dwaine and I dined out on the back patio. It was quite a mild afternoon, probably only about 95 degrees. Andrew remained inside, but made the mistake of leaving the table unattended for a few seconds. This was the perfect opportunity for the new kitten, Cassius (the one Austin decided to smuggle home a few weeks ago) to hop up on the table and investigate the hamburger patties there. When Andrew found him, he was allegedly sniffing the air just above the patties, nothing more.

Dwaine and Andrew decided, based on this evidence, that the hamburgers were no longer fit for human consumption. I had dined on Boca burgers, the veggie alternative, so I wasn't personally concerned about it. I didn't like throwing away perfectly good meat, though. So I took a closer look. No suspicious-looking hairs. No chunks of meat missing. So I did the reasonable thing: I put the hamburgers in a baggy and refrigerated them, for Austin to snack on when he gets off work.

The only possible problem will be if Andrew decides to snitch, but by then there will be nothing Austin can do about it.

Update on my dad

2011-06-20T10:13:00.002-05:00

This is a post I do not want to write. It's like an assignment hanging over my head, given by some cosmic English professor -- "Write about your father and the influence he has had on your life*" (*now that he is seriously ill). I dread writing it, but here goes.

Here's an update on my dad.

He went in for an MRI last week to check his back more thoroughly, because he has been having chronic pain that is getting quite severe in his back. His chiropracter, an amazing man, ordered the test. When the results were in, the chiropractor, Dr. Silva, called dad and set up a home appointment with him. A home appointment! As dad said, he suspected the news would not be good. But what a wonderful doctor to have. Dad says he treats every patient like a family member. This is a great blessing in dark times, and something I will always cherish. (I just wrote him a thank you note, one of the little things I can do in this situation where I feel so completely helpless. We will never forget your kindness, Dr. Silva.)

There is some sort of mass alongside dad's spinal column, and the chiropractor says it is possibly cancer, though more tests will be needed to determine for sure. Dad also needs another MRI to check an area of the spinal column that the first one missed.

We met for dinner for Father's Day yesterday. My dad is aging before my eyes, turning into a frail old man. He has become gaunt, his skin a sickly pale, and he could use a handicapped sticker and cane because it is so hard for him to get around. He moves more slowly every time I see him, the last time being about 2 weeks ago. He hardly ate -- he did finish the tomato soup, but took only a few bites of the grilled cheese sandwich. The way he looks, and moves, and eats is what alarms me more than anything else.

When he and I talked on the phone about his latest medical news, I was quite composed. This is the way he wanted me to be, and I could only honor his expectations. I felt the same, strangely calm, when I talked to my sister. Two reasons come to mind: mindfulness practice, and also, this is a deep pain that will take time to surface.

I am struggling with a new way to handle my emotions and reactions, rather than allowing them to take me for a wild roller-coaster ride as they have done throughout my life. I am finally learning it does not help anyone to be out of control during a crisis. It's also a sign of spiritual immaturity. It sure doesn't make Dad any better or improve his situation in any way. My new attitude about bawling is that it is usually self-indulgent. Sometimes necessary, but I need to discern whether the thing behind the tears is a completely honest emotion or whether it is just the same old excess nerves trying to stir something up, generate some excitement around here.

It's hard to just let emotions be, just let them arise and not manage them or repress them or say, this is an appropriate time to cry, or an inappropriate time, as if emotions would respect that sensibility at all. It's hard not to label them, as I have done above.

My dad is one of the stiff upper lip -- "Everything's fine, I'm just dying but it's all OK." The worst thing, for him, would be for one of us to break down and cry in front of him. That would challenge his way of dealing with feelings: just don't have them, banish them forever. It works for him most of the time, though the things he must do to compensate can be quite extraordinary. How do you feel, emotionally speaking, that everything is just fine when your back is so painful that your body cannot move, and you can't eat?

My mom was a different type. She felt that the best expression of love was to worry deeply, fanatically, and often about her loved ones. This involved a constant output of emotional energy that was doubtless exhausting to her, but also to the objects of her affection, me and my sister.

Now that I becoming am a grown-up myself, at the age of 45, I am trying to find my own way.
My former approach to feelings was to wallow in them, luxuriate in melancholy like a rich, deep bath. Everything has its sad side, even the hum-drum of ordinary life. Let me tell you, I know this. I have lived it. I could always spice things up by finding the hidden sadness in any event. The happier the occasion, the greater its shadow side would loom, because all this happiness was just a big loss waiting to happen. Just a few ticks of the clock and the wonderful moment would be lost to history, would die if you will, and I could grieve because it was over. Or I could grieve because I knew we'd all die one day. It didn't matter how many minutes, or weeks or years or decades away it might be, death was a certainty for us all. (Still is, by the way.) So I could focus on that and taste the bitter in every wonderful, small moment.

I still can see that there is an amazing truth to just how double-edged our lives are. Every moment contains complete joy and complete sorrow, and one could not exist without the other. I feel that sharply right now, when I am with my sons, and my husband. How precious every moment is. Reality is a grand drama all by itself, and I don't need to embellish it with excess emotional fluff. But it's not nearly as sad as I always thought, somehow, when you see the completeness of it.

It may seem like the stuff of our lives is so ordinary and commonplace until a crisis like this happens, but that is an illusion. Life and death are happening all around us, every moment. The more tuned in we are, the more we can become aware of this epic story being played out at every level. The most mundane activities take on a new importance when you can see that life always hangs in the balance, on the edge, of its opposite.

This week brings new doctor's appointments and more information. It all takes so much time, and meanwhile the disease keeps gaining. If you are the sort to pray, please pray for my dad.

Fighting with the kids is more satisfying in person

2011-06-16T20:32:00.000-05:00

This is the first summer I have truly been away from my kids for long stretches of time. It's difficult, though they really are (or should be) self-sufficient by now, having attained the grand old ages of 17 and 15. However, since they have been my personal projects for so long, it is tough saying goodbye to that phase of my life. Bittersweet, with a heavy emphasis on the bitter part at times.

It is a strange feeling, not knowing just what they are doing all day long, trying to keep them busy with errands and housework but not so overloaded that they are resentful. Complicating efforts is that Austin is the new greaseboy at Sonic and is working 5 days a week, with nearly all his shifts starting at 5 pm, right around the time we get home. So we hardly see him. He's certainly not up when I leave to go to work at 6:30 am. However, he is home during the day to keep Andrew entertained/in mischief!

This is a good thing. Andrew has hermitlike tendencies and I envision him in bed, in his underwear, with his iPod, all day long if he were left to his own devices. (Or, possibly, curled up with a good book and his trusty dog, Mimi, sleeping at his side.) He would forget to eat, lose all track of time, abandon personal hygiene, and generally be an unproductive (not to mention stinky), wild-haired and wild-eyed drag on society. He might actually completely withdraw from human society, lose his ability to communicate except with grunts and hand signals, and so on, if allowed to continue this way. Oh yeah, I forgot -- that's pretty much how he communicates right now. This is Andrew's shadow self, which we get to see at home from time to time. In public, he is always quite presentable and fussy about his appearance.

OK, so 1) Andrew and I are two peas in a pod in this respect (my secret desire is to be a hermit too), and 2) I greatly exaggerate (or, well, a little bit anyhow). I'm really not trying to embarrass my son! So now you can imagine us both, in bed and in our underwear all day long. I'd be reading books and blogging, two activities that don't require dressing up, or even brushing of the hair or teeth. So long, makeup, panty hose, skirts and blouses and uncomfortable shoes!

I was shocked, stunned, amazed and confused to learn that my sons had not done as I instructed them, had not gone together yesterday and gotten Father's Day cards and water shoes for a tubing trip tomorrow. I had left a detailed note yesterday morning about running these errands. I had called and reviewed the plan of action with Austin, who sounded like he was completely on board with it. (Yes, my 17-year-old fooled me with a display of interest in something he had no intention of actually doing! That only happens every day.) Despite my note and phone call, something happened to derail the plan. Or maybe, more accurately, nothing happened and inertia prevailed. The mission was unaccomplished, aborted in favor of something more exciting or easier -- perhaps the Wii or Xbox, or a nap.

So I called Austin today around noon to talk about how the plan could have gone so badly awry -- noon being the earliest time of day that he is likely to be awake and fully alert. Here's the problem when you hardly ever see your teenager. Chances are, there are some areas of friction in your relationship already, and it isn't a pleasant feeling to be calling with the express purpose of getting after him about something. Austin would say all my calls are of this nature -- to check up on him, remind him to do this or that, "have you taken your calcium pill today?," "How about those chores?," nag nag nag -- in fact, the regular Jewish mother, I guess!

What I learned was not reassuring. Austin had stopped after his shift ended (at approximately midnight last night) and bought Dad's Day cards to Dad and Grandpa for both him and his brother. And this was supposed to be superior to my plan? I took great offense to this. His brother should have picked out his own cards! I just don't understand Austin's priorities right now at all. The conversation ended with him saying abruptly, "I have to get off the phone, Mom. I'm driving." (I imagined the conversation continuing: "So then why are you answering your phone?" "Because then you'd really be mad, if I was ignoring you!")

I should have gotten into an actual fight with Austin -- we had all the right ingredients -- but he has learned that the best approach to an upset parent is to just say, "uh-huh," in varying tones of sullenness, until we get distracted or run out of time, whichever comes first. Then he goes on and does whatever he wants anyhow. Why? He's 17, that's why. One foot is out the door, and his head is up in the clouds somewhere.

So then I got into a texting argument with Andrew, who started complaining about how he and Austin have no money. (This was all taking place during my lunch break.) By this time I was just itching to get into a fight, and apparently, so was he. That's a 15-year-old for you. At the precise moment Andrew was complaining about being poverty-stricken, the kids were at a restaurant getting ready to eat -- one of their favorite ways of spending money. The irony was rich. Then I called Austin once more to tell him they'd better get those water shoes today, by golly, or else. Then I added, "And tell Andrew that if he's so concerned about his money, he shouldn't be eating out!" So there. Humph.

I hung up and burst into tears, because it sucks that the one time you can talk to your kids, over the phone, it's to argue. So I got it out of my system, expressed my inner drama queen for a moment before morphing back into my better-known self -- the utterly composed, cool as a cucumber Julie Smith, CPA. Fortunately, my office is quite private and no one was around to wonder about my little tantrum except my plant, Maxwell, who wasn't offended at all.

As far as the rest of the summer ... Austin is busy with his new job, and Andrew will be busy in a few weeks with the usual culprits -- VBS helper, mission tripper, zoo naturalist (just two weeks scheduled for now), and as my travelling companion to go visit my sister in Virginia the end of July. So right now, they can sleep late and laze around the house -- but just a bit! Otherwise, my Puritan work ethic gets offended.

We are all dancers

2011-06-14T20:06:00.001-05:00

Yet another perspective on life ... We are all beautiful dancers. We dance together, we dance apart, and we each have our own instinctive sense of rhythm. Our dancing influences and changes the entire world all around us. We co-create with everything else. This dancing, the patterns and rhythms, is art, and it reflects the beauty of all creation.

There are many facets of reality. As much as we are hamsters spinning in our wheels, so we are graceful and talented dancers as well. The gift is being able to discern reality at these different levels and not becoming stuck in one point of view.

I have started exploring podcasts on philosophy. Those on religion and spirituality seem too confined and perhaps dogmatic, trying to prove a particular point of view rather than discover what is going on here.

One new podcast I tried is called "Philosopher's Cafe." I just downloaded one episode, with guest speaker David Kirk. He introduced himself by describing what he is NOT -- a teacher, or a philosopher, or a particularly wise or enlightened individual, with any recognizable qualifications to speak of. He then played the trump card: as a member of the human race, he is eminently qualified to speak on our human condition. He had me hooked!

Yes, philosophy is the great equalizer. It acknowledges that our view of reality is completely subjective, despite our belief that our senses provide us rock-solid evidence of the world around us. Kirk (or should I call him "Captain Kirk," boldly going where no man -- err, no one -- has dared to go?) was starting to explain how quantum physics indicates that we are all part of the same global "organism" or energy bundle, not separate at all, and we are connected so intimately that there can be no actions that do not affect the entire organism ... which is at least global, and possibly cosmic. He also launched into the curious question of why we all seem to share an equal and opposite propensity for creation and destruction. And why we aren't all aware of how interconnected we are. We are supposed to be these great sentient beings who have achieved a high level of consciousness, and yet we continue to rape and pillage our earth and each other.

My response? I-love-it! Not, certainly, the rape and pillage part; but this man has filmed documentaries of horrifying manmade disasters, and he had earned the right to talk about it. To talk about how he could just walk away from these enormous tragedies, because he was on a deadline, and that was what his producer and other business cohorts expected, and he had to do it to save himself, finally, from being dragged down with all the other victims. (Again I embellish somewhat the words he actually spoke.)

I was getting into a bit of a rut with my other podcasts. Even "This American Life" was wearing on me (how could that be, I know).

Then there was another short but enjoyable podcast, Philosophy and Pop Culture, where the two speakers were talking about the conflict between freedom (as in free will) and God's being a predictive, all-knowing sort of deity. For instance, let's say that you decide to have a hamburger for lunch tomorrow. God already knows you are going to eat a hamburger for lunch, as well as every other detail of every present, past, and future life of everybody. Unfortunately, his knowing that you will eat a hamburger seemingly precludes you from making any other choice tomorrow -- even if you see the grilled chicken salad on special and realize it's much healthier, not to mention a great price, less greasy, more nutritious, etc.

So to digress from the actual discussion on the podcast for a moment: the problem with free choice/predestination seems to be with our sense of time. The only things that can be known with certainty, in our world and from our perspective, are the things that have already passed, whereas the future is completely subject to change. The pivot point is always the present moment, where we supposedly have free choice. But one minute into the future, we can no longer change what we did one minute ago, and so forth. I doubt the evidence of our senses, though, that time dictates this change in such an ironclad way. It seems to be a localized constraint, born of our existence on this physical planet and our limited ability to perceive ultimate reality while in these carbon-based lifeforms.

So, notice this podcast made reference to Pop Culture? Well, midway into the podcast, the speakers suddenly launched into an enthusiastic review of "The Matrix" like truly rabid fans. It seemed that they had been biding their time, pretending to talk about philosophy until they could get to the really good stuff -- like who on earth thought that Keanu Reeves was a good choice for the main character of Neo? (Was that really his name? So it said when I Googled it.) The discussion went on in this vein for some minutes (Kevin Spacey and Will Smith were rumored to have been in the running for the characters played by Lawrence Fishburne and Reeves, respectively; the narrators tossed about the idea of Spacey and concluded he would have been good, but not as physically imposing as Fishburne. Smith was hands-down seen as a much more exciting choice than Reeves).
I hadn't been paying close enough attention, it seemed, and I had completely missed the segue from philosophy into Matrix matters. I backtracked, and it went something like this -- where in pop culture is this philosophical issue mentioned? Apparently, for all you philosophy fans out there who don't want to work so hard as to actually read the likes of Aristotle or Nietsche, "The Matrix" movies have all the deep philosophical issues, and tangles, and paradoxes, embedded in the movies as various plots and subplots. I recall that it was difficult to jump into a "Matrix" movie without fully comprehending the premise of the entire thing. Otherwise, you just saw a bunch of whirling black-clad people doing improbably rapid-fire kung fu moves. I also recall reading my fellow blogger, Sardine Mama, mentioning that the plotline of "The Matrix" was perhaps impervious to the average person (especially middle-aged type women like myself, notice I didn't include her in this group) and could better be understood by the mind of a juvenile male. Or any male, actually, with access to their inner juvenile male. So perhaps I'm outta luck on that one. Back to the books!
So, I like this podcast too. Fun and philosophy, all together -- who could beat it? Although it's on the short side. I like a good, meaty 30-minute or more podcast that will at least fill up a one-way commute to or from work. Lately, I've been communing with God on the morning drive, so that leaves the return home for my podcasting enjoyment.

Enjoy your dance, my fellow member of the human race!

Hamsters spinning on a wheel

2011-06-12T21:15:00.000-05:00

This is a counterpoint to the last post, the one that was on The Supreme Importance of Being Me.

I look around sometimes and see each of us, trapped inside our own cages and our little stories of ourselves, each spinning on a wheel like hamsters and totally oblivious to just how small we are. To us, the problems in the cage are huge and alarming. The problems that we sense all around us, inside our cages, are mountains from our hamster-like point of view. Nevertheless, we seek to own them, make them uniquely ours to worry about and try to fix. No one else has had quite this problem, or of this magnitude, we say, and try to glare it down with the force of our personality. Fixing any problems this way is impossible.

It's much easier to see when someone else has become pinned by their story, obsessed with the details of their life that seem impossible to overcome. They have magnified a problem by focusing on it completely, this mote of dust, and are paralyzed by it. It could be anything, family problems to kid problems to things we think of as major -- the end of life, illness, addiction, cancer. It's all dust in the wind, the song says (and so says the Bible). For all the control I have over problems, big or small -- it's as though I am dust in the face of these problems. I can't change them. The most and biggest thing I can try to do is change my own insight.

We seek to have control of this overwhelming thing called life, and to feel the momentum of forward progress, so we climb into the spinning wheel and away we go! And go, and go. It seems like it could be freedom, but our ego-oriented points of view are intact and nothing in our world view has been truly challenged.

This is how life is, inside a human body ... surprisingly similar to the experience of any other life form here in our world. We are constrained by the environment and our physical captivity inside this sentient being. But people want something bigger and better, so we delude ourselves. We make our lives the supremely important thing. People do this in different ways, but we all do it. We are all ego-based and need affirmation to thrive.

The Enneagram, I have been learning, shows some particular ways that people are driven; the character of their particular hamster wheel, if you will, and what motivates them to spin it. I am learning what makes me spin mine.

So how do we detect that we are nothing more than hamsters, spinning on a wheel, going nowhere? It's difficult when we are so accomplished at fooling ourselves, and helping others keep the deception intact, both of their lives and in ours.

I think this is where contemplation/meditation comes in. It is quite difficult for a person to break out of the egocentric point of view. It takes time ... silence ... reflection ... and emptiness.

Something in me runs away from these things, still. I'd rather be busy! Stillness ... something in me is terrified of it. What might I discover? That I am really nothing, nobody, unimportant, an empty shell? Maybe.

I'd rather do something, anything, else. Even if it's just spinning on the wheel. You and I can commiserate, or each of us share the amazing insights our personal wheel has provided us. That's what I have been doing here, after all. Are there any glimmers of true revelation? It must be up to the reader to decide that. The author cannot know with certainty. At least, that's how I see it from here.

How does the story go? (This was going to be an epithet on a tomb, but once I finished writing I realized the sucker would have to stand about 20 feet tall to fit all this verbiage, so never mind!) How about something printed on a funeral bulletin instead?

I started my life off trying to change the world. This world is full of misery and sorrow, a vale of tears, and I could improve it. I set out to do just that.

Then life wore at me over a span of years. I looked around; things were as miserable as they ever had been. Nothing had changed. I came to realize, to my sorrow, that my goal was too lofty. So I turned my efforts to something more modest: Changing my country. Equally too hard. My community? My family? My husband? My child?

All proved immovable objects, impervious to my control. So I took up the task of changing myself.

And here's where it got me! Something changed, all right. Just not in the way I had planned.

Great expectations

2011-06-04T19:50:00.000-05:00

From the time I was little, I knew that I was destined for greatness. I would be an important person and do something special. God had a mission for me, something that was particular to who I am.

I still think that, even though those words don't mean the same things anymore that they did to a child. Amazingly, there are -- apparently -- many other people like me who feel this way. Well, no doubt! With names like Einstein, Shakespeare, Dickinson, ... (kidding)

Many people feel this special sense of destiny, is the revelation of the Enneagram. Yes, it is suspiciously like a horoscope ... or zodiac ... which, the Chinese version printed on those paper placemats in American Chinese restaurants, has always sounded a lot like me (the sign being the snake). "Wise and intense, with a tendency toward physical beauty. Vain and high-tempered. Your best signs are the cock and ox. Avoid the rat." (Not sure that is an exact quote, but close) (Sorry if I already quoted that here; so annoying if I am repeating myself)

So, my type on the Enneagram, one of nine, is the one with "the need to feel special" or unique. It's not a need so much as a statement of fact. I am special!! Unique!! But so is everybody.

The person I envy the most, I suppose, is John Milton. I was rereading his poem, "On His Blindness" again (no, I don't envy the blindness) and thought, how wonderful that he had a mission statement in life; he knew what it was; and he accomplished it so magnificently with "Paradise Lost." While here I am ... "They also serve who only stand and wait." Yep, that's me. Standing, waiting.

One of the tough things I am working on these days, spiritually speaking, is ramping down my expectations of life. I am only one person! I cannot save the world, even when I feel I should. I can't even save my Dad, I'm learning. What my Enneagram adviser, Bonnie, told me though, is the critical point ... I can change the way I show up. My presence in life is the way I can fulfill this sense of destiny. Everyone has a potentially huge trajectory in life that they leave, even just from their offspring, if you study genealogy at all. We are all enormous ships leaving a huge wake in our path.

I have observed that one of the most difficult ways to show up is as a mature adult, all the time, in every situation. It gets tough for me when I am tired, or hungry, or both. Those are great weaknesses for me. Or, how about when people are pushing emotional buttons?

I heard on a recent "This American Life" a story of a girl who was attending college and was continuing to live with her parents, and how difficult the relationship can be with a grown child living at home. In her case, her mom would pick these fights with her constantly. I listened to this broadcast on national radio as she described what her mom would do, which is essentially throw little tantrums about her daughter's imagined failures, while her daughter would try to be reasonable. Unfortunately, this kind of relationship is quite common between parents and children. In those cases, the children wind up having to deal with their parents' neuroses, and failure to grow and mature. Here is an area that is ripe for spiritual work for every parent. Do we always act like the adult in our relationships with our children? I know I don't.

Li'l Drew

2011-05-24T21:23:00.001-05:00

This is a nickname I still give my youngest son, though he has grown taller than me and soon will outweigh me! He will probably wind up being taller even than his brother, which is a switch after years of being about a head shorter. He is turning 15 this week. When Austin turned 15, within a few months we got his learner's permit, which he had been eagerly anticipating for about the prior six months. We got his driver's license on his 16th birthday. Andrew's a lot more laid back, and we are not going to hurry in on this one.

He decided that he would be a volunteer at the San Antonio Zoo this summer, in between other activities. Unfortunately, the zoo did not play along with his wishes. They scheduled interviews on two consecutive Saturday afternoons when he was unavailable and had unbreakable commitments elsewhere.

The first weekend, he was on a band trip in Denver, Colorado. The next Saturday, he was one of 14 young men escorting young ladies in the court of a quinceanera, a top-drawer event that was fit for a queen and celebrated the life of a lovely young woman here in town. He and the others on the court had accepted the invitation more than a month earlier and attended several dance classes; they got to show the fruits of their labors when they performed some complicated moves during the choreographed portion of the evening!

It was a party the likes of which my boys won't even see at their wedding reception -- there was a multi-tiered white cake (something like five tiers), a large chocolate cake, two chocolate fountains, an elaborate dinner buffet with many choices, a couple of roving photographers taking pictures of the event and of the participants and their families, many choices of candy and chocolates to take home in goodie bags, and gorgeous Mardi Gras masks and decorations. Then there was a deejay, several on-stage dancers, laser lights, spotlights ... the works.

I learned a couple of new words: "trance" (music) and "Tiesto" (a band). Dwaine was shouting these words I'd never heard of toward me while the music was pounding out full-blast, and all I could say was, "What?" I thought he was yelling, "France! France!" I wanted to say, "Oui, oui! I know the theme is Mardi Gras!"

So anyhow ... Andrew really, really couldn't go interview at the zoo. However, I know there were other parents and kids out there who had rather flimsier excuses. The standard response to all of us potential slackers was, if you are not available on one of these Saturdays, you will not be able to volunteer for the zoo this summer. Period.

I started searching for alternatives to fill the approximately 6 weeks of summertime where Andrew had nothing at all scheduled, since he will not continue in band. (By the way, we expect that Austin will be working, though he hasn't yet been offered a job.) I found some cool-sounding camps involving art and drama, but did not run across any other outdoor volunteer activities (there was always Boy Scout camp, but he had shot down this alternative long ago). Andrew, however, had made up his mind. He was going to be a summer naturalist at the zoo. Nothing more, nothing less, and nothing else. He found it foolish and tiresome that I was trying to distract him with these other camps, which he disdainfully rejected. Nothing else could be up to par with the zoo.

I had to admire his strength of will in latching on to a completely untried experience, though I hated to see him disappointed. Andrew has had a tendency, through the years, to react to any new experience in an Eeyore sort of way -- it won't turn out well, I won't have any fun, and I don't want to do it! So for him to embrace this uncharted territory -- well, it was a great step forward.

I wound up sending one, then two e-mails that were progressively more pleading, verging on begging, to the volunteer coordinator at the zoo. I think in the second one I mentioned that money was no object, I'd pay for him to volunteer, my son's heart was set on volunteering at the zoo or bust ... Perhaps not surprisingly, I got a perky little response to this e-mail. "Sorry we didn't get back to you sooner, could you come in Tuesday afternoon to interview?" Hey, we'd show up at midnight in the deepest woods if that's what was required! We would be there, absolutely! I would leave work at lunchtime, get Andrew out of school early, and he would have an unexcused absence for his last two classes, in order for him to get in at the zoo.

So that's just what we did this afternoon. It was a great, illicit-feeling adventure. Andrew wanted to text his friends and ask them something while we were driving to the zoo, and I said, hey, don't do that -- they are in school! We're the ones playing hooky.

The zoo holds group interviews with the kids and asks them a number of questions. Most are "what-if" scenarios. What if someone is lost? What if you are lost? What would you do if a child in the tour group wanted to leave to go to the snack bar? And so on. (None about what if a child fell in the bear pit -- I thought that might liven things up a bit, but for some reason they didn't include it.)
The sneakiest question asked each kid why the zoo should hire some other kid in their interview group. Not why should we hire you -- why should we hire that kid over there, who you met about 15 minutes ago? Andrew had only one other kid interviewing with him, someone else with a tale of woe about why they couldn't be there on Saturday. Her name was Jasmine, and she was a black 13-year-old who, her mom told me, wants to be a vet when she grows up.

Andrew was quite concerned that she didn't write very much about him in response to this question. "She was really quiet," he confided to me, "and I don't think she helped me very much." Andrew found several nice things to say about Jasmine: she was smart and mature for her age, knew some good information, and he thought she would be a well-behaved and responsible volunteer.

The zoo had told these kids that the most important part of the job is teamwork, so I figured that the purpose of this question was to see if kids would sound like good team players in the answers they gave. I knew my son would find something truly kind to say, and he was being completely sincere as well. That's who he is, in a nutshell. A kind, sincere young man.

As a mom, I have to say that he is the best-qualified applicant for the job that I can think of, and certainly the most enthusiastic. He should get it; he has earned the right to volunteer at the zoo. He will find out by e-mail soon. Go, Andrew!

Andrew, in character as the Boy Who Cried Wolf, beside the Old Shepherd, who is being interviewed for live TV coverage of the sensational trial of the Big Bad Wolf. Piggies are in the background.

Orwellian despair

2011-05-22T20:39:00.000-05:00

I finished reading "1984" this afternoon, after a long nap. I see why this book has seared itself into the consciousness of millions of readers, even to this day. Orwell's powers of description were amazing. He described the details of feeling hunted by a cruel authoritarian government, even to the point of having to carefully guard every expression and movement; and the extended torture the main character endured in an ultimately successful attempt to brainwash him. There was an article in today's paper that described a certain political lobbying effort as "Orwellian."

Here is a description of this man, Winston, after spending unknown months or years in the torture facility (called the Ministry of Love, ha ha) for his actions opposing the Party. His captor and brutal torturer, for whom he feels a strange bond of affection, tells him that he, Winston, is the last man standing -- the final uncorrupted human soul -- and invites him to look at himself in the mirror. Here is an excerpt:

"a bowed, gray-colored, skeletonlike thing was coming toward him. ... The creature's face seemed to be protruded, because of its bent carriage. A forlorn, jailbird's face with a nobby forehead ... a crooked nose and battered-looking cheekbones above which the eyes were fierce and watchful. ... the truly frightening thing was the emaciation of his body. The barrel of the ribs was as narrow as that of a skeleton; the legs had shrunk so that the knees were thicker than the thighs."

I could go on, but that gives just a flavor of the power of his writing. The amazing thing was that after all this, and after a reprieve, then the worst sort of torture threatened, and a return to society, the main character still went on living. Why live in these circumstances? The Party did destroy his mind, ultimately, and force him to betray the woman he loved.

The author invited me into this dreary world, and I accepted and felt its lingering effects this evening. Can we say that humanity has made much progress away from totalitarianism and in another more positive direction, really? I told Austin that we have the means to end all of humanity's most pressing problems -- poverty, disease, warfare -- and yet those who have the greatest abundance of resources seem to be consumed with getting more and hoarding them. The same old story. You see this, for instance, in the anti-immigration bills that are in vogue throughout the country.

This evening, I was living from Winston's point of view, briefly, because it was so powerful I could not shake it off immediately. I was a wornout husk, useless to everyone, feeling strongly my own sins and inadequacy. Yet I still could go out walking. And on my walk, I still could invite God to be present with me. Seeing our beautiful tall trees waving in the breeze did help. They have survived more than one grim season of heat and drought. So long as there are lovely tall trees, there is hope for the human spirit as well.

Here was a thought I had, trolling up and down the driveway -- maybe I should lay off the wine! I am plenty melodramatic enough without it!

My spiritual guide wants me to journal about passages that deeply affect me, presumably from spiritual books -- though "1984" speaks to me as a deeply spiritual book. The trouble with this assignment is narrowing it down.

Did I mention my boys are turning 15 and 17? Growing up, they are. I think Austin spends more time away from home than here, already.

Spiritual direction

2011-05-19T22:15:00.000-05:00

I met with a lovely lady this week, a spiritual guide who is Catholic, named Cecelia. I wanted to tell you how it went!

I felt like we clicked right away. Even the drive to her house was almost choreographed -- it's hard to describe. I had the sense of where to go, and which road was hers (trust me, this never happens to directionally-challenged me!).

She opened and closed our session with really heartfelt prayers that spoke to me, and to the God in me, I suppose you'd say. Her opening prayer was about how hard it can be to recognize Jesus even when he is so close, as throughout the resurrection appearances. Her closing prayer brought God so close that I sort of snorted with a nervous, stifled laugh -- talk about embarrassing! She was praying about how I was longing for a more intimate relationship with God. At that moment, I had the strong urge to shout out, "Never mind, God! Just kidding!! I was actually just leaving, you know ... Don't mind me, ha ha ..." You get the idea.

I liked that she does not feel the need to conform to any certain tradition, or practice. She said that she could give me all these reference books on how to pray, or to be in contemplative prayer, but actually I needed to find my own way to do it. The main point being to be completely present to God, and to invite God to dwell with me in that moment, and the next, and so on. She also said that I didn't have to read an entire spiritual book if it didn't all speak to me, that I could pick and choose the parts that worked for me -- now, this is heresy indeed! I always have felt the slavish obligation to read books cover to cover, perhaps in deference to the author. Many times, I've failed to read a whole book, but then the guilt of that experience weighs me down.

She said something else that I think was so wise, and I used this idea in my prior post as well: the mind cannot comprehend times that we are actually in communion with God. So for the mind, it can seem like a blank moment -- it simply does not register. That is why it requires a lot of patience and perseverance to meditate, or to practice contemplative prayer. Yes, this makes sense to me! I am still too much in love with my mind, very attached to it, and it does lead me astray all the time.

I think Cecelia is very similar to me in some of her struggles with her faith walk, but also she will be able to rebuke me and offer guidance with compassion. She already did give some nudges. Lots of food for thought. Cecelia grew up in Mexico City, and she has a warm and generous spirit that reminds me of a couple of other friends who also have close ties to Mexico.

She also mentioned Buddhism several times. If I had any doubts about her, this was the clincher!

So at the end, she said that she wanted us both to pray and reflect on this meeting before scheduling the next (in a month). This is what I am doing, though I feel a conviction that this is the path God has chosen for me. I don't make that statement lightly. I know it is a powerful and fearsome thing to say that God is leading me in this certain direction, and I am reminded that such a statement links me to crazy religious fanatics out there -- the jihadist terrorists, for instance.

So I have to be so careful, making that statement. Yet I feel this clarity, which is a lovely and somewhat rare thing in my life. I think Cecelia has the gift of clarifying God's actions in my life. What a wonderful blessing to be able to do that for someone!

Still, I wait to see what the upcoming days will reveal.

I should add the purpose of having a spiritual guide, as I understand it now. A spiritual guide is someone who will discuss your spiritual concerns with you, and help you make decisions about your spiritual path. This person is a mirror for your spirit and can help reveal the actions of Christ (or the divinity of your choice) in your life. Cecelia says she is unable to discern, on her own, how Christ is active in her life. She requires a spiritual guide to point it out to her.

How to save a life

2011-05-18T21:53:00.004-05:00

I need to do some edits here because I wrote this one in such a hurry. So if you already read it, you will have to read it again! I should have saved it as a draft ... note to self.

It hit me again, today, that my loved ones are not immortal. Particularly not my dad, who has been having ongoing health problems this year. We can't tell if this is terminal, or serious, or something he will overcome. He has been having a low appetite since February or so, and the GI tests and blood tests have been stacking up with no conclusive results. Now he's going high-tech and will swallow what he calls a submarine (or maybe that's what it is called!) -- a little pill-shaped camera that clicks pictures of the digestive tract as it goes down. I asked him whether the doctor had instructed him to return it at the end for the next patient!

I was trying to explain my concern to my sister, who sees dad even less often than I do. It's sometimes the hardest thing in the world to help someone who is the closest to you. How do I help my dad? I feel conflicting urges to lecture him, to give advice, to give him an ultimatum -- shape up or die! He seems to be declining and becoming more noticeably frail. Is this by choice? Can we do something to buck him up, turn him around? It's hard to let go of the feeling that my sister and I have high stakes in the matter of my dad's health. We could turn it all around ourselves, if we had enough willpower.

My sister thinks that dad is deeply unhappy and that he's letting go of his grip on life; that he doesn't have much to live for. That his wife is inadequate, and he has no friends, no joie de vivre, and so on. So, this means we should let him go?? Or what?

She and I are experiencing, in our own different ways, a common delusion. We rely so much on our minds being rational, but the mind goes completely haywire when considering the idea of death. It is a fact so far outside our normal experience that it is beyond the grasp of the rational mind. The death of someone is inconceivable, in our Earthbound existence. You can ponder our mutable natures, meditate about death, and someone can live to be any age -- 100, you name it -- and it is still a terrible shock when they die. It's a shockwave too great for the mind to comprehend. You have to leave the mind behind and see mortality in a completely different way to be able to come to any peace about it.

I remember the feelings when my mom died. Her being in the ICU 9 days, on a ventilator, at death's door, did not prepare us at all. We just figured she was going through a rough patch. Then there was all the second-guessing after she died. What if we had noticed sooner how sick she was and made her go to the doctor? She had been going frequently and then was allowed to wait for a longer time, and it was fatal. What if we had forced her to quit smoking years ago, or made her get out of the garage where she liked to sit, where the smoke got so thick it would immediately choke me when entering?

So I feel, once again, this now-familiar sense of helplessness, seeing my parent struggle. If he would just get up and move around more, and eat better, and have a more positive outlook ... try volunteering ... make some friends. See some funny movies! He likes to laugh. Dad is a funny man, with a good sense of humor. Where did that go?

I have so many suggestions, and I could get really obnoxious about trotting them all out! I just may feel compelled to do that. But part of me does see that Dad mainly needs his daughters to love him, and listen, and be there. Just show up, and be present. Wow, that's difficult enough right there. How to be present with someone who doesn't really want other people getting too close, with someone who has not been vulnerable or open to others for many years. He has tucked his gifts way deep inside him by now. It's hard to see them anymore.

Questions keep echoing and will not stop: Why? Why is grace available to me, but not to him? How can I give him what I have found? Why can't I? My impatient ego wants to know all these things.

Now for something completely different

2011-05-16T18:55:00.000-05:00

I got to be "teacher for a day" at Floresville High School after asking if any English teachers wanted help with their students writing college admission essays. Mrs. Haag (Austin's current freshman comp teacher) took me up on the offer! I spent time with juniors in five of her class periods today as they drafted essays for college, and next Monday I am supposed to help them with editing.

It gives me hope to see the level of dedication of a number of the public school teachers right here in Floresville. They have a lot to deal with -- lots of federal and state mandate hurdles and a huge variety of students, some with really challenging home environments -- and still, a number of teachers manage to shine and influence many, many children anyway.

There is a lot to criticize about public education, and it's a wonder that highly qualified people would even choose teaching as a vocation, but they still do. God bless them!

I'm still sorting out how and where I can serve on a long-term basis. I have a large commitment right now at church that doesn't seem like it will be winding down real soon. I really long to be on the front lines somewhere, making an impact with a truly at-risk population. It could be at prison, with the homeless, with at-risk kids, or with people in hospice care. Where the rubber truly hits the road, in other words. I need to be patient and wait for the right time and opportunity to present itself.

Some thoughts on politics, religion...

2011-05-14T11:23:00.002-05:00

In the interest of full disclosure, I just made a small edit to this post even though it has been out in the blogosphere a few days.

What's the third item on the list of topics never to discuss in polite company? Oh yeah, sex. Well, since this is a family site, you're out of luck on that one. (But see comments on politics, where sex is referred to indirectly, anyhow. Nothing gets a bunch of politicians more worked up than sex!)

So here I go, wading into subject matter where angels fear to tread. I will try to tread lightly, if that's possible.

Today's San Antonio Express-News had a brief recap of Texas Gov. Rick Perry's "emergency" priorities for this legislative session. Let's just review, if you are a fellow Texan. If not, read it and gape:

* Mandatory sonograms for women considering an abortion
* Voter ID (to check people's IDs prior to allowing them to vote)
* Eminent domain reform (so the government can't confiscate your land)
* A resolution calling for a balanced budget amendment to the U.S. Constitution (that's U.S.)
* Ending sanctuary cities (requiring law enforcement to check immigration status of those detained for any reason)
* "Loser pay" tort reform to discourage lawsuits where the plaintiff feels less than certain of victory

This, in a state that has a looming $27-billion (more or less) budget deficit over the next two years, and where every state service, including public education, is being drastically cut.

Who keeps re-electing this man?

With regard to mandatory sonograms ... doesn't that fly in the face of the conservatives' "big-government" lament, that big government is mandating more and more and squeezing out every citizen's right to privacy?

Abortions don't just happen randomly. You can predict which populations are most in need of pregnancy prevention and beef up services to offer multiple, inexpensive, and accessible birth control options. I agree that abortions are a tragedy and should be considered only as a last resort. But they pale in comparison to the loss of full-grown human life from wars and violence, and the loss of quality of life due to poverty, drug abuse, etc.

Every time an abortion is considered, two lives hang in the balance, not just one. I think conservatives have forgotten about preserving the life that is already here (the mother) in favor of keeping the new life that is completely dependent on her for its very existence. Having a baby can be devastating to a young, poor, unwed or drug-addicted mother, and it permanently changes her life's trajectory. As for the baby -- these infants would have a rough childhood. Does it mean they don't deserve to be born? No, but it means they really never should have been conceived.

So how does the state of Texas do in offering birth control to at-risk populations, like teenagers? Below is a website (not vetted by me as far as complete factual accuracy) that discusses it in more detail, and here is an excerpt:
"Texas has one of the most restrictive policies in the United States regarding minors' ability to obtain birth control, while having one of the highest rates of teen pregnancy in the nation ..."

So drive on, guvnah!

On to religion, another great conversation-starter to keep in mind at the next cocktail party! Now that I have read a second religious (actually more spiritual) book by Roland Merullo, and reflected on the two I've read -- "Golfing with God" and "Breakfast with Buddha" -- I must comment, in a deeply compassionate way of course, that his vision of the pearly gates smacks of white privilege. I should have had a hint that this would be the case from the title of book #1 and the fact that he was trying to wed the great white sport of golf with heaven! (Might I interject here a little side note-- thank God for Tiger Woods, and I miss him so. Talk about a tragic fall from grace.)

The author, in his self-deprecating way, did poke fun at himself throughout his golfing book, by the way, where the main character was accused of being racist not once, but many times, and had to defend himself! There were a number of dark Middle-Eastern types who were doing the accusing -- Jesus, Mary the mother of God, Moses, Mohammed, etc. (His response: I'm not a racist -- at least, I don't consider myself to be -- what are you talking about?)

According to his vision (which I love, by the way, being a white privileged American myself), if you are given a cozy life and great wealth, it is so that you can sit back and enjoy the bountiful gifts that God has showered on you. Don't be concerned about all those other people out there, mired in poverty, wars, sickness and famine. They may get a break in some future life, too! Even Jesus says this: they will get their eternal reward for their suffering. This is your time to enjoy this wonderful life. It's a gift, no strings attached. No major sacrifices of any kind required. A free pass.

Yeah, just a bit too easy and convenient for me to swallow. I must cling to being obsessively guilt-ridden! Feeling guilty, but not knowing which way to turn or how to act on it. (Enter, stage right, the mysterious, and preferably all-knowing, spiritual guide.)

Did I mention that I miss seeing Tiger Woods? He and I used to have a date (via TV) every Saturday. I'd be doing laundry, housework, all that drudgery, but I could always pause to watch that gorgeous swing and marvel at the sheer brilliance of the man, and I would be transported to a whole different place. Alas, those days are gone. What will I do without him? How I long to see that red shirt again. (Below is the only picture I was able to copy here.)
Tiger Woods' official website

The terror arises

2011-05-08T16:55:00.001-05:00

Written when the Internet was down ...

Something in me went off when I starting thinking about seeing a spiritual guide. All the implications of this act were profound … that I might be held accountable for my spiritual life thus far. Or, I might find out I was being too hard on myself.

I had a fit of inner terror, and everything went cloudy and confused in my mind. This is how it happens, sometimes. The glass is clear and so I see clearly … and then something happens to stir up all the sediment, all that garbage I thought I had left behind. Something inside me was feeling shaken up and threatened, all right. Unfortunately, I was also blogging at the time, so I’m not especially pleased with that post.

What was it that was thrashing around in such pain and confusion? My ego! Ha! I caught it in the very act of trying to sabotage my spiritual goals.

In a way, I hope many of my thoughts are wrong. For example, I hope to find that living is simpler than my mind would have me believe. That it does not require nearly as much analysis.

Maybe the answer does lie within, not without, and I need to slow down and turn off all the distractions to find what I’ve been seeking.

This is a paradox because I think we are called to help one another, to look outward, to be of service to OTHERS in this world. But all this spiritual work, it seems, must be done in an inward way. It often seems to me to be such a selfish pursuit. Like all this Enneagram stuff, searching for your “Type” – isn’t this just the epitomy of the “Me” generation? Maybe it’s just for the spiritual laggards that all this soul-searching is required. For those of us who just don’t get it, and still don’t, and still don’t! Let's see, how many thousands of lives does it take to get it right, exactly? To make real spiritual progress? (Sorry, there I go sounding all Buddhist again. But I definitely am going to need another chance, many others.)

If I can get the camera to download recent pictures, I will post some here. Nothing else technological seems to want to work for me lately -- not the VCR at children's Sunday school, and now my iPod is acting up. I have Easter pictures and it would probably be good to post a few before Memorial Day, and then we have approximately 100 pictures of Austin in his white prom tux, escorting his girlfriend (?) Katie, and Zeke, the dynamic trio of church youth group/praise band fame. Austin had a full day that started with the SAT, inadvertently scheduled the same day as prom. It ended at 1:20 and he dashed down to Floresville to don his tux and get on with his day.

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there!

Picture alert ... I'm going to go back the last several posts and add pictures so I don't overwhelm you all at once. I am starting with the most recent event here, prom night last night.

Austin, looking a little shaggy, with Katie (inside the Floresville Methodist Church) prior to prom night

Austin, Katie, and Zeke in the church sanctuary prior to leaving for the afternoon's and evening's events

Austin is positively glowing! (a la Casper the friendly ghost) It was warm out but not as hot as it is today.

1984

2011-05-06T22:02:00.001-05:00

First, for some pictures of the boys "in character" from a play they were recently in at church: "Big Bad." Andrew is wearing his trademark sneer as The Boy Who Cried Wolf, and you can guess who Austin is. Grandpa and Grandma Han are blissfully unaware that they are about to be savagely attacked!

Here is Andrew in character as "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" with the Old Shepherd, being interviewed prior to the courtroom drama (the Big Bad Wolf is put on trial for the many atrocities he has committed).

Here's Austin as the shadowy wolf, during his monologue, where he explains the long and complicated journey to his present life of crime. Did you know that at one time, he had sworn to be a lifelong vegan? In the background can be seen the plaintiffs in the case, including the three little pigs. (There's just a touch of Little Red Riding Hood's cape, directly behind the Wolf, sitting beside her grandma.)

Back to the title of this blog: Austin just read this book, the George Orwell classic, and said it messed with his mind! He was especially impressed by the way they tortured the main character into completely reversing his thoughts and his entire values system, 180 degrees, and him unaware of it.

It really scared my son, I think. But I said that I believe the human spirit is stronger than that. This book was a work of fiction. We musn't let reality imitate it too closely.

How does it feel to be at rest, spiritually speaking?

2011-05-06T21:23:00.000-05:00

I have this feeling that if (or when) I become more at ease in terms of my spiritual side, I will need this outlet less. I wonder what the next phase may bring?

I am going to meet with a spiritual "friend" in a couple of weeks to sort out some old conflicts. I think I may find that I am called to love this life I have been given, rather than a fantasy life that I like to imagine as someone -- anyone -- other than a rich American with this spiritually stultifying lifestyle. By the way, I think the proper term for this person who may help me is spiritual adviser, except I bristle at any hint of authority or someone else having the upper hand over my spiritual journey. But this lady is not like that at all, I can tell.

Who knows what will happen? I would like to be able to fully embrace something that life has carried to me, sometime in my life. I do love my husband and children so, but they prevent me from running off and joining the Peace Corps, or whatever. The ties that bind, and gag? Was that Erma Bombeck's description for family?

Do you ever get the feeling, at a random moment in your day, that you have been dropped into this life from very far away? I feel that at times. I blink a little, look around and survey where I am and what I'm doing, feel how this particular moment feels, and sigh with relish at what a lovely life this is, after all. I have to remember what a gift this life has been. It's the grand prize! Want to trade with me?

In Enneagram terms, I came to realize that I am a Type 4. I had forgotten! This is the "Romantic," also called "Individualist." The person who may wear their heart on their sleeve, who feels like something is always missing from their life (ow, that one was dead on), who feels everything oh so deeply. And, I might add, who simply adores great poetry and literature! And seems to live for rapture and heartache, and wishes to feel it all as deeply as possible. I was so much a Type 4 when I was a teenager (but then, aren't they all) and a young adult. Oh, and Type 4's hate to be put in a box or made to feel that they are less than completely special and unique.

At first I was fitting myself in as the Type 5 (an aspect of my personality that I have worked hard to cultivate in recent years). This is the "Observer" who loves to analyze everything and cultivate knowledge without getting too personally involved, and who is very possessive of their time and their pet projects. But it didn't completely add up.

Also in a flight from my essential four-ness, I have been strongly drawn to Buddhism. Take a deep breath and then as you breathe slowly out, repeat after me: OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHMMMMMMM (low and continuous, calming chant) -- until you use all the breath up. Do this several times in a row. I feel better already! All that emotional energy has a place where it can finally settle. By the way, if you're not ready for Buddhism, try yoga. Same concept.

I'm also meeting with the lovely Enneagram retreat leader, who announces to everyone that she is happy to get together one on one to help people who need guidance finding their Enneagram type. And she really is! I planned the meeting with her before having my little revelation about my core type, which I haven't mentioned to her just yet. I don't want her to feel any less needed. I still desperately need help, believe me.

These spiritual get-togethers are converging in May, a lovely month overall this year, though much too dry and barren here in South Texas. My soul longs for the sound of rain. It bothers me more, every year of these frequent droughts. I don't think I could bear to live in a place any more arid.

So here's a question I have been toying with. Do you think I need to take on fasting sometime as a spiritual discipline? I've been hearing from Carol at Sardines and reading about fasting. Is there a message here for me, or not so much? You see, I have issues with food. Specifically, with being a little obsessed with food and frequent snacking. And my next meal, where and when and what.

Or am I just flitting around without a specific purpose, just needing to try it all out? (That would be a Type 7.) You see, I'm like that with the personality types, as well. I took the online Riso-Hudson Enneagram test and scored almost evenly on, I believe, five of the nine Enneagram types: 4, 5, 9, 6, and 1 -- and notice that doesn't even include Type 7. But I have tried them all on for size, that's for sure. It gets a little tiring after a while.

Why I said "no thanks" to having kids

2011-05-01T20:50:00.001-05:00

I was reminded today why I decided a long, long time ago that I would never, ever have children. Too much responsibility!

I told Dwaine when we were dating that I did not want children. This was one of the very few things that I had completely figured out about my life. I guess he was nuts enough about me that he agreed, and we got married. So. That lasted about seven years. Then, the grand adventure of parenthood began.

Parenting, like life, is always in a state of flux. You can never rest on your laurels. Now, we face the scariest thing of all. My children are growing up, first of all; and secondly, they seem to be becoming a lot like me and Dwaine. As in a LOT. What happened to teenage rebellion and separating from parents?

Austin has a lot of anger, and passion (as well as many stellar qualities). He alternates between sounding ultra-conservative to being a flaming independent who gets extremely indignant if anyone says they hate our president. Don't tie him down to one point of view, or one decision about anything. (These are my traits, not necessarily the better ones either.)

Side note: Around these parts, these days, there's a lot of hatred of our president going around. Certain kids apparently talk about how they'd like to see him dead, in fact. Austin says (echoing me) that it comes straight from their parents. This does not surprise me, but it is sad. I remember my own defective moments when our president was George W. Bush and I was ranting about him. Although, of course, I never wanted to see him harmed. I've participated in the ugliness of condemning my political opposites, and the hateful thoughts and speech, and I must remember how it feels to be on the receiving end of it.

And then today, Austin was looking at the fruits of the accumulated work that he and his brother have done around the yard. There is a large ring of logs and an enormous pile of brush near the burn pile that can't be burned because of this drought, and Austin was talking about his vision of cleaning up the place even more. Just like his dad. He is ultra-responsible and a hard worker. (He looks like me, by the way.)

Andrew -- how do I say this kindly? is a smart space cadet. Mentally, he's me, completely. He may do brilliant things, or he may just keep on being an eccentric dreamer. He's sincere, and completely gullible, and a beautiful kind person. Work, he can take or leave, but he will do it because he has realized it earns him brownie points with his dad. As Austin says, Dad never gets mad when you've spent the day working with him! Not about anything. Andrew may not always see eye-to-eye with his dad, but he looks a lot like him, down to his wiry frame. (I speak of Dwaine as he was up till he met and married me, ha ha.)

I didn't really want these little (now big) people to be made in my image, which is so imperfect. It's just too much responsibility. It will be painful to watch them make my mistakes, and see them mirror their parents' greatest shortcomings as well as our strengths. Why can't we just give them all the good, and get rid of all the bad?

The biggest risk of all in having kids is knowing that they will experience pain, and suffering, and that they are always at risk of having something bad happen to them. It's such a high-stakes gamble to have kids. But it's like marriage -- you don't realize what a huge leap you are taking until it's all over and done with and too late. Once you have kids, you can't undo things like you can with a marriage, either. If you could send them back, I'm sure there are many people who would!

But you know that I can't imagine life without these precious additions, who have so greatly enhanced every experience we've shared together. For me it would be spiritual poverty, indeed, to never have had children.

Now for some late-breaking Easter pictures (now that I spent this entire blog ragging on my kids)! Here's a picture of Dwaine's sister and her family. Becky is seated to the right with the flaming orange hair, and her two daughters (between her and Andrew) and grandkids and son-in-law to be, our kids' cousins and second cousins, are gathered round. My dad and Han came over but stayed inside. Austin's wearing his lucky Irish shirt.

Here is an action shot during the egg hunt for the youngest four kids (including ours; I asked if they wanted to go hunt eggs and they both said yes).

You can see our front-yard garden and all the potted plants, including some vegetables in buckets, that Dwaine has so carefully tended. They need frequent watering as the days heat up and the drought continues, but they look beautiful.

Another shot of the egg hunt. Andrew, background, is looking for any stragglers. Austin went for the hardboiled eggs and left the plastic eggs with candy for the little ones.

Dream

2011-04-23T18:05:00.002-05:00

One of my fellow bloggers, who shall remain nameless (unless she chooses to reveal herself), has an entirely separate blog for dream journalling! I was feeling all inadequate until I saw there was only one post there, so far.

So, I remember a dream from last evening, or maybe more likely early this morning. Dwaine and I were looking for a mansion -- not a house, these things were gigantic -- in a sprawling new development, sort of out in the country but simultaneously in San Antonio. He had already gone and scoped out a number of the houses and was showing me his favorite choice. I was glad he had done so much legwork already, so I wouldn't have to spend hours upon hours touring homes.

This house had almost a solid glass front, it was so open with bright windows. It was several stories and had room after room after room. I remember going up to some middle floor and finding a gorgeous, airy and naturally lit breakfast nook, with its own kitchen and refrigerator. Upon which I started thinking thoughts like, we'll have to buy double on groceries to keep this frig and the other one both stocked. Every room was lovely and picturesque. I really could fall in love with this house.

I liked this home very much, I thought, and that was when things started to sour. I looked out the huge window and discovered, to my dawning horror, that IH-10 just happened to be a mere stone's throw away! (Yes, I had been oblivious to this and then it appeared from nowhere, in the way things sometimes do in dreams.) It was so close, I probably would have felt the air blasting away from the vehicles as it was displaced. There wasn't even a front yard; just the raised concrete sides of the freeway, with cars and trucks and 18-wheelers careening past. It dawned on me that the traffic was quite loud, and I realized this was no country atmosphere after all! We'd have to go deeper into the subdivision to find something appropriate.

But then we had gathered downstairs and the subdivision developer was there, in the house, sitting at a table, giving some kind of obnoxious and hard-core sales pitch, and I became aware that I disliked him intensely. Detested all he stood for, in fact. I went right over to him and I think I must have been shouting at him, right in his face, I was so upset. I think Dwaine was in the background, probably stunned and telling me to tone it down. Perhaps I was even calling the salesman/owner names. Also, he was quite misogynistic, and this fact was simply the last straw. I was telling him what a poor businessman he was for being that way, because didn't he know how much power women had over making decisions about what house to buy? I was furious.

So this was how the dream ended. I don't think I ended up in that mansion or in any other. And in truth, it does offend my moral sensibilities to think of living that way. Yet there's something so attractive and even lovely about the notion, too. Just another way in which I am schizophrenic, and I have to live with this cacophony and cognitive dissonance in my head. A poor person, plopped into a rich person's life, and not even particularly grateful to be there.

But also, what of this saying? "In my father's house there are many rooms*. I go there to prepare a place for you. If it were not so, I would have told you. You know the way to the place where I am going." * I always want to substitute the word "mansions" for rooms, as this is the image that comes to my mind. It's on a magnificently grand scale, this place I visualize.

My thoroughly domestic husband is sitting at the dining room table making hard-boiled eggs into little bunny heads, and putting out Easter decor. Good thing there's somebody in the house who likes to decorate for the seasons and holidays! If I were more dexterous with technology and our computer were faster, I might actually take a picture of his egg creations, nestled in fluffy fake grass inside an Easter basket (until they have to go back into the refrigerator again). But don't hold your breath!

Addendum: Did you hold your breath anyhow, even though I told you not to? Well, voila! Your patience has been rewarded.

Are they real egg-bunnies, or Memorex?

One little bunny egg seems comfortable sharing space beside the peanut butter and a bottle of beer, nestled close to its fellow eggs, in the frig.

I'm Baaaack!

2011-04-22T17:46:00.001-05:00

(In case you noticed I was absent) ... I'm Back! This brings to mind two images/sound bites from our pop culture: "Back in Black!" (just listen to it mentally for a bit while I wait .....)

and "I'll be back" (Terminator). Speaking of The Terminator, my husband texted me this week that Skynet had achieved sentience as of April 19, 2011, right on schedule, and humankind was officially doomed. Go Google it if you have no idea, like me originally, what he was talking about!

It is Good Friday, in the Christian tradition. Jesus is in the grave ... or he's finishing up being crucified and dying. We compress the crucifixion-resurrection bit, because if he died Friday afternoon, how was Sunday "the third day"? I was discussing this with my friend Olga today, who is a Jehovah's Witness, and she said it's because in biblical times, referring to a "day" was actually a 12-hour period, such as from sunset to sunrise.

I believe there was an editorial in the Wilson County News about this extremely important hard-news story, as well, since this is the type of article we all get the Wilson County News for, all of us being equally and identically slaves to Christianity in this area ... anyway, this very important and timely news editorial said that the Passover Sabbath day was a different day than the regular Sabbath, so Mary's arising early on the Sabbath could be a different day than we thought. And I believe it. Why? "Because the paper told me so."

In any case, we like to avoid suffering, so we don't let Jesus linger in death for very long. As soon as possible, we resurrect him and say our Hallelujah!'s and have egg hunts and eat too much ham, or some other meat, and go about our merry way. And forget about that passion stuff. Why does it even have to be there? Why is Jesus such a big downer, anyhow?

There is something very human about turning away from suffering. And yet, turning away and denying the reality of suffering actually causes more.

So I wish to think of Jesus, my Jesus, dead. Dead, and gone. Just like every other human being has died, or is dying, or will die. Yes, it's only temporary, death. (Like everything else, only temporary.) But I want to stay with this thought long enough to absorb it and pass through it to the light, not swerve around it. Just let me bury the one I love, and maybe grieve for a while, before we jump into all the "Hallelujahs" and such.

It's just my body; it's not me!

2011-03-27T18:40:00.000-05:00

My body is feeling fatigued these days. Fatigue of the mental sort, which I haven't experienced in recent years, as well as physical. Luckily, I am not my body! I am reminding myself more of this fact as I experience these little difficulties and physical limitations. My shoulder blade area, I use the possessive loosely, has been aching recently, with the pain radiating into my arm, and my fingers on that side are tingling with possible nerve issues, but this seems to be the biggest casualty of the extra hours I have been putting in recently. (I haven't been completely ignoring this problem. The chiropractor worked on me once and helped, but it's lapsing back.) So long as I don't get sick, I really will be fine! THREE MORE WEEKS!!

When you really contemplate that this body, this shell you have been assigned for this earthly existence, is not "you," it is such a freeing thought. It is why people feel the same inside as they age. I have spoken to people in their 80s who expressed the sentiment that they were still the same person, inside, as they had been as children! Of course, older and wiser, but essentially just the same inside. That is why it comes as a surprise -- a nasty shock, at times -- that the body continues to age. I am not becoming a different person, so why is my body?

It will be so nice if I can remember that I am not my body as I age, if I experience real physical limitations of the sort most people bump into as they get old. This is "heaven ringing the doorbell of your life," if I can paraphrase the Zen podcast I was enjoying today. Funny thing how life can strongly urge you to stop clinging. When your kids become teenagers, they become temporarily so obnoxious (so the myth goes) that you can't wait for them to be gone. Similarly, if you are fortunate to live a long life, your body wears down to the point that you should be glad of the chance to finally leave it in the dust! Literally!

Speaking of "obnoxious" teenagers, Andrew and I have a running joke. He's my 14-year-old who just recently sprouted way up and is now taller than I am. We share the joke that he is my bull elephant. It's because he often is running into me, punching me in the arm, stepping on me, or otherwise assaulting me in his affectionate way, sometimes leaving bruises. I remind him that if he were in an elephant pack, the women would have kicked him out to go rampage through the brush on his own and get his hormone-packed energy out, no longer in the company of the female elephants who raised him, because he is too rough for them! This actually happens when the male elephant turns about 14, so it matches up perfectly. I feel like I've mentioned the "bull elephant" story here before, but it bears repeating.

The dinner bell chimes, and bed won't be far behind (if I'm lucky). Good night, and good luck.

A shout out for "Golfing with God"

2011-03-20T21:28:00.000-05:00

I got through three books on my little vacation, short though they were! The one I enjoyed most was "Golfing with God" by Roland Merullo. It's just what it sounds like. There is a lot of golf in it, and the sport is written of with such enormous love that I found it quite enjoyable, though I know little about golf. (With Tiger gone, I rarely watch anymore. Yes, I was one of those fickle fans.)

It turns out that golfing is a metaphor for many other things. The book is written with a light touch and plenty of humor, and I agreed with nearly everything written about heaven, which made me enjoy it all the more, of course. (Lots of the book takes place in heaven, where there are many golf courses, but many but many other things for all of the rest of humanity as well.)

So, to summarize a few of the major premises of the book: We continue to work in the afterlife (we are made for work, and that is where we find our highest fulfillment). We continue to mature (grow) spiritually. As we grow spiritually, we become more disciplined and able to take on more tasks and to recognize that is what we are made for. The book speaks of each person having a mission, his/her own deepest spiritual purpose, which is the essence of being and does not change.

If we have unlearned lessons, they stay with us in the afterlife, and we keep having opportunities to learn them. God has many names and is quite large enough to accommodate them all. Time is an earth-bound phenomenon.

We can still eat, drink, and be merry in heaven, and love others in every sense of the word. And there is a bodacious amount of humor in heaven, though the author seemed to have it in for practical jokers, saying they didn't make it into heaven! Hell or eternal punishment is of human creation, and if it occurs, it is during our lifetime, and it is always self-imposed. The devil did make an interesting appearance in the book, playing a high-stakes round of golf with our hero, the narrator.

We have others with whom we are linked spiritually and may share many eons of existence together. In the book, there are spiritual siblings, and spiritual parent-child relationships. If someone is a parent to someone else on earth, they aren't necessarily in that relationship in the spiritual realm.

There was quite a bit of the Buddhist perspective in the book, which delighted me. The narrator got to golf with Buddha, as well as God and Jesus, Moses, and Mary (the mother of Jesus). There were other great prophets around as well. The book talked about our many lives, and how millions of lives could be lived as an insect, an animal, and then eventually thousands more as a human being.

I just adored this book, and it was fun to read as well. There was a lot to ponder, and plenty of gems of wisdom about human nature.

Status report

2011-03-19T09:29:00.000-05:00

What I'm reading: Stephen King's first Dark Tower book, the revised version. I enjoyed reading the introduction and foreward possibly more than even the book so far. He's such a self-observant writer and generous with his insights about the world of writing.

Where we are: at an undisclosed location. Possibly home, possibly at South Padre Island.

Things I've learned when I was vacationing at South Padre Island: Austin, my 16-year-old, explained the significance of a woman wearing beads. My coworker (also a woman) kept telling me, "Now Julie, don't come back wearing a bunch of beads! My opinion of you will change!" I confess I really didn't get this till Austin explained it all yesterday. I'd like to buy some beads for all my coworkers and boss. Let's see, there are seven of them, four of whom are also CPAs.

So, am I the only grown woman (or person over 12, for that matter) who didn't know, guys give girls beads in exchange for being flashed?

I also learned I don't like Snoop Dogg's language. The concert, across from our RV Park at Schlitterbahn, was billed for "over 18" but we could hear him clearly, as the sound probably traveled at least a mile from his set. But, hey, this means I was at a Snoop Dogg concert*! (*as an unwilling bystander) Can't wait to tell Kyle, my coworker who warned me about beads.

I also discovered I am quite unusually scatter-brained. I ran off without packing any extra bras, and not enough shirts, which is just not like me at all. I think I've been trying to cram in so much new tax knowledge, and some of the more basic stuff has leaked out of my head.

I learned I sometimes have a woeful lack of common sense. Not really! That is, I already knew I somehow have survived for 40-some years while mainly lacking this ingredient in my life, this "common sense" as you people blessed with it like to call it. On a recent evening, one of the wildest on the island, the boys wanted to ride their bikes out to the beach. It was after 10 pm. Dwaine and I both allowed them to. Why? I couldn't say. About 10 minutes later, I panicked and said, oh what have I done? (not for the first time) and then Lord, please give me my boys back and let me have another chance! We both contacted them --meaning my hubby and I, not the Lord and I, though he may have been in touch on another channel -- and told them to come back. Which, mercifully, they did quickly and safely.

So, I officially have the best boss in the world because I hinted I wouldn't mind having one day off over Spring Break, and a few weeks ago, he told me to make it two. That's one of many reasons he is Best Boss. Sure beats Dwaine's last few! He's had a string of bad luck in the work world lately.

I could stay on the beach forever, it seems. The water is mesmerizing. On a recent night, I was watching the surface reflected by the moon from the causeway while we waited in a really bad-a** line to get back on the island (we had gone off it to eat at Pirate's Landing in Port Isabel and then Andrew fished, unsuccessfully, from the pier there while I read "The Old Man and the Sea" -- a must-read while at the beach, BTW, which can be done in about an hour). I thought the line would have died down by 9:30 pm, but it was as bad as ever. The entire causeway was stacked with cars and RVs and trucks, end to end, for many hours. Dwaine swore the island couldn't possibly hold them all, and he said law enforcement should start turning them away! But somehow, they all made it on the island (though there was no place to park), and this morning, there is no line. There's never a line for anything in the morning.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, the water. The surface is never still, and the ripples are endlessly complex, all that visible energy symptomatic of what is happening at the cellular level, and way beneath that, all the way to the atomic level. The ocean describes the enormous energy that is in and all around us, so much of it deceptively locked in place to our unseeing eyes. The motion, and the sound, that rhythm of the waves, when did it ever start? And when will it stop? Even on the stillest day, the bay still swirls and the waves still break. Stillest, yet never still. What would it take to stop the water from moving? Water is the most destructive element, also so beautiful to watch, and essential for life on earth. We are so much water; most of all space, then water. And we are all in constant motion. What is a body at rest? Is there such a thing, anywhere at all?

There I go again.

Reading "The Old Man and the Sea" was not a carefully hatched plan. It's the book Andrew is reading for pre-AP English right now, and it happened to be the only book in the vehicle at the time, so I read it. Again I marvelled at Hemingway's clean, spare use of language. Every sentence in that book is beautifully expressive without using excessive words, as I am doing here. It's quite a difficult feat, and he was the master. But his genius haunted him. Is it the genius, I wonder, that is the undoing of so many of the best artists, or is it being able to see the darkness so clearly? That's a thought to end on.

A dream about oceans and families

2011-03-13T21:03:00.000-05:00

By the way, dear reader, I posted here yesterday too. Don't overlook that one if you're interested!

I want to document a dream I had last night, before the tide pulls it back into my subconscious mind.

I was with my dad, mom, and sister, visiting them as an adult -- or so it seemed. We were at a beach somewhere, likely someplace exotic. I was spending time with them while the thought of my other family, the one I have now, was on my mind. I was thinking I needed to get back to my other family. There was some confusion in the dream -- where were my sons? My husband was there, later on, but without them. At that time, I was concerned that he had left them behind in some unfamiliar place in this exotic locale.

My dad, mom, and sister all decided to go swimming in the ocean, while I went to have lunch (possibly with Dwaine), and then we would all rendezvous and say our farewells before we parted and they went their separate way. So they went out into the ocean together, and I could see them in the shallow water, drifting near one another.

Later on, presumably after lunch, I was searching for them from above, from some coastline perhaps. There were a lot of people in the water. I was looking in a shallow pool-like area that was more enclosed, buffered from the ocean by a large sand brake (?) in the water. It was hard to see anyone from the distance, but I thought they sure had been gone a long time. It was unlike them to swim for such a long time. I couldn't spot them; they were gone, somewhere in the deeper ocean, beyond my reach.

I can't tell you how sad this is, reflecting on it now. I never got to say goodbye to that family. It wasn't a neat, happy ending, the way we all thought it would be. Truthfully, we never thought of an ending at all.

Today in church I started bawling (silently) when the pastor, at the start of his sermon, decided to read "Where the Wild Things Are" -- all of it -- to the congregation, complete with pictures projected on the wall. For one thing, I adore this book. It's on my "bests" list. Then also, my mom must have read me this book, is what occurred to me. I think I was very young when she did.

I'm just glad I had the two oblivious family members with me. If Austin had been there, he would have been checking my reactions -- he knows I cry at anything, especially in church -- and he would have teased me to no end about breaking down over a children's book. How lame is that, to sob at the phrase "And they Roared their terrible roars, and Gnashed their terrible teeth, and Rolled their terrible eyes, and Showed their terrible claws ..." But ... it's just so beautiful! Literary, even. (Note: Austin goes to the Saturday service these days, where he plays guitar and hangs out with his girlfriend.)

Speaking of "Wild Things," whether teenagers or children's books -- the book is amazingly symbolic. That's why our pastor chose it. He called it scriptural, even. I want you to read it again and think of it as life's journey, in a sense. Have you faced your wild things and then returned home, to the place where someone loves you best of all?

My mom has been dead for 12 years now. To have her pop up in a dream, with no interruption or hiccup, with it seeming perfectly natural, is uncommon these days. But she was the most important person in my life for many years; arguably, she still is. She and I were together on the planet for 33 years, whereas I've been with this second family (complete with kids) under 20.

So I sense this great symbolism in the dream, in the fact that the ocean is where I leave my first family. They return to the deeper sea, not in a frightening way, but a way that naturally follows from the storyline. I often dream of the ocean, of its amazing power, and how it can be frightening and overwhelming, but when you get past that, it's so much like the raw energy of life. It's always taking you somewhere that is beyond your control, but it's a great adventure. I remember swimming with the sharks in one dream; realizing I should be afraid, but somehow I had gotten past the fear and was just swimming.

We have an upcoming trip to the coast, and I know I will reflect on my dream there while watching the waves, and the surf. And then there are those piercing images of the tsunami in Japan that I saw yesterday online. That tragedy is too big for words.

On exercising well

2011-03-12T18:39:00.001-06:00

The title, incidentally, is a play on the book "On Writing Well" by ... someone who knew what he was talking about. I think I have that book in my closet somewhere, and look what it's done for me! (Oops, dangling preposition in the first sentence.)

I haven't written about exercising lately, and it's time for an inspirational post, one that I've been ruminating on as I jog or do the elliptical, lately. I am so very pleased with myself because I have finally, after several years, gotten to the point where I can jog 3 miles and not feel that I've stressed my body! I can finish the workout and seamlessly resume my life as usual, even with significant housework or yardwork, which is fantastic. Yippee! I take a bow.

There are several ways to look at this achievement. From the standpoint of a serious athlete or a Zen master, it's not much! In fact, it's nothing. I see that and I appreciate this insignificance in all its beauty and wisdom. Sorta like taking the measure of each human being -- a mere grain of sand. Equally tossed by wind and waves, finite, constantly changing.

So from one standpoint, I've taken a few steps up a long, challenging staircase. I may not take many more steps above this, but I'm quite pleased to see progress made. I see, too, the marathoners, the triathletes, the Ironmen and women, and I know I have no desire to join their ranks. That would require a level of sacrifice that I do not wish to undertake.

Then there's the perspective of this achievement compared to all those couch potatoes out there, my fellow Americans. I'm probably in better physical shape than 85-90% of this population in my age group. Ha! I'll take it. Are you ready to throw an apple at me yet?

I'm spending a little time crowing about this because I've earned it. I've gotten through quite a few huffing-puffing, sweaty workouts. Some were harder than others. Some were quite difficult. None were actually intensely painful, though. I don't do pain! If I'm feeling a pulled muscle or my knee is really sore, I stop.

These workouts have become an integral part of who I am, and I don't think I could do without them. In fact, I might be a totally different person if I had not fallen in love with exercise a number of years back. I might even be depressed, I mean in a clinical sense. Sorta like how I suspect my mom was, during most of the time I knew her.

Exercise is as high a priority for me as writing. If you said I had to give up one or the other of these -- well, don't ever make me do that. It would be like saying, you have to stop either breathing or eating. Your choice. Or, sacrifice one of your children. Just one.

Last Saturday, I ran the local 5K, the Power of Pink put on by the Women's Service Organization to benefit the Alamo Breast Cancer Foundation. It was perfect running weather, the temperature starting in the mid-50s and climbing perhaps to 60 by the end of the run. So I felt fabulous, even with limited training leading up to this event. I was happy just to be able to run the whole way. I use the term "running" loosely, being about an 11-minute miler and maybe pushing 10 at my best showings. And then, I just walked away. (After stretching and a snack, of course.) No lingering aftereffects, which have been known to happen when I'm all excited and push a little too hard at a 5K.

I have been even more motivated to keep working out regularly these days. First, because I have a full-time desk job now and I sit. All day long. It's been very challenging for me. Second, this is tax season and my hours are longer. Then there are all the other stressors life throws out, like Austin's possible gallstone attack and the fact that my husband is really miserable at his job these days. I really need the release of a good workout, at least several times a week.

I want to tell everyone that it doesn't matter where you are now, you can achieve a fitness level that will make you happier and healthier. (I feel a strong urge to say, I guarantee it!) But this is not a commercial or even an informercial. Shake that image out of your mind.

I know you can achieve fitness, because I did, and I'm no athlete. I was the uncoordinated one throughout school, the last to be picked to be on a team.

Here's what really sticks -- make lifestyle changes. Those would be small, incremental changes in your life. And -- very important -- stick with them. Don't try to go from couch to Arnie (as in Schwarzenegger) in 6 weeks, or 6 months! That approach is guaranteed to cause a lot of frustration.

Here's what I recall doing. First, I learned to take longer walks and really enjoy them. I tried out a number of different activities, and still do. I was in karate for several years with my boys and had a blast with it. I went swimming when they had swim lessons at the Palo Alto natatorium. Biking, neah, not so much. Then I started jogging. The simplicity just hooked me. No special equipment or clothing, no memberships required. You can pretty much do it any time, though in South Texas the challenge is the heat.

I was weightlifting on my own, then after a few years, tried out the personal trainer offered free of charge at my job at the time, the Wilson County News. She showed me the correct forms and a lot of different routines, which led to a huge improvement in the results.

These days, I have joined Anytime Fitness and I do my own program there, a combination of strength and cardio. It's probably not up to snuff with what a trainer would do -- they push you. But I'm pretty self-competitive and like to work hard. I'm going to start some yoga in a week or two, with the class time being right for the longer tax-season hours and with me needing to de-stress. My hubbie got me a Groupon coupon for the yoga.

When you start a fitness program, don't go into it assuming you have to make yourself miserable to get results. You can do intervals, bursts of moderate to intense activity with frequent breaks in between to recover. Start really slow. Just think, it took me about three years to feel natural about jogging. I think a big beginner's mistake is going all out and being exhausted, or injured, as a result. Or, you think to yourself, OK, that was a lousy time and I felt awful. Why on earth would I try that again? "Listen to your body," as my trainer would say.

Small things can make a big difference over time. Health writers mention taking the stairs at work (which I do, being on the 7th floor) and parking further away and walking. If you can fit in just 5 minutes at a time of exercise, do it! That's what I do at work. I try to take the stairs about three times a day.

A misconception that people seem to have is that exercise magically becomes easy for people who are fit. I'm here to tell you, it's never easy, especially if you are pushing yourself. Maybe you see that as a discouragement. Oh, well then, why bother if it's always going to be work? I actually find it inspiring, though, that every athlete can get sweaty and out of breath!

One example is one of the women pro tennis players, who would start grunting more and more loudly as she got deeper into a match, every time she returned the ball. When I'm starting to breathe harder and possibly even grunt and groan myself while jogging, I think of her.

My kids were trying out some P90X workouts, which are like regular workouts on steroids, and the leader of those workouts (what's-his-name, which you probably wouldn't recognize even if I knew it to tell you) is always huffing and puffing as he talks. He's ripped as all getout. (Good-looking, too; just thought I'd throw that in.) **Added here: Tony Horton is his name, and he was mentioned on the front page of the WSJ March 16. Some of the young new Tea-party types in Congress do his routine, apparently, wanting to make not just the nation but themselves leaner.

So his being breathless -- not just breathlessly handsome, but a tad winded -- either means he's focusing too much on strength and not enough on cardio, which is a possibility; or it means we all get out of breath if we are doing a really tough workout! Yeah! You should hear me puffing away as I take those stairs. I have to give myself a little break in the stairwell if I'm climbing up from the basement, which is where the microwave and eatery are. Otherwise, I'd be a tad embarrassed returning to the office.

Try adding this wonderful ingredient of exercise to your life, and cheers to you if you already do. I'll be rooting for you!

The Wisdom Jesus

2011-03-03T21:19:00.001-06:00

OK, here is a plug for the simply wonderful author who I'm listening to:
Cynthia Bourgeault
My friend Karen gave me a series of 8 or 10 CDs with this author's talks on "The Wisdom Jesus" and I am absolutely transported by her take on the scriptures. I listen to them driving to and from work, and then I listen again, just soaking it in. Amazed, rapturous.

Everything in scripture has so many layers of meaning. This is the richness of a deep spiritual text. It has something for everyone! For the beginner, it has moral guidance and amazing stories of people, complete with their human quirks and imperfections. Take it at face value, or go deeper. For the intermediate audience, there are opportunities to discuss many different interpretations. And for the most mystical reader, there is great symbolism, mythical archetypes, and metaphysical reality which leaps from the page. All in the same scriptures. You can read them as a child, young adult, and older (hopefully wiser) person, and never come away with the same result. It's always a fresh revelation.

It's like the Buddhist practice of concentrating deeply on an object, or an abstract thought, focusing on it to penetrate into its meaning more deeply. It takes work to excavate all the meaning, but it is so rewarding.

Just a few examples of familiar images that The Wisdom Jesus gives as a revelation: the burning bush as a metaphor for living the enlightened life. We are burning from within, but not consumed, on fire with the presence of the divine. The wisdom and knowledge flows through with an energy and light that draws other spiritual seekers (like Moses). We are in-dwellers with God and with other people. The artificial sense of separation has vanished!

She talks over and over again about getting out of our earth-bound habit of duality -- right/wrong, either/or, good/evil -- and becoming unitary (enlightened) in our existence. Instead of judging everything and throwing it into a binary system, transforming our vision.

Jesus's life was an arcanum (not sure how to spell that). Mrs. Bourgeault, whose last name is pronounced "Bour-jhoe," uses lots of big fancy words befitting a true wisdom-seeker, words I don't even know how to spell! Her definition is that his life was itself a path to wisdom, that by following his example, we are led to enlightenment. She infuses her discussion with ideas from all the great religions and talks about the five major religious traditions as a rainbow, each ray with its own specific emphasis and way of illuminating the spiritual path.

Jesus "descended into hell" upon his crucifixion. This is a paradox. If God is perfectly good, how could his son step foot in hell? Yet a strong thread of tradition says he did, and transformed it with his loving presence. Just being present for all the human frailties, evil, shadow side. And looking at it from this perspective, it's no longer just "evil" but a condition of life here on earth. This leaves open the question of what exactly hell is. A state of being in utter isolation from God and the love of others? This is what I believe. Jesus got there when he cried out, "Oh God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

Here is what happens sometimes with a great book. It's like the reader's inner spirit and the writer's words fuse and make a new creation. She tells me things that, it seems, I already know deep in my being. I shout, "Yes! Yes!" as she describes some pretty far-out interpretations of the scriptures.

How about: why the disciples did not always recognize the resurrected Jesus. Was it that he looked so different? She gives a radically spiritual interpretation. The disciples on the road to Emmaus were trapped in their old beliefs, enmeshed in their little preconceived ideas and the drama of their own lives and their viewpoint of the historical Jesus. They weren't looking at Jesus with the eyes of faith, of the spirit. It didn't dawn on them who he was until he broke bread at the inn with them, then vanished. Then they said, "Weren't our hearts burning within us as he spoke?" Their hearts had told them what the rest of their body could not accept as true, because it would require a huge change of perspective.

I've wondered this before. When we escape from these fleshly prisons, er, human bodies, and leave this vale of tears, as Henri Nouwen described our earthly existence, how will we recognize one another? I used to think of all the older people I knew at a church in San Antonio, and how each had their own special personality, mannerisms, way of greeting you, habits, etc. If you paid attention and caught on to their spirit, you would recognize them anywhere. No visual or auditory cues needed. And of course, I expected each one of them to kick way sooner than I ever would, so that they'd all be waiting to greet me when, many many years later, I finally would die!

I'm sure you can think of people's spiritual fingerprints in your own life. If you have a close relative who has died, how would you be able to say, for example, "That's grandpa, all right!" If their spirits shone out, your open spirit would know them and respond.

So I guess this means I am a mystic at heart.

Sometimes, traditional Christianity seems so constricting, that I feel the urge to run away to a religion that does not have so many dogmas, and leave behind all the judgment and intolerance that seem to be its hallmarks. So this series of talks is such a reviving breath of fresh air for me. This is the Jesus I know and love, and seek to follow.

I just hope there is room at church for people like me, who will not be confined in narrow pews with rigid beliefs.

Oscars, anyone?

2011-02-27T20:49:00.001-06:00

Tonight I go just a little crazy and sit down in an annual tradition, to watch the Oscars. I am not that enamored of stars and their personal lives-in-a-bubble and troubles, but I do love great movies! The best movies capture amazing human moments and are as satisfying as a great work of literature. They are amazing works of art, and to watch gifted actors at their craft is just a joy. The movies aren't elitest; they are available to everyone, regardless of literacy level. They are something our entire family enjoys together.

So here we sit. Perhaps you have noticed I am blogging while the Oscars are playing, and guess what? The boys are on their computers, while watching it on TV. This is emblematic of modern life. You have to be plugged in to not just one, but a variety of devices. And while I write this, "Social Network" is winning the best adapted screenplay award. I didn't like that movie, by the way. A bunch of youngsters making terrible choices and acting really crappy toward one another, all at super high speed, living in a world I didn't recognize and would never want to inhabit. Don't care much for Facebook either. But it's true that the historic unrest in the Middle East has been at least facilitated, if not caused outright, by social media that allow masses of people to communicate almost instantly.

Speaking of modern technology ... our family was sold on these little armbands called "ibalance" at the Home and Garden show. Dwaine tried the on-site balance test and was a lot more balanced with the armband on. The guy who sold them to us said that all the little electronic devices we carry around cause us an imbalance of ions (too much negative?) and this device, which has magnets and magnesium or something, recharges your positive ion balance. Leading, of course, to all kinds of delightful results ... better oxygen flow, better balance (the signature result that can actually be measured immediately upon slipping the band on), more restful sleep, more energy, better digestion, better sex (well, that wasn't actually stated but it would certainly follow, wouldn't it?). I could use a good dose of all of the above right now. Frankly, I don't care if it really does all these things or if it is a placebo effect, which still works. All that for $20? What a deal! But I'd be embarrassed to have to explain why I'm wearing this little armband at work. Maybe no one will notice. (Note to self: long sleeves. Every day.) 'Cause really, doesn't it just sound like the biggest scam? But I must confess, today I felt great! Went and worked out, the first time in a week.

This show is called the "Home & Garden Show" but lately when we go, we buy these personal well-being items. Things like little shoe inserts Dwaine got to prevent plantar fascitis, a painful inflammation of a muscle in the foot. Hey, they worked! We got a nightlight that melts scented chips, too. Now they have several vendors who sell beer and wine, as well as lots of foodie items. They even have a pet section and one of the vendors sells pet urns to preserve their ashes. Home? Garden? Hmm.

Is that Anne Hathaway singing? She looks fab in that tux.

OK, "The Fighter" just won both best supporting actor Oscars and I've never heard of it. That means nothing, though. I have not been going to the movies and keeping up with all that. Used to be, when Dwaine and I first married, we went to a first-run movie at a movie theater every weekend. So we were well-versed in the movies of the late '80s extending into the early '90s, maybe.

I have previously blogged about making our kids get some culture, if only the pop kind, by watching "great" movies on Netflix. Including, recently, "The Shining" and "Throw Momma from the Train." Just to show that your idea of great might be a hair different than what I'm talkin' about. But then we also have seen some classics (getting through the whining about sitting through them) like "Casablanca," "Lawrence of Arabia," "The Birds," "Treasure of the Sierra Madre" and "High Noon." Then there are movies we own, "Holiday Inn" and "It's a Wonderful Life" (of course) and "Saving Private Ryan."

Some good funny movies we have watched include "Young Frankenstein," "Blazing Saddles," and "Mrs. Doubtfire."

The movies are a part of our family life and part of our shared history together. They have enriched my life, that's for sure.

Signing off because the suspense of who will win for best sound editing is just about to kill me!

A story about my sons

2011-02-20T14:34:00.000-06:00

I have so many things I want to write about, things that will pop into my head throughout the day. But I realize I write very little about my two sons here, so I wanted to tell a story that may describe some small part of who they are. Not a really important story, just an everyday happening.

It was the night before Valentine's Day, and we were listening to Austin make plans to be with his girlfriend (of one year, bleah, but that's another story). He wanted to take her out, but one problem -- no money. He gets weekly allowance plus extras for other things, but he seems to have holes in his pockets because a few days later, it's always gone.

He came up with the idea of wining and dining her (without the wine part) here at home. One potential problem with that was my husband and I had a date of our own, at a restaurant in San Antonio, and so would not be present to supervise. However, his younger brother, Andrew, would be coming home after school with Austin. We gave it our blessing, after some thought about it. I felt confident that Austin would not do anything hugely inappropriate having to do with Katy with his brother around, though you might feel inclined to challenge my thoughts on that, given that Austin is a 16-year-old boy. But I just felt OK with it, gut level.

So then Andrew gets all excited about the prospect of creating a cafe, of sorts, for Austin's girlfriend, and possibly even cooking for the two of them. He was getting all into this role and coming up with menu items.

(Interruption from Austin, who wanted to show me his new fastball for baseball.) He uses the side of the garage to throw at, and has a metal backboard propped up so he's not usually hitting the brick wall directly. He was trying to show me the intricacies of when the ball would curve for a curveball, but it wasn't doing what he wanted. Finally, he said, "Just two more [pitches], Mom, then you can go back to your video game." (That's a joke; he knows I don't play video games. But he also doesn't know I am blogging about him right now, heh heh.)

Andrew and Austin were coming up with names for their cafe -- Smitty's Dive, I think would have been a good one. Their favorite was "Drewsky's." By the way, it was and is a huge construction zone around here right now. Before Valentine's, we were getting ready to paint the walls in Andrew's room. So in the living room are several pieces of his furniture and all his clothes drawers, then there's a large pile of books and other miscellaneous debris in the back bedroom, etc. It's impossible to clean up around all the piles, and I haven't been home much, so it's sort of a wreck everywhere. Then after painting, it's on to installing flooring to replace the original carpet that came with the house some 17 years ago. (We refloored Austin's room but did not paint in there yet.)

But that was OK, because the boys had an illusion in their heads of this romantic getaway and really just the dining room had to be presentable, just step around the dresser drawers and don't trip over the bucket of painting supplies on your way there. Chef Andrew would wear an apron and make spaghetti, which was about the only meal he felt competent to prepare. He would put up a sign with the name of the cafe on the door, and possibly draw up a menu. (One item: spaghetti.)

I told Austin that Katy's parents would have to approve, and to make sure to tell them we wouldn't be here. He called them to ask and after about 30 minutes, they called back to say no. I could tell they were apologetic because he kept saying, "That's OK." As a parent, I totally understand why they vetoed the whole idea.

So it ended up as it often does -- we gave Austin some money, and he took Katy to a Thai restaurant in San Antonio, spent wildly, drove her home, and didn't get home himself till almost midnight. (When I called him around 11, they were just getting ready to cruise aimlessly around the big city till I vetoed it and told him to come home immediately. This was on a Monday night!)

Poor Drew was left to celebrate Valentine's on his own, at home, till we redeemed the situation by bringing home pizza. Now, if we had known that Austin would definitely be gone on his own date, we would have taken Andrew with us. But we had a reservation for two, not three, and hadn't built in time to swing home to pick him up. Nor did we want to necessarily encourage Austin to go on a date, which is why it came up the night before.

So, this story illustrates the many dilemmas of having teenage children. How much do you trust them? How much autonomy should they have? What's appropriate, and when?

The greatest pearl of parenting wisdom I ever received was from my friend Karen, who raised three children of her own, and said, "In parenting, you're damned if you do, damned if you don't." Every decision you make is subject to criticism and is probably wrong. Exactly so. When I think of my foolish desire to keep my kids safe (see blog post two entries back), I realize how impossible that is. There are way too many hazards in life, and we can't see them all. Every time they get in the car, they are rolling the dice. But even if they were home, they could accidentally burn the house down! You can never stuff them back into the womb again once they're out.

So, these are my kids, but they are not "mine." I often marvel at them and think how lucky I am to be their mom, and wonder how their lives and mine became so intertwined. We didn't pick one another (though I would have picked them in a heartbeat), but here we are. Andrew has a deeply spiritual side and talents that I think are still largely undiscovered, because he's a very internal person and deep thinker. Austin could be a pop star or Hollywood icon, I think he has so much natural charisma. He always makes me laugh and is a charmer, but is also very smart. Now lately, he's worked very hard on his baseball skills and is the starting second baseman for JV. What a shame that he's stuck to the same girlfriend like glue!!

Managing emotions

2011-02-17T20:47:00.002-06:00

We had a situation in church that escalated to the point that someone accused someone else of lying, in a very public and hurtful way. Both of these people are good people, in the estimation of me and my husband, so it was surprising and saddening to see this happen.

I'm trying to keep this generic, but one person, let's say "Sam," had a number of issues with one of the church leaders, "Peter." Sam wanted to meet with Peter and have a mediator present, but Peter refused, so instead Sam went to the committee that oversees the church leaders. In that meeting, Sam accused Peter of lying and trying to make Sam look bad. I think the committee members, for the most part, were a bit stunned about how Sam reached many of these conclusions. However, I was not there, so I really can't say for sure. It seems like Sam was operating from a place of deep hurt, and the origins of that pain were fanned by the interactions between Peter and Sam.

I think that there were some strong emotions that overtook Sam and perhaps clouded reality. I see this as a microcosmic example of one of the primary causes of global conflicts -- these out-of-control passions that inflame people to violence. There is very good reason for people to have strong emotions in conflict-torn regions, because in many cases, there is a long and extensive history of violence between groups of people. It's like the Hatfields and McCoys, but on a much larger scale -- Israelis and Palestinians, Hutu and Tutsi, and so on. (Note to reader: I do some basic fact-checking when posting; be glad I didn't write about the Hatberrys and McCoys and leave it that way.)

I can't say that I would be have any kind of handle on reality if members of my family had been killed by an opposition group that seemed out to get me, my family, and my entire tribe. It's impossible to know how I would react, and thankfully God has not placed me in that position. But it seems (from my comfy armchair here) that the best testament to a family member who has been killed is to make a solemn vow that the violence ends here and now, and no more lives will be taken, for revenge or any other reason. Yeah, how easy and cheap it is to sit here and blog about it. And yet, something drives me to do just that. To take a stab at looking into this problem -- oops, I shouldn't use that analogy!

My ongoing struggle is how to make the world a better place ... this is a dilemma that makes me feel desperate at times, because I feel so ineffective and so tiny. It is so hard to truly help other people. Really, you could argue that it is impossible to help someone else -- if they cannot reach back when you reach out, or if they are not ready or receptive. It's so easy to fall into traps like being condescending, feeling holier than the other person, or to live under the illusion that you are actually in the role of "helper," not receiving anything of benefit in return. And motive is always questionable when you purposefully set out to "help" someone else. You immediately are up on a pedestal, instead of in an equal position with that person, and that sense of being better is a falsehood. Plus, it adds distance between you, and makes it harder to find common ground.

In contemplating the problems of the world, I see that many are attributable to uncontrolled outbursts of negative emotions. This can be long-term and simmering, like the wish for revenge (some might call it "justice" though revenge is not the same thing at all), or refusing to forgive others. Or it can be an instantaneous episode where someone blows up and does something terrible. I believe that as human beings, we are all capable of being pushed over the edge and doing something quite horrific. I know that but for the grace of God, there were moments where I could have died or killed someone else in my life -- not just once, but a number of times. So we should be aware of this very deep, primitive nature that lurks in us and may urge us to do something that cannot be remedied.

I talk about this as a global problem, but it's also deeply personal. Here is something I can achieve, myself, in my lifetime ... better control over my own negative emotions. I see the fruit of this work in my life everywhere ... how much happier my family seems, how much I enjoy being around other people (nearly everybody!), how the petty conflicts of daily life seem so much more minor in comparison to all the love and beauty out there. I love to listen to the Dalai Lama, which I often do while driving, because he is the living embodiment of the fruits of compassion. Being in his presence, through his spoken words, has an amazing effect on me. It's so uplifting.

My wish is that through the hard work of one person in their own life, the benefits can spread slowly outward, like the ripple of one small pebble tossed in water. However, it seems like our existence in this world is not a calm pond, but more like a tempest-tossed ocean, and this tiny ripple may be swallowed up by the tsunamis out there!

I also wanted to mention something that has helped me. I still feel these turbulent emotions that arise out of nowhere. I have learned that I can stop and say, Oh! Julie is feeling this emotion. It is not a reflection of reality. It's just the feeling of the moment. Let it be, sit with it, and it will pass away. This little mental trick has really worked well. At times at work, I have felt so lonely, just this ache deep in the middle of me (a familiar ache), and I realize that this particular feeling is constructed, made up. Poof! It disappears like a phantom. I have lived with this ache, this sense of complete isolation, my whole life. Funny to find that it isn't real at all.

Moral authority

2011-02-12T19:39:00.000-06:00

This is something I often lack in my day-to-day interactions with others. And today I was tested.

Andrew wanted to go spend the night at a friend of a friend's (FOF for short) house, the second night in a row away from home (last night he went to a friend's after returning quite late from soccer, so they could go fishing today). This FOF's place is right on the San Antonio River and the three boys were going to go fishing tonight.

I called the mom to get more information, because I didn't know this family at all. (By the way, I often bypass this step.) As we were talking, she shared with me that her son and Andrew's friend would also likely go hunting for turkeys and wild pigs in the dark tonight, with guns. The father in this family is in law enforcement and this high school freshman boy is, per his mom, very experienced in handling guns. So I said, in lieu of freaking out, I'll have to talk with Andrew about that because he is not very experienced handling guns.Note I didn't say, oh, that sounds just great! But, nor did I question her judgment in any overt way.

So I didn't immediately freak out, but I did tell Dwaine about it and he asked, what kind of guns? Well, I have no idea, really. To me, a gun is a gun. But, a beebee gun is really different than a handgun. I get that.

Dwaine sort of laughed at the idea of three teenage boys, unsupervised, going fishing at nighttime, oh, and hunting too. Probably this is something he did as a boy, along with running away from the cops on his dirt bike with his buddies. Does it mean my boys should have the same full range of experience?

Well, something kept nagging at me. I don't know quite what it was, but ... perhaps the voice of reason? Really, five other adults (the other two boys' parents and my husband) apparently were not hearing this little voice nagging at them, but I was. It was getting louder and louder, actually. Then it dawned on me that I simply could not allow my son to be in this risky situation. Period.

I'm not a strict parent, and I try not to worry. In fact, I bend over backwards to not worry, because my natural tendency is to be anxious about EVERYTHING, and it is not healthy or normal, and I recognize that. So, I tend to quash those feelings when they occur, as they do daily. Why did I have to have two boys, oh why?

Just fortunately in this case, there was this tiny little voice in my head that would not shut up or go away. Not even if it was the only voice like that in the whole, wide, world ... which is how it often feels when we are in a moral predicament, and the other "responsible adults" are looking the other way.

It's almost like God was testing me in this really dramatic, obvious way to assert my moral authority with my teenage boy, and to be unafraid of the result. (This interpretation is just my way of seeing things through the eyes of my faith.) My son's reaction was, worse than anger, deep hurt and disappointment. I had already been wavering on whether to let him go spend the night, and then I said yes, and then I said no. So that was tough on him. I think Andrew feels he will be less of a man in the eyes of his so-called friends now. Well, if that's how they measure him, are they really friends at all?

Life (not wife) swap

2011-02-08T21:43:00.001-06:00

Does anyone want to swap lives with me, ha ha? I was driving by the Quarry movie theater this afternoon around 6 pm, and there were people coming out of the movies. Not employees, just average people. Which could mean only one thing ... that they had been in the movie theater, watching a movie, while I was at work. I had a visceral reaction where I briefly became them. I smelled the popcorn, heard the surround-sound, imagined the leisure time and the feeling of relaxation, then the imagined conversation -- "What should we do now?" "I don't know, dear, you decide" -- as the loving couple strolled together to the car for the next merry outing. It was a moment of intense longing.

This stream of thought was quickly followed by wondering why these people would have time to go see a movie on a weekday afternoon. Perhaps they were simply retired or had a day off -- on a random Tuesday. Or maybe they had to work weekends, or they had the night shift somewhere (both of which, I think, would be worse than a regular full-time job). There are also plenty of sinister reasons to have leisure time, which mostly involve things like poor health, unemployment, and impending death (yours or a loved one's). So that thought was like the cooler of Gatorade dumped on the head of the Superbowl-winning coach, in that it sort of woke me up from my fantasy, momentarily.

It could be that people who have too much leisure time have as many problems, or more, as people who are overscheduled.

What I think would solve the problem of wishing and longing would be to do a "life swap." You find someone who has a life that is totally opposite yours. If you have kids and spend 24/7 dealing with them, find someone with no or grown kids who spends their time doing something different, for example. I guess I'd find someone with lots of leisure time, no kids or pets.

Then you swap lives with them. I suppose this would need to be very short-term. Say, a week. I bet at the end of it, in most cases both people would be begging to have their old lives, and people big or little, back again. (Unless they had the aforementioned terminal illness or some *real* problem going on.)

There are plenty of people out there who I wouldn't want to do a life swap with. For example, my dear friend Carol with her four kids, or is it five? I honestly have to think about it. Yeah, five! (Sorry, Joel/Jules.) Almost too many to count, much less to raise!

Or, the CPA at work (one of many people out there) who puts in endless hours and often works all weekend.

Anyhow, I just got back from a lovely weekend retreat with my friend Karen. Being hosted by her and her husband Bill at their house in the evenings was so enjoyable, like staying at a hotel but with social interactions, Australian sheepdogs, and homemade breakfast -- the best of everything! It was truly a retreat from my life and all its baggage. Amazingly, my kids survived the weekend though I spent not one minute worrying about them! (I'll have to try that more often.)

We are all "me in the middle"

2011-01-29T21:15:00.000-06:00

I was thinking today, while listening to Zencast and jogging, that different religious traditions have different ways of dealing with our human frailties and limitations. Christianity calls them "sinfulness" while Buddhism calls them our human condition. Every religion -- every spiritual attitude -- must come to grips with the heights of human potential, and the depths of human limitations.

I say we are all trapped in this fleshy prison, whether we want to be or not. We all must see through just one pair of eyes, our own, and experience life from an extremely curtailed vantage point, within a human body. We must do all sorts of things to take care of the body, which is very demanding of air, water, food, way too much sleep, and a safe and temperate habitat ... not to mention lots of other things. Then there's all the other baggage: the feelings and desires that drag us this way or that, the mind that never ceases its "mindless chatter," the aches and pains of the afore-mentioned body, the intellectual limitations of the human brain.

And then ... and then ... if we are able to survive all that, we have the privilege of growing old and then dying! So there! At one point, the Zencast I was listening to mentioned a hospice unit where a 95-year-old woman found herself, and she kept saying, "Why me?" (Smile) Sorta like, how did I end up here? Yeah, why, indeed.

Jack Kornfield was the teacher of today's Zencast (actually, I think the date it was recorded was last fall sometime), and I just love him. He touches on the deeply important problems facing humanity, he sees them, yet he can transcend them all and find that peace that surpasses human understanding. Here's a link if you are curious: Jack Kornfield, Zencast

One of the things he said was that in this life, there is unspeakable beauty, and an ocean of tears. His teaching that I listened to today was "Freedom" (part I).

Now, Buddhists say it is a great privilege to be born human. This, too, is echoed in other religions. We are convinced that we are special. Why is that again?

I am just as trapped in myself as anybody. I have been feeling some escalating stress, mostly self-induced, that is if anything due to a hectic schedule. When I get like this, I have even less control of my mind. That's a frightening concept, since it routinely runs rampant like an energetic toddler anyhow. But under stress, one of its favorite tricks is to play annoying music ... one song ... over and over and over. Today, it's Taylor Swift's "Today was a fairytale." It started the minute I awoke and hasn't left me since. So, all I can do is to just let it play. Play it again!

So this morning, I decided it was time for a good little run and a dose of Zencast, my best friend in stressful times. This is my way of coping. Other people might reach out to friends and so on, while still other people reach for the bottle, or pills, etc. I am not particularly social, and my biggest addiction, besides exercise, is to coffee. (I got some of that too this morning.) I enjoy people up to a point, and then I find them annoying. But I still love you all, anyway! Really I do.

So, here are the messages I am getting lately about my own path in my personalized fleshy prison, here. I already told you about blooming where I have been planted. That one continues to come in really loud and clear, and I'm trying to be obedient to the call. Whatever I am doing, really engage in it and realize that it all has a purpose, and meaning. Even squeegeeing the shower! Be patient, allow the moment to unfold, stop hurrying so much.

The other fairly new message is that my passion is to write, and this is also a right intention and desire as I understand it. So perhaps I can let myself off the hook of trying to save the entire world, and allow myself to pursue this passion without feeling so guilty about all the other social actions I am neglecting.

I do see my writing as a social action, though I have no idea what the outcome of it is or will be. But that is true of all action. We can discern whether our intentions and motivations are pure (as pure as possible), and our action is right with respect to the world that is within our view. But we can never guarantee the outcome. That is up to much larger forces. Thus the saying, "No good deed goes unpunished." Our actions may not have the glowing results we imagine. They rarely do. We may feel we are doing no good at all, or in fact are causing harm. So we cannot cling to a desired result, but be willing to learn and modify our actions based on experience as we go.

Another mention of hospice in the Zencast was about someone who worked as a nurse in an AIDS unit back in the early days, when it was often not successfully treated. He wanted to save his patients, these young men, with modern medicine, but soon discovered he couldn't. So for a while, he felt useless and was in despair. But he was also in the habit of praying for his patients, lighting candles for them (a prayer habit my husband shares). Eventually, he realized that perhaps his reason for being there was so that none of his patients would die without having someone praying for them. And if you think that doesn't matter, think about the wonderful Tibetan hermits living in isolation, practicing complete compassion for the benefit of the entire world. I think maybe they are doing much more good than many do-gooders. Just thinking of them, I feel a wave of positive energy.

Since we are all stuck with ourselves, we have to figure out where our self meets up with all of creation, and how we can best be a part of this beautiful, amazing existence. So I don't apologize for all the introspection I routinely do. Self-awareness and enlightenment go together. Such is my belief, no, I have to say it more strongly than that. I have experienced that as reality, in a larger sense. Our selves are the crude tool we must use to engage with the world.

My enneagram retreat is next weekend, already. I seek to be prepared, but that's such a trick, that we can forecast the future and be prepared for it! Everything is change, change is continuous, and we are also part of that changefulness. OK, I'm not sure that's a word, but you know what I mean.

An accident

2011-01-26T22:34:00.000-06:00

I dreamed that I was driving from my home to a nearby appointment at night, and as I approached a major intersection with a nearby highway, I realized there had been a bad accident. There was a white sedan, mangled, in the middle of the intersection. Nearby was a body, lying right on the roadway. There were several other cars, and other bundles looking like bodies that had been thrown alongside the road from the impact of the crash. There were no emergency vehicles and no other cars anywhere around. I was the lone witness.

I was shocked, but I carefully drove around the car and the body, and kept going. I had an appointment in Floresville at a hair salon, after all!

But when I arrived there, the owner immediately asked me to sign a form because she knew, everyone there knew, that I had seen this accident and had not stopped to help. The form said something like I was aware of the accident, but had done nothing about it. I wanted to add a caveat that it was dark, at night, and I remember thinking that I needed to lie and say I had not seen any bodies lying around. I was embarrassed and felt guilty that they knew. Somehow, it was too late or no longer necessary that I or anyone else return to the scene and try to help out.

Furthermore, the people at the salon were friends and family members of the accident victims. But I was not a pariah, somehow. It was like they understood what I had done, although we all knew it was wrong. They were talking about their loved ones, telling me about them, and I came to care about these people through that experience. Toward the end I was thinking what I would do differently the next time, maybe.

This is my 16-year-old's interpretation: Mom, it means you worry too much about driving and getting in an accident. I was telling him, no, this is all symbolic! The car accident really means something else. (Along the lines of an overly active guilty conscience.) But he wasn't buying it.

I saw a little video clip at a church youth meeting tonight that reminded me of this dream. There is a fire station, and lots of training going on for new firefighters. However, they are never actually allowed to go out and fight fires. There are all sorts of excuses -- you're not ready, you are too young, it is too dangerous, etc. In fact, nobody at the fire station ever goes out to put out fires; they spend all their time in training.

Eventually one of the trainees says, what's the point? What are we training for? Look at all those fires out there -- why aren't we helping? The camera pans out over a nearby neighborhood, where (rather comically) there are, in fact, quite a few areas where dark smoke is billowing upward. So the more experienced guy says something like, 'yeah, well the fire station down the street can take care of those. They don't need our help.' Immediately after he finishes talking, you hear a lady shouting, "Help!" It's all rather lighthearted, but on another level, not so much.

The video is about youth opportunities to take mission trips and help with construction/renovation projects. Seen another way, it could also be an indictment of the church's idle posture in the community.

My dream was about ... ?

Writing up blind alleys

2011-01-21T21:57:00.001-06:00

"Love tells me I am everything. Wisdom tells me I am nothing. Between the two, my life flows." Nisargadatta Maharaj (an Indian guru, from what I can tell)

I heard this quote on a podcast recently and loved it. Living is about being in tension between many paradoxes. That's what makes it so interesting. Balance seems to be of great importance, finding the middle way.

Seeing the comments on my previous blog post made me reflect on how blind I am, as a writer, to others' reactions. Rereading that post, it was just another rambling reflection traveling a twisted path with lots of blind alleys. Yet it apparently expressed some human quality that was felt and reacted to by others. I'm going to give Henry James the credit, for his beautifully perceptive story that I invited into my blog in extremely summarized form. Its spirit came and infused the post with something extra. I'll have to include quotes by brilliant people as often as possible, to invite the spirits of these great ones to hang out here and share a little of their awesomeness!

I think every writer has this problem of figuring out what the reader will think. (Tell me if you agree, fellow bloggers.) We have absolutely no idea. We only can gauge by our own interest and reaction. Yet, some people churn out really dull stuff which they seem to find endlessly fascinating. I have no way of knowing if I'm one of those people! I know I find my own posts to be of deep and profound interest, to me. At least I'm not totally boring myself with what I write! I think that would be a terminal sign.

On another gander (that's another word for ramble, folks) ... The first week of tax season is over, and I worked 48 hours. This is the most I've ever put in at any job in a week, yet it's not much compared to what a lot of other people do year-round. From what I have heard from others trying to make it in this economic downturn, 70 hours/wk is the new 50.

I am beginning to realize that the stress of my previous job has left me (perhaps to be replaced with new and improved stresses in the future!). The work itself was not intellectually challenging. However, the workload was more than could be done in the hours I was working, and that was a constant source of stress because I simply could not do a top-notch job.

Now, my new job is much deeper intellectually, but the most important thing is to do a high-quality, careful and thoughtful job. No problem! That's where my inclinations lie anyway. We'll see how the time-crunch aspect progresses heading toward March and April.

I feel very fortunate to have a boss who is really concerned about me. I don't want to say more now and spoil the mood. We'll see where things are in another 12 weeks or so.

One more thing I wanted to reflect on, a topic I've visited before, is why I go to church. Sometimes it seems such a faint reflection of the spirit actually makes it inside church doors! And there can be so much human strife within the church that threatens to snuff out even that faint light. I am disappointed that we are not much more service-oriented and socially activist in mainstream Protestant churches, and I blame the American way of devoting too much for material goals, and for the cult of family, while neglecting the community and completely ignoring the wider world.

Even with these many drawbacks, there is such a deep spiritual hunger and yearning, inside me, and it must be fed somewhere. So I feed it at church. I do have moments of feeling a real communion with others, and experiencing the spirit that way. Probably I feel this just about every Sunday, so that's reassuring.

So much rides on our really faulty perception, as well. If we dwell on the apparent negative, it overwhelms everything else. Given that what we experience is largely illusory, why not seek the great beauty and wonder of life, and rejoice in that.

Another reason I go to church is that I find it's difficult to experience a higher spiritual dimension alone. Thus the saying, "When two or more are gathered in my name, there I am among them." All people have a profound influence on those around them, for good or bad, so we must try to be good influences and not be negatively impacted by others. It helps to find a supportive and uplifting community.

In a number of religious traditions, the most spiritually advanced members withdraw from society, go climb the proverbial (or actual) mountain, and live their ultra-devoted lives as isolated hermits. I don't think we are all called to react the same way to our spiritual drives, by the way, so it is fitting that some people choose this way to respond.

But in this hurting world, it is very important to share the light of awareness with other people, in the simplest ways, on a daily basis. That is what I earnestly try to do here, with my audience of at least three! (Four counting me) So I keep practicing.

Living a commonplace (boring) life

2011-01-16T17:23:00.001-06:00

I have a question. If you attempt to do a good deed and are turned down, does it still count as a good deed, or does it morph into a good intention, and you know where those lead ... ? Why are there all these contradictory sayings in the Bible, anyhow? How is anyone supposed to know what to do? If that's the owner's manual for life, it's lacking in a vital quality, its ability to be comprehended.

When I catch myself trying to buy my way into "heaven," or trying to make myself feel like I'm a good person, I have to laugh! I do it all the time here, I know.

So I did my good deed, or should I say I had my good intention today, because the chicken soup I offered to a flu-ridden household was refused, although with plenty of gratitude. And life being what it is, there won't be another chance for a while. Or, maybe I should say I will choose to spend my time in different ways, and the days will pass quickly for a while.

My family has gone hunting ... the real, manly sort of hunting, this. No more doves or small pickin's, they are going to a ranch with exotics (deer, mainly) and Austin talked of bringing back a deer head to mount in his room, which I promptly vetoed. In fact, I don't want to see any fur, or hooves, or bones, or anything that resembles the original animal. I will, however, gladly eat the meat! That's not so much because I am a big-time carnivore, because I am getting less and less so over time. But, if I had the choice, I would rather eat deer meat than the meat that comes from giant agribusinesses. It is much more humane and better for the environment.

Being the over-achiever that I am, I sometimes wonder ... if I weren't so hard on myself, what kind of person would I be? Dwaine and I went to a wonderful, really fun dress-up party last evening with a bunch of CHURCH folks. It was a western-themed murder mystery where everyone played and dressed up as different characters. Let me tell you, there was drinkin' going on, and several real guns and ammo (but of course, you say), and right smack in the middle of the evening, we all stopped to say the Lord's prayer for a little girl in La Vernia with inoperable cancer, and it was the most beautiful and amazing feeling -- to be surrounded by "such a great cloud of witnesses" is how Paul describes it. I felt just indescribably like I was home.

By the way, I usually do not feel that way at church, because I know I am an outsider just coming to visit. My God just doesn't fit inside any church, anywhere. For one thing, this universal presence I sense is just too weird. I'm not even sure "God" is the right description.

But anyhow, back to last night. I was laughing and acting my part (I was a saloon-girl hussy, and I must say I did OK), and I thought, oh! This is the other side of life. Just having fun and not brooding about coulda, shoulda, wouldas all the time. Not being so very responsible. What's that song by Supertramp? Responsible, practical, logical, etc. Maybe I've been "Mom" too long, or more likely I was just born that way.

Recently, I have gotten this new message about my life: I need to work on blooming where I have been planted. Not imagining life as a missionary in Africa! God knows I wouldn't last a month over there. My soul is restless, and it sometimes seems as though my entire focus is simply to try to avoid whatever is happening in my life right now. Unless it's just loads of fun! Which is sort of a rarity. "Fun" doesn't quite describe work ... home life ... volunteering at church ... working out ... running errands with the husband ... you get the idea. So, avoid all those and rush on to the next thing, and pretty soon the next thing is, you're dead. So hardy-har, the joke's on you!

I was at church at yet another meeting the other evening, and I looked around with new eyes and said, 1) I chose to be here tonight, and 2) I'm actually glad I am here! ! ! (at a church meeting? But I hate church meetings!) Here, I thought, I can actually do some good and have some influence. Will it change the world? Probably not. So why am I always harping on that? Why does it have to be something tremendously big, or I'm just going to put a pathetic half-hearted effort into it? There's something wrong with that.

It reminds me of a Henry James story, "The Beast in the Jungle," where the main character had a sense all through his life that he was someone special, with a unique destiny lurking ahead, like the proverbial beast in the jungle. His lady friend questioned him about it. He tried to put his finger upon what twist of fate was waiting for him, but never could. He remained preoccupied with his special place in the universe and the knowledge that he couldn't commit to anything else because he was saving himself for this grand destiny. At the end of his life, he finally realized that he threw away the opportunity to fall in love and marry, the ordinary fate accorded to others, and his unique situation was to be utterly alone. It was a devastating story to read.

Another way of putting it is maybe, I should really throw myself into living the life I've been given, instead of imagining all the other lives that could be, and that seem so much more interesting from over here! And maybe there is plenty of joy, and laughter, to be found, even in such a commonplace life as the one I lead.

Doing good

2011-01-13T21:38:00.002-06:00

First, a quick note of happiness, literally. We got an e-mail from one of our sons' teachers today saying our son is one of his top five students overall and stands out in a class of 32, and is a joy to teach, and so on. What a delightful note! I just love this teacher so much for sending it. (Now you know the way to my heart.) Floresville has some really amazing teachers.

More importantly ... most importantly ... Austin is a caring, generous soul. He takes care of his brother, even when it's a major pain in the ass (though I do sometimes have to ask him to, and he does sometimes rant and rave before doing it). He and his brother are very close and love each other, well, like brothers. Like the Norman Rockwell stereotype! They are never mean to each other, though they do poke at each other verbally.

I recently was catching up listening to "Being," one of my podcasts dealing with spirituality, and the podcast narrator (not sure that is the right word), Krista Tippett, interviewed Nicholas Kristof. He is the New York Times op-ed writer who has relentlessly worked for years to bring more visibility to the most vulnerable people in the world, especially in African countries like Sudan and Congo.

I was greatly impressed by his enthusiasm and optimism for the human race, despite our many apparent defects. It's odd because he knows he often elicits the automatic, knee-jerk "guilt" reaction from people, and that's not what he is about. He is genuinely trying to make the world a better place!

Some other journalists were following him around to do a sort of documentary on his unique approach to ethical journalism, and one of them complained that Kristof would go to great lengths to find the most dire situation, the most pitiful example of a person affected by the particular events in the area, and that would be the story he would cover. For most of us mere mortals, the prospect of facing suffering head-on like this is so grim that we have to turn away. I turn away. If I don't, it is inevitable that I will be drawn strongly into the suffering of these people, and I might not be able to escape intact, with my perfect little insulated life unaffected.

Yet, somehow, Kristof transforms these dire situations through the energy of his writing, and he makes us look and see things we would not otherwise. Somehow, we recognize the common humanity of all these people and have a real encounter with them, even half a globe away. Somehow, he communicates without anger about genocide, war, violence and poverty.

Kristof has met and interacted with the victims, and the perpetrators, of horrific violence, brutality, rapes, murder, and so on. His revelation about the perpetrators? Who are these terrible people? Human beings are capable of incredible self-delusion, he concludes. None of these people views himself as evil, or doing wrong. They all can rationalize why they, sadly, must do these horrific things. They are kind to their immediate circle of friends and family. Some of the warlords in Africa pray and participate in other religious traditions, because they are Catholic. I wonder if they pray before or while they are butchering children and raping women?

This information, I take to heart. Human beings are capable of incredible self-delusion. I'm not talking about the "bad guys" any more. There are many of these delusions in my life, and I am dimly aware of some and completely oblivious to many others. I accept the truth of this statement.

Because if we weren't all suffering from many delusions, we would be taking care of each other right now, and the horrible misery inflicted by one person on another would be no more.

Writing this has been painful for me ... I hope it helps someone out there. Was this another blog entry where I was busy self-flagellating? Sorry, will be more upbeat next time.

Strengthsfinder and enneagrams

2011-01-08T17:20:00.001-06:00

My sister got me interested in taking the Strengthsfinder assessment (personality test geared toward vocational life) -- it is all the rage where she works. So she got me the book for my bday and I just finished the test. Out of 34 possibilities, it selects the top 5 that describe you after you take an online assessment. Interestingly, the ones I had pegged as being "me" weren't the ones it came up with, but they all fit well once I read about them: input, connectedness, learner, responsibility, achiever.

It's eerie how well I think my new job dovetails with these qualities. I will have to share with my boss, after tax season. That is too big to be a coincidence! (Part of "connectedness" is the feeling that there aren't coincidences.) Right now, the song that describes my place at my new office is, "Feels So Right." Maybe I really was born to be a tax accountant, as horrifying as that thought is on some levels. But then there's my secret life, which includes this blog, that I love just as much, probably much more.

Along the same lines, my friend Karen thought I should come with her to an enneagram retreat in February. This is a personality-spiritual type of analysis which is supposed to date back 1000 years or more ?? I guess I'll report more when I know more! There are just 9 basic types of people in this view. I am really looking forward to that little getaway. I will actually go spend the night at my friend's house rather than staying on campus, because the retreat is popular and there is a shortage of dorm space. (She lives much closer to the retreat center in Boerne than I do.) This will really make it so enjoyable, such a nice little respite from the rest of my life.

Interesting that two of my closest people have drawn me toward these things, as I already think I am high in self-awareness. Perhaps it's because I am quite fascinated by the nature of Julie. It's one of those things I study as a hobby!

I've got to get back to the rest of my life ... time at home is so fleeting and precious, these days.

OK, I'm at a break now. Housework, cooking, etc. never really come to an end, but there are stopping points. Sort of like life, which never really ends, it just flows from one thing to the next. (Or replace life with mass/energy, if you please)

Glass of wine in hand, sweet potato pie in the oven ... life is good. Now, if it would rain. Please, rain, come, and stay all night long! Oh Lord, please bring us rain.

About the Strengths etc., I am now thinking, why didn't it realize I am analytical? Where did empathy go, or intellection? Or my sister's quality, harmony, which I was certain was one of my top 5 too? With analytical, maybe it was because of that one question about making major decisions: more with your head, or heart? I leaned more toward the heart on that one. Really, doesn't everyone? Apparently not.

Now I imagine going back through the test questions and gaming the system, giving different answers, to see what exactly it's picking up on. I could, if I were willing to pay for a new book and access code each time! There just aren't that many questions to come up with 5 out of 34 of the strongest personality traits. And who exactly came up with these 34 qualities? A bit crowded field, don't you think? You couldn't narrow it down some?

Interestingly, Austin just took this exact test at school a few days ago! It was one of those random coincidences which, in my book, is of course no coincidence at all. The school was picked to do a trial run of the test, then one of his teachers was picked to be one of the ones to administer it, and that teacher picked one class, which was Austin's. (Undoubtedly, his most brilliant class of students!) Anyway, I think the only area of overlap with my son is Responsibility. How Very Responsible We Are. That makes two of us, anyhow. No, Dwaine's got a strong dose of it himself. In fact, the only ones in the household who are truly irresponsible are Mimi, Peter, and Backpack, and you can figure out who they are. Bunch of lazy bums! Sleep, eat, pee and poop, with a little playing and relaxing in between, that's their life.

But back to my son. Austin tested way higher on the people side of things: influencing others, communication, that sort of thing. As I keep saying, he would make an outstanding politician. Those things are not my bag, except when I'm writing, which is rather an indirect way to try to influence others! There's a quality called "Woo" -- winning others over -- that is one of Austin's strengths, and I think my husband would test very high on that as well. He also tested high on individualism -- i.e., we are all separate individuals and should be treated as such, no lumping into larger groups, he finds that offensive. He's a rugged individualist himself, right now. (i.e., Republican.) Despite my efforts to counterbalance his obviously skewed viewpoint.

Andrew heard all the hubbub about the Strengths test and now he wants to take it. In fact, he seized my book and was going to steal my access code, except I protested it was my darned birthday gift, and could he leave it be, perhaps? He may be a little young to understand all the nuances of the questions. It recommends the test-taker have a vocabulary at least of a 15-year-old. It's the maturity level that is still evolving, in my opinion. But oh, well, he could take it again later. This is version 2.0, so doubtless there will be a 3.0 and so on later, at least until this fad has run its course.

I announced I had taken the test, and my husband remarked that he was very glad that it discovered I had a personality. Apparently, that was in doubt.

I am feeling very blessed in my life right now. Today, at least. Right now. (Could it be the wine? Yeah, probably.)

A la Miss Piggy -- it's moi! Three of us ladies in my immediate family took turns posing for a portrait against the backdrop of a painting at Paesano's on the Riverwalk, and it turns out the photos have a portrait-like quality as a result.

A little philosophical rambling

2010-12-29T21:36:00.000-06:00

As for the title of this post ... I know that's what you come here for, is to hear some philosophical musings, no matter how far-out and fanciful they may be, right?

On my Mind & Life podcast, the topic of this one being physics (circa 2007), the participants were diving into a discussion of the tension between two ideas: the concept of causality (which is central to Buddhism, and I would suggest, all religious practice), versus the randomness that has been demonstrated to occur at the quantum level.

Buddhists believe that nothing can occur apart from so-called causes and conditions. This is a reference to the famous term, "karma." If you think about this belief, it's reminiscent of Old Testament references to natural disasters or diseases or other suffering being the result of human sinfulness. I don't know what causes Buddhists ascribe to things like natural disasters and disease, but they firmly believe that everything that happens is linked in a cause-and-effect cycle. Perhaps this is also described by "Samsara," the world that we are captured in, with its endless cycles of suffering. Thus, this philosophy declares that everything is relational. Nothing can occur by itself, without influencing or being influenced by something else. What does this imply for human "free will" as opposed to predestination?

However, quantum physics demonstrates that there are times when the action of a quantum particle is perfectly random. It cannot be predicted, because there is no pattern that emerges. This seems to fit in more closely with certain aspects of the human experience. For example, there are many possible life paths for each of us. Do you feel that your future could be predicted, the result only of causes and conditions? Or is there an element of seeming randomness to it? It certainly seems that misfortunes are often not due to causes and conditions, at least not any that could be controlled by people. What did people do to deserve the tsunami that struck Asia, or any other great natural disaster? I am no doubt grossly oversimplifying the concept here -- the Buddhist idea is that there are causes and results for each of these phenomena, and they could almost be predicted, that nothing that occurs is a random or unrelated event.

If randomness exists, it challenges the traditional notion of God. Where is God if things are happening that cannot be predicted, that were never created to happen in a certain way? This is what Einstein protested against when he said, "God does not play dice." But maybe God does? It also implies that there is no objective, constant reality ... no absolute truth ... no universal code of ethics ... nothing that can be known with total certainty, ever. Chaos! Confusion!

What is intriguing is the duality of these ideas, causality and randomness -- they both ring true, though they are contradictory. It makes life much more interesting to have both concepts in operation, rather than one or the other. And apparently, quantum physicists embrace duality as ardently as any philosopher. I'm not sure I am using the term duality correctly, because it could refer to a black/white view (either/or) of the world, which is the opposite of what I am describing -- rather, both/and, or many/and.

On a personal note, I am the embodiment of a dual-natured person, or someone with a multifaceted personality, perhaps? I think everyone is this way. We are all jewels, with many sides! Here in my blog posts, my alter ego speaks out, and I often am amazed at what comes out. It seems to have so little to do with my actual life! It's like remembering dreams, and wondering where they came from, and who thought of them. They can be quite alien to the nice, neat identity we like to give ourselves.

Aack! Don't read the prior entry

2010-12-27T20:24:00.001-06:00

I'm not quite going to delete it, but ... just too damn depressing!

Christmas was very nice, by the way. We have teenage boys, so the thrill has waned, somewhat, with the passage of time ... though Andrew still gets hyped up about gifts. (I think Austin does too, he just feels like he can't say it since he's all grown up at 16 now)

I was at the point of being sick and tired of the Christmas music. And yet, when I woke up on the 26th to discover it wasn't being played anymore ... what a sad letdown that was. New Year's isn't even here yet! Our Christmas tree is still up! Let the magic continue, a few more days at least.

Andrew enjoys unwrapping, to the point that I always wrap some of the most mundane gifts and place them in stockings and around the tree. Possibly winning the prize in the least significant, yet wrapped, department were the $1 boxes of caramel corn under the tree. Then there was also the beef jerky, a favorite of Andrew's. I even wrapped all the gift cards, separately, some disguised in boxes with a random book to weigh them down.

There was a theme going with Austin's gifts this year, as with Dwaine's. For Dwaine, it was lots (and lots) of brightly colored Mexican ceramic animals in acrobatic poses, ready to crawl and slither all over the backyard pergola. For Austin, about six wrapped packages were actually a set of tools and a nice bag to store them in. So it was, ooh! aah! Another set of tools! Which is it this time -- a set of wrenches, or ... a set of something else? (Sorry, I can't even think of other tool set names, I am so mechanically useless.) Then -- wow! Is that a lizard, or a frog? Oh, another frog! (for Dwaine's gifts)

I've been nursing a cold this past week, so that was my excuse to totally stay out of the kitchen. Not hard, because Dwaine has become quite the master chef of late, especially with regard to holiday meals. For Thanksgiving, I made a sweet potato pie and green bean casserole (Fresh green beans, so it wasn't just a matter of can-of-this and can-of-that!). He made everything else, including a lemon meringue pie that unfortunately was runny. That recipe, his mom's, needs tweaking.

So for Christmas, we had a giant roast beast, mashed potatoes (a holiday staple), green beans from Bill Miller's, and various accompaniments brought by family members. Really, it was quite a simple meal. There were 10 of us this year, including Dwaine's friends from work, Doug and Kat, so a fairly small crowd.

My birthday is next week. I think we'll go to the Magic Time Machine, since we only went once when the boys were small. The kids (both of them) went to the zoo with me last week. That was quite a coup -- two teenage boys, even the 16-year-old, at the zoo! We all loved it and shared fond memories of all the times we had gone before. The boys had a lovely time baiting some fish, feeding them fish pellets right over the giant open mouth of a hungry alligator snapping turtle.We were there about 20 minutes, and Andrew did not want to leave until the turtle caught a fish. So he was overjoyed when suddenly, its giant jaw clamped shut and it clenched down hard on one of the largest fish! It was just too gross for me to watch, once I saw chunks of fish floating to the surface from the muddied depths. The boys watched for a while, giving me detailed updates because they know how squeamish I am.

Tax season is right around the corner, and 45-50 hour workweeks! Jan. 15 through April 15, then it will be over. Actually, in the world of public accounting, this is quite reasonable compared to 70-plus hour workweeks, year-round. But still, for someone who worked part-time for many years, it will be an adjustment. I think I'm ready.

The trouble with a great spiritual book

2010-12-27T19:59:00.000-06:00

I have gotten to the point in reading the Dalai Lama's memoir where I am having a problem typical of me when reading such a book, that calls us all to greater social action. I start feeling incredibly guilty and depressed and have to put the book down.

He mentions places in the U.S. where people live in crowded cities but do not know one another, and care for their pets more than fellow human beings. Well, this general sentiment applies equally in rural areas to people like my family, and it was painful to read and recognize myself in his statement.

I do have a longing to do more good in this world. More what? I know that any "worthy" endeavor may sound great on the surface, but the devil is in the details, isn't he? I am spending these several hours a week as a volunteer treasurer at church, but it does not feel like the type of social action I crave. I would like to make a direct impact on the least, the lost, the left behind, especially those who live elsewhere! -- Because their condition is so much more dire than the poor face here. I am disappointed that my local church does not do more outreach.

It's easy to talk about this desire to help others. Chances are, I won't do anything to concretely enact it, just be here in my fat and happy super-sized-everything American life and feel the occasional twinge of guilt.

One thing we can all do is to stay on the path of social responsibility. That's the least we can do. It means multiplying our actions by thousands, millions, and then examining what the global impact is. Do we take actions to conserve energy, reuse and recycle, buy locally and organic, eat less meat? Is your work socially responsible or at least neutral? Did you build a new home like we did, or reuse a home? How many trees have been chopped down around your home, how many planted? Then, do you shop at big-box stores, and how are they doing as far as social responsibility? Perhaps the biggest question: How do you spend your money and time? Do you think about the consequences of the daily choices you make?

Aack! This is my Bill-the-cat response to many of the above questions. I don't have good answers.

Actually, the company I love to hate, Walmart, finally seems to be improving after years of providing the lowest cost, at any cost. It seems to be making a real effort to take a more sustainable path. Social responsibility has made it onto Walmart's radar screen. Check out the area of their website devoted to it: Walmart Sustainability Report 2010. Now, let's not forget that this could also be viewed in a similar light to the "green" initiatives of big O&G companies and the health-conscious initiatives of tobacco companies -- inotherwords, with a cynical eye. But if Walmart decides that consumers are demanding more sustainable policies, and implements them, this could be a game-changer.

Enough ranting for one blog post! Signing out to return to my oh-so-safe life in a big warm house, stocked with too much food, with three cars, away from poverty and disease and war, etc. etc.

Mind and life

2010-12-18T19:25:00.002-06:00

Flipping through the "next blog" this evening, about 8 of the 10 I saw were hard-core Christian blogs. I find this frightening, and I'm a Christian. Not hard-core, though. Some were actually spewing about all the evil things happening in our world today. Like, preaching, fire-and-brimstone stuff. Wow. The people who talk like this are the ones who make war in the name of their god.

I am reading the Wu Li book and the Dalai Lama's book side by side, and certain utterances in one book eerily echo the other. Let's see if I can find an example that struck me.

Here is a quote from physicist (I assume) Henry Stapp: "If the attitude of quantum mechanics is correct ... then there is not substantive physical world, in the usual sense of this term. The conclusion here is not the weak conclusion that there may not be a substantive physical world but rather that there definitely is not a substantive physical world."

So far, so good.

Now, the Dalai Lama: "Buddhist analysis of reality concurs with the conclusions of quantum physics, according to which particles of matter are real while still being devoid of ultimate solidity. Similarly, in Buddhism the phenomena that exist in interdependence are empty of intrinsic, autonomous existence."

So what does this mean for you and me? It seems to imply strongly that the everyday tangles we get so caught up in are not just unimportant; they are quite likely nonexistent. The products of overactive imaginations.

The absence of absolute physical reality reminds me, in a way, of the book of Ecclesiastes, where the writer laments a life spent striving after wisdom and ultimate meaning that has yet to be discovered. "Vanity! All is vanity!" The writer says, then concludes we should go about our days working and deriving satisfaction from that.

I sense the writer of Ecclesiastes is still not satisfied, and I also finish reading with an unanswered longing. There is a joyfulness that is also needed. Joy, and a curious mind that tries to empty itself of preconceptions, continuously experiencing the world as a new and glorious creation (which it is).

I discovered another Mind and Life series on quantum physics, which has been of great interest to His Holiness. These periodic gatherings are attended by Buddhists and scientists in a collaborative effort to learn and enrich the practice of each side by carefully studying the other. Indeed, science seems to need a dimension of spirituality and ethics at this point if it is to continue to progress. I almost think the deeply spiritual practitioners are way ahead of the scientists, though they cannot express everything they have discovered, nor prove it. But can the scientists really prove their discoveries? It's all dependent on human observation. Nothing has been recorded in human history absent a human being recording it, based on his or her own observation. So all the seeming objectivity of scientific pursuit is a nice mirage.

I'm not siding with the creationists or the willfully ignorant who seem to be so afraid to use their minds. Lord, no! But I'm saying nothing is black and white. Everything remains open to debate. Great minds cherish the opportunity to question everything!

By the way, Carol's latest post title -- "Endless Shock and Awe" about the way Christmas just sneaks up every year -- reminded me of a comic Dwaine showed me today. I didn't get it, he had to explain it to me. There are a bunch of people running around, arms up, hollering and screaming like it's the end of the world or something. In the midst, a long-haired hermit is walking around, waving a sign saying, "Calm down. Things will work out." But what threw me, I swear, was the description. It said "Modern-day iconoclast" and I got all hung up on that.

That running-around-crazy feeling is the feeling I have every Christmas season, as well! I have discovered that part of the reason is because it's my month to renew my CPA license, since it's my birthday month. And every year, I receive the renewal form from the state board and it's always a big surprise -- I need more CPE (continuing education)! Last year, I had to take 4 hours of ethics, so that I could become a more ethical person. So I found myself, a couple of weeks before Christmas, cramming my way through an online class so I could still be a CPA.

This year, I outdid myself. Although I already took 42 hours of CPE, it turns out I need a whopping 38 more hours. Holy crap!!! That was my reaction, when it finally sank in that the number 38 had meaning, and wasn't just a big ole typo. I won't bore you with the details, except to say I apparently shorted myself the prior two years and have to pay for it now.

So guess what I am going to be doing on my days off next week? Luckily, I am very good at cramming and taking tests with only days to spare. I have some experience in this area. Still, the unreal, insubstantial person that is Julie was very upset about this seemingly real problem when it happened. Luckily, she was soon able to brush it off with the existential knowledge that this whole life is nothing but a figment of our imagination.

Did I post this picture yet? I thought it was such a gorgeous picture that I've got a 5x7 of it hanging in my office. I have this big wall and have to put something interesting up there. My diploma's next.

It wasn't this exact photo; the other was more centered. Anyhow, this one gets the basic idea across. This was on a bridge overlooking the River Walk on my dad's birthday.

Dream

2010-12-11T10:37:00.000-06:00

I have a rare opportunity to tell about the dreams I had last night. Usually, I don't remember, or they are only fragments.

In one dream, my husband, younger son, and I were finding bombs and planning to detonate them so they would not hurt other people. The only problem was that we would have to sacrifice ourselves to do so (kind of like a suicide bomber, but we would be the only ones to die). Our dog, Mimi, was with us, and she would die, too, because she always wanted to be right with us. We found about three or four small, black, square, unimpressive-looking plastic little devices around a house (not ours) that would explode easily when triggered. We were hurrying to go outside and lie down with them and set them off before Dwaine's sister arrived. If anyone else got there, they wouldn't understand why we were doing this and would try to talk us out of it or prevent us from doing it.

I was imagining what the end would be like. We would all lie down together, next to each other on a grassy pasture, and place these little devices on our bodies. Mimi would lie down on top of one of us. We would not be able to survive, and death would be instantaneous. Not too shabby, really. It wasn't a horrifying thought.

Frankly, I'm with the rest of the people here -- I have no idea what we were up to, either. Austin probably was absent because he's absent so much from our actual lives, being a 16-year-old with transportation.

In the next dream, the Dalai Lama visited me at a house that was my house, but it was not this one. He stayed for quite a while, and I was rushing around to prepare a meal for him, and burning parts of it, feeling very frustrated because I didn't have enough help. (Totally the Martha story from the Bible!) His amazing presence lingered long after he left, and I was sitting where he had sat on the sofa, longing for him. In fact, I was becoming very upset because he was gone, and realized I was engaging in unhealthy clinging.

Then in another part of the dream, I was feeling this deep sense of loss. It dawned on me that it was because my dad had died -- or was going to die. I was searching for a letter he had written to me.

Then in the dream, I was able to visit with my dad while he was still alive (which he is), and treat him as the precious treasure he is, before he died and left me. He was out on the porch of the house, watching a beautiful slow rain that was pouring down outside and blowing and misting in on the porch, too, so that everything was wet. It was the most amazing sight, watching the rain. Here at the brink of another drought, I long for rain and new life. I don't remember me and Dad talking about anything in particular, just being together and watching the rain.

I think all these threads are about death and impermanence. I'm no suicide bomber. I have no crazy visions of saving the world by dying myself, and if I did, I know my family would definitely not go along with it! I think the dreams were ways of imagining losing the ones closest to me, and how that would be.

Of course, we are all heading toward our death. Or perhaps I should say, birth and death are inevitable and will take place, are taking place, and have taken place in the lives of all sentient beings. The Buddhists think the moment of death can be a moment of enormous spiritual significance and transformation. I don't fully understand their beliefs, but they are interested in scientifically monitoring the time of death of some of the great spiritual masters, who have already in a sense mastered the movement into death.

Family night out

2010-12-04T22:05:00.000-06:00

We had a great afternoon/evening today and a reunion of my immediate family -- my sister and my dad, whose birthday it was. My sister came in on a business trip for work; she always takes the weekend before or after to visit with us. She decided she wanted to surprise Dad for his birthday, and he was! We all saw the Nutcracker, performed by Ballet San Antonio and the San Antonio Symphony, and then went to Rivercenter Mall and later to Paesano's.

My sister and mother-in-law wanted to go shopping after the show, so I stayed behind with Dad (who was not interested) at a table in the food court, overlooking the Riverwalk. He and I had a very nice discussion about my trip abroad as an exchange student when I was 15, parenting teenagers, the economic ramifications of our relationship with China, the threat of nuclear warheads, whether we should have dropped the second atomic bomb on Japan, and more. My dad is a smart man, and I'd forgotten how enjoyable it could be to talk with him.

I have really enjoyable discussions now with both my boys that are also wide-ranging. It's something I really enjoy about our relationship.

One of the highlights of the evening was after dinner, when a spontaneous napkin-origami activity unfolded at our table. (Get it? Unfolded?) Austin started folding his napkin into a pattern, quickly followed by his brother, Grandma Han, my sister, and even a little by Dwaine, who Cynthia calls "the rebel." I knew better than to attempt something like what they were doing, and sat back and watched, as did my dad.

I could tell my dad wanted to get impatient (because that is such a habit with him), but we were all drawn into the moment.Cyndi made an authentic restaurant-quality napkin arrangement that stood on its own. Austin made something he called a hang glider that I thought looked like a stingray. It was impressive on the table but decidedly limp in flight. Andrew made his own special creations which were, hmm, indescribable. My sister also made the cloth equivalent of the finger puzzle you make from a square piece of paper, place on your fingers, and then fold them back and forth and someone chooses a color, then a side, etc., to come out to an answer that unfolds from the paper. I know it has a name, help me! As they designed, we talked, and laughed. At dinnertime, I discovered that my dad thought the Jackass movies are a riot. Though he claims to not have watched them all.

I've learned to nurture these moments when they come, because they are rare. Who would think that folding napkins together could be something meaningful? It was an unplanned hiccup in the day's events, a moment of creative joy mapped out in napkin designs. I don't know that the waiters at the restaurant appreciated it (the tables looked full by then), but we did.

Also, during dinner, my sister asked out of the blue if I try to eat mindfully. (I think I was the last one eating at that point.) Her question caught me doing my usual, mindless chowing down, though perhaps chewing slowly at least! I thought it was great that she asked me at that moment, and that she attempts to practice this habit herself. I love that I have several friends who want to talk to me about being more in the present moment and more mindful.

My sister also asked if I would enjoy it if she got me a magazine subscription for Christmas to "The Sun," not knowing that I had ever heard of it. Another coincidence -- my friend Michele just recently introduced me to this lovely, literary magazine, saying she thought I would like it, and after receiving a second issue from her, I decided I would like to get a subscription. I just hadn't gotten around to it. This is an example of my sister and my friend exhibiting mindfulness in their actions, by deliberately choosing to support a publication that reflects their deeply held values about life. Here is the link to The Sun if you want to see what it is.

As my sister (who is a vegetarian) mentioned, she has a T-shirt that says, "Eat like you give a damn!" Well, do everything that way! Live like you give a damn.

I have no napkin-folding pictures, but let me share some others.

Me and sis with the birthday boy and his wife, Han (If you wonder about my dad's expression, he later mentioned that he hadn't had any coffee all day, so we went on an emergency coffee run. We are serious caffeine people.)

Here's mi familia at the dinner table. At the time of this picture, it is pre-dinner and the napkins are wrapped around the silverware (serviceable, but far from aesthetic).

Here's my son's latest fun project, a website he is making: ready-set-stop.com
I feel that I should post a number of disclaimers here ... it's a teenage boy's idea of a wonderful website, I don't think there is anything blatantly illegal on it (though quite likely immoral), and yes we are fairly permissive about computer use and the Internet, though I am constantly debating myself about whether to change course and severely restrict this evil entity from our household and become Amish once and for all, and oh -- back to website warnings, be careful what you click on. I haven't looked it over in great detail. I do like the joke about the perfect man and the perfect woman (scroll down to view).

Sharing the energy

2010-11-28T20:24:00.000-06:00

I don't have much energy of my own today ... been fighting off something since before Thanksgiving, so my goal this evening is basically to get to bed.

But I want to share a blog post that my friend Kiley wrote. He always gets to me with his descriptions of homeless meditation. I derive great meaning from reading the blogs of others as often as I can, especially Carol over at Sardines in a Can because she always makes me laugh.

Here is an excerpt from Kiley's post (He is a Buddhist, by the way):

“There is a suffering that leads to the end of suffering, and a suffering that leads to more suffering. If you are afraid to face the first kind of suffering, you will surely continue to the face the second.”

Another jewel:

"Buddhism teaches that the difference between Heaven and Hell is only point of view, our perception of things." Amen! I say. Heaven and Hell are states of mind and soul, not places.

So I have to wonder, in comparison, how I got stuck doing this church office treasurer stuff and what good it really is accomplishing in the world. I'm not sure that serving on the Finance Committee is helping anyone, really. However, I also know it is not good to measure ourselves according to others, because we are all meant to follow different paths.

Anyhow, here is a link to the full posting:
http://community.tricycle.com/profiles/blogs/description-of-teaching

Thank you, Kiley, for sharing your abundant compassion with all us twerps out here! By the way, have you ever had the experience of a book picking you -- it finds you and latches on and refuses to let go? He describes that experience in his blog post. That's what happened with my physics book I am reading. I was browsing in an old, quaint bookstore in some small town around San Antonio, and discovered it, and it beckoned to me. Those are the best kind of books! My friend Karen has also recommended some truly life-altering books to me, mainly "The Road Less Traveled" by M. Scott Peck.

Or, have you ever had this experience -- started laughing uncontrollably, simply because someone else is? I just did, because Andrew was laughing and couldn't stop and it was contagious. I still don't know what we were laughing about, but it felt great. One good solid belly-laugh a day (or more), preferably at something really silly and mundane.

I think I'm getting giddy, or is this feeling delirium? I really need to head for bed.

Teenage boys

2010-11-27T20:45:00.000-06:00

Is there a rule that says only one blog post a day? Oh well then.

I keep telling Andrew that if he were an elephant, the matriarch of the herd would be booting him out around now to go be himself out in the wild, like all young bull elephants. He responds to this by smiling and head-butting me. All forms of physical affection these days involve some degree of pain with him. It's worth it, though.

The male elephants roam alone, whereas the females form the herds and nurture the young. This is perhaps why I sometimes feel so alone in my home, surrounded by men (and two young men).

My husband needs me. It's the existential problem of the day. To clarify, he needs me now.

Inner peace, and physics

2010-11-27T17:55:00.000-06:00

I would like to spend just a moment to extoll the virtues of physical labor. There is something deeply satisfying and peaceful about doing yardwork on a gorgeous day such as today. Gathering leaves and taking them to the compost. The only part of my self that was not enthralled with this task was my whole sinus cavity, which has been aggravated all week, so I just gave it a good nasal rinse afterwards and some more medication.

I say this as someone who does not do manual labor for a living. It might lose a touch of its sheen if it was a hours and hours-long daily grind, or if it was required for my personal survival. It wouldn't be so glamorous or such a nice break in that case. So, no, I don't wish to go back to the days when everyone had to put in a bunch of hard work from dawn till dusk. No thanks!

It is strange how, the more leisure time we have, the more we seem to lose our way spiritually, or get bored, or long for something .... else. I guess people have always been in the longing business. I can understand people longing for a relief to grinding labor, disease, violence, poverty, etc. But relief from the relative richness of the middle-class doldrums here? You can see it all around, in the types of diversions people create for themselves. I was surrounded by it in the Galleria. Who in the world has need of all that stuff? How does it enrich the world? I don't get it.

Just what do you people want that you don't already have?!! Bunch of greedy, unthankful, rotten Americans. That's the thought I admit I have. Ooh, I certainly don't mean YOU, my faithful reader. I'm talking about those other people out there. Look at them all. Bunch of whining losers.

So, if I am confessing all, I really think that of myself, too, at times. What more could I want than this amazing life that has been given to me, with all its possibilities? But still, I have desires and cravings. Caffeine! And other things, too.

I'm reading one of those books that has been waiting for me on the shelf, "The Dancing Wu Li Masters (An Overview of the New Physics)" by Gary Zukav. The premise of this book is to discuss physics while leaving out all the heavy math and technical terms that make it indecipherable to you and me. A nonphysicist wrote it.

It's not a particularly current book, published in the late '70s, I think, but many of the greatest advances in physics happened just after the turn of the last century, and some of Newton's theories (who goes back to the 1600s sometime) were not undone till still later than that. Science plods along at a pace that can seem quite ponderous.

What fascinates me about science is the whole idea that we can be objective and objectively measure anything, even while trapped in this human form and using only the evidence of our poor, limited, and even faulty senses. This book has not disappointed me in expounding on that very dilemma. The "new" quantum physics seems to conclude that there is no objective reality that is not altered by our perception of it.

That dovetails nicely with my own sensibilities. We can never be mere observers of this world around us. We are constantly participants, completely enmeshed in it, and our experiences are inseparable from our reality. It's common sense, really. We can't have the perspective of God, or a higher power, or a bystander. We are each stuck in these carbon-based lifeforms, and cannot separate ourselves from all the rest of creation. (Does that word, creation, strongly imply a creator? I guess it does.)

Another aspect of quantum physics, one of many I find fascinating, is what Einstein described as "spooky action at a distance." The idea that quanta react to far-flung phenomena instantaneously, that perhaps either space or time, or both, are illusory. Or how about this? -- the thought that we are all energy bundles, that mass and energy are essentially interchangeable, and we are all intimately connected by forces we may be unaware of. And how do you distinguish organic matter that lives from other energy forms, if we are all constructed of atoms? How do you assign a higher moral value to humanity than to any other thing in the universe, really? Lots to contemplate.

Quick, how many living things do you see in this picture? "Lots." Yeah.

The trip

2010-11-25T10:15:00.000-06:00

Straight to the pictures today. Can you guess where we went?

Missing from this pic is Andrew, who is taking it.

The famous -- that should say infamous -- Mud Show. We had never seen it before. Each muddy man had half the audience rooting for him to "win." Though I was expecting a brawl in the mud pit, and that never happened. This show was one of our favorites, especially when each muddy man ran into the audience to kiss an innocent bystander (sitter) from the opposing side. Sometimes a man, other times a woman. The actors made great use of improv.

There's Andrew. Can't say what is dangling between his legs.

Some of the miscellaneous strangely attired folks.You couldn't tell who the paid staff were and who was coming in dressed the part.

We finished the day by watching belly dancers. Gorgeous! The boys missed this one; their loss.

So that was none other than the Texas Renaissance Festival. I think the boys were finally old enough to understand, appreciate, enjoy, revel in, participate in, etc., the bawdy humor, which is rampant at the Ren. Fest. In past years, it really bothered me, but now that my kids are so far on the path to adulthood, it fit right in. It's right where they are just now, in fact! I remember being a teenager.

Preceding our daylong visit there, we went to the Galleria and its ice rink. Very nice shops, quite pricey. At a few, I wanted to ask if there was a charge to touch the merchandise. Other than food, I bought a face mask to wear at night for around $12.

Apparently, my boys have been living in a cave all these years and have never (NEVER) been ice skating before. (This could have something to do with living in South Texas, except there is/was an ice rink in San Antonio for many years. I'll have to see if it is still there.) They loved it, once they got the hang of it. I remember skating in a homemade ice rink in our back yard when we lived up north. I think it was a little bumpy, but I was a young kid and didn't mind.

Another experience we'd like to take the boys for, which has been out of the price range hitherto, is skiing. Perhaps next winter.

We're going somewhere! Sometime!

2010-11-19T22:09:00.000-06:00

I feel like Dick Cheney ... my family is travelling to an undisclosed location, sometime that I cannot disclose at the present moment with precision! And I am sooo excited and looking forward to it. Maybe I'll post some pictures at some later time. It's not going to be long, and not to any glamorous place like Maui (where my dad is) or Tanzania (where my boss went), but it's a change of pace anyway.

I'm just happy to have a little break from this full-time work stuff. I could use a different word at the end there, but I'm not generally the cursing type. How does everybody do this working 40+ hours a week, anyhow? I'm ready to move to France and the 32-hour workweek. My butt is aching from sitting for 8 hours at work and 1-1/2 hours on the daily commute!

Enough whining. Life is too short to spend any time whining about the choices I have made, especially given what other people elsewhere have to contend with!

Here is my lovely sis and hubby on our fabulous trip to Washington, D.C., in front of a garden on the mall.

Being loving and being cold

2010-11-17T21:50:00.000-06:00

From reading my blog here, you might think that I am just the most drippingly loving, sentimental person, and I would just drape myself around you (or anyone else) and just radiate pure love if we ever met. That would be completely wrong.

First, I've never been a super huggy person. Though, with certain people, I'm glad to make an exception. I taught children's Sunday school for years, and I never really got around to hugging the kids very much. I remember an older lady who had taught children's Sunday school for, like, decades at St. Andrew's UMC. She actually did radiate love and compassion, and every child got a hug, every day, coming into her class (probably leaving, too). This would have been early elementary, the age my kids were back then. So maybe I have to wait until I'm of a certain age to soften up and mellow out? Nah. I'll still be prickly, just a prickly old lady instead of a middle-aged one.

I can be prickly if you step into my comfort zone out in public and I don't know you; if I am on the phone with you, and I don't find you are being particularly helpful when you should be, and I suspect you either don't know or don't care enough to solve my problem; and so on.

Today, I was eating my lunch at a public picnic table by one of the branch libraries in San Antonio, which happens to be right down the road from where I work. I was eating my lunch, enjoying the perfectly beautiful day, lounging in the sunshine like a kitty. Bothering no one, and no one was bothering me. ... Until ...

Along comes a perfect stranger, some guy, and plops down on the bench just across from me! There is just the one picnic table. However, this is a little too close for me to accommodate gracefully. I say doubtfully, "Hello." He replies in kind and then sorta does this weird little wave that does not endear me to him. Since he seemed to appear from out of nowhere, I asked where he came from. Then had to specify, I mean, did he drive or walk over? He walked. He has a backpack and a mug he drinks from, and wears sunglasses.

Several moments of awkward silence follow, where I attempt to eat my lunch nonchalantly. Just pretending this stranger is not two feet away from me, sharing a table. He goes on to say that he walks over to this library almost every day to use the computers there. I say something very brief along the lines of, "Oh." More silence. Then, thankfully, he gets up and goes to say hello to someone else who has just exited the library. Apparently he gets the message that his presence at MY picnic table has been less than welcome, and doesn't return. I guess I need to take a sign with me in the future: Sorry, this table is taken. Get your own table, sit in your car till I'm done, but don't try to sit down here.

So, I recall this in a lighthearted way, but part of me feels bad that I have to act so distant and cold. What horrible thing could happen if I were friendly to this person? So maybe he could try to overpower and kidnap me and do many unmentionables -- which he wouldn't attempt if I just acted cold enough? That doesn't make sense.

Somehow, I have been conditioned, as a lady who is physically attractive, that I have to be really careful not to send the wrong signals out to strange men. So instead, I make them feel really awkward and uncomfortable until they leave. That just doesn't seem like a compassionate way to act. Perhaps not even that logical. I don't even give someone a chance to act inappropriately before I throw the ice wall up. But, on the other side, this guy was strange. Yeah. So maybe it was my gut instinct telling me how to behave, and you don't want to ignore your gut feelings about any situation that crops up. We'll go with that conclusion.

Yikes! Look at that strange man standing with my son! (On the metro platform outside of D.C.)

My spiritual journey

2010-11-14T20:54:00.000-06:00

I bow to His Holiness, the Dalai Lama, who just wrote a book with the same title as my blog! Dare I say, "Great minds think alike!" I would love to read it some day. It is supposedly very readable, not too erudite, and talks about how he was identified as the Dalai Lama as a young child.

I have to say that as some aspects of my life unfold, I look around and say, how did I get here, anyhow? When did the path turn in this direction? I must have been daydreaming again! I am treasurer again for next year at church, not sure what that entails (because I have said I won't have time to do all the bookkeeping), and I accepted the position without being officially invited or told! This is a natural fit for me, but it's quite a change of direction from teaching children's Sunday school for many years.

Here is my secret dream, but I don't see how it will ever happen in this lifetime. I want to go to someplace beautiful and temperate in Africa and help teach the children. I don't mean as a missionary, but as a teacher. Maybe Rwanda. It would be a big change in my life, I know. Part of me longs to leave behind this false prosperity of being a rich American and go where people are living right on the edge of poverty and loss all the time, and experience the plain joy of living alongside them in that risky way. Every accomplishment would be so meaningful in such a context. I am surely glamorizing the idea of living "the simple life," I know. But I have at least become disabused of the idea that I could go over and "help" these people. I think I would be the one to benefit most of all.

This vision of a what-if life gelled quite recently, when I was reading several articles in the Heifer Project magazine, and looking online to learn more about Tanzania (where my boss is going on vacation to watch the wild animal migration, around Kilimanjaro). I read about the Maasai people of northern Tanzania and the desperate straits they have found themselves in after years of drought, and how the Heifer Project helped them transition from raising cattle to camels, which produce nutritious milk and are much more suited to a desert climate. This desert climate is something new, as older Maasai people remember eating a very meat-based diet in their youth. Now, they survive on watered-down camel milk and porridge, about 800 calories a day. Changing the basis of their culture from raising livestock to camels was radical and very brave, and necessary for their survival.

I don't think I could go live with people who are surviving on 800 calories a day. (For one thing, I'd be consuming some of their tiny allotment of food.) I need someplace where food is more abundant. How's that for priorities!

One of the great revelations I have had is that of all the issues facing people, access to education is the keystone. If young people and particularly women have access to a nonreligious-based education, then they can help solve the problems of the part of the world where they have grown up. I say "nonreligious" because it must be education, not indoctrination. Reading "Three Cups of Tea" was transformative.

Also, a podcast I listened to and an article I read both were describing a movement to start small entrepreneurial efforts in third-world areas with very limited resources, similar to the micro-loan idea that won a Nobel prize recently. The idea is that it's better to give poor people choices in a marketplace, rather than a handout, because they can then have input into what they actually need and find useful. There are companies popping up that offer low-cost sources of clean air and energy, for example, in places like India.

Here are my own bushmen at a Missions baseball game earlier this fall. Why do they always make faces like this when I'm snapping their pic? Because they love me soooo much.

The miracle of our lives

2010-11-13T19:15:00.000-06:00

Share with me in this miraculous moment, dear reader. Here you are, sitting someplace on Earth (I presume), having the time, the interest, the technological wherewithal, and the literacy level to read this blog post. Do you know just how lucky you are? You and I are both human (again, I presume!), sharing an advanced level of awareness and intense interest about our surroundings. And here we are together, sharing something in common, at least for this blink of time -- that unique communion of thought that the written word enables.

How blessed we are, living as humans in this modern age of amazing changes and invention! How fortunate we are to live in these times, when there is so much potential for human creativity to solve global problems. The life expectancy keeps going up; immunizations have vanquished many terrible illnesses; technology and its capabilities are exploding, as are scientific discoveries; and the world has become much more globally aware than ever before. There is potential for greatness here. I am choosing to emphasize the positive, the possibility for human accomplishment. Surely there are terrible problems to conquer, many of them created by humans, but not all. Tragedies will never end, because we will never be able to control or stop everything that causes human misery. But we can always control our attitude, so long as our mental faculties are intact.

Being aware that your life is a miracle, a great gift, is wonderfully motivating. It makes even the dullest-seeming moment just sparkle with energy. The ordinary problems of daily life are so unimportant when viewed from the perspective of the big scheme of things. The enormous energy of life-force is coursing through everything that lives.

So celebrate with me! A toast, to you, to me, to every person and every sentient being across the universe.

May the force be with you! Me and hubby at a Star Wars concert, before I cut off and donated my hair. Before I got a fair trade purse from Nepal, too. Let me know what small, wonderful miracles you have pulled off in your life.

Called to write

2010-11-12T23:26:00.000-06:00

Sorry I've been gone so long! Working full-time is a lot of work, ha ha.

I feel that part of my daily ministry is supposed to be to write. I don't know when I am supposed to do this in my life (perhaps in lieu of sleeping, such as now). But acknowledging the call is the first step, right?

I was talking with some "church" ladies tonight, and we were able to have a meaningful spiritual discussion, not always a sure thing when dealing with people who are Christian with a capital "C," if you know what I mean. I was able to share my witness to a couple of these women, that you can't distinguish between people based on what brand of faith they appear to have, if any. Jesus went out in search of people who were lost and needed help. He met them where they were, and his ministry was not to aid Christians. If anything, it was the opposite of that.He wasn't saving people for heaven, he was saving them from everything that was holding them back -- the life situations preventing them from living a full life and sharing that vitality with others. We shouldn't save ourselves for heaven, either.

Here are a few things I brought up for discussion once our ladies' group had dwindled to an intimate threesome tonight. Following God's direction seems to call for sacrifice. How much? Of what? To continue with this thought, does this mean we are supposed to sacrifice our own personal happiness, or simply selfishness -- and how do you let go of selfish desires but remain happy? What is a selfish desire, anyhow? Is my need to exercise daily a selfish desire? I feel the need to call on my friend Buddha to help here.

God seemingly demands so much, but perhaps it's not that hard. Maybe doing God's will means the attempt to have a daily walk side-by-side with God, present in the midst of every moment of life. How amazing it would be, for example, to go through an entire day and show every person compassion!

And now, for something completely different. If you have not seen "Dead Man Walking," I think it was a profoundly spiritual movie about the essence of humanity and deeply moving. It is about a young man who has participated in the brutal murder of a young couple, and who is on death row. Seemingly by chance, he writes to a nun begging for help in his appeals process, and she (Sister Helen Prejean) eventually becomes his spiritual adviser. This role eventually leads her to become one of the foremost advocates to abolish the death penalty, which she continues to this day.

The spiritual aspect of the movie was its resounding message that no act committed by a person bars them from the possibility for redemption, nor can it cast them out from the fellowship of humanity. Put another way, grace remains accessible to everyone, in all circumstances. It is never denied, not even to a person who has committed particularly heinous crimes.

One thing I appreciated about the movie was its relentless attempt to keep all perspectives in view and never to minimize the horror of the crime that this person on death row committed. It often returned to play out the crime in all its horror and inhumanity, so that terrible night was in full view throughout the movie, never to be forgotten. Just as the people who were murdered were dead, forevermore, never to be brought back, and also never to be forgotten.

Time for some pictures to break the monotony. Above, my new 'do and Andrew's cute picture of it! He wasn't standing on a chair, either. He did have the camera somewhat above his head, but also, he's getting tall!

This is Austin and the youth praise band of our church, currently with the obscure name, "Being There." Don't ask, I don't know the story behind that name. There was a movie by that name featuring Peter Sellers as a mentally challenged individual who became president of the U.S. and fit right in. Not sure if there's a connection there.

Here's the band, with my other son front and center just below the stand, playing the marimba. (Austin is somewhere in the background, marching.) I am concerned that I am spelling the name of Andrew's instrument wrong. If so, mea culpa and forgive me.

A little food for thought

2010-09-30T22:09:00.000-05:00

I'm tired ... it's been a long week, lots of church meetings and first week at the new job! So I won't stay long.

Here's a little brain teaser from an economics podcast I just finished that was discussing work. Used to be, not that long ago, that work was considered work, and marriages were for practical reasons as much as anything else. In fact, lots of jobs were physically grinding and even dangerous in the recent past, even this past century.

Now, in the modern world, everything seems to be about Jefferson's famous words in the Declaration of Independence: "the pursuit of happiness." (Superficially, this sounds Buddhist, but I think the results from pursuing happiness can be anything but.) Work is supposed to cause deep personal happiness and fulfillment, and ditto for marriage. High expectations, indeed!

Now that we have an expectation of finding happiness and fulfillment in our work and our marriages, has that expectation caused an increase in actual happiness, or not? Or would it perhaps be better to start with a realistic view -- namely, work is work; marriage brings many conveniences with it, and is about much more than romantic love. Then the happiness could blossom on its own, without being fruitlessly pursued as an end in itself.

I don't know, this suddenly sounds like a dull blog entry; kind of like how my mind is when I'm tired. So let me at least post a couple of pretty pictures!

Now here's a happy memory, or maybe I should say a very meaningful one -- touring the World War II and other magnificent monuments in Washington, D.C., this summer.

Here's me in my crazy blue hat with Austin, Andrew, and Dwaine, in front of the U.S. Capitol. Dwaine is apparently wearing a mac.

The moral dilemma

2010-09-26T20:11:00.000-05:00

Before I start my main topic, I must mention that Andrew, my ninth-grader, should be in Drama Club! He just needs some encouragement from someone besides Mother Dearest. I was barred from photographing him in his latest getup, though he did go strut his stuff at our local convenience store (to the gaping amazement of several onlookers). Perhaps his big bro got some photographic evidence to use in future blackmail schemes, but not I ... because he knew I would immediately come here, to the big wide world of cyberspace, and post them!

Here is the origin of today's discussion that follows:
http://www.mindandlife.org/conf09.dharamsala.html

The Mind & Life Institute was formed to organize a series of in-depth discussions between scientists and the Dalai Lama to inform and enlighten practitioners of both approaches to reality. I have been listening to a lengthy podcast of this particular conference linked above, called "Attention, Memory and the Mind: A Synergy of Psychological, Neuroscientific, and Contemplative Perspectives." Wordy, but don't be intimidated. It's fascinating stuff about how little we actually know about what we thought we knew! And how we could possibly find out more.

It seems that most, if not all cultures, when framing a moral reference, create the classic "moral dilemma" tale that goes something like this: You are on a platform, above an approaching train. Someone is standing beside you. You see that five people are unsuspectingly in the path of the oncoming train below. You don't have time to warn them or do anything but decide: Do you push this other person, who is much larger than you and would stop the train, to his/her death to save the five people below? Do you do nothing? (When during the Mind-Life seminar, the teller had to explain that the bystander was much larger, so that you couldn't simply sacrifice yourself, it was met with uproarious laughter.)

Let's see if I can recall the Dalai Lama's version. One thousand people are on a ship in the middle of the ocean. One is a (vicious and apparently, very efficient) murderer who has decided to slaughter every other person on the ship. (Parenthetical addition mine) There is nowhere for anyone to escape. Do you, having knowledge of the planned massacre, kill the murderer to save the other 999 people? Or not?

The Dalai Lama explained it like this: If you kill the one, to save the many, you create a much smaller negative karma than the one killing the 999. But, he stressed, you must have a pure heart and compassionate intentions, and then nearly anything is permissable. (This is reminiscent to me of Paul's teaching that what is sin to one is not to another.)

Of course, logic begs to differ with this conclusion. Think about the premises of each tale more thoroughly. How does the person who must make a choice possess omniscience with regard to future events? Life is uncertain. It's impossible to predict with certainty what will happen in the next moment, much less a series of events that will lead to a particular outcome. That's the main reason I believe we are barred from "playing God."

Only the most wise and knowledgeable person should dare to harm another in the name of the greater good. Not me! Additionally, I don't believe there are any examples of a holy person doing something wicked for the purpose of helping many more others. So, I believe this fable, though compelling, relies on a false premise (perfect foreknowledge) that could not occur in real life.

Where is God?

2010-09-19T12:52:00.001-05:00

"In what activities do you notice the presence of God?" I am paraphrasing a question asked by our new pastor at a recent house meeting. I think he specifically referenced activities at church.

This meeting was not held in someone's home but in the pastor's office, as a convenience, with childcare so that those with younger children could attend. The pastor is ambitious, wanting every person in the church to participate in these house meetings.

Our younger son went along at our insistence, but he was equally insistent -- adamant -- that he shouldn't be there, and he acted the part of the sulky teenager throughout. (Don't tell him I said that. I tremble even writing it here.) So he proved himself right.

Austin was home sick, an illness that dragged on throughout last week until I finally took him in Friday and got him on antibiotics. Not surprisingly, Andrew woke up with a sore throat this morning. Austin thinks it's psychosomatic, though. If big brother is sick, I must be too. So I sent him out to mow and weedeat with his brother. That will test his theory that he's sick, I guess! (Austin toughed it out every day at school, with killer weightroom sessions, followed by long hours of band practice, some in the pouring rain, till he spiked a fever -- again -- Thursday night after feeling sick the previous weekend.)

I'm sipping on some tea that advertises, "calma la garganta irritada," right now. With me, it's hard to know if it's a real sore throat or just the usual reflux.

Anyhow, the pastor kept asking, kept asking. It almost feels like when you are in a classroom, and many people have given an answer, but the teacher keeps asking the same question and you realize you're all wrong. Though that wasn't it, really. The pastor did have a secret purpose, which I think I understand, and I bow to my reader to divine what that was.

You know me, I could have filled the empty space with reams of answers, but I didn't think that would be appropriate. I was listening to hear what would be said. In fact, not too much. I said, "VBS!" That's where I really see God working in the lives of others and especially in children, and that is very exciting.

But where do I notice God's presence? Where? The more interesting question might be, where do I/we as humanity not take notice of God's presence, because those are the areas and places that need more work.

God permeates all existence, he is continously streaming and flowing through every aspect of daily life, and once someone's eyes are opened to the brilliance of this work, it makes every day so amazing and miraculous. I say this as a Buddhist, not just as a Christian.* It's like the Bible verse: Pray continually. Be in a prayerful/meditative/mindful attitude at all times, because that is where you can gladly lose track of yourself, your petty worries and your tiny life with all its miniscule problems, and touch eternity.

The awakened life is precious, indeed! It requires a lot of work, and mindfulness, to be in that awakened state. It is an ongoing practice. There are numerous distractions, and the excitable mind (any mind, actually) will latch onto all of them. I say "excitable" because that describes my mind so well.

*Note: Sorry if it is beyond human understanding that I could be both Buddhist and Christian, because it truly blows my mind too. If I had more time to observe the world's religions, I would probably be an "everything." I embrace the many ways that people find to worship and pray. I find them deeply meaningful and important. If a religious practice includes compassion, devotion, and reverence, count me in.

I finally remembered how to download pictures from our "new" camera I got for Mother's Day, and downloaded the 438 pictures just now! (I had forgotten I had a cable tucked away and forgotten in a drawer.) I would say about half the pictures are of two churches in Washington, D.C., that my husband was extremely impressed by. Like this one from the National Cathedral, where a wedding was under way and we got to hear the organ:

And this one from the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception:

Hijacking grace

2010-09-18T10:45:00.002-05:00

I am wondering why mainstream Christian churches have hijacked the notion of grace and disallowed its accessibility to human beings who are following a faith path but do not identify themselves as Christian. The church has restricted access to grace to those asserting that they are Christians. Is this an instinct for self-preservation? Is this what Jesus intended?

I believe that part of the decline of church attendance is that it has become unappealing for those of differing views, and difficult for people with broad world views. Too many churches are an exclusive club, emphasizing who is excluded from "salvation" and "grace," and I don't think that is what Jesus intended or envisioned. He reached out to people who had been left behind and stigmatized by mainstream society. The problem is that there were no Christians at the time of Christ -- zero, zilch, nada. So which people of those that Jesus encountered would be most like modern-day Christians? Would it be the apostles, or the Pharisees? There aren't a lot of choices.

Maybe a better question is, what group do modern-day Christians emulate, Jesus's apostles, or the Pharisees?

Please re-read the parable of the sheep and the goats if you are a practicing Christian. "When did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink, Lord? Or when did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?" The King will reply, "Whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me." (Matthew 25:excerpted from 37-40, NIV Adventure Bible) You mean, these saved people didn't even recognize their savior? Had they not called on him by name? Apparently not.

These people who have served the Lord with these good works are in the kingdom of heaven. I was going to say they were "granted access" but that implies a pearly-gate style security system, and the kingdom of heaven is way beyond that limitation!

Grace!

2010-09-15T22:11:00.001-05:00

Grace -- got it? Gotta have it!

I realized that this word may be misused by "Christians" who want to identify those who are so-called saved vs. those who aren't. My friend Michele sounded suspicious today when she asked me to clarify what I meant by the word grace. She is a homeschooler who is not doing so for religious reasons. When she goes to homeschooling co-ops, the assumption around here is that everyone is a devout, church-going Christian. She wanted to wear a T-shirt saying something like "Pagan Homeschooler" to put everyone on notice not to make that assumption!

Interestingly, she comes from a deep rootedness and background in Christianity. She attended seminary, along with her husband. But she cannot embrace any church right now.

Even without wearing a pagan T-shirt, she was recently found out by a preacher's wife, who casually asked where she was going to church. The wife then spent a couple of hours "evangelizing" to her. To the effect: I'm saved, and you're not! Don't you feel terrible about that? You need to profess your faith in Jesus to save your eternal soul! (These aren't the specific words used, but the sentiment.) Gee whiz, makes me want to go sign up to join the loons so I can go into the world and judge others too!

It's amazing how Good News gets perverted into "Good News for me, Bad News for you!" by so many so-called Christians out there.

So, my concept of grace ... It's the connection that people have to something higher than themselves, the awareness of their deep interdependence on other life here on earth, and their responsibility to that life. It's the knowledge that we are not alone; that our lives have purpose; and that we are here to accomplish good and improve the world. This connection to a higher power enables people to overcome great adversity, not through each one's own strength but by connecting to that larger source of energy that runs through each person, but belongs to none.

I'm trying to use the broadest language here to include people of many religious backgrounds and faiths, or people who do not share the language of a particular religion.

Many people have not accepted grace, a gift freely given, but one that must be earnestly desired and sought out, and recognized as even being possible. Not all people will let themselves off the hook enough to accept grace. It takes effort to accept grace and all its radical implications. It requires letting go of some part of egocentrism and past mistakes, and a willingness to become a new creation. Sorta continuous self-improvement. Making oneself a new wineskin, to accept the new wine of Christ's teachings. Or Buddha's, or some other higher power's!!

Many people are suffering, and many people are causing suffering for themselves and others. I do believe that accepting grace is a way to transform that suffering -- to end what is unproductive, and to use what is productive to achieve positive changes. Somehow, it doesn't seem like suffering when there is a purpose. It becomes something like childbirth. There is still labor, and it can hurt (a whole lot). But there is a goal in mind, and it is glorious and more than worth the temporary discomfort.

I, personally, have been transformed through grace. I have been able to release many burdens to God and really let go of things that would otherwise cause me long-lasting anger, resentment, frustration, etc. God, I thank you so much that you show me a better path, a higher way to live that allows me to leave behind concerns that are not important.

I see grace most in my relationships with others. How I can personally dislike someone, but yet realize that I am called to love them, and act on that knowledge!

How I can let go of my clinging to my children, for the most part, and understand that this teenage time will pass. Every day will hold endless new revelations, but our bond is strong and, I believe, everlasting. Nothing -- not angels, not demons, not principalities, .... -- will separate my children from my love! This echoes the Bible verse that nothing can separate us from the love of Christ Jesus. There they are, my darlings! (Back in the spring. I asked them to pose for a lovely picture with the bluebonnets, and they did.)

How I can love my husband anew, every single day, even if he does not always act in a way that I would like or prefer! I'm trying to recall where we took this picture. Rack Room, a shoe store! We were trying out the new camera.

How opportunities arise, and situations present themselves, so that my prayers for discernment and to do God's will are indeed answered. Not in the way I expected. Not always in the way I wanted, either! I am sometimes quite a reluctant servant.

Maybe most importantly ... Grace allows me to shine my light before the world with less fear, and more understanding of who I am, and whose I am. Hopefully, I encourage others to do the same.