Diary of a Doubting Believer

Earning a Struggle

2011-07-07T21:38:00.010-04:00

As we all are born with this inate ability, my brother and I had a talent for wearing our mother into a complete frazzled mess. She was a long suffering soul but when we had pushed far enough, I knew it. Upon pushing her too far she would say, "Alright...you've been begging and begging for this. Enough is enough." Discipline of some form or another would swiftly follow those words. To be fair, it was true. In whatever circumstance, I really had asked for it, and then some. No one likes discipline of any form but to be able to accept it as unavoidable and, at times quite earned, does give one strength to endure.

I struggle to maintain a status of non-smoker. My early seasons of smoking was more a social activity than a habit. It was of no bother at all to spend a weekend splurging and then put them down again for months or years. Friends would warn me, "One day, that's going to catch up with you."
"Nah...I got this."

As it is with all wisdom from souls who have "been there, done that", they were right. It caught me quite well eventually. Falling in and out of the ashtray repeatedly for many years, I recently quit... again.

Some people ease out of an addiction with the help of available aides. I'm not one of those people. I tend to choose the most difficult path to reach an end. Most often, it's out of sheer impatience. I don't want to drag something out. If it needs to be done, get it done quickly regardless of consequences. I never said I was smart; just stubborn.

Nicotine reacts in the brain as a form of antidepressant. Stopping that flow causes lots of misfires for a few days. It's difficult to think clearly or respond to stress appropriately. Needless to say, feeling the effects of withdrawal is not fun. When I've indulged too much and wind up back in the boat of quitting I give myself permission and validation for wanting to crawl out of my skin, yet at the same time I feel no self-pity. After all, I know better. So in the midst of feeling miserable I remind myself, "Suck it up...you earned this one...time to pay the piper."

I am no masochist. I thoroughly enjoy comfort and peace. But to think that one can get through life without facing consequences and difficulty is futile. To accept and embrace joy as well as sorrow is to revel in the human experience. At opportunities to choose railing against or flowing with a challenge -- especially one that I brought upon myself - I sing to myself this acknowledgment: "...you bleed just to know you're alive."

Holding Ground

2011-06-22T13:35:00.000-04:00

There are times in life that one must support another, regardless of pain or price. Reactions within the interior required to stand in resolve may never be adequately communicated but much can be understood without a word being spoken. A gaze prolonged, the jaw clinched, the head tip downward briefly only to snap back up slightly more elevated than before; it's as if the body speaks to itself, "chin up".

Those simple components of body language are fascinating but often go unnoticed. A look that holds a pause searches for understanding as well as pleads to be understood; a jaw that tightens is one that refuses to utter imposing perspective; a head turned down almost falls under the weight only to snap back up in solid resolve to hold back dissenting emotion. After rapid processing, one interested in another's well-being will have resumed engaging in moment.

What is it about our psyche that allows us to process through this kind of pattern so quickly and recover? It's not simply a matter of synapses. An emotional resolve has to be in place for the process to not break down into an unhealthy reaction. Without the groundwork of sacrifice, a disappointment can easily throw any of us into a toddler-style tantrum. The calm resolve of which I speak is one that is born out of a unique determination to love a fellow man in the face of difficulties.

A drowning man is not interested in hearing of my swimmer's ear. A strong hand to throw him a rope would be more effective than any commiseration that could be spouted. A wise man once reportedly taught, "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." When another is in need, the moment is no longer about personal comfort.

While to ignore personal pain in order to support another can be quite a struggle, it is a pure form of giving that should be a goal for all. Admittedly, at times, the undercurrent of emotions swirl enough to cause the surface to cave but while facing the need of another, choose to control reactive opinions behind a tight jaw and a face like flint. Offer warmth and encouragement rather than harsh judgment. Sacrifice indulging in one's own desire in order to support another.
This is the honorable practice of a strong emotional constitution.
This is the way of giving.

Cubs in the Cave

2011-03-25T12:44:00.004-04:00

This journey we're on is full of glory and wonder but, adversely, contains pain and struggle. It's one thing to face the myriad of possibilities for myself but an entirely new level of concern comes about when viewing the potential ahead for my children.

The moment I held my first child in my arms, my heart shattered. I was proud and thankful, yes. Yet, all at once I saw flashes of the reality of what his life would bring; this life I created. I could hear his pre-teen voice asking, "Why do the kids pick on me?" I could see his teenage angst as he worked through the breakup of his first love. I could feel his emptiness as he would one day stand beside my grave.
I could not help but think, "What have I done?!"

In the face of that, I recognized fully the responsibility that parents bear to prepare children for what may come. It is imperative that young ones be taught the sanctuary of home, family, and friends; to live into the support systems available in order to be surrounded by those that will rejoice with successes as well as sit together through times of grief.

I used to watch the TV series, Sisters. Its tagline stuck with me: " The men in your life may leave you, children grow up, parents pass away. The only ones who are there for you, from cradle to grave, are your sisters." Altering that line, but maintaining the same sentiment, I remind my children often that regardless what changes life may bring, they will always have each other.

A lot has changed since that moment of holding my first of, what became, three babies. I often worry about their present states of mind as well as what ramifications may arise in their future. Watching them tonight brought a moment of relief from those concerns. At the end of a day full of sibling squabbles, they were piled up together -- enjoying each other and playing like good little cubs would do.

In the end, they will have each other. No one outside of them will contain the memories and experiences that they will have between them. A special little club has formed that can sustain them through anything that may come about. Being in that moment brought relief to recognize that while they each will venture out on their own, ultimately they will never have to stand alone.

Grudges and Grace

2011-03-15T14:43:00.005-04:00

To say that my base nature is to hold a grudge may not be accurate but it is my earliest memory of dealing with disappointment. If it isn't encoded into my D.N.A., it's at least a thoroughly learned trait. Regardless of origin, my formative years were filled with refusal to forgive or to forget.

I married at the ripe old age of 19. The growing pains of two individuals attempting to meld into one life required that I learn to let go of offenses. It became apparent that holding on to both anger and hopes for living in harmony were not compatible. I was a slow learner but I did eventually catch on. Choosing to primarily focus on the good is the best discovered way of overlooking the bad. After-all, no one and no situation is completely perfect. What is the benefit of staying hurt, walled off and angry? None. Rather, let's enjoy where we are and what we have while we can.

Working into the ability to switch from grudges to grace required a controlled act of will; an active choice. It's simply easier to stay angry. While I did manage to do that for most relationships in my life there remains one that has not been so lucky.

I live a dichotomy in relation to forgiveness and relationships. On one side of the path is a multitude of people and situations that I have chosen to only see the good. To reflect on offenses from this group takes mental effort that isn't worth the resulting memories. On the other side of the path stands my Dad. Instinctively and with great ease do I hold him in contempt.

My Dad can hold on to offenses stronger than anyone I've ever seen. He can project fresh anger about something decades old as if it happened five minutes ago. Ironically, the one person I am unable to release is the person that passed on the ability to hold one hostage. Thus he and I both remain captives of the same prison.

On days that I am too weary minded for effort, memories of him have surfaced that are funny, kind or, at the very least, neutral. My reaction is to work hard to stuff him back in his cell of residing evil. Some days I don't have the energy to pull it off very easily.

Why the work? Why do I adamantly refuse to allow pleasantness to attach itself to memories of him?

It boils down to a need for validation. Something deep within me craves to feel fully heard. Anything less leaves a frustratingly large hole in my psyche. I decided that to allow any beam of light to shine on him would erase the darkness that affected my development. I determined that if I spoke well of him, I would surely not be validated of my wounds. It's a matter of clutching on to pain as one would a prized toy while yelling, "It's mine! You can't take it away!"

Yes, that's a very immature and unenlightened perspective. Arrested Development tends to be that. Conversely, I know full well the best gift to my soul would be to let it go completely. Yet I still cling.

I stand holding my breath as one about to jump, irreversibly, from a cliff. Somehow my mind feels itself responsible to determine if he is worthy to be recognized as a whole individual; full of darkness and full of light. Does he deserve to be remembered and retold in the goodness that exists in him; as it does in anyone? Does he deserve to be free?

As my white knuckles peel away from the objects that sting, I exhale negativity and relinquish that, yes, we all deserve to be free.

Still Waters Run Deep

2011-01-30T15:50:00.003-05:00

In keeping with my last post, I continue to try to find ways to express where I am without being afraid of resorting to familiar words that I've resisted from re-entry into my vernacular.

Years ago, while struggling to shake off the confines of Scripture being intended to be taken as a literal fact, a fellow blogger and friend advised me that my faith needed to become fluid. His use of the word "faith" had already put me on the defensive; not to mention that I could not, for the life of me, understand his intention behind the word "fluid".

Recently, my children were discussing how water moves between lakes, ponds, or rivers; that the three are connected together by underground currents. My 8-yr old aptly explained that water will be pulled from one lake, travel underground and become volume in another. Listening to their discussion I thought back to my friend's comment as well as contemplated bodies of water: An inumerable amount of droplets forming together to make a body, traveling into various places, all emerging, submerging and re-emerging.

I thought of faith and hope seemingly dying out in my soul but resurfacing in different expressions. My thoughts followed into the darkness I've traveled when all seemed lost. I remembered moments of feeling completely carried away by a torential current that was dragging me down into a cavern only to feel pushed forward again; dazed and confused. It's a type of motion best described by an unrelenting current.

In literature, water often symbolises the origin of life or regeneration.

What I crave is not religion, but spirituality. The two are absolutely not the same. We've all seen religion crush and destroy. In spirituality, when faith and hope are crushed or pushed out of sight, neither one dies. Our souls may hide deep in caverns of darkness for repair and safety but motion contiues; even if undetected. Waters keep moving through tunnels and will eventually emerge in new and, sometimes, strange places.

I've learned that spirituality can be found in more expressions that I could ever know or name. Being fluid allows the droplets of our souls to surface wherever the current ends; to experience new bodies of life in which we can swirl and play and be reborn again and again.

I recognize that I will continue to move along; whether on the surface or deep underground. Somewhere along the way, eventually I will meet myself wholely. So to coin a charasmatic phrase, one of many that I thought I'd never say again: indeed - let the river flow.

Freedom of Speech

2011-01-24T00:04:00.001-05:00

I have ceased participation in soul related conversations for quite a while because my vocabulary has been extremely limited and handicapped. I neurotically desire to be heard and understood. Therefore, when I can't find new words to convey what I feel, I choose to be silent rather than to be misunderstood.

I do not have the ability to erase from my arsenal of words phrases that I have heard all of my life any more than a man born in Italy can cease the use of the Italian language. Christianese is embedded deeply and is what I cannot seem to uproot. So I have remained wordless.

I had hoped to find new words to express what swirls around in my mind but I have not. Realizing the limitations of communication lends me to acquiesce to words that already exist. Faith is the substance of things hoped for, to experience salvation is to be rescued from a disparaging state, and to be raptured is to be swept away. The important thing to note here is that none of those expressions belong solely to one, single tradition and are subsequently not relegated to that tradition's definition. When I speak of the eternal, yes I mean in a sense of lasting beyond measure; I do not mean walking the proverbial streets of gold. I would much appreciate the freedom to lay claim to those simple words without the false impression given that this prodigal has come home to the Christian worldview. On the contrary; I claim no one home to which I should return.

Yes, legally, there is freedom of speech. I am allowed to say anything I wish. Restriction of that freedom occurs when the hearer makes assumptions based on their own projections. It is extremely irritating to begin to say, "What I mean is..." only to be interrupted with, "Oh I know what you mean". In a world filled with limitless perspectives, that retort is rarely correct.

A few examples of rhetoric, less touchy than those centered in religion and faith, come to mind:

I would not advise calling Sherwin Williams and ordering a gallon of red paint to cover your walls without considering and working through the vast array of shades that are available. To assume there is only correct red limits the spectrum of shades that could better harmonize with the direction of chosen decor.

If one refers to another as "Baby" it would be necessary to sort through a few options on what was the intent. Is it a condescending reference to someone as to their immaturity? Is it from the position of a nurturer speaking to a young one? Could it come from a sensual place calling to a lover? Context and intonation must be known to understand the intent. It is the responsibility of both parties to converse with open minds until an understanding is reached.

I am currently working with a tattoo artist to have an original piece drawn. It is seemingly an impossible task to convey what I see in my mind for him to replicate on paper. We have already had several conversations with clarifying details and will most likely have many more. If he were to assume that he knew what I meant and jump ahead to the tattoo, my physical expression and presentation would be forever ruined. The same applies with psychological and spiritual assumptions. One may assume they understand, only to forever taint the presentation of the other.

A case in point: I recently posted a YouTube clip of a movie segment on my Facebook page that offended a good friend. When we finally spoke of it, I had the opportunity to say, "What I meant was..." I can't say she agreed with my perspective but she at least came to see that I wasn't intending what she originally assumed.

Language is a difficult path to traverse. A general truth is that people hear what they want to hear. If and when I speak again with the use of familiar words - spirituality, faith, the eternal - I am willing to bet that I don't mean what most people will think that I mean. I do, however, wish for open minded, clarifying conversation.

Where Was I?

2010-08-13T18:46:00.008-04:00

I don’t enjoy starting projects that I can’t finish within a reasonably short amount of time. It’s not that I mind hard work; I just know that I’ll get distracted and lose my place. Something else inevitably crops up that demands attention, I start leaving clutter everywhere, and before long I can’t even find the work in progress. I eventually come back to the task but not without having to ask, “Where was I?”

Self-Actualization is obviously not a short-term project. A time frame of at least several lifetimes is probably closer to a realistic expectation. With that, I have no delusions that there will not be interruptions to contemplation. When noise, chaos and stress take over, the main need we drop to is simply to find security again. Potential can’t be fulfilled from an insecure place. The mind simply cannot be free to look inward when outward distractions are screaming.

I have a bad habit of searching for security outside of myself. While it’s true that having a strong support system is an important part of health and well-being, anything external is not permanent. Resting in temporary fixes only creates a false sense of security that also includes anxiety of knowing it can be lost. Looking inward to find that core sense of self is the essential task at hand.

At the moment, I’m back at square one. Well … square two if you want to be technical. It’s not that I haven’t been thinking; it’s that I let the “monkey mind” take over and keep me dizzy. It’s time to slow down my spinning mind again and hope that “Me” becomes clearer, stronger, and healthier.

So…where was I? Oh yeah…

Moving On

2010-01-01T00:47:00.004-05:00

What is about year-end that brings us all to reflection over the previous months? I suppose since we’ll all be vaporized at the end of 2012, now is as good of time as any to introspect.

If I were focused on some eternal paradise, a proclaimed end of time might get my attention. I’m not, so it doesn’t. Regarding thoughts of God, salvation or eternity I stick with my very solid answer of “I don’t know”. If I were required to pick a Christian mind-set about the state of eternity I would have to sit in the Universalism camp. Ultimately, it doesn’t really matter to me.

What has my attention is now -- the moment in which I sit. I have a healthy appreciation for the past as well as am open to hope in tomorrow. I just don't pretend to know the unknowable. I suppose that’s why a good friend calls me a Hopeful Agnostic. All in all it’s not my job to have the answers of what might be. My task is merely to be kind to those around me today, forgiving them and myself for blunders big and small; allowing room for us all to expand into our future – whatever that might be.

Reflecting back on this past year it is clear that I’ve learned more about being myself without apology than any other year. I’ve experienced strain past endurance emotionally and physically but have grown stronger for them both. Absorbing this current moment lends me to say thank goodness for another day that rolls into another year full of twists and turns.

To you in this moment of a change in year and decade: May your path reveal glimmering gems of hope to keep you encouraged in your travels - wherever they may lead.

Shhh

2009-12-04T21:21:00.008-05:00

Existence can be too noisy; humming florescent lights, buzzing printers, car noises, ringing phones, blaring televisions, and voices coming from every direction. Most days I go through the sound jungle by tuning it all out and not realizing why I'm utterly agitated. Like waking from a nagging dream to the realization of a blaring alarm clock, some days bring a maddening realization that sanity will only be preserved by shutting it all off.

At the time of my grandmother's death, I was a first-time mom of a very demanding 8-week old. Sleep deprivation and over-stimulation from constant demands were already taking their toll. I had never been faced with the death of a close relative before that time. It was a chaotic season in my small world. After the funeral, we did what every surviving family does - deal with the estate. We cleaned out clutter, donated unwanted items, and stored whatever remained. A cozy home was transformed into an empty building. Once the house was emptied there were many evenings that I would go into the dark living room and sit on the floor against the bare wall. The only noise that would arise would be the passing of a train from time to time; otherwise, just darkness and quiet.

Fast forward a few years. Three small children and a full-time job was cranking pressure down like a vice. The kids cried most every morning when I would leave for work which was never a happy start to a day. Work was either maddeningly boring or insanely busy; no in-between. To say the family was miserable puts it mildly. Knowing that, and also knowing that I was only giving somewhere around 30% into anything I touched, kept my mind buzzing. On days that chaos could not be contained, I would skip any errands or lunch plans and bolt to the library. Yes, the library.

I love libraries. The only sounds that interrupt the quiet are pages turning or hushed whispers. The couches are old and worn which only means they are extremely comfortable. Even the temperature is maintained at a perfectly comfortable level regardless of any heat wave or bitter-cold rain outside. Just walking through the doors lightens my attitude.

Rewind back many, many years. My childhood home had a side lot with pecan trees on the property. To young me it seemed as if it was 100 acres. The reality is that it is only an acre, if that big. In the spring Brown Eyed Susans would bloom, covering the field in bright yellow. Fall would bring pecans down to the ground. In either season, I would go out into the field and just sit; alone and quiet.

Most moments need to be faced head-on regardless of the noise and chaos. There is also a very appropriate time to unplug and shut it all down for a bit. Seasons change and things that bring us peace change with them. Life shifts and nothing remains the same; nothing, except for our mind's need for quiet. What you find comfort in today might not be the same for tomorrow but wherever you are, find a place to just be.

Strings Attached

2009-11-13T13:45:00.007-05:00

When I was a child I remember an impression rise up in my mind that there were invisible strings attached to people. I was careful to not get mine tangled up behind me. For example, if I walked around a table in a clockwise direction, I was careful to walk back around it in a counter-clockwise direction. I literally retraced my steps. I'm aware this sounds like a manic O.C.D. episode, especially for a child, but it was brief lived; probably ran the time span of about a week.

That image has been long vanished from my mind until recently contemplating on the truth that each individual has a myriad of defining moments that are largely taken for granted. The smallest visions that we see around us all have a string that winds back for miles in time; twisted around and through the most unexpected influences. A woman holding a child is rarely anything noticeable. Backtrack down her time-line from that moment and see the knot that is the attempts that were miscarried, the tangle of relationship issues that had to be considered to start a family, all the way back to the twisted mess of anorexia that had depleted her developing body to the point that threatened her ability to ever conceive at all. Awareness of the presence of struggle allows for a deeper appreciation of even the most simple things; (in this story) snuggles between mother and child.

Examples of shallow assumptions that cheat us of special moments could be listed ad nauseum. The point would be the same: each life has a ball of twine stringing behind it. Every moment we experience and witness has a complicated history that is usually forgotten or ignored. We speed through visions around us on auto-pilot. Individual struggles are not considered and we assume that things just work out somehow; rarely recognizing that the most seemingly unrelated kink in the line affects and determines the direction of the line. In doing so, we miss the special moments when those tangled strings become clear and straight and, for a moment, we can soar.

Philosophy of Mind

2009-11-10T22:30:00.000-05:00

Every doctrine and theology that once made up my world view has been shredded to pieces. I have quite a comprehensive list of things that I no longer believe. However, when I’m asked, “What do you believe in?” I come up short. The questioner is essentially asking for my personal definition of God, salvation, and the afterlife. Most often when I’ve attempted to formulate an answer, I can clearly sense the interviewer is not trying to hear me but is readily compiling their rebuttal to any answer that would differ from the “I Am”, as introduced in the book of Exodus. I haven’t developed much of a new belief system based in faith. Truthfully, I’ve enjoyed the break from having to.

I haven’t always been this cavalier. Leaving the traditional view of Christianity behind was a necessary, but fearful, event for me. I am one that feels very uncomfortable with not having black and white answers and defined outlines. I am compelled to feel that I have a solid base on the idea at hand. Wandering out into wide open philosophical spaces takes away that safety net. However, my growing Cognitive Dissonance between sermons and rational thought had grown so intense that I needed to drop it all and accept not knowing.

So, what do I believe in? I’d rather answer it by beginning with an entirely different phrasing: What is my philosophy of mind?

We are all searching for something outside of ourselves. We wish for something greater that we can look to, trust in, be thankful for and possibly repay. Daniel Dennett wrote an essay, with which I completely agree, called Thank Goodness. In this writing he works through a recovery period in his health to which he is truly thankful for the goodness that he has encountered.

The best thing about saying thank goodness in place of thank God is that there really are lots of ways of repaying your debt to goodness—by setting out to create more of it, for the benefit of those to come. Goodness comes in many forms, not just medicine and science. Thank goodness for the music of, say, Randy Newman, which could not exist without all those wonderful pianos and recording studios, to say nothing of the musical contributions of every great composer from Bach through Wagner to Scott Joplin and the Beatles. Thank goodness for fresh drinking water in the tap, and food on our table. Thank goodness for fair elections and truthful journalism. If you want to express your gratitude to goodness, you can plant a tree, feed an orphan, buy books for schoolgirls in the Islamic world, or contribute in thousands of other ways to the manifest improvement of life on this planet now and in the near future.

I once had hopes that a new type of church formation would emerge. I rarely think toward that anymore. It may happen, it may not. I focus more on the goodness of the moment. My drive to “do something for God” has been replaced by “just be kind to people”. Anne Lammott writes it best with her definition of the Law of the Jungle: “Remain calm and share your bananas.”

And as for the piece of the human question that begs, “for what purpose are we here?”, psychologist Carl Jung’s answer is my favorite: As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.

The Look of Life

2009-10-20T23:30:00.000-04:00

I rarely see anyone with which I went to school. To see a younger sibling of a schoolmate is even more of a rare occasion. I had such a moment while out shopping with my daughter.

The last time I saw this man he was a teenager; a very quick stepped, know-it-all, lively boy. His parents were highly respected leaders in our church, his brother was a somewhat talented musician and he was working hard at being a football star. He had not had much life experience but when listening to him it sounded as if he had already ruled the world once and would be embarking on his second tour momentarily.

The town in which we live is a small one. Consequently, I've heard bits and pieces over the years of updates on him and his family; marriages and divorces, births and deaths. His appearance revealed more than any story could. No, he wasn't distraught or disheveled. He didn't ignore me or shun me as if to hide. We said hello, spoke of children, and ended with the usual, "good to see you".

I've mentioned repeatedly that I'm not as intuitive as I am sensory driven. I notice nuances that others may not. What I saw in him surprised me; a vast difference from how I remembered him. He looked tired. Naturally he's older now. The point isn't that he has aged but that he looks aged. I recognize the same look in my own reflection as well as a few others that I know to have been through hell and back. The knowledge of good and evil compounds the usual aging process. Once lively and vibrantly naive eyes are now tired and dreary. Friendly words are backed by cautious reserve. Age comes to us all; to some kind and gently, to others in a violent and furious way. Difficult experiences deepen our capacity but also our brow lines.

We didn't speak long so I have no gauge of his adult temperament. He may still be a know-it-all. Regardless, I would be willing to bet that what he feels he knows now in comparison to his younger years has changed dramatically.
Life has happened; it was written all over his face.

Reason's Why

2009-10-11T22:45:00.002-04:00

I loved my grandmother dearly. In my eyes, she was a strong, independent, and extremely intelligent individual. She took care of my brother and I when our parents were at work. I spent enough time with her that I remember asking her if I was supposed to call her "Mom" or "Granny". Of course that hurt my mom's feelings but I was quite young and had truly gotten confused. Granny, however, loved it.

My brother and I thought that Granny was an expert at everything. As it turned out, her true gift was control. Her last occupation was mayor of a small town. I once heard her say, when speaking of how to convince a councilman of her way of thinking, "If you can't get something you want one way, back up and try it from another approach. If that doesn't work, try from yet another approach until you find what works." That philosophy wasn't confined to just her political work but ran into all other veins of her life.

Her two best tools for achieving her goals were manipulation and guilt. Manipulation was the method that best affected my brother. The one that nailed me every time was guilt.

"After all I've done for you..."
If I wouldn't behave or respond in the manner of which she was seeking, this line would begin the scolding. With disappointment brewing on her face and rejection oozing from her tone, this one compilation of words rung my bell every time. I respected her. I very much wanted her approval. When she would get angry and start up the guilt tactics, I would scamper to do whatever it took to relieve the pressure and feel accepted again. As a final twist of the vice, whenever I would regain her approval by appeasing her wishes, I would wind up bitter and resentful; unaware of the origination of those feelings and, subsequently, feeling guilty for that too.

Quite a little neurotic stew I had brewing there, don't you think?

When I became a teenager I saw clearly her control tactics and I withdrew from her. I would visit her only when I wanted to; not just because I knew she wanted me to. I was determined to earn my own way through life. I never asked her for help. I thought by pulling away I had dealt with the control. I hadn't. The only thing that accomplished was lessening that specific trigger. The root of guilt and fear of rejection had had many years to cultivate and was large enough to support the Redwood that was my life. Guilt has fed most every branch.

The same friend that recently suggested I take anti-depressants listened to me ramble at warp speed and interrupted after only ten minutes to ask, "Are you sure you're not Jewish?!" Not to be politically incorrect here, but the point is that as he listened to me, all he heard was my feeling guilty for everything from an ant getting squashed to the hole in the ozone layer. I've not know why, but somehow everything is absolutely my fault. I've been asking myself pretty often to please come up with some hint at least as to why I feel guilty about so much excessive garbage. I've had other friends ask me that same question and I've never had an answer for them. At this point in life, it's either figure some of it out or take the damn pills; something's got to give!

Remembering the cornerstone of this foundation of guilt won't erase my reactions to it but it's at least a pivotal point on the map to a way out. It was a very cheap trick used by an intelligent woman who should have known better, but did not. If I had to guess, she learned her methods from her own life experience and it just trickled down.

We all have our junk. I'm merely in desperate search to understand mine rationally to have freedom for myself and to not continue handing it down generation to generation. There's always a challenge in life to face, my goal is just for it to not be the same old hand-me-downs. If there must be hurdles, let them be new ones!

Needless to say, (but I will to be clear) there were a lot of great characteristics about my grandmother that I remember fondly and admire. Part of maturation is seeing those that we admire in their wholeness - good and bad - and still loving them. I regret not being able to work through this a little better while she was still alive and not have withheld myself out of protection in her last years. Do I feel guilty for that? What do you think?!

Parental Musings

2009-09-26T13:49:00.007-04:00

I used to know how to deal with my children. At least, I thought I did. Toddlers were a lot of work but when worse came to worse I could always sit in the floor with them and their toys or pile them up around me on the couch to watch cartoons. Either of those methods would eventually wind us all up feeling cuddled and close after the worst of days.

They're not toddlers any more and I'm so lost. I fail most every day in connecting with them. I can't wrap my head around how they can be so disobedient at times. My patience wears out in a millisecond.

Many people would say that their behavior is age appropriate -- that they're pushing for new boundaries and need to be related to in a different way. I'm sure all of that's true. What's utterly defeating is how clueless I am in playing my role with them in a healthy manner.

My brother and I used to fight and bicker as well as any other sibling duo. I'm sure we drove my mother crazy but I have only two or three recollections of her reacting angrily to it all. How did she manage to run all of her errands, shop for us and for groceries, and NOT wind up wanting to leave us sitting on the side of the road?! And if she did feel that way, how did she ever hide it so well? And, most importantly, why can't I show patience and neutrality the way she did?

Once you become a parent, do you ever have a day that you don't feel you're wrecking a life?!

Lost In Thought

2009-09-14T23:00:00.001-04:00

I think too much.
At least that's what I've been told.
Why is that a bad thing?
Apparently the intent of the comment is that it's a negative trait.

Anytime someone says that to me I chuckle. Just a few years ago, the opposite accusation would be true. All of my life has been spent listening to other people tell me how I feel about something. Being immersed in evangelical doctrine makes it easier to float through life without much angst; outside of the faux pas of what is called 'sin', of course. Just fall in line doctrinally, be an armor bearer to your leaders, soak up whatever the spirit has to say, and all will be well. Being a faithful believer meant, to me, that I need not analyze and question. Around the time this blog started up marks the change in my analytical efforts.

When we ended our stay in the ward of the institutional church in 2006, the fence had been torn down in my mental backyard and I had to begin to determine my own individual boundaries. I could no longer take for granted that something was right or wrong simply because I had always been told that was the case. Traveling life via a different paradigm than what has always been presented requires thoughtful stepping.

I disagree that my problem is thinking too much. Getting stuck in thought is my problem. Circling back and forth, around and around, with the same thought - getting nowhere - now that's a problem. Not being able to just let the thought go and obsessively trying to rip meaning out of it - that's a problem.

A few weeks ago, a friend in the mental health field made that same comment -- that I think too much -- and suggested medication.
What?--and me not have my exhausting mood swings and neurotic moments? That would be way too boring!
I haven't wanted a quick 'fix' but rather to work more on integration. So I'll looking for other methods to find my way out of this paper bag of thought.

To quote Jung yet again, he said:
"The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely."

So, ok, I think too much. I don't mean to get bogged down in it all. I'm trying to work on developing new habits of letting things go. Some days I have less spiraling. Other days it's the same old mind fuck. Regardless of the day, I'll keep working on acceptance without fretting over my inferior traits.

This House Bugs Me

2009-09-08T20:43:00.015-04:00

I am obsessed with this house; always have been. The home in which I grew up in is right next door to this one. I could see the back of it from my bedroom window. It was painted yellow and was simply beautiful.

The first owners that I remember were the Wisenbakers. They were distant relatives on my mother's side of the family. I played with my cousins often. The next owners were the Pedigrew family. My brother and I played with the children of that family also. I am certain between my cousins and the next family that I have been inside that house often enough to remember it. My problem is, I cannot remember one clear detail. I have spent countless hours trying to remember the floor plan, the decor, the hallway to the bedrooms...anything. I don't even remember the room where the beginning of the staircase is. I do remember the second half of the staircase. It had a stained glass window at the top.
Not remembering really bugs me!

The local school has purchased the lot on which this house sits. They want another parking lot. The B.O.E. has offered to give it away to be moved to keep from tearing it down but, so far, no one has claimed it. I wanted it! However, I don't have $200,000 laying around for repairs. I also have a husband who tries to encourage me to keep it between the lines of sanity. Two good reasons for me to not own it. It will most likely be torn down. But, before it's destroyed, I really want to get inside! If I ever do manage that, it will most likely be within the framework of the common re-telling: "One night, when I had been drinking..."
I do know this, if it gets leveled without me being able to see the inside, it will really bug me!

I had a point but lost it. Oh yeah--
My strangest dreams from childhood to present - some good, some odd, and some horrible - all have this house in common. That adds to the confusion of my sketchy memories. I'm not sure if some of the details of the house that I think are real actually are, or if they're from dreams when I was young. Regardless, when dreaming, even without clear recollection of my location, I always know that I'm in that house. That really, really bugs me!

The past year brought about more dreams than I could sort through. I tried to make note of many of them but most were just too feeling based to describe. Jung says, "(dreams) reflect certain vital tendencies of the personality, either those whose meaning embraces our whole life, or those which are momentarily of most importance. The dream presents an objective statement of these tendencies, a statement unconcerned with our conscious wishes and beliefs."

He further states, "That is why, as physicians of the soul, we have to turn to the ancient art of dream interpretation. We have to educate adults who are no longer willing, like children, to be guided by authority. We have to do with men and women whose way of life is so individual that no counselor, however wise, could prescribe the way that is uniquely right for them. Therefore we have to teach them to listen to their own natures, so that they can understand from within themselves what is happening."

I have really struggled with wondering why I am so obsessed with this house; why, especially in times of stress, does it become my home for the night? My best guess is that this house has become the representation of my subconscious. I struggle to learn my own whole self and work towards integration of shadow and light. It's a journey into sketchy thoughts, vague memories and scary dark corners. Just as the house has plagued me as a mystery, so equally does my unconscious. It would seem appropriate that dreams that reflect what is "momentarily of most importance" to me are hosted within a structure that is only partially revealed to my conscious memory.

Regardless, it bugs me!

Penn Jillette's essay on belief

2009-09-05T22:10:00.003-04:00

People without Christian faith are assumed to be miserable and hopeless people; people who can't appreciate life because they refuse to acknowledge a personal creator of it.

Rather than copy and paste Penn's transcript essay here for fast eyes to skim it, I've posted the audio. If you have the slightest crack toward an open mind, listen to Penn and his credo on life. If not, you've saved 5 minutes of your life. Spend it wisely. I, for one, appreciate his perspectives.

transcript found here

Afraid of the Dark

2009-09-02T16:00:00.000-04:00

There isn't a soul among us that doesn't have the capability to delve into dark despair. For some it's a once in a life time visit to the pit. For others it's a, almost daily, grind away at their sanity. But hopelessness, eventually, finds us all.

Recently, a friend faced extreme life changes that were more than he could handle. Confused and lost he could not see any hope of escape. This individual, this husband, this father of two young children was found dead by his own hand at the age of 39.

Jung says that "Enlightenment is not imagining figures of light but making the darkness conscious." The scary part is when the art of integration eludes us, shadow becomes less of an illumination and more of a haunting. It is a fearful thing to know that one slight increase in a storm's wind speed can be just enough to completely break our efforts to stand.

Yes,some dark tunnels must be traveled in solitude. But whenever possible, in the darkest of night, please use the buddy system. Getting lost out there can be fatal.

Rebuild What?

2009-08-30T21:19:00.002-04:00

A year ago I wrote On Letting Go The moment I wrote this blog I was feeling clear and free from the deconstruction process I had endured the previous two years. I did, however, expect that at some point a rebuilding of faith would come along. I had deep hope that something would emerge from the rubble to take the place of what had been demolished. To date, no such reconstruction has begun.

Sam Harris wrote:
"Consider the case of alchemy: it fascinated human beings for over a thousand years, and yet anyone who seriously claims to be a practicing alchemist today will have disqualified himself for most positions of responsibility in our society. Faith-based religion must suffer the same slide into obsolescence. What is the alternative to religion as we know it? As it turns out, this is the wrong question to ask. Chemistry was not an "alternative" to alchemy; it was a wholesale exchange of ignorance at its most rococo for genuine knowledge. We will find that, as with alchemy, to speak of "alternatives" to religious faith is to miss the point."

I knew I would never go back to what was familiar in the religious sphere. Those ideas had been demolished past recognition long ago. But I had hoped that new ideas would emerge and tie into the old that would create something new. I have a hand-full of friends that are also hoping this on my behalf. They have patiently waited for me to emerge from my introspective tunnel with a shred or two or faith clutched safely in my grasp. At the risk of disappointing them I have avoided giving the update.

What I must finally admit to is that I do agree with Harris' comment: there is no "alternative" to faith. I'm not bitter or angry when I say that. I am quite content with accepting that and blame no one for how I got to that point. What I'd like now is to get back to the matter at hand: the moments that we do have. Our lives are not up for debate; they simply are what they are. I want to enjoy mine for what it is.

And as for eternity? I have no answers there. What if our souls really are no more than our memories and experiences? What if when we're die, there really is nothing more than what we've lived here? To me that means that each moment we have now is even that much MORE special. We will never be *here* again. Look up, look around, and love. That's more than enough.

The Eyes Have It

2009-07-19T06:41:00.001-04:00

As it goes with most children, my mom used to come and wake me up each morning to get ready for school. She'd chuckle and call me Froggie because I would open only one eye to look around before committing full vision to the day.

Ten years ago, while driving to work in a rain storm, I hydroplaned on the interstate. Once the car was thoroughly out of control, both of my eyes slammed shut. Whatever would happen would just have to happen without me seeing it! When the ride came to a halt, I opened one eye to peek around - fully expecting to see a Semi-Truck headed straight for me. Only when I realized the coast was clear did I raise the other eyelid.

Until I had laser surgery, my vision had been very poor since high school. Without contacts or glasses I couldn't see the reach of my arm. While I was in labor with each of my children, contacts weren't allowed and I didn't bother with my glasses. Even though blurry vision cut down on the sensory intake, dealing with that level of pain drove me further inward. I slammed both eyes shut and refused to open them until it was all over.

A few months ago I heard this song. The chorus asks:
Is it over yet. Can I open my eyes? Is this is hard as it gets? Is this what it feels like to really cry?

My coping mechanism for sensory overload was obviously a completely different subject than the lyrics I was hearing. Regardless, as I sunk into the melodrama of the song and the chorus rolled in, I recognized a lifetime of physical movement that had never been apparent to me nor had I known the reason or purpose behind it.

If you haven't already realized it, this post is nothing earth shattering or deep. However, I would imagine most of us rarely realize our own quirks and be able to put a reason behind them. My psyche had worked a deal with my sensors to cope with overwhelming situations without my conscious approval. I was happy to finally be included in the understanding and wanted to log it somewhere.

My eyes still dart around the room as I grasp for an idea, or gaze downward to avoid connecting with someone during times of chaos or anxiety, or completely shut to hold at bay any further intake while I struggle to process what has already come through. None of that has changed. But being aware of the 'what' and 'why' keeps me from remaining lost in my reflex of hiding. Recognizing that I'm shutting out or shutting down allows a chance to lift my head and face the moment.

Life

2009-05-25T11:00:00.000-04:00

I have written so much about Pain for a while. The lessons learned from this stern teacher are never forgotten. It deepens capacity like a jackhammer to the soul. However, the depth gained has become a deep well of compassion and opportunity. If my growth through struggle can at least be a place of refuge for someone else, I'd venture to say that it was all worth it. I wouldn't want to walk my last couple of years again but I wouldn't trade what I've come away with for anything.

In the past few months I've had a perfect vacation in Jamaica, moved into a newly constructed home, and completed a semester of college. My children have successfully survived their first year of public school after leaving the home school tradition. Those may seem like small accomplishments but I'm quite proud to report them. All of this has not gone without interruption from a few bumps, but with each pothole our shock absorbers are stronger for the wear.

So after all of the whining and crying on this blog, dare I put it in writing? I am enjoying life these days.

Sanctuary

2009-03-24T10:26:00.004-04:00

I know I'm lazy with the images and the songs I throw up here lately. I appreciated these lyrics and wanted to log it somewhere.

Progress on the Path

2009-02-24T20:30:00.003-05:00

Need I say more?

Nothing But Questions

2009-02-05T22:20:00.003-05:00

I come back to my own blog and sit and stare. I wonder how life took such a turn from the importance of theological doctrine to the importance of daily sanity. Somewhere along the line I have lost myself and I try desperately to find me again. But who am I really? Life brought me a busy plate early in years. Thinking I had the world by the tail I dove headlong into adulthood; long before my emotions had a chance to catch up. My days now, even tonight, have me sitting wondering what the hell happened? How did I get here? Did I hydroplane somewhere out of control? Did the universe work all things to get me here (wherever here is, I don't know) for some purpose? I think the answer to the latter is "definitely not". We choose our own path, from the best intentions, and wind up wherever the end determines. It's a crap shoot at best.

Looking out for my own individuality comes at a cost to those around me. Nurturing those around me costs me myself. Forcing myself into a conformity that fits others' ideals destroys me. Is who I am valuable enough to disregard the demands of others? Up until this point I have not dared ask that question. When, at times, the thought imposed itself into my head, it was quickly dismissed as an intrusion. Now I find myself being less and less willing to be tolerant and patient of others' searching when that steals life and identity from my own soul. Does that make me selfish? Perhaps. Yet I no longer can ignore my own cries and desires. Thus I am torn.

Is everyone screaming inside, as am I? Is that just the perplexity of life at its loudest? Have I missed some sense of compromise between myself and others that causes me to be at odds with myself? I feel that I should know the answers to all of these questions by now. I loathe myself for not having a clearer definition of normalcy. I despise having to question, "Is it just me... ?"

I suppose a deeper person would be wondering how to solve world hunger, how to ease the pain of loved ones, or how to better surmise the Doctrine of Love to save the lost. All that's on my mind are three things: I want love. I want peace. I want fulfillment.
Is that really too much to ask?

Determination

2009-01-31T16:14:00.002-05:00

Saturn's Child

2009-01-04T21:05:00.004-05:00

Lately, my thoughts have not cooperated with any efforts toward coherence. Rather than babble about nothing, I'll take this brain-dead opportunity to post a segment from Moore's Care of the Soul. The perspective on melancholy provided me a touch of permission to accept my darker moods. The areas in bold are those that I found refreshing.

Saturn's Child
Care of the Soul
Thomas Moore

Today we seem to prefer the world of depression over sadness and melancholy. Perhaps its Latin form sounds more clinical and serious. But there was a time, five or six hundred years ago, when melancholy was identified with the Roman god Saturn. To be depressed was to be "in Saturn," and a person chronically disposed to melancholy was known as a "child of Saturn." Since depression was identified with the God and the planet named for him, it was associated with other qualities of Saturn. For example, he was known as the "old man," who presided over the golden age. Whenever we talk about the "golden years" or the "good old days," we are calling up this god, who is the patron of the past. The depressed person sometimes thinks that the good times are all past, that there is nothing left for the present or the future. These melancholic thoughts are deeply rooted in Saturn's preference for days gone by, for memory and the sense that time is passing. These thoughts and feelings, sad as they are, favor the souls desire to be both in time and in eternity, and so in a strange way they can be pleasing.

Sometimes we associate depression with literal aging, but it is more precisely a matter of the soul's aging. Saturn not only brings an affection for the "good old days," he also raises the more substantive idea that life is moving on: were getting old, experience, and maybe even wise. A person even in the middle or late thirties will be in conversation and offhandedly recall something that happened twenty years ago. He will stop, shocked. "I've never said that before! Twenty years ago. I'm getting old." This is Saturn's gift of age and experience. Having been identified with youth, the soul now takes on important qualities of age that are positive and helpful. If age is denied, soul becomes lost in an inappropriate clinging to youth

Depression grants the gift of experience not as a literal fact but as an attitude toward yourself. You get a sense of having lived through something, of being older and wiser. You know that life is suffering, and that knowledge makes a difference. You can't enjoy the bouncy, carefree innocence of youth any longer, a realization that entails both sadness because of the loss, and pleasure in a new feeling of self-acceptance and self-knowledge. This awareness of age has a halo of melancholy around it, but it also enjoys a measure of nobility.

Naturally, there is resistance to this incursion of Saturn that we call depression. It's difficult to let go of youth, because that release requires an acknowledgement of death. I suspect that those of us who opt for eternal youth are setting ourselves up for heavy bouts of depression. We're inviting Saturn to make a house call when we try to delay our service to him. Then Saturn's depression will give its color, depth, and substance to the soul that for one reason or another has dallied along with youth. Saturn weathers and ages a person naturally, the way temperature, winds, and time weather a barn. In Saturn, reflection deepens, thoughts embrace a larger sense of time, and the events of a long lifetime get distilled into a sense of ones essential nature.

In traditional texts, Saturn is characterized as cold and distant, but he has other attributes as well. Medical books call him the god of wisdom and philosophical reflection. In a letter to Giovanni Cavalcanti, a successful statesman and poet, Ficino refers to Saturn as a unique and divine gift. In the late fifteenth century, Ficino wrote a book warning scholars and studious people in particular to take care not to invite too much Saturn into their souls; because of their sedentary occupations, scholars can easily become severely depressed, he said, and have to find ways to counter their dark moods. But another book could be written about the dangers of living without study and speculation, and without reflecting on our lives. Saturn's moods may be dangerous because of their darkness, but his contributions to the economy of the soul are indispensable. If you allow his depression to visit, you will feel the change in your body, in your muscles, and on your face--some relief from the burden of youthful enthusiasm and the "unbearable lightness of being."

Maybe we could appreciate the role of depression in the economy of the soul more if we could only take away the negative connotations of the word. What if depression were simply a state of being, neither good nor bad, something the soul does in its own good time and for its own good reasons? What if it were simply one of the planets that circle the sun? One advantage of using the traditional image of Saturn, in place of the clinical term depression is that then we might see melancholy more as a valid way of being rather than as a problem that needs to be eradicated.

Aging brings out the flavors of a personality. The individual emerges over time, the way fruit matures and ripens. In the Renaissance view, depression, aging, and individuality all go together: the sadness of growing old is part of becoming an individual. Melancholy thoughts carve out an interior space where wisdom can take up residence.

Saturn was also traditionally identified with the metal lead, giving the soul weight and density, allowing the light, airy elements to coalesce. In this sense, depression is a process that fosters a valuable coagulation of thoughts and emotions. As we age, our ideas, formerly light, rambling, and unrelated to each other, become more densely gathered into values and a philosophy, giving our lives substance and firmness.

Because of its painful emptiness, it is often tempting to look for a way out of depression. But entering into its mood and thoughts can be deeply satisfying. Depression is sometimes described as a condition in which there are no ideas--nothing to hang on to. But maybe we have to broaden our vision and see that feelings of emptiness, the loss of familiar understandings and structures in life, and the vanishing of enthusiasm, even though they seem negative, are elements that can be appropriated and used to give life fresh imagination.

When, as counselors and friends, we are the observers of depression and are challenged to find a way to deal with it in others, we could abandon the monotheistic notion that life always has to be cheerful, and be instructed by melancholy. We could learn from its qualities and follow its lead, becoming more patient in its presence, lowering our excited expectations, taking a watchful attitude as this soul deals with its fate in utter seriousness and heaviness. In our friendship, we could offer it a place of acceptance and containment. Sometimes, of course, depression, like any emotion, can go beyond ordinary limits, becoming a completely debilitating illness. But in extreme cases, too, even in the midst of strong treatments, we can still look for Saturn at the core of depression and find ways to befriend it.

One great anxiety associated with depression is that it will never end, that life will never again be joyful and active. This is one of the feelings that is part of the pattern--the sense of being trapped, forever to be held in the remote haunts of Saturn. In my practice, when I hear this fear I think of it as Saturn's style, as one of the ways he works the soul--by making it feel constrained, with nowhere to go. Traditionally, there is a binding theme in saturnine moods. This anxiety seems to decrease when we stop fighting the saturnine elements that are in the depression, and turn instead toward learning from depression and taking on some of its dark qualities as aspects of personality.

Nobody Knows

2008-12-24T19:23:00.003-05:00

Consciousness is worthwhile but the loneliness that accompanies it is sometimes a painful price.

Panic and Pain

2008-12-23T09:15:00.003-05:00

I walked the floor at home in labor for about 30 hours with my first child. At 5 AM it was decided that I should probably take a ride to the hospital. I was relieved to see the sweet face of a long time friend who was working her shift that morning.

Pain of that magnitude takes over sensibilities and essential skills are forgotten. Approaching delivery without heavy medication had my brain wracked. The situation at hand was out of my control and I was panicked. My nurse friend grabbed my hand and held my gaze. She gave me instructions on my only job at hand: just breathe.

Emotional pain is not that different from physical pain. When thoughts begin to spin out of control, those essential elements of survival are quickly forgotten. Much of life is beyond our control and is at the mercy of the tide. I get so lost in my own thoughts that it becomes impossible to attempt any decisions or solid plans. On a day of spastic thoughts recently a friend emailed me instructions on my job for that day: just breathe.

Interesting how familiar phrases can trigger reflection. Reading those words took me back to that moment in labor and helped calm my mind. I complicate things beyond recognition. I allow "what if"s and "what now"s to frustrate me into a fit. The result is always the same - another beautiful day is lost to stress or depression.

For an anxious mind, snatches of calm are invaluable. Such a simple act of awareness can back me away from the ledge better than no other. Maybe I should have it tattooed on the palms of my hands.

Open Book / Case Closed

2008-12-22T23:00:00.002-05:00

Melancholy writers are known for words that address the darker sides of life. The danger is that once words are said or written they tend to linger and stick as if etched in stone. Consequently, the concern for the reader is that the writer ultimately remains of that opinion stated. What must be remembered is that writing is a therapeutic soul purging. Once the topic is thoroughly considered and expelled, the mind is free to move on to other things.

Several nights ago, suffering from frustration and lack of sleep I had this to say:

This journey has had me out on a limb for quite some time. My body is tired and my emotions are thin. Familiar layers begin to circle my soul to provide protection. Heart vows echo in my mind: "I'll never...", "I won't ever..."
I am capable of giving in spite of my own need yet I wonder - when does giving merely become an enabling of narcissism?

So where I am right now?
Right in the fork of Fuck It Street and Nevermind Drive.

Moving forward and circling back is a frustrating cycle. Yet it seems to be a necessary component of growth. Expressing the hopelessness felt at that moment in my process served its purpose. The thought was opened, expressed, and reabsorbed. The effect: another step taken under a lighter load.

I'm coming to appreciate the emotion expressed within art. Not only for the insight into the originator's soul but also the recognition of growth and freedom the artist surely experienced through the process.

Focus Shift

2008-12-19T21:09:00.016-05:00

This blog originated as a means of therapy while I dealt with issues of doctrine and theology. I wanted to believe the Christianity I had been taught, but had so many doubts that rational thought overwhelmed the superstition. Much of the baby went out with the bathwater. I have no more interest in searching dogma and doctrine. It matters not who is right. The essential question is answered on an individual level. If we agree to disagree, we've made more headway than most.

Lately, instead of searching specifically for God, I have been more focused on finding myself; digging through the rubble with hope of finding my original face. I have heard that each one of us contain The Holy. If that is true, perhaps in my search for me, I will ultimately find the Truth by happenstance. That's not the intended goal but it would certainly be an ironic end.

Psychologist Carl Jung has my attention at the moment. I struggle with a myriad of issues that are, in my self diagnosis, neuroses. Anyone who knows me would not find that a shocking conclusion. The antidote to a neurosis is awareness and consciousness; a frightening undertaking. Quoting Jung below will expound better than I could do in a rephrase:

Conscious realization prevents the unmentionable atmosphere, the general cluelessness, the blank disregard of the troublesome object; in short, it stops the painful content from being repressed. And though this may seem to cause the individual more suffering, he is at least suffering meaningfully and from something real. Repression has the apparent advantage of clearing the conscious mind of worry, and the spirit of all its troubles but, to counter that, it causes an indirect suffering from something unreal, namely a neurosis. Neurotic suffering is an unconscious fraud and has no moral merit, and has real suffering.

To quote another mind of our own decade, I've added a link below to a song full of angst and searching for oneself. If you can get past the imagery (or if you fully enjoy it) the lyrics are profound. Embedded was disabled so only the link will do.

Sober

If suffering is an unavoidable fact of this journey, I'd much rather experience pain in a meaningful method rather than completely in vain. I will continue to peel back layer after layer as I shake hands with shadows and take delight in the glory of existence.

Rudders, Oars and Currents

2008-12-06T18:00:00.005-05:00

At the moment we are born we are thrust into an existing system. Everything we experience in early life is by way of a system already in place. Language, behavior, ethics; all fed to us from others. We ride the waves of life with navigation of rudders already in motion.

As life progresses, a point is reached that we grab our own boot straps. With much effort and energy we push forward against ideas and prescriptions that previously nudged us along. Each one's boat is his own and with great strides he works the oars. If life can be directed, why, then, does the struggle lead to such frustration and feelings of helplessness?

Currents exist below the surface of our understanding; pulls that overtake our best efforts and deliver us in pools we never expected. Many times I grab the oars and struggle with all that I have. Hope for control over my destination is enticing. Inevitably, exhaustion wins out and my direction remains unchanged. Wisdom and peace only surface when I become fluid and cease fighting against what will be.

Life is kind and beautiful.
Life is cruel and unrelenting.
If tranquility can be found in the undertow, surrender is worthwhile.

Acceptance

2008-12-02T16:50:00.003-05:00

barn's burnt down;
now I can see
the moon

~ Masahide ~

I Wouldn't Change It

2008-11-23T18:27:00.004-05:00

Here's one of my husband's new songs:

Kind Coping

2008-11-18T21:35:00.000-05:00

When the going gets tough...
I go to bed.

When footing is solid and life is smooth sailing you will find me out-and-about and happy to be social. Adversely, when the winds begin to blow and the seas are stormy, I will be found seeking refuge in the hull until the winds die down.

Being able to push through the stress and the pain of situations is necessary. Most times I am successful. Recent crippling moments have left me without the energy or desire to leave my home. Those are the days that I loathe; the days that steal away life.

Daylight contains noise and static. Busyness requires focus. Be a good parent. Be a good employee. Be good. The relief of darkness finally brings space and room for the mind to wander and the soul to feel. There are no boundaries to stay within during the witching hours of night. No one knows if thoughts are calm or running wildly. No pretenses are required in the solace of slumber. Ideas are free to travel as they wish with no requirement for resolve.

This journey is long and winding... and tiring. Why do we not care for ourselves at least as well as our cousins? Animals are quite aware when rest is needed. My cat has no neurotic push to keep her awake if she is tired. She naps. I've never seen her apologetic over the matter. Most resist and force onward until a wall is hit, illness ensues, and Rest wins out after all.

As with any coping mechanism, admittedly, my extra rest is a means of escape; a hiding away. There are many more harmful methods in which I indulge. Resting is by far the most kind to my body. I find solace snuggling down in a cozy spot and resting in the open, cool space of darkness.

Dreamscape

2008-11-15T21:42:00.005-05:00

My family and I were enjoying a picnic outside, with a scattered few others, when a mischievous little creature was discovered rummaging around. This little being was creating quite a mess. Investigation revealed a furry fellow that had my children calling out, "Look mommy, a raccoon!" Its characteristics resembled a raccoon and the group readily agreed. I had reservations of that being a correct summation. Something about the animal wasn't fully convincing of its name. Considering the possibility of it being a bear cub, I held my tongue as to not spread fright. Where there is a bear cub, a mama bear is not far off.

Soon thereafter a sound more ferocious than description can tell was heard from the wood-line. Glancing up I saw her slow, but powerful movement, as she approached.

Mama Bear had come to claim her own.

Rushing into our nearby home I urged everyone outside, regardless of familiarity, to come inside for shelter. Many people rushed through the front door as Mama Bear sauntered into the open field. Slamming the door shut, I proceeded to check the security of the back part of the house. A back utility room revealed another grown bear pilfering through nooks and crannies; seeing what might be discovered. With only a cottage style door between my family and friends I instructed my nearest relative to go and locate the shotgun and be sure of ammunition. All caution was taken but the force just outside the thinly wooded and glass paned door was looming closer and closer. It would not be long before the beast began to press against the door with baited breath.

Standing close to the door, my purpose was to be the first witness and hopefully prevention to the impending destruction. Unsure of anything stopping the beast, my fear was only for the others inside the house that were desperately seeking shelter. Realizing the door would probably give soon, I was resolved that destruction was surely upon us. Regardless, there I stood, guarding the door.

Yes, all of that was a dream. Very real and very vivid, but a dream. I awoke relieved but pensive of its meaning. Dreams reveal more psychological makeup than I could define. I am still reflecting on this one to determine its explanation to my soul.

I am beyond the religion that speaks of devils behind every bush and the need to guard against principalities of the air. I don't believe that supernatural evil lurks around every corner. Consequently I don't see this dream as anything other than a statement of what life is for anyone -- The natural world holds enough dangers concealed in misunderstandings to destroy us all.

Fiery Introspection

2008-11-02T19:35:00.004-05:00

My first cigarette did not bring on the usual coughing spell that most experience. The credit to that would, most likely, be due to growing up with a two-pack-a-day parent. I had breathed enough second-hand smoke to create a base of tolerance.

Knowing that my father spent his life extremely addicted, coupled with my having a sibling that suffered from asthma, would make one expect that I would never dance with that devil. In spite of those circumstances I have picked up and put down packs many times over the years. Aside from feeling the evangelical guilt over the indulgence, I have wondered from where the desire feeds. Citing stress is too simple an explanation. A more observant recognition of the driver would name it introspection.

While watching smoke rise and dissipate a vague recollection exists of a writing regarding the indulgence; a story embedded in my mind from a middle-school literature class. Not remembering specifically the story, I would recall the scene the writer imposed.

A year ago I read Ayn Rand's, Atlas Shrugged. In a moment of ecstatic recognition I read that same excerpt exposed to me years before:

"I Like cigarettes, Miss Taggart. I like to think of the fire held in a man's hand. Fire, a dangerous force, tamed at his finger tips. I often wonder about the hours when a man sits alone, watching the smoke of a cigarette, thinking. I wonder what great things have come from such hours. When a man thinks, there is a spot of fire alive in his mind-and it is proper that he should have the burning point of a cigarette as his one expression."

In seasons of introspection I find myself fighting the guilty pleasure of cigarettes. I say that not as a confession, but rather an explanation to myself as to why I find brief sanctuary in hiding away and expressing the fire in my mind at the tips of my fingers.

This Speaks

2008-10-30T11:18:00.001-04:00

Booze and Beethoven

2008-10-22T10:58:00.007-04:00

Who's up for some highballs and Moonlight Sonata?

The piece itself is a challenge to play.
Attempting it with fuzzy motor skills takes it to an entirely new level!

I am...

2008-10-19T18:40:00.004-04:00

I am not depressed...
I am not hopeless...
I am not anxious or panicked...
I am numb.

Perhaps it is a chemical reaction to a lengthy period of stress. Maybe it's a metaphysical gift of anesthetic for a glimpse of peace and surrender while in the midst of a long and arduous journey.

The meaning matters not. I welcome it, however odd and strange, while it is near.

Something about ME

2008-10-15T09:30:00.001-04:00

I love Monet paintings.

Seclusion

2008-10-11T20:27:00.010-04:00

I had hope that "soul work" could be done without the need for isolation. I have a friend or two dealing with shadows and issues as well and my thought was that we could walk along this path together, encourage each other, and perhaps come out the other side more authentic from the process together.

The past few weeks' chaos and heart-ache has pushed me into realization that what I must conclude, I must come to alone. I have lived my adult life with most effort given to living a life worthy of approval. That's not noble, that's neurotic. Where I am now reveals that, upon removal of the layers of a life based in performance, I am a shell of an individual with no clarity as to what are my own desires.

Compared to my former self, my newest face may appear to be my most selfish. Know that I will seek out my wholeness in whatever manner will prove to be successful. The tide seems to be going out yet again and the darkness and depth appears overwhelming. With each inch outward I maintain hope that the view will simultaneously reveal a glimpse of a healing horizon.

Shadows

2008-10-04T21:24:00.001-04:00

Personalities are such complex creations. Each one so unique. Each one full of glory and beauty yet also containing darkness and destruction. Learning to accept our own personality including the pieces that seem to be undesirable is quite a challenge. This, lately, is what I have been dipping my toe into to test the waters of growth.

The past few weeks have held many moments of chaos and pain but hopefully also opportunity for growth. A glimmer of broader understanding catches my eye now and again but I resist the desire to rest in anything confidently. I fear the most brief slip would cause erosion of any topsoil that has settled; decay of any new growth.

I have lived life so far attempting to guard against the shadows of my soul. These dark places have the ability to swirl and swell until they develop a black hole that causes my universe around me to collapse inward; destroying everything in close proximity. Personification of these shadows from my first recognition of them is a reality for me. Some moments I feel the creeping up so clearly that I feel compelled to speak out, "I know you're there." and I am able to brace against it. Other times the swirling takes me by complete surprise. The end is always the same: more self loathing and being off-center for days, not to mention the damage done to those around me.

Shimmers of light had crept into calm places for me lately that lured me into a false sense of arrival. At one moment I was enjoying a sense of growth and acceptance and in the next moment every voice in my head was screaming for equal attention. Overwhelming doesn't begin to describe what has ensued since then. Yet I still hope. I hope for calm and peace to return for me. I hope for growth to be born out of the empty, dark crevasses. I hope to make peace with myself, even the parts known only in the shadows.

Silence

2008-09-10T23:28:00.002-04:00

I'd love the therapy time to sit down and gather some thoughts together. I don't have the energy it takes to structure my thoughts at the moment. Instead of forcing out a topic or two I think I'll just sit quietly.

In the meantime...

Glass Half Full?

2008-09-01T21:19:00.000-04:00

I was wondering:
How many true optimists do we have among us here? Anyone? Say "aye!"

.
Am I a "glass half empty" thinker? Sadly so.
I wish not but...
I demand to know who drank half my damn drink!

Memories

2008-08-29T22:27:00.005-04:00

I enjoyed playing board games as a kid. I loved Checkers, Chess, Connect Four, Battleship, Simon Says, ... and then there was Monopoly

My eight year old has become enthralled with this game lately. He's talked his dad into teaching it to him but I've resisted playing. Anytime I'm asked, I have a feeling come over me that resembles that of a mild panic attack. I played Monopoly with my brother when I was a child and we had a great time playing it. So why would the request cause me to break out in hives now?

It has dawned on me that this game was the first sign of my Obsessive Compulsive behavior that I can remember. At nine years old, my brother and I would start a game and a week later still be playing the same game. Sure, we would sleep and eat and play other things but we'd not close the game until someone went bankrupt; however long that took. To complicate matters for my personality, I, somehow, ended up being the banker. I'd count and recount the money to make sure that he wasn't cheating or that I wouldn't forget where we were in the game. I had the responsibility to watching over when one of us could collect $200 after passing go, who had to pay to get out of jail, what the Community Chest and Chance cards required; not to mention all the buying of property and houses and motels and the rent to be paid when we'd land on the others' owned property. I took my job very seriously! When I think back, I compare it to the Seinfeld episode where Kramer and Newman begin a world domination board game that lasts for days. They finally wind up being forced to end the game after they take it with them on the subway:

My brother was not Obsessive Compulsive, rather, he was very close to being an insomniac. He could function fine on 3 to 5 hours of sleep. He'd manipulate my need to have closure to keep me playing all hours of the night so that he could avoid me going to bed and him being left alone and awake. He didn't take the game seriously, it just provided him company. I didn't realize that and followed right along trying to keep up with the financial transactions and property purchases; all the while losing out on sleep that I desperately needed to not be a zombie the next day.

I don't remember feeling anxious as a child other than when I played this game. I know that my tendencies were there; it's very much a part of my family history. It's just odd that the only memory that I have of that feeling is wrapped around this board game. I don't remember episodes of compulsive behavior until I was well into my adult years. Most memories of my emotion state as a child is that I was quite laid back and calm. But this game... grrrrr...this game.......

I did sit down this evening and play with two of my children (after a few drinks on my part). In spite of my reluctance to play, we had an enjoyable time. It's quite strange, though. I still would prefer to never, EVER play that freakin' game again!

What Have We Done?

2008-08-29T14:00:00.000-04:00

A friend called me tonight in complete desperation. I have known of her life and spiritual struggles for a while although she and I have not had a chance to talk about them. Through her sobs I could barely hear her statements but her question asked of me was quite clear: "I need to know... do you think *this* will send me to hell?!"

I listened as she expressed her desire to please God, to please others, to do the right thing, to make the right choices; everything we all desire to do. She is a genuinely giving person; someone who will hold a hand through any and all circumstances, yet she sits tonight with anxiety and fear that her soul is damned for eternity. She must turn or burn.

My response to her was what I have recently come to settle upon: God is quite impossible to define and put in a box, all that I thought I knew doesn't make sense to me anymore, and that if God's grace is what I think now that it is, no, I don't think God will punish her with eternity in hell. I didn't open this can of worms with her but, just to get it out here, I'm not convinced anymore that hell is a literal place anyway. Big surprise? I'm sure not.

I realize that many fundamentalists will express that liberal thinking regarding the definition and punishment for sin is simply a "tickling of the ears" that Scripture warned about. But I sit in wonder, as I reflect on my broken and frightened friend, and I ask, "what have we done?" What has Christianity become that it is a fearful thing? Sinners in the hands of an angry God, are we? I think that more near to the truth is that we are sinners in the hands of an angry organized religion. Here is a broken woman and her "Christian friends" are graciously, but confidently, telling her, yes, *this* will keep her out of God's will and best for her life. How do they know that, except that it fits nicely and neatly within their own paradigm?! They may go to bed easily but she will spend more hours sorting through her fears and questions.

In her fear, I am concerned that she will turn to what she is accustomed to - more of the same rules and control. She needs freedom but not the kind that will be prescribed to her by church officials. The freedom that will release her can only be found in the truth that is found in the desert. My heart begs that she will not fall backward into the arms of the waiting structure and control but keep searching through the pain to find what makes sense to her.

Circling Back

2008-08-27T00:00:00.001-04:00

In August of 1999 my life was framed around these broad strokes:
My spouse worked shift-work hours. We lived in the middle of 20 acres in a remote town just south of the town in which our church was located. We were both involved in this church serving within the music ministry team. We felt called to be more available to the ministry of this church and had many leaders within that church confirm that calling. However, their confirmations also came with a few strings. Strings such as - "if only you lived closer to this area so that it would be more convenient for you to be here with the church"... "if your job didn't have shift-work hours your schedule would allow you to not miss being here as often and we could use you more"..."work towards becoming unencumbered by distractions (debt, for example) to be available for ministry".

Bit by bit we tried our best to be obedient to what we thought was God's will:
1. Shift-work was keeping my spouse from being able to take more of a leadership role, we were told. Lots of prayer and angst later brought about a resignation to that job. Problem solved? Not quite.
2. Having too much debt and needing too much income to pay all of the bills was a concern so in 2001 we sold our 20 acres and moved into family property. That move wiped out the need to be located closer to the church and helped a great deal in easing our debt situation. Problem solved? Still no. Now we had moved under the thumb and control of family while simultaneously giving up a great investment that we loved all for the sake of the ministry.

Keep in mind that these are broad strokes but even in these we made colossal error upon error trying to be in the "will of God". We ultimately learned it was more like the "will of the church". The upsetting part is that we were very sincere and prayed and sought wise council and all of the stuff we were prescribed to do in order to line up with God's will. (Oh how I loathe that phrase anymore!) If you've read previous posts you are aware that I struggle with blaming God for the winding road that we've traveled because of our sincere search for direction. Going off of the teaching that He is sovereign and every step is directed by God, I have felt very misled.

Since that time we have spent many more years trying to be available to whatever purpose God desired for our lives. Many twists and turns have come about and we've tried our most sincere way to give our best to each. In 2006, after more disappointments than anyone could withstand, we threw in the spiritual towel. The next January I began this blog for my own spiritual therapy as I tried to sort through all of the fall-out.

This summer, 9 years later, my spouse is back in the shift work and we are trying to locate property back from where we moved away from in 2001. This time, however, we have met a group of people that appreciate our journey, our abilities, and our friendship with no strings attached. The exact same circumstances that blocked us from being "in ministry" years ago are now no concern at all. We have been presented with freedom and encouragement to express ourselves musically and spiritually without a string of hoops through which to jump.

It is said that time heals all wounds. That may be true, however, the scarring that occurs affects the damaged site and it will never appear as it originally did. My path appears to be circling back to a very close resemblance of where I began; yet after all of the twists and turns, deconstructing and growth, it's nothing like it was. As with any scar, the benefits are strength that was not there before and character that could not be matched with any other. In spite of the pain from the wound, for those benefits I am grateful.

Freedom to Sink

2008-08-15T00:50:00.000-04:00

The experiences of the past three years has caused me to step away from the usual Scripture readings. The same old stories with the same old explanations no longer made any sense to me. Having the courage to re-examine Scripture and be open to a different viewpoint is not something to be taken lightly. My upbringing warns against that as a complete and utter 'no-no'. That leaves one stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place. Do I continue trying to read the stuff and convince myself that it makes sense or do I commit Scripture-Crime in re-thinking it? I choose the latter. The former would not be living honestly.

A few days ago a friend expounded on the story of Jesus calling Peter out of the boat to walk on the water. We've all heard this teaching as one that reminds us to have faith and keep our eyes on Jesus or we'll surely fail. Apparently the writers of Scripture intended to make that point succinctly and move on. Nothing else to see here folks, move along. Could there be more?

He expounded in much better eloquence than I possess but two main points have resounded in my memory. The first is the metaphor of the boat; the safety of the norm, the structure of what is established. Jesus was a rebel and was punished for being a heretic in his day. Why would he not be calling his companions into the deep alongside him? The second alternate viewpoint surrounded Peter's sinking.

Was it a trick to tell Peter to come out of the safety and join him? An elaborate plot to show how taking our eyes of Jesus can lead to utter destruction? No. The admonishment in this story was not for the sinking that occurred but rather for the fear that gripped Peter during the sinking.

Fear grips me often and I let it make the mole hill a mountain in record time. I have been unable to center in the midst of many storms because the guilt that I was off-center to begin with over-rides the beckon for me trust and not fear the ride. The tide will roll in and it will roll out again. There is no correction against the mere fact that life has ups and down.

What I try to remember now is that with every new step I might sink. I might eventually become washed up on the shore. To not fear is to trust in the journey and not be involved in the struggle. Life will bring whatever it will bring. My stress and unresolved angst over it all will not bring about any different outcome that wouldn't have come naturally. That is freedom.

Grace With Walls

2008-08-13T14:47:00.003-04:00

Erin has a discussion posted that has reminded me of an email I replied to in June of 2007. The question that I was replying to was "Why do you go to church". My answer outlined why I do not go to church. Some exerpts are...

I think that in the past "big" church has been an effective way to learn and grow in discipleship. Well, maybe not completely effective but the most available resource to us who are interested in transformation. The shift in our culture greatly influenced by the 'information age' has caused many people to change their methods for doing things. The way we do church has been slowly creeping up on the top 10 charts for a while but is rapidly approaching the #1 issue that is being re-visited.

We have access to wonderful teaching, thoughts, philosophies, etc. with the click of a remote or access of the internet. Our friendships include that of "fellowship" type discussions. This fast-paced life (however it evolved is unimportant compared to the fact that it's real) forces us to make our time spent in endeavours as meaningful as possible. If there's no 'payoff' for us in some type of way, we chunk it.

Church says we should go so that we don't forsake the fellowship of the bretheren. Ok... how much real fellowship with bretheren do you really get on a Sunday morning? "Good morning.... how are you?.... nice to see you.." and then we SIT for an hour to an hour and a half. That's not fellowship. Fellowship is what happens when I sit and visit with one or a few friends - when I have time to actually have a conversation.

Church says, you need to hear the teaching of the word. Ok - well anybody that feels himself/herself "called" can get up and tell me their opinions on the word -- is that really solid trustworthy teaching? Not really. I've done more studying in this past year of NOT being in church than I ever did while I was sitting in lecture-hall on Sunday mornings.

My position isn't to say that all churches should be shut down. I think they do need to take the signs of reduced attendance as a reason to re-think their methods and focus but instead many of them say that it's "the devil" stealing the flock. Those will be the churches that eventually put a "closed for business" sign on the front door. The ones that do bend with the culture and help facilitate free thinking and free relating to one another will make the turn. But they'll also have to be willing to shed some dead weight in the process.

If church is still relevant to someone, they should continue in their pursuits. It just completely lost relevance to me. I asked the question "why" long enough to realize that there was no reason left for me. As long as our main goal is the pursuit of Truth and transformation as a disciple of Christ...that's the ONLY thing that matters.

I still feel the same today as I did then yet the path I am on is revealing another bend. As I stated in the email reply above, speaking of churches, "The ones that do bend with the culture and help facilitate free thinking and free relating to one another will make the turn." The problem with a group of people that could be described in those terms is that they are also labeled too liberal, deceived or even heretical. With those labels, how could anyone entangled with fundamentalist doctrine feel free to participate? The answer is simple: until the baggage is dropped, one can't. It has taken the process of stripping away all of the deadness in my mind to now present me open to community again; this type of community.

Until a few weeks ago, I had not attended any church services on a regular basis. I've been out so long it's been said of me that I'm "off the reservation". I'm not sure what that means exactly but, considering the manner in which it was said, I assume that's a bad thing. The two or three times that I did visit somewhere had me scurrying back down my rabbit hole, remembering why I said I'd never go back. I was not looking for seclusion when this process began for me. It has, however, been a bi-product of not wanting to be trapped into a mass group-think. Some defend the group think by saying that there is safety in numbers. Tell that to a group of lemmings.

This spiritual journey stuff is quite messy at times; painful, lonely, full of despair. I have wanted to give up and have tried to shut off the searching completely but to no avail. Something drives us all forward into places we cannot expect. I am currently parked in a place that feels like thankfulness for what I have been left with: freedom and permission to continue searching through whatever vein makes sense to me and has meaning.

I had visited a church several months ago that still stirred up a lot of tug-o-war within my doctrines. Some of it settled fine in my mind, some of it made me raise an eyebrow. It was not time for me to land there. I was still too concerned on boundaries and rules and accountability. All of that is simply old baggage terminology that I had not cleaned away yet. I asked, "How do you know that what you say is Grace isn't actually a free-for-all?"

Another year in this process can bring quite a lot of change. The fact that I would think that Grace needs prescribed boundaries makes me shake my head. I revisited this group in June and, for the first time in all of this time, felt complete ease in my surroundings and in what I heard. I don't mean that I wholeheartedly agreed with everything that was said. What's wonderful is that I don't have to.

A place that understands grace and growth and enlightenment is one to be experienced. A group of people that recognize they are all groping through the darkness for the true light has my attention. With that, I am embarking on another facet of this journey and am curious to see what will emerge on the horizon.

An Occasion

2008-08-11T22:42:00.002-04:00

When King Leer dies in Act V, do you know what Shakespeare has written? He's written, "He dies." That's all. Nothing more. No fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. The culmination of the most influential work of dramatic literature is "He dies." It takes Shakespeare genius to come up with, "He dies." And yet every time I read those two words I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria. And I know it's only natural to be sad but not because of the words "He dies." but because of the life we saw prior to the words. I've lived all 5 of my acts, and I'm not asking you to be happy that I must go. I'm only asking that you turn the page. Continue reading. And let the next story begin.
And if anyone ever asks what became of me, you relate my life in all its wonder and end it with a simple and modest, "He died.
Your life is an occasion. Rise to it."
(Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium)

I watched an only child mourn the loss of his mother today. He was brave and he was strong. He spoke well of her and of her legacy that he hopes to perpetuate throughout his life. She lived a noticeable life; giving comfort and encouragement to those around her.

It's impossible for me to look at death and not be more mindful of my moments and my days. If we learn nothing else from it, at least it brings an urging to live this life in more awareness.

The quote above tributes her spirit well. I know that she would wish for her son, and for us all, the same bidding: rise to the occasion that is your life.

Street Sign

2008-08-11T22:20:00.004-04:00

I realize that making fun of church signs has been done and over-done but I drive by one in my town most every day that perplexes me. It reads:

Jesus is our steering wheel; not our spare tire.

Umm... what?!

Feelin' the Blues

2008-08-02T22:03:00.002-04:00

I'll get over it but in the meantime, sing it Janice....

What Say You?

2008-07-30T23:46:00.002-04:00

I finished reading a book tonight that will go nameless at the moment. I would wish to not sway anyone or cause any reflex thoughts based solely on the title of the book. The last chapter is entitled Real Dialogue Brings Tolerance. I wonder if you, here, would agree with some of the excerpts:

The absence of true experience brings forth intolerance and a lack of understanding. Organized religions, therefore, must create conditions that are favorable for true practice and true experience to flower. Authentic ecumenical practices help different schools within a tradition learn from one another and restore the best aspects of the tradition that may have been eroded... Today in the West, all schools of Buddhism are present, and through their interactions with one another, mutual learning is taking place, and the elements that have been lost in one tradition can be revived by another. The Roman Catholic Church, the Eastern Orthodox Church, and the Protestant churches could do the same....

Sharing does not mean wanting others to abandon their own spiritual roots and embrace your faith. That would be cruel. People are stable and happy only when they are firmly rooted in their own tradition and culture. To uproot them would make them suffer. There are already enough people uprooted from their tradition today, and they suffer greatly, wandering around like hungry ghosts, looking for something to fill their spiritual needs. We must help them return to their tradition. Each tradition must establish a dialogue with its own people first, especially with those young people who are lost and alienated... I always urge my friends to go back to their own traditions and rediscover the values that are there, those values they have not been able to touch before.

We Vietnamese have learned these lessons from our own suffering. When Christian missionaries came to Vietnam several hundred years ago, they urged us to abandon the cult of ancestral worship and to abandon our Buddhist tradition. Later, when they offered to help us in refugee camps they also urged us to give up our roots. The good will to help and to save us was there, but the correct understanding was not. People cannot be happy if they are rootless. We can enrich one another's spiritual lives, but there is no need to alienate people from their ancestors and their values.

Before I give personal comments, would anyone here agree or disagree?

My Heart Will Trust

2008-07-24T20:47:00.002-04:00

A dear friend of mine has asked me to play the piano for her upcoming wedding. This commitment has proven it difficult to continue ignoring my keyboard. It's not that I don't enjoy playing but rather that playing makes me have to deal with what I miss most - the joy of bringing music from nothing.

I played through the songs a few times. Feeling satisfied in a brief first run-through for wedding practice I dabbled a bit with old chords that flow freely for me. The song that emerged from my aimless playing is ironic considering a post over at Heather's blog. The words of this particular one, however, continue to bring me comfort and keep me mindful of God - even when most of my being insists He's not even real.

I'll walk closer now on the higher way
Through the darkest night will you hold my hand
Jesus guide my way

O you mourn with me and you dance with me
For my heart of hearts is bound to you

Though I walk through valleys low
I'll fear no evil
By the waters still my soul,
My heart will trust in You

O You counsel me and You comfort me
When I cannot see,
You light my path

My heart will trust in you

Most often I don't feel that He lights my path, or counsels me, or even comforts me. However, regardless of what I feel, I sturdy up under the refrain:
Though I walk through valleys low, I'll fear no evil. By the waters still my soul, my heart will trust in you.

I walk away from that those thoughts a million times, yet I return again and again. Is my return only out of programming? Out of habit? Perhaps.
I take each moment as it comes and try to sort it into recognizable piles. One day, maybe a new picture will emerge. Maybe...

Literary Twist

2008-07-24T07:06:00.002-04:00

One of my high school Literature teachers had written a phrase on the board that the class was to expound upon; either define, explain or relate in a short essay.

My Karma ran over my Dogma

I had no idea what Dogma or Karma meant so I wrote as good of a bluff that I could derive. I don't remember the outcome of my essay but I do remember those words written on the chalkboard quite vividly.

Reflecting back on that time in life is a bit surreal-- my ideas and beliefs were all so neatly arranged. Here I am now, almost twenty years later, and nothing looks the way I thought it would. It's mind blowing to recognize how very empty those ideals proved themselves to be. That realization was a very painful and disruptive one. I read somewhere "Today's dogma may be tomorrow's joke". Knowing that twenty years ago would have been helpful!

Discover People

2008-07-21T22:45:00.003-04:00

This was fun for me. Hope you enjoy it as well

If you click on the link below, a series of 12 pictures will come up.
Click on a photo in each category.
Continue clicking on pictures that appeal to you after reading the category.
At the end it will give you a profile of yourself.

I'd love to hear others weigh in on if the profiles are accurate.

Youniverse

Individualism vs. Collectivism

2008-07-18T10:56:00.001-04:00

"Brothers and sisters:

It is with a heavy heart that I relay to you the voluntary revocation of membership of Mr. and Mrs. Gravy. The leadership here has counseled with this couple in order to assure their membership will be submitted to a sister fellowship in the near future. They have been warned against the wiles of the evil one who would love nothing more than to entice them into the desert and tempt them with any kind of evil known to man. I regret to report that Mr. and Mrs. Gravy do not express interest of continuing their submission under an institution such as ours. It seems that their desire for individualism has flourished from the root of rebellion lodged deep within. We all know that being out from under proper authority and covering is unhealthy. It is a dangerous and slippery slope to search out answers all alone and we are fearful of their negative influence becoming an infection to current attendees. Please warn others of this deterioration of faith that they not be persuaded nor affected by any ideas shared by this couple that are outside of our denomination's approved ordinances.

In Him,
Pastor Blick

A few years ago I would have nodded in agreement to an announcement of this nature. Community is important and we are told leadership is in place to keep us safe. However there is an inconsistency in this thinking. Submitted to the group isn't always the safest place to be. For example:

Headlines read:
"Jim Jones and congregation found in mass suicide. Family members and friends grieve over this massive loss. The most resounding question seems to be "why... why couldn't they think for themselves instead of follow headlong into this tragedy?!"

I've heard it said, "It doesn't matter where you go, just go somewhere!" What is being taught and perpetuated within those walls is of no consequence to those that make that statement. Somehow joining up with a group means that I'm safe again and living correctly. That's all well and good until some horrible detour in doctrine is taken and tragedy happens. As soon as a cult status is determined questions would begin as to why I did not see through the false doctrine and think for myself.

My rhetorical question to this paradox is - which is to be? Individuality or Group-Think? I have discovered that neither of those is necessarily prescribed over the other. The true desire for most is that behavior of others demonstrates an agreement with their own. Anything that detours from the common path is assumed to be error.

When my path led me away from the common ground of others I found myself very fearful at first; fearful that I had taken a wrong turn somewhere. With slow and careful steps, I have tread onward. I have learned a few things along the way; learned in my rebellious, individual state, that I would like to make note of for anyone still reading.

I have learned not to categorize anyone based on a label. No one person is "just like" whatever group to which they subscribe. At the next thought that lumps any one person together with another, take a moment. Not everyone in a congregation is hearing true doctrine. Not everyone outside of a congregation is given over to depravity. Never make assumptions. Ask, inquire, then listen. You might find an interesting individual.

Forecast

2008-07-07T21:38:00.003-04:00

Today..
Mostly cloudly with a 99% chance of a Shit Storm blowing through.

:sigh: That made me laugh.

Had a Bad Day

2008-06-22T18:00:00.000-04:00

My kids love this song. They've learned the lyrics and sing along loudly. When, in fact, it is a bad day, hearing their young voices from the next room causes me to regain a feeling of thankfulness.

These lyrics reflect much wisdom in owning up to the mud but not becoming stuck in it. I always benefit from that reminder.

My hope for my children is that they learn to deal with their bad days with the touch of grace reflected in this song. That is my hope for them and for all of us as we walk, stumble or scooch down this path.

Give it a listen...

On Letting Go

2008-06-08T21:29:00.005-04:00

I have given up, lost, or had taken from me more than I had bargained with this process of deconstruction. Relics of doctrine that have been my fortress are all smashed. In the beginning stages of this journey--admitting the fallacy of doctrines--what gave me slithers of hope was the idea of one day seeing something new and glorious standing in the ruin. The dust has finally settled. What I see, instead, is clear, open terrain; nothing. It's more beautiful than any replacement home I could have conjured. It is the essence of freedom.

Letting go must come in stages. When it appears the road is evening out, another hard turn shows itself. Recent days have revealed another leg of this journey that forces acceptance. Feeling forgotten and replaced had become lodged within hurt and anger. Coping with this has been too difficult to face until this moment. Coming to terms that seasons do, in fact, change; accepting that things and people fall away, turn away, or simply become otherwise occupied; letting go of what is no longer and embracing what currently is -- this monumentous task is mostly behind me now. Another turn or two in the road and it will be another point of interest on this quest.

The remaining debris from the past two years has been contained in a room that was left in shambles. Sorting and letting go could only be accomplished by facing one box at a time. At this moment, this room is empty. The broken glass has been swept up, the floor is polished, and the walls are bare. I am not attempting to refill and re-clutter. Instead, I will close the door behind me and, blinking, walk out into the day.

The Unending Rift

2008-06-01T23:15:00.003-04:00

This evening I wondered what kind of glimpse I would obtain if I looked back to my previous church, for just a moment. I wondered if by listening to a sermon I might be reminded that there was once something real; not just rhetoric spilled out to perpetuate the masses. What I heard was not a surprise but was sickeningly painful. I would love to quote some of what was said but it would be of no benefit. The therapy for me with this is simply to report the affect.

It is quite damaging to think that the struggles, isolation, sacrifice and despair that I, my family and many friends have endured after our departure from the institution of church have been explained away as deception. To think that I am described as being God's "purging". Surely a church that spoke so highly of relationship and love for the individual would not compare the departed as piece of vomit! To imagine that new people now occupying the seats are said to be what God had provided to pour out prosperity and favor upon that body of believers, while those of us that left are presented as liars and cowards. Yes, to think that is emotionally harmful. Thanks to a recorded sermon, filled with yeas and amens, to know it...

There are just no words...

Was Shakespeare a Theologian?

2008-05-31T20:49:00.002-04:00

My seven year old will quickly surpass me in analysis ability; if he hasn't already. I'm not certain, I'll have to ask him.

While in a conversation with him concerning God being accessible to us anywhere and everywhere, his responses began to reflect that he had become very frustrated.

Mom? Why do people say they know about God?

What do you mean?

I mean...people say that God is really really big and He's everywhere. Or they say that God is really really small and lives in your heart. There is no way that they can know what He looks like so why do they say that they know?

True. There isn't any way to know for sure, is there? Maybe the more correct statement would be: "I think that God is really really big. Or I think that God is bald like Mr. Clean". Would that be better for you?

Yes. That would be much better! Because if they don't know they shouldn't insist that they do.
And Mom?

mmm hmmm?

How do people know that His name is God? Who decided that was His name?

hmmm...let me think about that a minute.

We talked on about how there are many names for God: Jehovah, Adonai, Yahweh, Allah, Creator, Abba, Lord. Of course the list is quite long. Our names for Him are only our best guesses, as are most of our other labels of Him. Regardless of what name we construct, He is who He is.

His concerns seemed satisfied for the moment but his questions questions have stuck with me for days now. How do we know that we know and does it really matter?

Most lessons that solidify in me are those that I find a way to tie to the arts in some form or another. In this lesson, Shakespeare's Juliet came to mind. I am more convinced than ever that what matters is what something is, not what it is called.

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

Manifesto for Church

2008-05-29T10:16:00.005-04:00

I've been tagged again.

Rules:
1. Post to your blog on the subject "A Manifesto for Church", outlining your thoughts on what an ideal church would/should be like. Posts can be as detailed or as short as you like.
2. Include a copy of these rules.
4. Put a link to your post in the comments to this post.
5. Tag at least 4 other people.
6. What happened to rule 3?
3. Ah, here it is.

It's a common business phrase that one should not be part of the problem but rather the solution. For this reason, I have been a little more quiet regarding church topics lately. I can rant for hours on what I see that's wrong with the church, but I have very few options or solutions to offer that might make it better. This tag has had me thinking more about what might be a better alternative to what is currently in place. I'm coming up quite short on the topic. But I'm due to respond now so here I go.

I have no bullet-points to outline a new structure. I have no suggestion to revamp the existing programs. What I wish to see is everyone put down their hymnals, take off their badges, throw off their labels and come out into the open. I mean, literally, come OUT of the institutional church buildings; if for just a little while for some perspective. This machine, as it is, isn't effective anymore. Yes, it's busy. Yes, it's noisy. All of the cogs in the right place keep it chugging along just fine. But is it REAL? How can you know if you won't back away from it to take a good look?

Church isn't the surrounding walls and roof. Everyone will say they agree with that. But if they no longer had those walls around them, would they still feel a part of the church? Would they be able to walk out the mandate to not forsake the fellowship of fellow believers? Would they make the effort to seek out relationships outside of the convenience of meeting in the same building once or twice a week?

I am not suggesting that the doors be locked and power turned off. But, instead of trying to re-frame the existing structure, why not tear it down completely and be brave enough to rebuild from scratch? What newness might come from a clean slate?

My manifesto will be seen as either lazy or gutsy but I suggest we simply drop the ball and see where it rolls.

Lakeland Outpouring Article

2008-05-29T09:58:00.003-04:00

My husband and I attended this event two weeks ago.
His article has been picked up on a couple of websites. I'm linking to the most recent since there isn't any 'sign in' that has to go on to access the information. I'd love to hear comments on this one.

Leaving Lakeland

Think of This!

2008-05-25T20:43:00.003-04:00

Our family home schools. We choose a curriculum that is known for two things: (1) It is a bit advanced over this area's public school system. (2) It is extremely fundamental in its Biblical teaching. We try to ignore the latter characteristic because the former is quite important to us.

Ignoring and breezing over topics can only go so far though. I have in my hand a page that I ripped out of my child's book as he finished up his last reading assignment for the school year. Two sentences into the page and...RIP!

This particular book was about all kinds of animals. The last page reads:

In Conclusion
Think of This!
The stories you have just read all contain true facts about the lives of animals. You may want to study more about them or other kinds of animals. That's good. There are thousands of animals to choose from and thousands of books written about animal life.
Some books that you may read will say that the animal you are reading about came to be the way it is after many years of change. In other words, these books say that animals "just happened" to become the way they are all by themselves. But think for a moment. If the giant panda "just happened", who made sure it was placed in a bamboo jungle? If the panda "just happened" anywhere else, it would starve to death. And if all the zebras had had to wait for the ostrich to "just happen," they might all have been eaten up by lions!
Do you want to believe that things "just happened" over many years? People who say this are only making guesses about something no one has ever seen.
On the other hand, we can read from the Bible, "In the beginning, God created..." Which will you believe? Other books, or the Bible?

I am not going to go into all of the reasons why I think this page is completely inappropriate. Some will say that I can't actually complain considered I purchased the existing curriculum knowing it had fundamental roots. Nevertheless, I think it's a blatant pile of horse-shit. Why must fundamentals insist on idiocy out of fear that the belief that something may have evolved (use the word "changed" if it makes you feel better) might cause the entire population to turn into Atheists?! Yes, that was a rhetorical question.

*Edit Added:
I do want to add that I have close friends that do subscribe to Creationism being a literal 6 days event. I respect their thoughts and am not slamming them with this rant. What frustrates me is the refusal of some to consider that there may be some validity to the scientific position for fear that it negates all teachings of Christianity. Creationism, being literal, didn't come along as a teaching of the church until the Enlightenment Period (I think..?). I don't believe this issue to be anything worth causing divisions between people of Faith much less needed to be a type of 'last word' in a 2nd grade reader book.

I've Been Tagged Again

2008-05-09T23:05:00.000-04:00

This time it's the Six Random Things About Me meme.

Rules:

1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Share six random things about you.
3. Tag 5 people (or whatever you can). (My little circle of bloggers have done this one before so I won't re-tag them)

I have Amy to thank for this tag. :)

1. In first grade, an older kid put a baby toy in the hood of my winter coat. When I discovered the toy there I was very embarrassed. The next morning, cold as it could be, I would not wear the coat. I stood at my front door, sobbing, not wanting to get on the bus but unwilling to tell my mother why I was so upset about my coat.

2. I had a horrible case of the Chicken Pox two weeks surrounding Valentine's Day in my 11th grade year. My youth pastor brought a rose to my house but I wouldn't open the door to let him see me.

3. I've never been in a literal, physical fight with anyone.

4. I've only had one broken bone in my life. I broke my arm, falling out of my high-chair as a baby. The doctor put the cast on the lower half of my arm. Once getting settled back in at home, I pulled the cast off and began playing with it on the side of my crib - slamming it around to be more precise. The second cast covered my lower half of my arm, my elbow, and half way up the upper arm - just to be sure I wouldn't get it off again.

5. Only ten months lapsed between meeting my husband and our wedding day.

6. I have only one tattoo. I wanted it for many years before I got it. I only wanted the one. I've never regretted getting it but I've never wanted a second one.

That's all of the randomness that popped into my head at the moment.

Happy Mother's Day to everyone nurturing their young!

Six Word Memoir

2008-05-09T09:27:00.003-04:00

I've been tagged by Barry to participate in the Six Word Memoir meme:

1. Write the title to your own memoir using 6 words.
2. Post it on your blog.
3. Link to the person that tagged you.
4. Tag five more blogs.

Here's what I've come up with for the best way to describe my efforts:

Seeking Balance Between Faith and Reason

I'm supposed to tag five people. I don't think I know five more bloggers. Let's see...

Ruth
Jon
Val
Kari
Amy

Happy composing!

Mountain or Mole Hill?

2008-05-03T21:15:00.001-04:00

Here am I again; trying to put another layer of foundation on this project of rebuilding faith. The first layer being, "Is there a God?". I did make the firm proclamation of "probably". What? Not firm enough? Ok, so it's still drying. I never said I'd rebuild in order to have all the answers; not even for that first question. So, trowel in hand and hard-hat crowned, I'm back at ground zero working away.

I often wonder what makes the difference between those that feel encouraged in their circumstances as opposed to those that feel desolate. Why do some people feel that their prayers are answered and, just as many, others feel their prayers are ignored? Neither claims can ever be proven. So how can there be such a gap?

What I've come to realize is whatever the situation or circumstance -- it is what it is. My perspective of it is irrelevant to the fact of it. God may have done X, or maybe He didn't. That is beyond my control or knowledge. What is within my realm is how the answer to X affects my emotions. Sorting through that is the task for which I am responsible.

I may never truly know the facts but my perspective is what shapes my emotional reaction. When I cease to put my faith and stability in the feeling derived from my perspective of any given situation, and recognize it to be whatever it is, the pressure of needing to explain, prove, or disprove falls away.

To some, this may sound too much like a Buddhist approach. I take no offense if that is your stance. I have stated before, and I hold fast to it; many different groups have a piece of the same puzzle and I am willing to embrace what makes sense to me. Asking someone to embrace what doesn't make sense is asking something unethical.

The heart-cry of most on this walk of faith is, "God, change my heart". If that is too much to ask, my request is, "change my perspective".

These Moments Are Few

2008-04-09T09:00:00.004-04:00

In an employer / employee relationship, it is acceptable for the employer to have high expectations of the employee, as long as those expectations are clearly defined. A working relationship isn't more unfair than when lines are blurry yet the pressure for performance is miles high. This is my issue. I live under extreme pressure from my own expectations; standards that are not clearly defined. All that resonates is that some high mark is not being met.

Two questions plague me. One is, why am I not able to find a place of contentment? Eat, Pray, Love has pricked my senses a few times regarding this question. The writer discusses what Buddhists call the "monkey mind" - the thoughts that swing from limb to limb, stopping only to scratch themselves, spit and howel. She explains:

The problem with all this swinging through the vines of thoughts is that you are never where you are. You are always digging in the past or poking at the future, but rarely do you rest in this moment.

I have a rabid orangutan rummaging around unchecked that is causing quite a bit of manic flow in my head. I want him gone and I'm spending some consorted effort in locating, at the very least, a harness for him.

The second question is this: "what stops me from being who I am?" I was asked this a few weeks ago and was challenged to consider the question a while before responding. I tucked it away and have brought it out to raise an eyebrow at it a time or two, but with no revelation regarding an answer.

This question slammed back to the forefront as I read:

One of the Yogi's most insistent statement: "God dwells within you, as you." AS you. God dwells within you as you yourself, exactly the way you are. God isn't interested in watching you enact some performance of personality in order to comply with some crackpot notion you have about how a spiritual person looks or behaves. We all seem to get this idea that, in order to be sacred, we renounce our individuality. Swamiji used to say that every day renunciants find something new to renounce, but it is usually depression, not peace, that they attain. Constantly he was teaching that austerity and renununciation - just for their own sake - are not what you need. To know God, you need only to renounce one thing - your sense of division from God. Otherwise, just stay as you were made, within your natural character."

I have always been told that God loves me just the way I am; there is no need to clean up for him. However, the twist comes when the rules are lowered: "Yes, God loves you just the way you are. Now let's get to the matter of your behavior... "

As the first quotation, this last one is really nothing new. Ecclesiastes tells us all plainly that there is nothing new under the sun. Newness can be felt on the most ancient of topics by just a freshly formed explanation. This quote is that for me. What stops me from being who I am? Feelings of not measuring up no matter how hard I try. General anxiety that lets the monkey-mind destroy anything I'm trying to mentally nurture. Feelings of inadequacy that surely whatever it is I'm doing is the wrong approach to the wrong goal. But taking this step back to consider that God dwells in me, as me... well, I don't feel so alone in this chaotic shell.

No, I still do not have my statement of beliefs reformed. I'm losing interest on that task. I am more interested in not being a harbor to any more negative thoughts that steal moments from me.

The Big Weekend

2008-03-22T21:32:00.002-04:00

Maybe an image of a bit more religious theme would be appropriate?
Maybe not.

Easter, in years past, has not had that much enjoyment attached. When I was a child, nothing upset me more than having to be squashed into white tights and a frilly dress; both of which made me hot and itchy. Being a responsible adult, the time dedicated to put on the Easter Sunday Show was immense. The invitations to bring my children to egg hunts caused a bit of dissonance as well. I mean, the activity did originate from a pagan holiday, with the bunny and eggs representing fertility. How does that mix well with a theology steeped in the idea of a devil behind most every bush?!

Last year I didn't consider Easter at all. Being still very embittered about anything related to church-world, not to mention questioning if the scriptural accounts were even factual, hardly gave me reason to celebrate.

While I am not seeking a stained-glass-window style celebration of Easter Sunday, this spring has bloomed a feeling of thankfulness. I haven't the faith of even a mustard seed, yet there is somehow something clinging within me that bows to the knowledge of The Sacrifice. That which was accomplished on the first Easter is exactly what allows me the freedom to spend the entire weekend sitting in the grass with my children, and (if I choose) hunting for an egg or two.

May you all experience life with the strength to live in freedom.

Happy Easter!

Lazy

2008-03-11T10:33:00.003-04:00

I am being lazy these days; not searching for my own words but rather using those that have assimilated their thoughts better than I could do.

AND

Backhanded Encouragement

2008-03-09T23:16:00.003-04:00

Being one of two people in a conversation, yet being completely insignificant to the discussion, is quite an experience. One person talks and talks while the listener can only nod and briefly interrupt before the conversation takes yet another turn back into the talker's direction. It's an amazing thing to watch unfold if you can ignore the basic irritation of the rude and self-absorbed behavior.

I had an encounter such as this a few days ago. Not only was it longer and more one-sided that I would have preferred, it turned toward unsolicited advice in faith matters as it wound to a close. Apparently giving information that I was about to be changing courses in the area of employment somehow begged for religious input. What I was told was this, "If you've prayed about it; if you've really sought the Lord, it will all work out ... unless you're in sin or in rebellion of course."

Oh of course. That goes without saying! :rolls eyes: God is quick to slap you down when you dare venture off course, isn't He?! sheesh.

What began as an attempt of encouragement only wound up a slap of condemnation with an insinuation of if things go badly, the apparent reason will be because I am in sin, rebellion, or, at the very least, didn't pray about the decision enough.

Nice.
Just ... nice.

He said...

2008-03-07T09:32:00.004-05:00

edited message off
I still like the song but yes I'm well aware that my comments prior to the video were quite irrational and disrespectful. I'm sure the fires were stoked a bit for that one but I'll at least take it down from here

What of Worship?

2008-01-28T15:20:00.000-05:00

Most every doctrinal teaching that I have known has gone through intense scrutiny for the past two years. While extremely difficult and painful, this has been crucial for my development on an individual level as well as a person of faith. Much tearing and shredding has brought me to the bottom of all of the dead layers. Now I search to regather the pieces of truth that have survived as viable.

At this stage, I recognize that I am a recovering worship leader. No, let me re-phrase that. I am a musician who is recovering from a gauntlet of leading experiences. To pay credence to the term "Worship Leader" is to demean any other type of activity or life lived outside of music. Worship, bringing glory to God, is that man allows himself the freedom to do what he enjoys. No more, no less.

My experience within the organization mostly centered around music. In walking away from the Sunday Morning Show, I crumpled up all that I believed about the mechanics behind worship and tossed it. It was all a jumbled and useless mess at that point anyway. I just wanted to be done with it.

The initial release of that monkey from my back was complete relief. As the months rolled on, however, I began to miss my musician friends as well as the enjoyment of playing with the team. I had a few invitations to join in with my previous teammates, as they were disbursed into different churches. On one or two occasions I accepted. The struggle of making sense of it all was still too difficult and I, not wanting to be fake, stopped accepting. An addict mourns the feeling of satisfaction but recognizes that he can no longer afford the price of the emotional and personal destruction that is required for the fix. Only at that point can healing and recovery begin. It is with that fervor that I resisted going back into churches for the sake of music.

The problem sprung from a root that can be best described as a cart-before-the-horse scenario. In the early days of being in the praise band (for lack of a better term) musicians and the congregation were upwardly focused; looking only to God. Over time, the focus somehow became that the musicians had a secret pathway to God and we were needed to bring about some sort of feeling or experience -- to "usher in the Holy Spirit". The congregation heard comments to the effect that worship was a decision that had to be made in the individual heart; that it did not fall as the responsibility of the team. But the instructions that were given to the team were more in step with "do that again" and "make something happen". One service, in particular, contained so much pressure to bring about a requested atmosphere that two hours later I was still crying. I refuse to be driven to another nervous breakdown over a song service!

I have shunned any notion of mystic spirituality that has attached itself to music, and any form of worship, for quite a while. Frankly, I've refused to provide anything to someone who will drain the life out of it under their own demand for an experience. To be fair, I recognize that every participant in a song service does not fall into that category. Some are looking for the benefits that are available through the means of meditation and centering; even if they don't quite describe their search in those terms. Considering music as a tool which helps the listener focus on what he feels to be truth gives me the ability to, once again, see a song service's usefulness and validity.

So, what of my motives to play again? Do I see myself as a Levite called to go before the army of God and prepare the way for the Holy Spirit? Certainly not. I love music. It's something I'm good at and I enjoy. I would play in a bar just as happily as anywhere else. Music is music, truth is truth, and my life is worship regardless of where I am standing at the moment.

Soup Theology

2008-01-25T13:03:00.000-05:00

Recently I was given credit for being brave enough to quote an atheist in my effort make a point. I must admit there was a time in my life that I wouldn't have quoted anyone other than the most main-stream evangelical preachers or Scripture. Fear of having my theology tainted caused me to avoid any differing opinions. With all of what I thought I knew being stripped away, I find it quite interesting to peek into other people's concoctions for a small taste, and to hear from them how their mixture fairs for sustenance.

Consider a consistency of all truth related to eternity and the Kingdom being contained in one, gigantic pressure cooker; all of the perfect ingredients simmering, brewing, and mingling. Now consider something like a big bang causing that pot to explode; scattering bits and pieces, randomly mixed, to the four corners of the universe.

Man's need for spiritual answers drive him scrounging for something that will satisfy. He picks up many different things along the way. Some aren't the best choices nor do they mix well together. He hopes to be lucky enough to stumble upon one or two pieces of raw truth that will sustain him. He does his best to work out his own 'recipe' carefully; realizing that he could essentially be creating a powder keg of error. It's a fearful process but a necessary one, as his hunger pushes him to continue brewing.

I seem to be making my own soup these days; one that, hopefully, has bits of truth to sustain me on my journey as well a flavor that satisfies my individual taste. As I gather ingredients, I consider the recipes used by others in search of those hints of flavor from that first, perfect batch.

At the final banquet the original recipe will be served again. Until then, we all are working on our brew, hoping it's more truth than not. None of us should ever trick ourselves into thinking that what we've mixed together is the only comparable dish.

Elementary, My Dear

2008-01-24T14:26:00.000-05:00

"Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."
Hebrews 11:1

I was required to memorize the entire chapter of Hebrews 11 when I was elementary school. Let me say, it's quite long. Certainly I do not remember the chapter in its entirety but I have never forgotten that first verse. I doubt a lobotomy would be able to erase it at this point! However, having that ingrained into my head since childhood still did not provide the answer to question with which I have been struggling, "What is Faith?"

I had to look up the definition of substance. What caught my eye was, "5.the actual matter of a thing, as opposed to the appearance or shadow; reality."

Paraphrasing that one verse has given me a more clear understanding.
"Faith is the reality of hope."

Applying that to my season of doubts and struggles, I realize that did not, just arbitrarily, decided to throw faith out the window and tear everything to shreds. In reality, years of very consistent disappointment has caused me to lose hope. The natural consequence of losing hope is, evidently, losing faith. It's not an immediate side-effect. It is worse than that. Disappointment is a slow, gradual, eating away at your core, until it leaves behind only the question "why?!"

Any Intro to Psychology book will site a test done to determine stress levels from subjects who are subjected to small, electrical shock. Group A was told they would receive a shock at undisclosed, random intervals. Group B was told they would receive a shock, but this group was told when these shocks would be administered and the intended duration of each shock. Group B exhibited less levels of stress because they were prepared with information. Group A's stress levels were much higher. They did not have the knowledge necessary to prepare when the shocks would come, nor did they have in sight an end to the process. I can identify with Group A!

When will there be an end to blow after blow? No idea.
When will I find solid answers to all of my "why?"s? No idea.
But I am, in the meantime, working on my coping skills. Sometimes all I can do is grit my teeth and brace myself for the next day.

I find it interesting that seeing the potential for a piece or two to fall into place, I feel something very akin to faith brewing. The statement, "if __ happens, I think I can believe in God again" has seemed very juvenile and quite immature. To flip-flop back just when things appear to be better feels very fickle. For myself, I have shunned the feeling of faith for that very reason. Why would I, after all of my fit-throwing, tearing apart, pouting, and questioning, allow myself the grace to feel faith again?
Now I realize the answer is because of hope.

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick; but when the desire comes it is a tree of life."
Proverbs 13:12

In that respect, I have been unwell for quite a while.
I understand the feeling of hopelessness. I have seen firsthand what that will do to erode one's faith.

I realize that when someone loses their way from groping around in the dark the appropriate response is not "You just need to have faith." Our job is not to measure the level of faith in someone. Instead, the focus should merely be on helping them find hope again.

Prayer

2008-01-18T14:39:00.000-05:00

Prayer has long been a source of frustration and confusion for me. As with many of the issues of Christendom, the usual answers given regarding prayer have not satisfied my questions.

Question: Why do we pray?
Answer: In order to have a relationship with someone you need to communicate to each other.

Question: Ok. Except... I try to communicate with Him but I don't seem to be getting any answers back. It's a pretty one-sided conversation.
Answer: Oh but He answers us in ways we don't always hear.

Question: I see. Well, how do you reconcile all of the desperate prayers for protection and healing that go unanswered.
Answer: His ways are higher than our ways.
--Enter action scene: My head implodes.

Implosion occurs before I even start trying to comprehend the aspects of the many types of Christian prayer: Petition, Prevailing, Intercession, Warfare...

Allow me to plug in a video which will dramatically shorten my need to expound on my question. This should explain my thoughts pretty clearly. Let me add a disclaimer that while I do agree with many of the statements here, I don't 100% agree. This is just a good summation on how illogical some statements related to prayer can be.

Needless to say, I continue to struggle with the topic(s), take a break for a few weeks, then get back into the struggle. Prayer just happens to be the top of the stack for me lately as I continue to reconstruct a statement of beliefs and foundation.

Let me state that I realize that I cannot know it all. I'm in no way pretending that I even have the mental capacity to come close! Greater minds than mine have struggled with these questions and still haven't come away with emphatic answers. However, I cannot, in good conscience, try and affect anyone for Christ if I am in a place of understanding very very little about it. I cannot continue to perpetuate the cycle only to be the catalyst for other half-informed (at best) converts to finally come to the same place of "wait a dang minute.... ".

As I've mentioned before, I've been reading many different writings lately. I came across the following quotation that takes the need out of needing an explanation to why God answers some earthly requests and not others.

"Accepting that the material world runs itself and God is of the spirit --a spirit that dwells in and acts through living things -- the question of why God lets bad things happen to good people even when we expressly ask Him not to became moot.
Things of the world are by, for, and of the world. Those of us in the world, coupled with the laws of physics and meterology, make things happen. We build and destroy. We grant wishes and smash dreams. God may watch, may even be interested for all we know, but the corporeal stuff of life - money, cancer, food, shelter, skiing -- doesn't seem to be His bailiwick. Near as I can tell, He pretty much leaves this stuff to us.
He is the realm of the spirit.
Now I pray for things OF the spirit: compassion, strength, guidance. I pray for the spirit to sustain me when the world sucks and to grace me with humility and generosity when I hit a winning streak."
(Seeking Enlightenment...hat by hat)

That statement very well summarizes what I've come to believe. I couldn't imagine it worded any better, so I won't even attempt.

Original Sin

2007-11-06T21:02:00.000-05:00

Dear Prospective Disciple:

Thank you for your interest in the way of Christ. Before we can proceed with your application there are a few items of doctrine to be brought to your attention. At this time we will address the technicality of Original Sin.

Taking Genesis as a literal story, you must be informed that the original couple, Adam and Eve, decided to disobey God. God, being a good god, forgave Adam and Eve. But, also being a just God, because of their actions, every being born since that time has been born with the mark of sin.

Your approval process depends on this concept being accepted beyond the confusion of how a loving, forgiving God, would forgive Adam and Eve, yet not forgive you until you come to know and believe in Him. I am confident that you will find this a reasonable concept and I look forward to providing future answers.

And all God's people said.....
Amen

Imagine hearing the teaching of Original Sin for the first time. Would it sound reasonable to you? Would you hear it and shrink back from a God that would put a system in motion that dooms all of mankind because of the mistake of the original couple? Or would you accept it as reasonable and true?

I recently read a statement regarding original sin. The discussion came between a mom and her daughter. The daughter had drawn pictures telling the story of creation. Two pages into the story, there was a page completely colored in black. This page represented the entrance of sin. After a brief discussion, the daughter was instructed to tear that page out; not to erase that part of the story but to remove the dark cloud that followed throughout. It was said that if God needed to forgive Adam, He could have handled that long ago.

I have long wondered just how literal Genesis was intended to be accepted. N.T. Wright explains that being a Biblical literalist does not mean that every written story is to be taken literally. A Biblical literalist is one who understands to take the allegories as allegories, the parables as parables, the apocalyptic writings just as such, as well as the literal stories as fact. The challenge is to learn and know which is the appropriate application to the writing. A recent set of Bible commentaries compile opinions of the early church fathers. Interestingly enough, many of them accepted Genesis on the grounds of allegorical writing.

Considering the off chance that Genesis isn't meant to be taken completely literally, I've been wondering about the doctrine of Original Sin. Could it be that Original Sin is not exactly what it's been made out to be? Is it possible that God did forgive Adam and Eve and that was that? Is it at all within grasp that we are not born into this world automatically doomed for eternal, conscience torment thanks to the original couple?

Original sin is best summarized as Rebellion; deciding that one knows best for one's own life. It is safe to say that we each have a point in time that we make that decision. Rather than at birth, maybe at this choosing is the point at which original sin enters. Maybe each of us are born with a clean slate but it is our own humanity and idiocy that drives us to that one crucial choice and each of us fail miserably.

Contemplating sin from this new angle still leaves us with the same need as the original teaching implies: our need for a savior. Not from a standpoint of being doomed from the start but rather a moment that we each choose ourselves as controller. We each had a chance at perfection. We each failed; all but Jesus. We have no one to blame but ourselves and no one to rescue us but Christ.

Be Ye Kind

2007-10-19T10:58:00.000-04:00

Scripture tells us to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. At the risk of sounding completely selfish and introspective, I think we skip over the second half of that instruction and focus only on our neighbor. Looking at the entire instruction, we see that we are to love ourselves simultaneously and likewise. A balance is necessary or we are more at risk of burn out, improper motives or embitterment.

Anne Lamott writes about an argument between herself and friends. The argument isn't what struck me. What I noticed was the advice from her therapist:
"She had me get myself a cup of tea and wrap myself in a shawl.
My mental fever broke."

I love that. Wrapping up in a blanket is quite condoned when physical illness hits but doing so for the purpose of calming the mind seemed such a unique approach.

Zen teaches that cutting wood and carrying water is necessary for calming the mind. While I agree that hard work does have its benefits, retreating back and being kind to oneself does as well. Regardless of the method chosen, the importance of centering and calming away from the storm of the noise and chaos we are swirled within should receive proper validation.

What are your methods for being kind to yourself? How do you ease wounds inflicted from chaos?
Do you treat your emotional strains with grace and kindness or do you continually try to push through?

End of Three

2007-10-19T10:50:00.001-04:00

My aunt-in-law passed away earlier this week after spending over a week in a hospice house. It was well said that when she died she would be embarking on the greatest journey imaginable. Any question she had ever had would be answered in an instant: Is there a heaven? What does it all mean? Is there even God at all?

She now has every answer to every question. For that, for her, I am thankful.

Humanity and Nature

2007-10-10T09:39:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time, I had two dogs: Jasmine and Cody. Jasmine had the ability to rip your arm off at will, but normally behaved very cautiously. Cody had self destructive tendencies including chasing vehicles. One fine day, both dogs were playing at the road. Jasmine walked back home. Cody did not.

Jasmine watched as the grave was dug for Cody. Her head dipped down and her ears were as flat against her head as possible. She laid there for a while, just watching and sniffing the ground.

Even animals know death. They don't have deep theological doctrines wrapped around the afterlife. They don't understand loss with the expectation of missing the fallen. By instinct, they recognize that a life-force has faded away.

Recently, my father-in-law buried his mother, Lucile. Her physical deterioration had been coming for the past 7 years as she has suffered from strokes. Her husband, Donald, was buried just three weeks prior after a very late diagnosis of lung cancer. To add to the family's stress, in the midst of preparing for the funeral, news came that my mother-in-law's sister, after battling cancer this past year, only has 10% heart function left (thanks to damage by the chemo treatments). She most likely won't leave the hospital this time. Once she was told of her prognosis, she spent the morning planning her own funeral.

Going through all of this with the family is quite surreal. I had not spent much time around my grandparents-in-law the past several years Consequently, I had not grown close to them. However, there is an undeniable emptiness that surrounds someone's passing; regardless the level of emotional attachment to the deceased.

Watching the funeral from, somewhat of, an outsider's perspective, my thoughts went back to Jasmine and her giving pause at Cody's demise. Instinctually, all of life steps back for a moment when death enters and takes away. No amount of small-talk and detachment can protect from the humanity of seeing a casket ushered into a room. We stop, lower our heads, and experience the void.

We performedthis song at the most recent funeral. I don't know what my doctrinal beliefs are related to heaven anymore. Yet I do have hope that Lucille has been reunited with Donald and they both are consumed into the indescribable glory that those lyrics contemplate.

My aunt-in-law is on the verge of her heart failing. I wish for her peace, acceptance and no regrets.

Lastly, a wish for you, my friends, that you experience a life well lived.

Recovery

2007-08-22T00:36:00.000-04:00

The idea of admitting to real life issues in a group of Christians is a very scary thing to consider. There seems to be such a waterfall of consequences that can come from one admission. Will I be limited in what I am allowed to do for ministry if I admit to my bad attitude? Will my spouse be held at arms length if I divulge a disagreement that still lingers? Will everything I've said be taken into side conversations under the guise of prayer requests?

A dear friend of mine tells me of A.A. meetings and the welcoming atmosphere that allows for the recovering to admit to failures as well as the motives behind the failures. Has something caused them to relapse? What are they trying to cover over with self medicating and destructive habits? No stone is left unturned as they help each other along the path. Another aspect that strikes me that they speak in terms of being an alcoholic even if they have been 'dry' for years. They are not recovered, but are in a process of recovery. They know that the propensity for over-indulgence is always just under the surface.

The sinners turned 'saved' have a finality pronounced over them. They are told they are no longer sinners as now they are saved. But what about the many times each day that sin still abounds? Maybe more prayer should go up. Maybe more time in the Word should be spent. Suggestion after suggestion comes, implying that certainly something isn't being performed correctly. Otherwise these many trip-ups would not be happening.

But what of the recovery for those in A.A.? These souls are willing to expose weaknesses and failures because they recognize that recovery is a constant process; something that requires complete vulnerability. It isn't just one or two participants that are in recovery. Every member recognizes that they are at some point of the process. This honesty and comradery would have it seem appalling to point fingers, snub, or juicily discuss any one else's failures or issues. It really is a safe place.

For positive growth to occur, an environment must be conducive to allow it to happen. Safety, warmth, and room to move must be included in the set-up. This safety is not often found in the realm of Christianity as it is today. The war against sin has been defined and lines drawn: failures to the left, successes to the right. The declaration is made: One is either saved or one is not saved; there is no process - it is immediate or else not authentic. That being said, in the area of forgiveness there seems to be the "Haves" and the "Have Nots". Those that are sinless can very confidently hold the vulnerability of those that sin in their tightening grip. Sure, the fallen are told that there is no condemnation. In reality, however, walls and conditions are immediately erected. Whether judgement is spoken or unspoken is irrelevant; it shows up.

Consider if the attitude of an A.A. meeting could be reproduced within church group. How much more effective would discipleship meetings be if comprised of those that recognize that following in the way of Christ is a process? How much more would we extend grace once we admit that each one has a propensity for evil that is just a split-second reaction away? We would serve each other so much better if we would just face the fact that we are all sinners on a road to recovery.

A Fallen Grace

2007-08-21T15:17:00.000-04:00

Organized religion is unraveling for many. Congregants are walking away with no intention of returning to what is broken and lacking in current doctrines. We are left with illogical answers and minds full of doubt. The place occupied by the disappointed and disenfranchised is larger than what I had imagined; containing old friends and new. We are a mass moving toward something very new and indigenous, scary and exciting, shaky with hopes of landing somewhere solid.

In the meantime, there is a grief expressed over beliefs lost within the fallen structure.

Taking a break ...

2007-08-10T21:39:00.000-04:00

...on the faith issue. I've determined that I'm about as clueless as I ever have been and, at the moment, see no real hope on coming to any real conclusions on what my choice of belief is. With all the -isms that are out there, there's no way to really know what's the absolute bare truth which is why I use the phrase "choice of beliefs". Just pick something, anything - I don't even care what - and stick with it, could we?!

Am I struggling?
No... I think I'm giving up - at least for now.
At the moment my snow-globe of faith has hit the hard-wood floor. There's glass and water everywhere. No, you can't help me clean it up. Don't come in here; you'll most likely cut your own foot just by trying to get close to the mess.
I'll clean it up ...
eventually.

Christian Justice

2007-07-03T15:00:00.000-04:00

When a crime is committed against someone that falls within the "helpless" category, the outcry is most certainly for justice. The problem arises when that call exceeds that of pure justice but goes beyond into the desire for revenge.

An acquaintance from previous church involvement is now under investigation for a crime against the young. While that is shocking enough, I've also heard it said about this accused that it would serve no purpose if the trial brought about a guilty verdict and incarceration. The person that feels this would be an pointless action is also knee-deep in keeping the church-machine rolling along so I automatically give no credence to that opinion.

But it did cause me to wonder why, to some, the idea of Christian Justice is considered an oxymoron. Aren't we all to recognize that none of us is without spot or blemish? Aren't we all capable of a few unspeakable horrors? Should I, because I am a professing Christian, not be held to the laws of the state if I betray my citizenship by acting out on my debase nature?

Calling for justice is not out of line with following the thought of Christianity and Grace. God's grace will be there, as He wills, to anyone, anytime, anywhere. When we allow our emotions to push up the call for anything beyond pure justice, we have crossed the line. But avoiding the hard fact of someone we know might have to face legal consequences for illegal behavior is a complete misunderstanding of the aspect of Grace. Grace is not in opposition to justice.

Looking back on my own life and all the idiotic mistakes that I've made, I recognize that God's grace is what gives me ample opportunity to deal with my issues before the mole hill has to grow into a mountain. When I protest and ignore the many quiet opportunities to correct things, the hill grows higher and higher until, by the time I'm forced to come to terms, it's now on the top of mountain for all of the world to see. Regardless of the level of exposure and dealing with my sin, God's grace is that which brings it about. His promise to never leave me will endure, even if I go into recovery kicking and screaming.

To quote C. S. Lewis: "Be ye perfect...Some people tend to think this means 'Unless you are perfect, I will not help you'... But I do not think He meant that. I think He meant, 'The only help I will give is help to become perfect. You may want something less; but I will give you nothing less'.(Mere Christianity)
This person being investigated most surely wants to be forgiven and off the hook. But it may not be as simple a transaction as that. If it requires legal action to bring about a heart-change, that must be accepted. If that opportunity isn't allowed to bring about growth, eventually another action will bring yet another crossroads to require inspection.

I fully believe that at any point, even now for this one individual that has been exposed publicly, that grace and healing will be available. Many of the families affected by this misdeed will have a hard time seeing that now, but God is much more faithful to His own promises than what we sometimes want Him to be. I do not, however, believe that if I rob a bank's security vault and then, when exposed, confess and repent that I should escape justice from the laws that were in place to protect all of those trusting families' jewels.

Consequences must be faced and God is the sole determiner of the form that grace will take. That is Christian Justice.

A Journey Continued

2007-05-05T14:08:00.000-04:00

It's been a year since we walked away from our post in organized religion. I say a year, not to rehash events, but for odometrical reasons. A year gives room for quite a bit of travel. I've been from village of discouragement, down anger road and landed right in the canyon of dispair. Next was a short tour through comtemplation and reflection; took a wrong turn from there and landed back in resentment for quite a long stay. During that long stint, if I ever budged at all, it was only to make another visit back to discouragement. Lately, though, I find myself just south of hopeful. Not quite plumb center of it, but at least on the outskirts.

While this last year's journey has brought a lot of confusion on which way to turn, it has also been the catalyst for more understanding. Independent (or stubborn) people don't quite enjoy asking directions. Many writers were recommended for their outlook on different aspects but my initial reaction was "no thanks... I'm ok". Alas, after waking up in the ditch too many times, I was forced to succumb. At this point, I've read more books in this past year than I have in my entire educational career. Although that doesn't speak much for my compliace with school requirements, it does speak for how the thoughts and experiences of others who have traveled this path have proven to be extremely worthwhile.

I've also met up with other travelers that have had a similar experience of finding themselves outside of 'normal' religious thoughts. We've enjoyed many conversations, experienced many questions in common and found a safe place to talk out ideas. I guess there's comfort in numbers, even when exploring the territory of faith.

Living life as it comes, trying to model my behavior in ways of mercy and grace, and helping others as we all scooch along this path is where I find my place of relevance of faith; simple as that. That is the route that I will continue following. I won't know exactly where it will take me, but Hopeful is a good place from which to start.

From the Other Side

2007-04-02T14:31:00.000-04:00

It amazes me how prevelant is the subject of church and how many conversations that have revolved around that topic. Just saying "church" opens up so many different avenues to inspect; some positive, many negative.

The reasons people give for not being active in church have mostly been the same. Many people report that they're not attending anywhere because they don't trust the leadership or congregants to be truthful or genuine, they don't see the point in any of it, and/or the presentation leaves one lacking in the ability to match reason with Faith. Let's also not leave out another big turn-off: judgementalism.
Earlier in life, when I would hear those reasons given I would state back the appropriate pat answers: "The church is full of imperfect people so of course there will be problems and errors but we're striving to be like Him, etc. etc." Naturally, all the while, thinking to myself, "wow...they're so immature" or even " if their faith was real, they'd be in church somewhere". It's so easy to feel competent when there has not been too many major blows to your thought processes.

If you've read this far in the blog, you know well that my efforts in following Christ no longer involve any activity in the Sunday morning production. Because of that change in behavior, I find myself wearing that proverbial 'other shoe'. When I cross paths with friends from times past, most inevitably they ask me where me and my family are attending church. When my answer is "nowhere", their inner reaction is shown all over their face. I know that their concern is that I've fallen into atheism. I don't fault them for that; I used to make the same assumptions.
I try to offer small bits of explanation but realizing how those same reasons previously given to me would only cause me to believe less that the person's faith was really intact, I don't exert a large amount of energy. They'll be ok and so will I, even if they think differently.

It does cause me to reflect back to my misunderstanding of people that gave me those same answers and shake my head at my own assumptions. To those friends, I publically apologize. I realize now that it's not a lack of maturity that causes people to question, but rather a long road of hard-knocks and reality. They have a maturity and faith deeper than I; a faith that gives them the courage to ask the hard questions and the steadfastness not to leap into more drudgery but, until a reasonable answer or understanding is obtained, to just breathe.

Home Again?

2007-03-04T15:13:00.000-05:00

I’ve heard it said you can never go home again. For purposes of this account, you should never go home again. Recently I went back into the church that, a year ago, I called home. The purpose for the visit is of no importance compared to the outcome.

For ten months I have struggled with many “what ifs” pertaining to my experience there. Many scenarios replay again and again in hopes to determine if a different outcome could have been realized “if only I…”. The answer differs of course depending on specifics. If one is honest there is always personal responsibility to be faced.

You must understand; this was more than a place to be on Sunday mornings. My family invested many hours, heart and soul, into leading a ministry that we thought were ‘called’ to lead. We listened to teaching involving Relationship and Restoration; the idea of family and friendship challenged to deeper levels. The lessoned we learned, however, is that while lofty and inspiring, those same teachings remain wildly ineffective when delivered with disingenuous behavior.

Because of my self inflicted exile I have wondered many times if my moral growth has ceased or at least come to a crawl. One benefit of corporate gatherings and small meetings is to provide a measuring rod and hopefully, by that, encourage all to keep reaching forward. Self examination is difficult thanks to the added complexity that within our own humanity lives denial and delusion. My own insecurities often leave me in concern that surely there must be something wrong with me for not continuing down the path of doctrinal driven gatherings.

From my brief encounters at this reunion in mention, I have walked away with much more assuredness in my current state. Those from whom I had previously longed for approval and acceptance, by their reserve and rejection, have set me free. I no longer wonder what is wrong with me. I realize that in my search out and away from doctrinal opinions I have grown in areas of missional thinking, acceptance of difference and hope for a wider spiritual terrain. It takes me to a twist on the break-up line, “…it’s not me, it’s you.” At this stage I can proclaim that with even more confidence.

The church at large is in such a dysfunctional state, that I imagine a need for a spiritual version of Sean McGuire (Robin Williams) to break through to all of us Will Huntings (Matt Damon) by hammering over and over again: “It’s not your fault…it’s not your fault”. (If that makes no sense, make a movie night with Good Will Hunting.)

I’ll end with one thought for consideration. When a visit home makes you wonder if you’re invisible, it forces the question: Was it ever indeed home?

All things true and right?

2007-02-10T21:00:00.000-05:00

Pastors build cathedrals that look so warm and inviting. Chandeliers hang in the foyers, royal colors hang from the windows and bathe the floors, and crown molding dotes the top of every 12 foot wall. The vision should bring a feeling of invitation to mind. However, when I see all of that, I wonder where the "Grand Opening Sale" sign will hang. I wonder how the money spent on such gallant decorating really furthers the Kingdom in any way. I'm not to judge a book by its cover am I? Ok, let's consider the product that emergers from such Sunday morning marketing.

I don't know that I will ever understand how people can spend hour upon hour, week upon week, year upon year listening to sermons, reading books on theological topics, engaging in discussions on how to better serve and worship and still not be transformed into any better of a human being than what they were when the first walked through the stained-glass doors.

I'm very close to jumping off the ledge of decision that none of it is real because I haven't seen much long-lasting difference in many participants' lives. Being "Christlike" seems to be the forever unobtainable dangling carrot that none of us can ever reach. God looks on the inside, not One who judges the outside, right? In all honesty, how different are any of us, deep down in the darkest corner of our souls, than when we first began? If we are truly being transformed, I would imagine that dark corner wouldn't dictate our every movement, action and reaction.

Without question, this week has not been a great one. In the midst of dealing with regular life stresses, I am not in the best places with one of my closest relationships. Fingers point and tempers rise. We're supposed to be showing Christlike behavior, are we not? Do we? Not exactly.

My head is not sane at the moment so my muscles have decided to take over and work from memory to give my brain tissue a break. But in times of reflection, when my matter does reach up for air, the only thoughts that come to a summation are: "If this stuff is real, why does nothing seem to change?"

Show me a person in an argument that maintains kindness. Show me a person in the midst of heartbreak that maintains hope. Show me a person in the midst of distress that maintains patience. At that point, you will show me someone that reflects this pursuit of Christlikeness as being obtainable. Until then, I don't think I'm buying.

Ledges and Lassos

2007-02-02T22:02:00.000-05:00

In my head, I am often on the edge; anxiety, fear, depression swells below me into what would appear as a mental Grand Canyon. It's on the cliff of that depth that I find my toes peeking over. One shift of my center would surely send me plunging to the bottom. Alternatively, one tiney tip back could be the move that results with me back to safe, solid ground.

Often, the mental dust will settle and my thoughts will shuffle back along to safer paths; drama averted. But there are times that the sandstorm completely clouds my mind's eye and the ground beneath begins a landslide.

Whatever subject or event that comes along and drags me to that ledge isn't the point. The redemptive point is that in those moments, a lasso inevitably shows up. My lasso arrives in different disguises and in its own time, even if that arrival is, what seems to be, at the last moment just before the earth caves in beneath me. It always comes.

Sanity can over-take me, disrupting my teetering, with surpringly simple things: raw and honest lyrics within a song, a flash-back of a place or time, or maybe even remembering that God is God even when all hope has been shattered. Most often, however, my lasso wraps around me by channeling through an unsuspecting friend.

I am not one to call out for help when I hear that gravel slipping. Regardless of my pride, the phone will ring, an email will be received or a quick "drop by" will happen; all with the same key quality - a rescue from my state.

Some people describe their comfort in the manner of guardian angels looking out for them. Perhaps their perspective leans towards an angel archetype because that rescueing entity is the antithesis of the evil participants prompting their war. For them, the suspicion of angels provides them with relief that the Cavalry is coming. Each individual's perception of their struggle will, of course, be unique and what brings them relief will be equally unique.

My battle doesn't look like a front-line challenge, it doesn't roar like raging seas, it simply, but continually, backs my scraping heels through the grit and gravel to that very sharp ledge; a place where only a lasso can redeem the almost fallen.

As the World Bores

2007-01-04T13:20:00.000-05:00

"But don't we humans always become dissatisfied with anything after a while?"

I've been thinking about this question. I think the answer is a multi-layered "yes". Yes, we have become an adrenaline junkie society. What was interesting yesterday has to step it up day after day to hold our attention. Our landfills speak volumnes of our inability to stay satisfied. But there's another level to the 'yes' answer to the question.

Admittedly, I need to learn to live in more of a state of contentment. But the meaning of contentment has obtained the same connotation as complacency. I have to remind myself that there is a distinct difference in actuality. Complacency finds a nice soft cushion and sits back with no expectation of improvement nor decline; status quo at the core. Contentment is realized in a mind completely thankful for what is, all the while looking hopeful at what more could be.

I say this like I am one to happily free-fall into change. Quite the contrary, my first response is, "why can't we leave well enough alone?!" I approach change with the same apprehension of climbing up the hill of a ridiculously high roller coaster; dreading the shift but realizing I've passed the point of return. But once the ride is over comes the puffed up, "well, that wasn't so bad!" Most often, it's worth it in the end.

It seems that generations are defined not by what comes easy to them but rather what challenges they face and conquer. Between political unrest, social shifting, ecological needs and shifts in relating to one another, this time in history has plenty of opportunity to be defined.

So here I sit with heavy sighs and drumming fingers wondering what is next for this post-modern ride I'm on.

Where is this place?

2007-01-02T13:00:00.000-05:00

I hear that we are in a post-modern time. For the longest time I had no idea what that meant, much less thought it to be nothing more than a catchy phrase someone made up that basically meant, "I don't know". Each phase in history thought of itself as 'modern' time. It's not like the members of The Middle Ages referred to their generation with that title. They were as modern as modern could be. Now here we are in this modern age but yet we're calling ourselves post-modern. What I understand it to be is revealed in knowing the difference between change and transition.

We are constantly undergoing change, but transition is a different marker. McLaren used the example of making an omlet when speaking of shifts in history. I will try to sum it up for my own review.

A fork is used to mix the eggs and milk and whatever other goodies added to an omlet. That same fork works for a bit during the mixture's first moments in the pan. However, there comes a point in the cooking process that the eggs are transforming into the omlet - an evalutionary promotion, if you will. If the cook continues to try and create the omlet with that same fork, the omlet will be destroyed. There comes a time in the process that an entirely new utensil is necessary to bring about what was intended. By changing from using a fork to a spatula the cook is able to complete the process with the end result being what was desired all along. Was the cook wrong for starting out with a fork? Not at all. It worked for the stage of the process that was at hand. But transition has forced a change in tools.

The method of developing as followers of Christ is in transition. What worked in the past has become increasingly frustrating and damaging. The tools that we use now must be changed to continue to grow in our understanding of God.

This is one piece of where I am in this struggle to regain my path. What will Fellowship look like to begin to be effective again? What is it that I'm feeling on the tip of my tongue but just can't get out?

My latest desire is to become more Missional. For the sake of time and interest, if you'd like to read what a Missional church (and by church I don't mean "building") is and is not, visit here: http://www.friendofmissional.org/
The list of descriptions begin about mid-way down the page.

So how does that shift happen? What will it look like? How do I even start in a new direction? What direction is it?! I can describe what I don't want, but on the subject of the ideal ... I'm still searching.

It all started....

2007-01-01T15:35:00.000-05:00

Somewhere along the path of my Christian journey I've gotten lost. At one point in time, I was active in my church with relative confidence and satisfaction. For the life of me, though, I can't exactly remember when that was. 2006 was an out of control, hydroplaning experience; full of fast changes and brain spinning twists and turns. The last thing that I remember was we were in the full throws of 'ministry', dragging our children to nursery while we 'served' in the church two to three times a week, all the while growing more and more intensely disatisfied and frustrated.
By spring we had left our church and all hopes of ever being in ministry. Considering we had fashioned our lives to be available to that prospect for the previous 14 years, let me just say that was no small adjustment.

Fast forward to present time and you find me with no idea on what the correct appearance of the formation of following Christ should be. All of the isms that I've been exposed to recently make my head hurt: Calvanism, Dispensationalism, Post-Modernism, Fundamentalism. Next add the many forms that church can happen: lectionary style, interractive style, even internet style! Last throw in a few raging debates: homosexuality - sin or not?, eternity - universalism or exclusivism or somewhere in between?, Scriptures - authentic or contrived, God - distant creator or personal friend?... Enter now The Headache!

So, my approach was what you would expect any normal, rational person to do: throw it all out and stop thinking about it! Well, at least try to stop thinking about it.

I live with a scolar so, by that measure, I know that I am not one. The more I read the more I get confused on what exactly is provable truth. The problem is, there is no provable truth. Faith mixes in at some point. And at the point of faith, I'll take a break....