The stories we tell

The legend goes like this: when I was a newborn, my parents took me with them on a trip to Florida. On the way, they visited the church of Martin Luther King Sr. (the famous civil rights leader's father). As they greeted the pastor at the door after worship, he laid his hand on my baby forehead. And from that moment onward, I was "commissioned" to be at one with all people on the planet, regardless of cultural background, and to work actively for equality and justice.

Is this story "true?" I don't know. Yes, I do feel a kinship with people that transcends ethnicity, and yes I have--and do--advocate for justice and equality. But is it because MLK, Sr. touched my forehead in blessing when I was a precious few weeks old? There's no way to know for sure. But I sure like to tell the story, and live as though it were true.

We make up stories about our lives constantly, even when we're not aware of doing so. Mostly, our stories sound something like, "I've never been good at school because I'm a kinesthetic learner," "My family produces lawyers," (or doctors or pastors, etc.) Or, "That person doesn't like me." The prominent feature of such "stories" is not what they say about us or other people, but rather how they prompt us to live our lives looking for evidence that they are, in fact, true.

Feel free to argue all you want--"No, no--it's true. I really am a kinesthetic learner!" But chances are, you had no idea what that was when you were in school. All you knew was that you were a "bad" student. I'll bet others told you that and you learned to tell yourself the same thing. Most importantly--you believed it when they said it. That external pronouncement became your internal reality. And I would be willing to bet that it was not an empowering reality for you.

My experience with Landmark Education has really shed light on this human tendency to invent our own life stories. More than that, I've discovered how much power we give to that story, such that little else becomes possible for us, outside of our own invented narrative. If I am "the poor, ignored middle child," or "the responsible one in the family," how likely am I to recognize when others are actually trying to acknowledge me, or throw caution to the wind when given a chance?

Given this, it may be tempting to just say--so give up the story! You'll be free! And it does work that way, some times. As a writer, however, I would rather advise people thus: since we humans are so inclined to write these "stories"--about virtually everything in our lives--why not simply write a darned good one? One that inspires you, empowers or amuses you, instead of what we typically create about ourselves?

My old stories sounded something like: "I'm an irresponsible youngest child," "I never get what I really want," "I'm an introvert and don't particularly like people," and "When people really get to know who I am, they back away." Dead ends, every one.

Lately, I've been writing new stories. "I love my life," "The world is itching to receive the gift I have to offer," "People want to contribute to me," and "Amazing things keep happening to me." And guess what shows up in the context of those stories? You guessed it--a pretty fabulous life. No, I still don't have the power to control all my external circumstances and demand that they show up as I desire. But I certainly get to say who I am in the midst of everything else.

Try it out--the next time you recognize that you've written a disempowering story about yourself, try writing a new one. A fun, playful, heartening one. And see what happens.

You may just become an inspired lover of people, commissioned from birth to realize equality and justice everywhere. :)

--------

Your own narrative--

The one you choose to believe--

Is your life's legend

The magic of intention

"I'm not superstitious. But...I'm a little stitious."
--Michael Scott, "The Office"

Black cats and sidewalk cracks don't bother me, but I never step through an aircraft boarding door without touching the outside of the plane at least once. I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with a safe flight, but I can't stop now...

The Ides of March invited a little thought about superstition--or rather, what people consider to be superstitious. Frankly, even though I'm a baseball fan, I'm not overly caught up in these kind of compulsions. Not too often, that is. But I do like a good horoscope now and then. And by good, I mean a real one, that uses dates, times, latitudes--to create a comprehensive natal chart. The results can be pretty uncanny. (Check out the cool free stuff at http://www.astro.com/)

And then there's The Power of Eight, where I've been known to make a wish or two (that's what the icon in the previous post is all about, in case you were wondering). I know--I'm a pastor, for heaven's sake. But really, what can it hurt?

Superstition is much maligned, especially, it seems by people who claim a faith tradition. But check out definition #1 from my online dictionary:

superstition |ˌsoōpərˈsti sh ən|

noun

excessively credulous belief in and reverence for supernatural beings

Um...kinda sounds like religion, doesn't it?

So where am I going with all this? (aside from amusing myself at how one superstitious person can judge another--"not that irrational belief system, but this one!") I think what interests me most is how these notions actually influence intention, which seems to make all the difference. If I believe good things are going to happen to me in 2011, or on the 11th of the month (can you guess my lucky number?), then I'm obviously going to be on the lookout for them at those times. If my horoscope (not a prediction, by the way, but a series of influences--just sayin'...) tells me I'm inclined to be impulsive today, I may just have a heightened awareness of that tendency and be more likely to curb it. And if the Power of Eight says I can have anything I wish for, I may just do what it takes to make that come about. How is this any different from having a dream and not backing down until it's realized? No one would call you crazy for that.

If people are living life with intention, taking powerful action and being inspired, then I don't care much which yellow brick road they take to get there. Astonishingly, I may be more like Michael Scott than I thought.

-----

8 or 11

and why are they so lucky?

because I said so

Unutterable

In the days immediately following the 9/11 catastrophe, I felt uncharacteristically isolated as someone who didn't live with any human companions, and developed the unsavory habit of falling asleep in front of network coverage of the tragic aftermath, which I kept turned on for most of the day. My dreams were a disturbed mishmash of television images remembered, and audio narration overlaying my slumber.

I am relieved to have discontinued my subscription to cable tv (and the doubtless hours of CNN coverage of the Japanese earthquake/tsunami I would likely be consuming), instead choosing daily BBC reports and occasional internet updates. It simply doesn't serve me to bombard myself with disturbing images--I'm sufficiently horrified by the limited doses I receive. (I'm recalling the gruesome driver's ed. slideshow of vehicle injuries to which we were subjected as high schoolers--I didn't make it past "head wounds.")

There really is nothing intelligent to be said on such occasions. Not even much that's helpful. No, God didn't cause it. No, it's not further evidence of the "impending apocalypse." It may not even have much (if any) relation to our egregious abuse of our planet. It just happened. And here we are, our only task to "clean up" and recover what may be recovered. Find those who remain to be found. Comfort and provide for the suffering. Make every possible effort to contain this dangerous form of energy we've developed. When I consider the magnitude of even removing debris from one obliterated seaside town, it staggers me. Similar to the feelings I had when looking at those smoldering images of the newly destroyed World Trade Center.

And yet, that is what we do. Once the immediate human (and we hope, animal) crises have received the necessary attention, we snap into action, doing whatever it takes, for however long, to rebuild what has been destroyed. And with every such unified effort, borders and partisanship dissolve.

The best quote I've seen yet actually appears on the Salvation Army website. "We combat natural disasters with acts of God."

Amen to that.

-----

it may be too soon for haiku--Love and Light to our sisters and brothers across the ocean

I'm sorry, but it does NOT beg the question...

In college I took a philosophy class (which I enjoyed perhaps a little too much), in which we learned a variety of rhetorical fallacies and argument techniques. Among these was a strategy called "begging the question," (also known as circular reasoning) which basically means assuming the truth of ones premise in order to prove ones proposition, but providing no argumentative evidence. A simple (though not brilliant) example is:

• Person 1: Bob is mad right now.
• Person 2: How do you know?
• Person 1: Well, because he is really angry.

In recent usage, however, you may have noticed that "begging the question" is turning up everywhere--and not as a rhetorical fallacy. Rather, we hear people (primarily journalists and public personalities) say something like, "And that begs the question.... (insert question here)" What they are really saying is that there's a question which we should be asking, related to whatever topic they are discussing. No begging. Just a further, related inquiry.

I'm not sure why this, of all usage blunders out there, bothers me so much. Perhaps because I turned my brain a little inside out to understand just what this fallacy was in the first place, back in those college philosophy days. It could be a microscopic remnant of my need to be right about things (which mostly disappeared after taking the Landmark Forum). Whatever it is, I get positively agitated whenever I hear otherwise articulate people throwing the phrase around incorrectly.

Inevitably, I'll toss a sarcastic comment back at the television, the instant something errantly "Begs the question...."

"No sir. I'm afraid it doesn't."

:P

--------

I've progressed so much

Allow me to indulge in

A mite of judgment

An apologetic of joy

Many people are saying that this has been "a terrible week." Indeed, I don't need to look further than the news summary for evidence. Earthquake. Tsunami. People of my acquaintance in acute crisis. Laws threatening to radically change workers' rights. Countries in uprising. The list goes on--a terrible week, to be sure.

The only problem with that analysis is that it doesn't ring true for me. My own experience has been fantastic--opportunities, connections, moments to savor and a genuine love for life--all this has been my weekly summary.

So what's the deal? Some twisted form of Schadenfreude? Definitely not. On the contrary, I have been acutely aware that many in the world are experiencing some truly horrific circumstances this week. It doesn't give me pleasure when I consider this. But how is one to be with the dissonance between their week and mine?

I considered feeling guilty about all the good things that are happening to me, and all that I'm creating in my world. What right do I have to be truly content when so many are suffering? And then I remembered a conversation I once had with a student in my campus ministry. He questioned whether or not he "ought" to be meditating, seeking a peaceful space in which to quiet himself in the midst of a world that looks anything but peaceful. Shouldn't he rather seek solutions to the problems around him, and try to do something to improve the situation of others, rather than hang out in his own private Nirvana?

And that's where I helped him distinguish that the two options were not mutually exclusive. For what "self" do we bring to a troubled world that ever makes any difference? Certainly a centered, nurtured self will be well equipped to reach out with the same peace it knows in itself. From that perspective, I suggested, one doesn't meditate for oneself alone, but because the world is as it is.

I've noticed the same in myself this week--the ability to feel compassion without sinking into sympathetic despair. The openness to listen to a friend in deep distress, and be the space into which she might pour her sorrows. The ability to get caught up in a moment as ordinary as a sunset--on television, no less. :)

I don't know for certain, but I have a strong instinct that tells me I'm right where I'm supposed to be. I've taken my turn with disappointment, grief, and suffering. I will likely do so again one day. But as Marianne Williamson would confirm, my "playing small" and "hiding my light"--or even feeling guilty for it--doesn't serve anyone. And what does? Perhaps the simple gift of my joyful self to the world during what some are calling a "terrible" week.

Maybe that's the very thing that is most needed.

------

Guilt for contentment

Or joy alongside hardship?

Choosing is easy

The empty promise of "easy"

One thing I have noticed about myself over the years is that I tend to stop trying when something gets too difficult.

I attribute this to my lifelong affinity for schoolwork, such that I never needed to struggle too much for a good grade. Thus, my "effort muscles" never really developed, and aside from a few areas in college, I didn't really try very hard for results. I always thought this put me at some sort of advantage in relation to my peers--rarely needing to study during finals week, and taking only the bare minimum of time required to complete papers and other projects. I've come to realize, however, that while many others were developing study skills and perseverance in hard work and time management, my own performance in these areas has remained relatively "flabby." This has certainly not served me well over time.

Nowadays, when there's something I want to accomplish, I may start off with enthusiasm, but as soon as I hit the first sign of discomfort, I'm tempted to back down. It just feels like too much work. As a result, I have a road strewn with unfinished projects and half-realized dreams. And that is not the life I'm committed to living.

Doing my daily Sudoku puzzles has actually shed some light on this for me. The puzzles are rated by difficulty, so one has an impression of how much effort might be required. I used to stick with puzzles rated "easy" or "medium," figuring my abilities didn't extend much beyond that. But then curiosity led me to a "hard" puzzle or two, and I realized that my game logic worked just as well there, even with the "very hard" ones--granted, it took a little more effort, and sometimes I wasn't able to solve them without "hints" from the computer, but the satisfaction of completing a more difficult puzzle was addictive. Occasionally I notice that I've solved a "very hard" puzzle with relative ease.

What this opens up for me is the realization that perhaps I do, after all, have what it takes to follow through and achieve my possibilities--even the monumental ones. It may take more frequent "work outs" to maintain these muscles, but it's definitely within my reach. And it may even be easier than I think.

-----

something worth having

is worth the extra effort--

no more "easy A's!"

Fasts from the past: giving up Lenten Sacrifice

We have a checkered past, Lent and I.

When I was quite young, I recall being very moved by whole thing. The music especially was just somber and poignant enough to suit my naturally melancholic tastes. "Twas I, Lord Jesus; I it was denied thee; I crucified thee!" It was a season tailor-made for a self-effacing and earnest adolescent.

And then I discovered...the Lenten Sacrifice. Of course. Denying myself was the perfect compliment to the healthy guilt I was already experiencing. And thus began the long string of sacrificial seasons, with varied results...

One year in college, I resolved to ban pop music from my repertoire. Only Christian artists were allowed, even though my own collection of them was fairly sparse. I met my first challenge in the cafeteria, where the local pop station was piped in through the speaker system, three meals a day. Oops. I chose to "ignore" it, believing God would forgive the infraction. Then, after several weeks I began to feel a compulsion for dance music. I resisted, but found myself back in my dorm room, just me and the radio... I desperately grabbed Amy Grant's Unguarded, hoping the upbeat rhythms would satisfy my cravings. It was kind of like stuffing a prune in your mouth when you're desperately craving chocolate.

The next year I "gave up" using profanity, but made the mistake of telling my friends I was doing so. If I would slip--or even come close--I would get the Disapproving Eye of Judgment. This, of course, made me want to swear even more.

I vaguely recall eliminating soda from my diet one year, but the experience must have been too traumatizing to remember details.

Then in seminary, I made the most foolish choice ever: giving up alcohol during what happened to be the period of time when we received our internship assignments. My predominant response was dismay and frustration at the stupidity of my decision, not so much a closer walk with God.

Which brings me to the last (and most disastrous) Lenten sacrifice I ever chose. I had noticed that I was perpetually inventing elaborate "head trips," in which I was FBI Special Agent Dana Scully, to distract myself from my actual, uninspired life. And while these imaginings made my days WAY more interesting, it was obvious what needed to be given up. However, after a couple weeks without the mental journeys, it became starkly clear to me just how depressed I really was. Over drinks, a colleague suggested that the head trips might have been my one effective coping mechanism, the last thread holding me together. So much for the spiritual benefit of self-denial. And so I got out of that business for good.

This is not to say that sacrifice doesn't benefit some people. I simply have found much more value from taking on a discipline for 40 days than from giving something up that may (or may not) be detrimental to my spiritual health. This year, I've committed to using my God-given writing abilities in some way, each day. I've been intending it for far too long, and taking no action for at least as long. I guess, if you must, you could say that this year for Lent, I'm giving up excuses. :)

Here's to Day One.


---
Ill-planned penitence:
Making me Lenten junkie
Or Lenten flunkie?

44

Any words I could offer on the inauguration of President Barack Obama are going to pale alongside this eloquent prayer offered by Bishop Gene Robinson at a pre-inauguration concert in Washington last month. Because it apparently got no airtime on the HBO broadcast, and because it just plain rocks, here is the text:


“O God of our many understandings, we pray that you will bless us with tears -- tears for a world in which over a billion people exist on less than a dollar a day, where young women in many lands are beaten and raped for wanting an education, and thousands die daily from malnutrition, malaria, and AIDS.

Bless this nation with anger -- anger at discrimination, at home and abroad, against refugees and immigrants, women, people of color, gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people.

Bless us with discomfort at the easy, simplistic answers we’ve preferred to hear from our politicians, instead of the truth about ourselves and our world, which we need to face if we are going to rise to the challenges of the future.

Bless us with patience and the knowledge that none of what ails us will be fixed anytime soon, and the understanding that our new president is a human being, not a messiah.

Bless us with humility, open to understanding that our own needs as a nation must always be balanced with those of the world.

Bless us with freedom from mere tolerance, replacing it with a genuine respect and warm embrace of our differences.

Bless us with compassion and generosity, remembering that every religion’s God judges us by the way we care for the most vulnerable.

And God, we give you thanks for your child, Barack, as he assumes the office of President of the United States .

Give him wisdom beyond his years, inspire him with President Lincoln’s reconciling leadership style, President Kennedy’s ability to enlist our best efforts, and Dr. King’s dream of a nation for all people.

Give him a quiet heart, for our ship of state needs a steady, calm captain.

Give him stirring words; We will need to be inspired and motivated to make the personal and common sacrifices necessary to facing the challenges ahead.

Make him color-blind, reminding him of his own words that under his leadership, there will be neither red nor blue states, but the United States .

Help him remember his own oppression as a minority, drawing on that experience of discrimination, that he might seek to change the lives of those who are still its victims.

Give him strength to find family time and privacy, and help him remember that even though he is president, a father only gets one shot at his daughters’ childhoods.

And please, God, keep him safe. We know we ask too much of our presidents, and we’re asking far too much of this one. We implore you, O good and great God, to keep him safe. Hold him in the palm of your hand, that he might do the work we have called him to do, that he might find joy in this impossible calling, and that in the end, he might lead us as a nation to a place of integrity, prosperity, and peace.

Amen."



---
marginalized priest
honors his new president:
brothers, pioneers

This game's got my number

It only looks like a math game. But it's really a game of logic that just happens to use numbers. I discovered I liked SuDoku when I randomly set my pen to a version using letters which appeared in Vineline (of course, the Chicago Cubs monthly magazine), and found it was not only doable, but fun.

For all you numerophobes (there are a few in my acquaintance), it's simply a nine by nine grid where numbers 1-9 must each appear only once across and down each row, and also in each square. No adding, subtracting or multiplying. It's not even really as hard as it sounds.

Check out The Daily SuDoku, which offers two puzzles per day which can be played online, and two which can be printed and completed later. I recommend clicking on the "archive" link and trying out one rated "easy" if you're SuDubious about your abilities.

And if you end up getting hooked, I'd be honored if you blamed me. :)



---
go ahead, try one
one through nine a tricky trap
you'll be SuDicted