I hope to go back some day. There is no bluer sky in the world.
Even if I do not make it back, the people and their ways stay forever in my heart.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Something Different
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
How Fortunate
I have been reading a book about marriage by Steve and Cokie Roberts, called "From This Day Forward." Although the book was published in 2000 and I bought it quite a few years ago, I am just now getting around to reading it. Steve and Cokie chronicle much about their own marriage and family life, but they also write about many other couples and what part marriage played in their lives.
As I was reading this morning it suddenly dawned on me: I have lived to see my children's children. Of course I have been crazy about each and every one of my grandchildren. But the reality of the blessing it has been -- and is -- never sunk in until this moment. Perhaps it is because I am now visiting the tenth of those grandchildren. Or maybe I'm just slow in getting to some of the truth in life.
My paternal grandmother did not get to see any of her grandchildren. In fact, she did not even live to see her last child, my father, out of infancy. She died about a month after he was born. And though my dad lived long enough to see his grandchildren being born, he did not get to enjoy the pleasure of watching them grow.
One if the greatest pleasures in life is watching those little creatures develop into amazing human beings. I adore looking at the pictures of them progressing through the various stages and appreciating what a unique person each one is. There are no two alike, even in the same family. We have funny ones, serious ones, athletic ones, and still so much more to come, because we don't know much about the baby's personality. But we have been assured she will be extremely intelligent and spunky.
I have loved watching my children grow into the fine young men they have become, and of course, I am so proud of them. But there is something so different about watching their children grow up. I used to say it is because when your own children are growing up, there is no time to enjoy it. You are much too busy being a parent. Knowing that it goes by so quickly though makes a grandparent appreciate and savor each little moment. For it is in those little moments that big memories are created.
So for those who have heard the Irish blessing -- or read the verse in Psalm128:6 -- to wish someone the grace of seeing their children's children is to bestow the best fortune ever, long life with abundant family.
Yes, I have been fortunate indeed.
As I was reading this morning it suddenly dawned on me: I have lived to see my children's children. Of course I have been crazy about each and every one of my grandchildren. But the reality of the blessing it has been -- and is -- never sunk in until this moment. Perhaps it is because I am now visiting the tenth of those grandchildren. Or maybe I'm just slow in getting to some of the truth in life.
My paternal grandmother did not get to see any of her grandchildren. In fact, she did not even live to see her last child, my father, out of infancy. She died about a month after he was born. And though my dad lived long enough to see his grandchildren being born, he did not get to enjoy the pleasure of watching them grow.
One if the greatest pleasures in life is watching those little creatures develop into amazing human beings. I adore looking at the pictures of them progressing through the various stages and appreciating what a unique person each one is. There are no two alike, even in the same family. We have funny ones, serious ones, athletic ones, and still so much more to come, because we don't know much about the baby's personality. But we have been assured she will be extremely intelligent and spunky.
I have loved watching my children grow into the fine young men they have become, and of course, I am so proud of them. But there is something so different about watching their children grow up. I used to say it is because when your own children are growing up, there is no time to enjoy it. You are much too busy being a parent. Knowing that it goes by so quickly though makes a grandparent appreciate and savor each little moment. For it is in those little moments that big memories are created.
So for those who have heard the Irish blessing -- or read the verse in Psalm128:6 -- to wish someone the grace of seeing their children's children is to bestow the best fortune ever, long life with abundant family.
Yes, I have been fortunate indeed.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Sit Down and Shut Up?
(Originally written June 29, 2015)
I read online a remark that finally put me over the edge. In reaction to nine people gunned down at a prayer meeting and Bible study, many have called for removal of the Confederate battle flag. Without getting into all the First Amendment issues, I want to be clear: I believe the time has long since passed for that symbol to removed from official government locations. Fly it in your front yard or hang it on your pick-up truck, but don't try to make it an official symbol of American freedom, because it's not.
For those who want to get hyper-technical and argue this banner was never the official flag of the Confederate States of America, but only a flag carried into battle by some troops, my response is "horse-hockey." Anyone who has paid attention for the last 150 years knows the primary symbol of the old south is that emblem. Otherwise, if it were only some one-off standard from a single regiment, it would not have the impact it does.
For those who say it is only a symbol of southern pride and heritage, my guess is you do not have dark skin or ancestors carried over to this country on a slave ship. Your family was never sold or held in chains unjustly or split apart by a human master who decreed it. That flag may be a symbol of southern pride to you, but try walking in someone else's shoes for only a couple of minutes. For people who are the heirs of that legacy of slavery, the flag represents pain, humiliation, and shame.
There can be no pride in slavery because there is no dignity accorded to a human being trapped in that horrid state. Why on earth would you want to deliberately inflict more pain on people with that collective memory?Why insist they be subjected to it by their government?
For those who want to argue about the American Civil War, its purpose, and what percentage of people owned slaves before and during that war, my response is to check your facts. My great-great-grandfather fought and was wounded in the war on the Confederate side. I visited his grave last October and saw the Confederate flag ensconced on the grave marker. I have no quarrel with that, because that is history. And even though my family may not have owned slaves (but I cannot be certain), according to official census records from 1860, 28% of the families in Texas did own slaves. (In Mississippi it was 49%. ) Until recently I sincerely believed that my family never owned any slaves because they were so darned poor. My research into our genealogy has caused me to reconsider that life-long belief, because it is a serious possibility. There are legal records in Alabama indicating bequests that include slaves in wills, so if I am looking at the right person -- yet to be confirmed because the name is not uncommon, but good possibility -- then the evidence leans in the direction of slave ownership.
The Sons of Confederate Veterans and other apologists want to insist the American Civil War was not about slavery. Technically, they are correct -- at least insofar as why the war got started. The reason the war began was the "united" portion of United States was ripped asunder. Abraham Lincoln was very clear that his motivation was to save the Union.
However, the specter of slavery was very much in the picture from the beginning. The Missouri Compromise of 1820 that created the Mason-Dixon line, established the boundaries beyond which slavery could not extend. The Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854 completely stripped the carefully worked-out provisions from 1820, essentially repealing the compromise. It opened Kansas and Nebraska to slavery and provided that future territories would vote (that is, free, white male property owners could vote) whether slavery should be permitted in newly-opened territories.
So for those who want to argue that "War of Northern Aggression" was about states' rights, be careful. That position is true only if one understands the "states' right" at issue was slavery. Slavery was the economic backbone of the old south. The greatest concentration of wealth in the mid-19th century was in the hands of southern plantation owners. The largest portion of that wealth was the commercial value (at that time) of the slaves, not the land or what we would think of as capital equipment (e.g. horses, mules, plows). If the plantation owners were forced to pay wages to produces their goods, the system would have been so much less profitable, it likely would have collapsed.
Moreover, consider this quote from the "Declaration of Causes which Impel the State of Texas to Secede from the Federal Union": "We hold as undeniable truths that the governments of the various States, and of the confederacy itself, were established exclusively by the white race, for themselves and their posterity; that the African race had no agency in their establishment; that they were rightfully held and regarded as an inferior and dependent race, and in that condition only could their existence in this country be rendered beneficial or tolerable." Reading the entire document compels but one conclusion: Texas seceded from the United States in 1861 because of slavery.
For those who would gloss over the impact of the American Civil War, consider this. Approximately 620,000 soldiers died in that war (a recent study put the number of deaths as high as 850,000). That is almost half (49%) of all American soldiers killed in all of the wars ever fought by the United States, including World Wars I and II, Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf War -- and the American Revolution -- around 644,000. Over 3 million soldiers fought on both sides in the American Civil War, many of whom were brothers that fought opposite each other. There is nothing romantic or nostalgic about this war. Over 1 million Americans either died or were wounded in this tragedy.
If we are to remember this episode in our history -- and we should -- let it be for the right reasons. I recognize that people fought to preserve their way of life and because they felt a sense of duty. But let's not lose sight of the bitter truths about this war. Ultimately, it was about slavery and that way of life is gone and should stay gone.
So for the people who claim anyone in favor of removing Confederate battle flags from official state images should "sit down and shut up," I say, "Hell, no." We can have a civil discourse whether streets named for those old leaders should be changed; civil discourse is part of our American way of doing things.
Or at least it should be. Removal of archaic, racist memorabilia? From your home, maybe not. From the state house, you bet.
I read online a remark that finally put me over the edge. In reaction to nine people gunned down at a prayer meeting and Bible study, many have called for removal of the Confederate battle flag. Without getting into all the First Amendment issues, I want to be clear: I believe the time has long since passed for that symbol to removed from official government locations. Fly it in your front yard or hang it on your pick-up truck, but don't try to make it an official symbol of American freedom, because it's not.
For those who want to get hyper-technical and argue this banner was never the official flag of the Confederate States of America, but only a flag carried into battle by some troops, my response is "horse-hockey." Anyone who has paid attention for the last 150 years knows the primary symbol of the old south is that emblem. Otherwise, if it were only some one-off standard from a single regiment, it would not have the impact it does.
For those who say it is only a symbol of southern pride and heritage, my guess is you do not have dark skin or ancestors carried over to this country on a slave ship. Your family was never sold or held in chains unjustly or split apart by a human master who decreed it. That flag may be a symbol of southern pride to you, but try walking in someone else's shoes for only a couple of minutes. For people who are the heirs of that legacy of slavery, the flag represents pain, humiliation, and shame.
There can be no pride in slavery because there is no dignity accorded to a human being trapped in that horrid state. Why on earth would you want to deliberately inflict more pain on people with that collective memory?Why insist they be subjected to it by their government?
For those who want to argue about the American Civil War, its purpose, and what percentage of people owned slaves before and during that war, my response is to check your facts. My great-great-grandfather fought and was wounded in the war on the Confederate side. I visited his grave last October and saw the Confederate flag ensconced on the grave marker. I have no quarrel with that, because that is history. And even though my family may not have owned slaves (but I cannot be certain), according to official census records from 1860, 28% of the families in Texas did own slaves. (In Mississippi it was 49%. ) Until recently I sincerely believed that my family never owned any slaves because they were so darned poor. My research into our genealogy has caused me to reconsider that life-long belief, because it is a serious possibility. There are legal records in Alabama indicating bequests that include slaves in wills, so if I am looking at the right person -- yet to be confirmed because the name is not uncommon, but good possibility -- then the evidence leans in the direction of slave ownership.
The Sons of Confederate Veterans and other apologists want to insist the American Civil War was not about slavery. Technically, they are correct -- at least insofar as why the war got started. The reason the war began was the "united" portion of United States was ripped asunder. Abraham Lincoln was very clear that his motivation was to save the Union.
However, the specter of slavery was very much in the picture from the beginning. The Missouri Compromise of 1820 that created the Mason-Dixon line, established the boundaries beyond which slavery could not extend. The Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854 completely stripped the carefully worked-out provisions from 1820, essentially repealing the compromise. It opened Kansas and Nebraska to slavery and provided that future territories would vote (that is, free, white male property owners could vote) whether slavery should be permitted in newly-opened territories.
So for those who want to argue that "War of Northern Aggression" was about states' rights, be careful. That position is true only if one understands the "states' right" at issue was slavery. Slavery was the economic backbone of the old south. The greatest concentration of wealth in the mid-19th century was in the hands of southern plantation owners. The largest portion of that wealth was the commercial value (at that time) of the slaves, not the land or what we would think of as capital equipment (e.g. horses, mules, plows). If the plantation owners were forced to pay wages to produces their goods, the system would have been so much less profitable, it likely would have collapsed.
Moreover, consider this quote from the "Declaration of Causes which Impel the State of Texas to Secede from the Federal Union": "We hold as undeniable truths that the governments of the various States, and of the confederacy itself, were established exclusively by the white race, for themselves and their posterity; that the African race had no agency in their establishment; that they were rightfully held and regarded as an inferior and dependent race, and in that condition only could their existence in this country be rendered beneficial or tolerable." Reading the entire document compels but one conclusion: Texas seceded from the United States in 1861 because of slavery.
For those who would gloss over the impact of the American Civil War, consider this. Approximately 620,000 soldiers died in that war (a recent study put the number of deaths as high as 850,000). That is almost half (49%) of all American soldiers killed in all of the wars ever fought by the United States, including World Wars I and II, Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf War -- and the American Revolution -- around 644,000. Over 3 million soldiers fought on both sides in the American Civil War, many of whom were brothers that fought opposite each other. There is nothing romantic or nostalgic about this war. Over 1 million Americans either died or were wounded in this tragedy.
If we are to remember this episode in our history -- and we should -- let it be for the right reasons. I recognize that people fought to preserve their way of life and because they felt a sense of duty. But let's not lose sight of the bitter truths about this war. Ultimately, it was about slavery and that way of life is gone and should stay gone.
So for the people who claim anyone in favor of removing Confederate battle flags from official state images should "sit down and shut up," I say, "Hell, no." We can have a civil discourse whether streets named for those old leaders should be changed; civil discourse is part of our American way of doing things.
Or at least it should be. Removal of archaic, racist memorabilia? From your home, maybe not. From the state house, you bet.
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Power
I think we underestimate the power of saying "thank you." As I shared with a group on Monday, the words I try to live by go something like this: Do the right thing for the right reason, and you don't have to worry about the results. It takes both portions of the equation for the answer to come out correctly. So I spend some of my time each day searching my heart, to be open to opportunities to help people, and to have the right attitude as I'm going through the day.
I've noticed a tendency by many (most?) people that upon performing some act of kindness or a good deed, they expect to be thanked. I've even caught myself muttering under my breath, "Yeah, buddy, you're welcome" after I've let a car in front of me in the line and no acknowledgment from the driver. But if I'm following my own belief system, I should not expect to be thanked. I should do it simply because it is a good practice and the right thing to do. If I'm doing it only with the expectation that I'll receive "bonus points" for doing something nice, I'm off base. Don't tell anyone, but this is also the secret to unconditional love -- the removal of judgments, no strings attached. (I spent a lot of time in therapy talking about conditional love and the strings or conditions that were attached. While unconditional love is better, it's much harder for humans to achieve.)
What happens then when the thank you comes unexpectedly, and from the heart? My reaction is usually one of extreme gratitude. And what's interesting is that gratitude produces an open heart, letting out love at the same time. Letting out love and sharing it with the world multiplies all the good things in life, creating only more good things.
So when I say thank you, it brightens someone else's day. That person's heart is opened, multiplying the bounty. More people feeling appreciated, more goodness and joy spread. How can that hurt?
I've noticed a tendency by many (most?) people that upon performing some act of kindness or a good deed, they expect to be thanked. I've even caught myself muttering under my breath, "Yeah, buddy, you're welcome" after I've let a car in front of me in the line and no acknowledgment from the driver. But if I'm following my own belief system, I should not expect to be thanked. I should do it simply because it is a good practice and the right thing to do. If I'm doing it only with the expectation that I'll receive "bonus points" for doing something nice, I'm off base. Don't tell anyone, but this is also the secret to unconditional love -- the removal of judgments, no strings attached. (I spent a lot of time in therapy talking about conditional love and the strings or conditions that were attached. While unconditional love is better, it's much harder for humans to achieve.)
What happens then when the thank you comes unexpectedly, and from the heart? My reaction is usually one of extreme gratitude. And what's interesting is that gratitude produces an open heart, letting out love at the same time. Letting out love and sharing it with the world multiplies all the good things in life, creating only more good things.
So when I say thank you, it brightens someone else's day. That person's heart is opened, multiplying the bounty. More people feeling appreciated, more goodness and joy spread. How can that hurt?
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Five for Today
1. I'm grateful today is Tuesday. It is not Monday any longer -- not that Monday was bad or is ever bad -- but there is just a day now and then when things are foggy. Yesterday was one of those days, but the fog has lifted. Today is beautiful.
2. Believe it or not, I am very grateful for TP. Having traveled to many remote places in the world where TP is not a priority, I am thankful it is cheap and readily available here. (I remember saving some and bringing it home with me after my first trip to Europe. It was more like wax paper than American TP.)
3. I'm appreciative of companionship -- in all its forms. I have a loving spouse who appreciates and cares for me, and even likes hanging out with me. My sweet old dog loves to snuggle next to me and is always glad to see me when I come home. And I have wonderful friends. I know I can call and ask for anything -- they would come running. Or we can just spend time together, laugh, talk, and enjoy fellowship.
4. This one is getting more important all the time. I enjoy my five (or six) senses and can still use them. My hearing is not as good as it used to be, but I can still hear good music, laughter and the sound of the voices I love. The smells from our kitchen -- and many others -- still get my attention, "something delicious is nearby." The taste of delicious food is more wonderful every day, because now I am not afraid to try things. Might not like it after I try it, but I'm all in. My old bones can still feel the ground beneath my feet. But that means I can still walk and move around, a very good thing indeed. There are folks who lose those sensations due to disease or injury, but I have been very fortunate, and I know it.
5. Wow -- already to number five! Communication. In all its forms. So far this morning I have exchanged text messages, talked on the phone, and emailed people. Now I'm finishing this blog post, another form of communication. It is not always clear what is being communicated, but staying in touch is so important. Sometimes it may even be heartbreaking. Nonetheless, better to hear than be estranged.
There it is. Five things for which I am thankful. I feel better just saying it.
2. Believe it or not, I am very grateful for TP. Having traveled to many remote places in the world where TP is not a priority, I am thankful it is cheap and readily available here. (I remember saving some and bringing it home with me after my first trip to Europe. It was more like wax paper than American TP.)
3. I'm appreciative of companionship -- in all its forms. I have a loving spouse who appreciates and cares for me, and even likes hanging out with me. My sweet old dog loves to snuggle next to me and is always glad to see me when I come home. And I have wonderful friends. I know I can call and ask for anything -- they would come running. Or we can just spend time together, laugh, talk, and enjoy fellowship.
4. This one is getting more important all the time. I enjoy my five (or six) senses and can still use them. My hearing is not as good as it used to be, but I can still hear good music, laughter and the sound of the voices I love. The smells from our kitchen -- and many others -- still get my attention, "something delicious is nearby." The taste of delicious food is more wonderful every day, because now I am not afraid to try things. Might not like it after I try it, but I'm all in. My old bones can still feel the ground beneath my feet. But that means I can still walk and move around, a very good thing indeed. There are folks who lose those sensations due to disease or injury, but I have been very fortunate, and I know it.
5. Wow -- already to number five! Communication. In all its forms. So far this morning I have exchanged text messages, talked on the phone, and emailed people. Now I'm finishing this blog post, another form of communication. It is not always clear what is being communicated, but staying in touch is so important. Sometimes it may even be heartbreaking. Nonetheless, better to hear than be estranged.
There it is. Five things for which I am thankful. I feel better just saying it.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Moccasins
I have been thinking about this post for several weeks now. My goal with this blog is to focus on gratitude -- musings on life -- and not merely to rant. I try not to write with a reactionary tone or address controversial topics just to express my opinion. (You are sensing "but" as the next word?)
I want to start this way: My guiding principle is love. Very simple, no frills attached. I believe love requires that we try to understand our fellow human beings. Yes, that is impossible at times. (Try getting inside the head of a 15-year-old boy who refuses to communicate in more than one-word sentences, many of which are "Nothing," and "Fine.) The good news is all we are supposed to do is try. Perfection here is not required.
I must express my confusion about the whole reaction to Caitlyn Jenner's coming out. She is simply one of thousands of transgender people living lives quietly among us every day. If you are not part of the LGBT community or have friends that are trans, understanding people in this world may be challenging. I have quite a few people in my world who are trans. To say they are no different from you and me is not entirely accurate; in the most fundamental way though, they are just like you and me. Trying to pay the bills, looking for ways to have a meaningful life, and for most, trying to be their authentic selves.
Perhaps my confusion is because I forget how long I have known people who are trans, and how long I have been exposed to the issues of ordinary life for them. I long ago had to give legal advice for the first time about restrooms, discrimination, health care, and other matters that can deeply affect people's lives. So for some people, contemplating Caitlyn Jenner is a first-time experience, even though Christine Jorgensen became well-known in the U.S. back in the 1950's before I was even born.
For people like Caitlyn and Christine, this is not about dressing up. A desire to wear women's clothing, known as transvestism or cross-dressing, is not the same as gender dysphoria, the clinical diagnosis for people whose gender at birth did not match the gender the person feels herself or himself to be or identifies with. For the diagnosis to be given, a person must have experienced distress or impairment for an extended period of time that resulted in difficulty in social, occupational or other important areas of functioning.
Neither is the condition about sexual orientation. The issue is not about whom they fall in love with or choose to sleep with, but rather whom they see when looking in the mirror. An oft-repeated adage goes something like this: The issue is who I go to bed AS, not who I go to bed WITH.
Why is understanding important? Because only when we understand people and allow them space to live can mental and physical health be available. One study found that 41% of transgender people had attempted suicide, as compared with only 1.6% of the general population.
I am not an expert on this topic. I care about my fellow human beings and would like to end the stigma attached with coming out as transgender. Many people live under the radar quietly. Some (maybe most) have been discriminated against at work, in housing or public accommodations. That should stop, in my opinion.
For the guys who cross-dress and enjoy that practice, then go back to being the ordinary men they are -- and approximately 80% are heterosexual -- I say, it is your life, enjoy it. One of my closest friends growing up had a mother who only wore men's clothes. I don't know how she identified herself, but nobody in the world thought anything about her western shirts, jeans, and straw cowboy hat. I knew the person and thought she was wonderful. She loved her family, did her job well, paid her taxes and was a productive member of society.
Anyone who has the courage to life his or her life authentically, with integrity, is a hero in my book. Maybe not the same kind of hero as my cousin's son, the Marine who died in Afghanistan.
There are probably people who disagree with my perspective. That is fine. I will still love them, too. And I will try to live my life authentically and with integrity, too.
Walking a mile in the moccasins of another person may change one's perspective forever.
I want to start this way: My guiding principle is love. Very simple, no frills attached. I believe love requires that we try to understand our fellow human beings. Yes, that is impossible at times. (Try getting inside the head of a 15-year-old boy who refuses to communicate in more than one-word sentences, many of which are "Nothing," and "Fine.) The good news is all we are supposed to do is try. Perfection here is not required.
I must express my confusion about the whole reaction to Caitlyn Jenner's coming out. She is simply one of thousands of transgender people living lives quietly among us every day. If you are not part of the LGBT community or have friends that are trans, understanding people in this world may be challenging. I have quite a few people in my world who are trans. To say they are no different from you and me is not entirely accurate; in the most fundamental way though, they are just like you and me. Trying to pay the bills, looking for ways to have a meaningful life, and for most, trying to be their authentic selves.
Perhaps my confusion is because I forget how long I have known people who are trans, and how long I have been exposed to the issues of ordinary life for them. I long ago had to give legal advice for the first time about restrooms, discrimination, health care, and other matters that can deeply affect people's lives. So for some people, contemplating Caitlyn Jenner is a first-time experience, even though Christine Jorgensen became well-known in the U.S. back in the 1950's before I was even born.
For people like Caitlyn and Christine, this is not about dressing up. A desire to wear women's clothing, known as transvestism or cross-dressing, is not the same as gender dysphoria, the clinical diagnosis for people whose gender at birth did not match the gender the person feels herself or himself to be or identifies with. For the diagnosis to be given, a person must have experienced distress or impairment for an extended period of time that resulted in difficulty in social, occupational or other important areas of functioning.
Neither is the condition about sexual orientation. The issue is not about whom they fall in love with or choose to sleep with, but rather whom they see when looking in the mirror. An oft-repeated adage goes something like this: The issue is who I go to bed AS, not who I go to bed WITH.
Why is understanding important? Because only when we understand people and allow them space to live can mental and physical health be available. One study found that 41% of transgender people had attempted suicide, as compared with only 1.6% of the general population.
I am not an expert on this topic. I care about my fellow human beings and would like to end the stigma attached with coming out as transgender. Many people live under the radar quietly. Some (maybe most) have been discriminated against at work, in housing or public accommodations. That should stop, in my opinion.
For the guys who cross-dress and enjoy that practice, then go back to being the ordinary men they are -- and approximately 80% are heterosexual -- I say, it is your life, enjoy it. One of my closest friends growing up had a mother who only wore men's clothes. I don't know how she identified herself, but nobody in the world thought anything about her western shirts, jeans, and straw cowboy hat. I knew the person and thought she was wonderful. She loved her family, did her job well, paid her taxes and was a productive member of society.
Anyone who has the courage to life his or her life authentically, with integrity, is a hero in my book. Maybe not the same kind of hero as my cousin's son, the Marine who died in Afghanistan.
There are probably people who disagree with my perspective. That is fine. I will still love them, too. And I will try to live my life authentically and with integrity, too.
Walking a mile in the moccasins of another person may change one's perspective forever.
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Through the Valley
Raised in the Judeo-Christian tradition, I learned the 23rd Psalm so long ago that I do not remember a time being without it. Now I cannot remember going to a funeral without hearing some or all of those familiar words. They have taken on new meaning for me recently, however.
I don't mean for this to sound grim, because it is not. It is, rather, a story of faith, and my belief that it is the journey that is more important, and what we do as we are traveling along the journey. I have written recently about events over the past several months that have been difficult -- deaths of close, beloved people in my life. Irreplaceable. Then there was the trip that was supposed to be the getaway, to relax and heal -- and turned into its own disaster in which three people lost their lives. It was only after we were safe and sound back home that the full magnitude sank in, with its attendant sadness.
When I returned to work I faced what I already knew, deep down inside. The work I had loved for so long and felt was so fulfilling, no longer brought the same pleasure or held the same meaning. So I had to ask myself, why on earth was I spending my time there? And given the recent reminders all around me of the fleeting nature of this earthly existence, I had to give serious consideration to allowing change into my life.
So now I am not working at that job where I was spending anywhere from 50 to 70 hours per week, killing myself toward a cause that may or may not make the world a better place. Certainly in the short run people are benefited. What I choose to see instead is not the job, but the people with whom I connected there.
I cannot say enough about the many hundreds of outstanding people I had the good fortune to know as a result of my work in that spot for over 20-plus years. I learned so much from so many, who
allowed me the opportunity to pass that knowledge and experience to the next generation. I hope I did my part to prepare them for the trials and tribulations that will come their way. The problems they will face will be different, of course, from the challenges with which I wrestled. But critical thinking, people management, and problem solving skills will never go out of style. That said, it was time for me to exit the stage and let the next generation take over.
What to do now? I need time to heal, frankly. It has been rough. In one of my meditation sessions it came to me that a vessel in my condition needed time to be put back together and I needed to be patient with myself.
I walked through a very dark valley, a death-dark ravine, but there was no reason to be afraid. I knew all along where my Comfort was. I was never in any danger and had no reason to fear disaster. I still do not fear danger or disaster because I know that I am protected. I wept; my heart continues to feel pain. That lessens as time goes by. If I am able to look outside myself, find a way to be of service to someone else, the pace of the healing picks up.
Change is a constant in our world. Fighting it serves no useful purpose, so it may make sense sometimes to harness those forces of change, ushering them in by choice. So I will be spending more time with my sweet spouse and see this great country. Maybe my children will let me bring the grandkids along from time to time as well. At some point it will be time for me to start the next phase. When it does, I will be ready.
Stay tuned, the best is yet to be.
I don't mean for this to sound grim, because it is not. It is, rather, a story of faith, and my belief that it is the journey that is more important, and what we do as we are traveling along the journey. I have written recently about events over the past several months that have been difficult -- deaths of close, beloved people in my life. Irreplaceable. Then there was the trip that was supposed to be the getaway, to relax and heal -- and turned into its own disaster in which three people lost their lives. It was only after we were safe and sound back home that the full magnitude sank in, with its attendant sadness.
When I returned to work I faced what I already knew, deep down inside. The work I had loved for so long and felt was so fulfilling, no longer brought the same pleasure or held the same meaning. So I had to ask myself, why on earth was I spending my time there? And given the recent reminders all around me of the fleeting nature of this earthly existence, I had to give serious consideration to allowing change into my life.
So now I am not working at that job where I was spending anywhere from 50 to 70 hours per week, killing myself toward a cause that may or may not make the world a better place. Certainly in the short run people are benefited. What I choose to see instead is not the job, but the people with whom I connected there.
I cannot say enough about the many hundreds of outstanding people I had the good fortune to know as a result of my work in that spot for over 20-plus years. I learned so much from so many, who
allowed me the opportunity to pass that knowledge and experience to the next generation. I hope I did my part to prepare them for the trials and tribulations that will come their way. The problems they will face will be different, of course, from the challenges with which I wrestled. But critical thinking, people management, and problem solving skills will never go out of style. That said, it was time for me to exit the stage and let the next generation take over.
What to do now? I need time to heal, frankly. It has been rough. In one of my meditation sessions it came to me that a vessel in my condition needed time to be put back together and I needed to be patient with myself.
I walked through a very dark valley, a death-dark ravine, but there was no reason to be afraid. I knew all along where my Comfort was. I was never in any danger and had no reason to fear disaster. I still do not fear danger or disaster because I know that I am protected. I wept; my heart continues to feel pain. That lessens as time goes by. If I am able to look outside myself, find a way to be of service to someone else, the pace of the healing picks up.
Change is a constant in our world. Fighting it serves no useful purpose, so it may make sense sometimes to harness those forces of change, ushering them in by choice. So I will be spending more time with my sweet spouse and see this great country. Maybe my children will let me bring the grandkids along from time to time as well. At some point it will be time for me to start the next phase. When it does, I will be ready.
Stay tuned, the best is yet to be.
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