Marketing

If I told you that we were going on a hike in the Issaquah Alps that sounds pretty good by itself, maybe even exotic simply because of the term alps. If I added that we were going to hike Cougar Mountain it sounds even better like some kind of outlaw hideout or danger filled wilderness. Add to that a waterfall and an historic townsite and we've got a mystical adventure in an exotic wilderness right? I mean a hike up Cougar Mountain past a historic townsite along a well groomed path through the lush forests of the Issaquah Alps to a cascading waterfall sounds pretty good on a brochure. To be fair we had a great hike, but when you know that Cougar Mountain is more a hill than a mountain, many of the Issaquah Alps have neighborhoods on them, the historic town dam is about four feet high damming a creek, and the waterfall is maybe twenty feet high and five feet wide, the reality doesn't quite live up to the billing. For the most part I knew what I was getting before I did the hike, but I just kept thinking how everything on paper sounded so good.

It's amazing what words can do. The way you describe something can make the mundane magical or the magnificent morose. Like I said, the hike was fine and we had fun so the reality is what you make it, but there is something that words can do in painting a picture that doesn't lie, but is so much more than what is really there or at times so much less. Perception can be influenced by expectation and one persons reality is rarely the same for another person.

How we choose to talk about something or not talk about something whether consciously or subconsciously has a direct effect on how others will experience it. If I sell you on this great hike through the pristine wilderness, I have raised the bar on what it could be significantly, so your expectations will be high. If instead I just said lets go for a hike up Coal Creek Trail, on this particular hike that might make it more enjoyable because there are no expectations. I am all for high expectations, but sometimes it's nice to enter into something without them because then you are free to experience what really is. Sometimes I guess we are just trying to sell people on things we know they will enjoy so we paint that picture. On this particular hike I tried to get my oldest daughter to walk instead of being carried so I didn't even bring the second pack. I worked her up telling her she could do it, comparing it to distances she has walked before and talking about how we had built up to this with her hiking a little more each time we head out. She ended up walking only about a third of it, but I did convince her that it might be fun to roll down the the downhill parts, which she thoroughly enjoyed, so my marketing did in fact enhance the overall experience for her even if carrying her without the pack was much harder.

Anyway my point is about the influence of our words and the way we share about something. When I was at the NCCCUSA event a couple weeks ago and there was a campaign called, "words matter." This hike was kind of a silly illustration, but it made me think what you can do with words. We have to be careful because our negativity may ruin something good, and though our enthusiasm may set a difficult bar I would rather try to achieve the difficult than be brought down before I started.

Humility

To be made both proud and humble doing the same thing on the same day is a wonderful learning opportunity. Out with my kids and my dad we ventured to the science center where they have all sorts of tests for your ability. They have tests for your balance, your reflexes, your hand-eye coordination, your sense of smell, and your flexibility. It was in this last that I was made both proud and humble. The chart above the test said that the average male of my age could sit and reach 12.5 inches so I sat down and gave it a try. You are supposed to average three attempts and mine came out at 21 inches so I was feeling pretty good about my flexibility. Later that night I tried out a new yoga routine on my DVR feeling very flexible before I started after my science center results. Just minutes into the flow I was asked to stretch in ways I do not stretch and to bend in ways that I do not bend and I wasn't even close. It was actually an interesting moment of being humbled, challenged, frustrated and thoughtful about whether this was actually something I needed to work towards. I love a challenge so while a part of me feels a satisfaction that I continue to improve and very little desire to repeat that routine, another part of me says, "I guess I have a long way to go."

Life is fun that way and filled with surprises as we are lifted up in one moment and totally deflated in the next. Sometimes it's something silly like yoga and others it's something you have poured yourself into. Every week I listen to far more complaints than praises no matter how well things seem to be going or how good I feel about what I have done. Humility is a balance. In order to be humble you still have to have confidence and be comfortable with yourself otherwise you end up not humbled, but likely depressed. Humility is a gift to those who choose to learn from it or be challenged by it rather than shamed by it.

Spider webs

Perhaps it's all the decorative spider webs around or the fact that it is spider season and there are actual spider webs all over right now, but then again maybe it's just that I ran through one today which has me thinking about them. My first thought was that there was a statistic that came out in the 90's saying that the average person swallows 8 spiders a year in their sleep. It turned out to be an experiment to demonstrate how gullible people are, and it worked as the statistic spread and is still widely promulgated. The reality is that we don't swallow in our sleep so it's not very likely we would swallow anything much less a spider (to answer your question, "no I did not swallow a spider while running today." Though that does not mean I haven't before). My next thought however was about how the web is such a great metaphor for so many things. Nets and webs inspired things like the Native American dream catchers and they are a common image that we relate to situations we are stuck in, to the things that bind us together, to the hope that as we cast our net we might catch something, to "the tangled web we weave" which might come apart or get us stuck and any number of other things.

There is something beautiful and fascinating, while at the same time sinister about a web. If you have ever watched the graceful dance of a spider as it spins on a web glistening in the morning dew, the form and function are incredible to behold as the spider launches itself further and further to place it's anchors then slowly binds the intricate parts (if you don't have the patience or the fortune to watch it live there plenty you can find a time-lapse of on YouTube). It's not hard to create an image of Charlotte's Web building the mystique of Wilbur (aka Zuckerman's famous pig). There is a spider in my garage however who dispels the beauty a bit and demonstrates the sinister reality of the web's purpose with the pile of beetle carcasses underneath conjuring more an image of Shelob from The Lord of the Rings than of Charlotte. Maybe that's part of their metaphor too in the juxtaposition of beauty and fear-inducing function. Spiders themselves run a fine line between graceful and creepy so I guess it all comes together. Whatever emotion they might elicit or metaphor they may conjure for us, there is something special about a spiders web and for me it's one of the many things in nature with a lesson to teach us.

No Sleep

It is a gift that I have never needed much sleep. The thing of it lately and the last couple of nights in particular is that I really do appreciate those four to five hours and I haven't even been getting those. I might have gotten an hour total last night and maybe two the night before so it's been a challenge to get going. My mantra has always been that "there are twenty-four usable hours in every day." My cure is the same as the one I use when I travel to avoid jet lag, which is to simply keep going. I go for a run often in the morning anyway, but when I have had no sleep I always run and most of the time it keeps me from crashing.

I was thinking this morning as I ran (my best thinking time is often while running or walking so many of my blogs come after a good long run) about how using more hours really is freeing. It's not just that you can get more done, and I am certainly not advocating everyone replace sleep with a morning run, but it's like you take control of time instead of letting it take control of you. Often it's easy to feel like there is just too much to do, and maybe there is, so there is a lot to be said for giving ourselves permission not to do things, but when you don't see time as so confining things can feel a little less overwhelming. We fit our lives into a schedule, whether it's for school or for work or whatever else we do our calendars are so full we need electronic devises to keep track of what we ourselves are doing. Maybe it would be nice if everyone required less sleep, but really it comes down to attitude and priority. If you want to make time to do something you figure it out. If there are multiple "important" things you may have to decide or you may have to shuffle and sacrifice something else (like sleep), but you are in control even if you don't feel like you are. Maybe it's easy to say coming from someone who doesn't sleep much and who has a job where I set my own hours, but I have plenty of demands on my time and I choose to make work what I feel like I need to make work. I can give a night to my teething one year old and not begrudge her partly because I don't need as much sleep, but also because I decided that she needed me more than I needed sleep. Plenty of parent's might have closed doors and let her cry and that may not do her any real harm and I know great parent's who choose that method, but chose to comfort her because that was my greater priority and I own that. I suppose ultimately that is my point; we have to own our own time. We make choices and we live them. I am all for finding ways to give control away and simply let things happen, but you can't do that either if you don't take control of your time and give yourself the freedom to choose.

Networking

You never know when you might have a chance to make a connection and you never know when that connection might bring you something good. A simple show of appreciation for a restaurant manager who donated his proceeds to the schools turned into a connection that brought free naan (Indian bread) for my church and business to a restaurant that really just needs people to try it. I have written about it before, but it really is as simple as acknowledging every person as a person. I don't know where people learned to ignore others so completely simply because of a role that they are serving at the time. You never know when one connection might lead to another making the world a little smaller. My family was talking the other night about people who had signed on to my mom's guestbook on her webpage who ha known each other for years, but didn't know that they both knew my mom.

When I was in high school I never paid to go to the movies or to rent one. I bowled for free. I got pizza for free, ice cream for free, sub-sandwhiches for free, I even managed to get a few free shirts right of their backs from people I didn't even know for free and I won some free shoes a couple of times. Several years after high school I went to rent a movie from the place I used to as a kid and I was told, "your money's no good here." Apparently my legend persisted though I had no idea who the person behind the counter was or what I had really done to deserve that treatment. I found out that fall when I did a teaching practicum that there was a day named after me at my high school and students in the language arts department got extra credit for dressing up on Thursdays (something I did while a student). I suppose it's what celebrities must feel, but the thing is it wasn't so much that I was especially popular, it was that I made good connections. The people who got me free things where they worked did it for the most part because they knew that if I could do the same for them I would and more.

It's been a while since I was getting all sorts of things for free, but when I was doing youth ministry I managed to get things donated to the group at a prodigious rate for retreats, creating a haunted house, for mission projects and all it took was reaching out and asking (admittedly how you ask does matter). Recently I was reminded of my past connections when for the tenth time or so I received a free nimbu pani (it's a lime and soda Indian drink) and this time from a new manager that I hadn't met until that moment, but who I struck up a conversation with. It wasn't a big deal for him to give me the drink, but the point is that he did it because I spent some time genuinely asking about his day. Connections are huge in life and you never know when a network you create may give you the opportunity to do something for someone else or to receive an act of kindness. I feel very fortunate to have people I call friend all over the world. They may not get me free stuff, but it means something knowing there are people out there you can call on when you are in need.

ape house by Sara Gruen

I liked Gruen's first book "Water for Elephants," so when I saw that she had written a new book I would have gotten it anyway, but the fact that she was writing about apes gave it a special significance for me. Before I can talk about the book I have to give a background for why this book has a deeper connection for me. The first stuffed animal I can remember having was a bright orange spider monkey named Motor. As it turned out orange has always been my favorite color and monkeys and apes my favorite animals, so I guess Motor left an impression on me. Every year for as long as I can remember my parents gave me a stuffed monkey or gorilla for every birthday, every Christmas and even on other holidays like Valentines I got another one until my collection grew so much that I had to add a net near the ceiling in my room to hold them all. They were more than toys to me, they were a symbol of something deeper that was calling me off to jungles to learn more about the real animals. For a long time my hope was to be like Jane Goodall or Dian Fossey spending my time sitting on some far of mountain communing, studying, learning about the great apes. My senior year in high school I as fortunate to have a biology teacher who had done her doctoral work at the Woodland Park Zoo and who encouraged me to do an independent study there. I spent over 120 hours of observation plus research and writing time and all the hours driving back and forth to the zoo every other day for most of that year studying the zoos two Siamangs, Simon and Sia Buri. Sia Buri had just one arm, but she was amazing the way she could still fly from limb to limb. Simon was and is still the curious one and used to come up the the glass and sit opposite me, sometimes moving around so he could look in my bag and other times just sitting there. Sometimes, now years later, when I take my daughter to the zoo I could swear that Simon recognizes me and just once I sat in my old spot and he came right up and sat opposite me again. It was a behavior that I never saw him do on the days that I would watch from other spots where he couldn't see me. You could see the intelligence in that interaction and his curiosity and it only strengthened my love for apes. I chose my first college because it was one of only four in the country that advertised specific degrees in both zoology and theater; my two great passions at the time. Though I didn't end up pursuing zoology the affinity still remains and always visit zoos when I travel seeking out the apes. I have to admit that it was quite a thrill to see the wild monkeys wandering around the temples in Nepal. This is a really long explanation for why the book was meaningful to me, but I think the background is important.

The book does a marvelous job of illustrating the intelligence and the bond that comes from spending time with our closest cousins. I remember sitting and listening to parent's say, "look at the monkeys!" to their children and muttering every time, "they are not monkeys, they are apes." It amazed me how people can come to the zoo and not even truly see the animals. They walk through approximating what they know in terms of generalities and they miss the unique differences between species much less the differences between the individuals within the species. I don't want to be too harsh because at least those parents are exposing their kids to the zoo and many would eventually read the plaques to their kids. What it shows though is exactly what Gruen does in the book, illustrating how people don't really see the apes, they see the antics or they see an animal and they miss the incredible connections and similarities. She also does a great job illustrating the bond that can form between the researcher and the apes. My hope is that people who read it will get not just a well told story, but that it will make them want to know more so they can feel just a little of what I did in all those hours sitting with Simon. There are still times when I think of at the very least volunteering for some short term research project, but for now I am content to take my daughters to the zoo and read every plaque adding whatever else I might know so they will never see them as just animals to be looked at.

Coloring outside the lines

People often remind me that I never do things the way I am "supposed to." I don't tend to follow the prescribed course and even when it's one that has requirements along the way I tend to find alternative ways to satisfy them. I don't believe there is such a thing as a normal way of doing things because every person's experience even of the same thing is unique, but I was reflecting last night on the fact that I can't even follow a simple recipe exactly. Never mind things like testing out of requirements or making my own path to a mountain summit. Following a recipe should be simple, but instead I have to add things, use less or more of things and make it my own. Last night it was gorgonzola cream sauce, my version of which turned out great and last week it was snickerdoodles, which I thought were pretty good too. I was thinking about it in terms of architecture vs building. A builder takes a plan and builds it as exactly as they can and it's good, it's consistent, they know that it works and we need builders. An architect looks at plans, understands the foundational elements and then creates something new. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't, but I think for some we just can't help trying. We need both builders and architects, cooks and chefs, it's not about one being better than the other it's about acknowledging that we don't all fit in the lines and for some there is a creative fire and a refusal to conform even if we wanted to. There is nothing wrong with the lines and beautiful things come within them, but for me I am thankful for the confidence to color outside them even when I fail.

The push we needed

There are plenty of times in our lives when we know what we need and we know what we really want, but we are unwilling, unable, unmotivated, afraid to go out and do it, get it, be it. What we need is a push. We need that something to happen, that someone, that opportunity to knock that pushes past knowing into doing and being. There are special people or in some cases things that happen to special people in our lives which help us to realize that we can't just wait . Their are those people who give us the strength to act and there are the circumstances that reminds us of life's fragile nature, and what ever it is we need it sometimes even if it's hard, perhaps especially when it's hard. We need a push. We need that thing to get us over whatever fear we have, whatever inadequacy we feel, so that we will take the plunge and dive deeper into life. These pushes often come when we don't expect them and from places we didn't even know existed, but they can't be ignored. Even when the push comes from tragedy we have to see it as a gift because otherwise it can overwhelm us. I guess that's part of the deal in that if we can find the gift in even a tragedy then nothing can truly overwhelm us and the gift is often the motivation to do something positive. It may not always feel like it's so positive at first and it's way easier to intellectualize it than to do it, but the good is out there and so are the things to push us even if it feels like they are a long time in coming.

We all get stuck and we all need a push sometimes (maybe even an underdog as my daughter calls for). It's good to be pushed.

We need a cake

Today was my daughters first birthday and my older daughter decided that we needed a cake. We didn't really celebrate and we hadn't planned on doing anything because we just didn't feel like she was ready for it. When my three year said, "we need a cake and we need the party hats from your office daddy," it was hard to say no and I think it reminded me that even though she won't remember and maybe she isn't ready for cake, we have something to celebrate and we need to acknowledge it. I have always felt like first birthday parties are silly. I get that people have fun watching a one year old eat cake for the first time, rubbing it in their hair and making a fun and sticky mess, but it's a ritual that doesn't really resonate with me. What my three year old reminded me of though was that there are sacred conventions to our celebrations and cake at birthdays is one of them (I still think the hats are optional). At one she can't really handle dairy much yet and most cakes have milk in them so we searched for a non-dairy cake and ended up with a lemon cake with lemon glaze. The batter and the glaze tasted good and it was fun making it with my three year old, but the funny part is that she fell asleep so we haven't even tried it yet. Somehow making the cake made the day feel more like it was her birthday and we were acknowledging it more properly. Especially for this little girl making it to one is an accomplishment and we needed a cake. I am thankful for both my little girls who remind constantly of all that I have to celebrate. There are times when it just doesn't feel right without a cake.

Playing Games

The Roberts clan (my mom's side of the family) is a family that gets together often and when we do we play. Day long games of monopoly, bingo complete with prizes, jeopardy, wheel of fortune, texas hold'um, you name it, as long as it's a game that you have to think for, we play it (games of chance are not allowed). The point is we like games and more importantly we love each other, which makes playing together that much better. As a kid growing up my family used to go out to our cabin on Dow Mountain and the four of us would play games until the wee hours of the night. On road trips criss-crossing the country we seldom went to bed without a game of cards. My daughter is learning the family passion already as we play game after game of Candyland, Lady Bugs, Memory, Chutes and Ladders and Go Fish. This love of games extends beyond just the times when the whole family gets together too and every member just seems to have it in their DNA. I wasn't surprised when I learned one cousin has a regular bridge night and whenever I gather like I did this week with my colleagues I make sure that one night at least is a game night.

There is something very special for me about getting friends together to eat snacks that we rarely indulge in and to play. It has become a tradition each time we descend upon Wenatchee that one afternoon will be devoted to playing one of the nearby putting courses. A few years ago when I first attended the event, which brings together three hundred United Methodist clergy from Washington and Idaho, I didn't know a lot of people. I was newly returned from graduate school and was just getting to know my colleagues and make a few friends. There wasn't much time on the schedule that allowed for getting to know each other either, so we improvised. They had given us a tourist map of Wenatchee and there was an arrow on it that pointed to a "putting

course" somewhere off the map. At that point we weren't sure what the difference was between

a putting course and mini-golf, but I managed to convince a few people to grab lunch to-go and use our precious little amount of free time to go try it out. The few I knew got a few more and I think eight of us went that first year. We ended up loving it so much we missed a session that I think talked about our retirement plan so we could play the entire course. It was and is a par 70 course of natural grass complete with water hazards and sand traps.

By the second year there were eleven of us and after seeing some of us having such a good time at lunch the Bishop had canceled the evening session so that we would have more time to do things like having fun together. Last year we even got the Bishop to come with us. This year 14 clergy played the course together including a number of new folks who were immediately hooked. Later that night many went out and had great fellowship at restaurants and such, but true to my DNA

I managed to get six to come and play games around a card table in the basement of my hotel that I had scoped out for that very purpose.

The beauty of playing games with people you don't know all that well and people you enjoy being around is that time gets lost, you get to know each other in a different and I think more genuine way, and you laugh no matter how competitive you are. We played two games that were new for me, which makes it even better, and before we knew it we had been playing for four hours and it was almost 1am.

I believe that there are times which connect us. When a group of people works together, studies together, lives together and argues together, I don't think the connection can be complete without playing together too and it makes all those other things better. When I was in Geneva a year and a half ago there were some awkward getting to know you moments that in their structured way started to open us up to each other, but it wasn't until we started playing ping-pong, volley ball and UNO (which I was moved by that inner force in me to buy for the institute) that you got a sense we were finally connecting and building community. Maybe it's about letting yourself be silly a little or maybe it's getting in touch with some inner child in all of us, but whatever it is playing together is the root of joy. Even for those who don't like board games and such it's really just about playing and letting yourself play together. When we do, something real and I think beautiful comes out. It's good to play.

Hard Days-there is a next

This past Sunday I gave a sermon about faith as the hope that those things we desire are still possible even in the midst of our deepest despair. I talked about the rainy days we have quoting Longfellow's poem "Rainy Days,"and about how easy it can be to slip into a form of despair where everything seems bad and we can't seem to see good.

the day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the moldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the moldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary."

Little did I know how much I needed to hear that sermon myself. These past few days have been some of the hardest in my life. I am a very private person and I pride myself on being able to deal with stress, but we all have limits. I found out today that my mother has cancer that has reached stage 4. We will know more in the coming weeks and days, but you are never really ready to hear something like this. You want to be strong and you have to be, but there is nothing easy about it. There is a part of you that kind of has to disassociate, to compartmentalize things and focus either on other things or on only the facts as if they aren't really happening to this person that you love. It's easy to feel like it just isn't fair, but that doesn't help so you try to deal with things as best you can. You ask as many questions as you can think of knowing that you won't like many of the answers, but knowing also that you need to hear them. Life as you knew it before has changed, but it must also still go on. One of my favorite shows of all time was the show "West Wing" and President Bartlett has this ability that no matter what was going on or how hectic things seem the question we have to ask is, "what's next?" We can't change what has happened, so we figure out what's next. It's not like asking the question makes the answers come easier, but asking the question is a refusal to just freeze and not do anything acknowledging that there is a next. Maybe that's part of it; no matter what it is there is a next and once we face that there is another next and so on. There is a next.

Sweat

I have had the privilege of being invited to participate in a sweat on the Northern Cheyenne reservation near Coalstrip MT., the Monument Valley Navaho reservation in southern Utah and the Yakima reservation in Yakima, WA. Each time I was honored by the invitation to participate in something so rich in tradition and sacred for each tribe. The sweat can be a place of intense religious meaning where sacred moments and visions occur and it can also be a place to simply relax and share a time together. The other day I went into a hotel sauna just expecting to release some tension and do some cleansing, but what I ended up with was a sweat experience with a man from the Makah peoples of Neah Bay. Something about the atmosphere with the tension releasing steam and the mind clearing heat and sweat turns even a hotel sauna into that special place where sharing can occur. It's funny because my experiences have all been in native american settings, but my mind also went to the ancient Roman baths with their steam rooms in which social barriers could be broken down, strangers could be friends and all manner of gossip could be heard. I confess that I didn't do much sharing, but for the man I was with it was clear that the heat triggered something in him as he shared about the sweat he used regularly up in Neah Bay. He told me about his work since May on boats in the Gulf cleaning up oil and how he was glad to be home with his kids. His work took him away for months at a time and even now, with at least his part in the clean up done, he would be going off again soon to California or Alaska to work on other boats. He told me several times how he missed his kids as he boasted about their sports talent and told me about his wife's art and how proud he is of her as well. He was clear that he needed to take these jobs to support his family and that a part of him loved it and felt like he formed new versions of family in every place and on each boat he worked, but you could hear some of the struggle in his voice. In the sweat he unburdened himself a bit and shared his pride in his family. In the sweat a sacred moment happened in the sharing. You never know what might happen in the sweat but you have to respect it. It's good to sweat.

Trail running

As a kid, my brother and I used to run through the forest around our family cabin. We would rise early and romp through the woods as the suns new rays filtered through the dense evergreens on the fringe of the Olympic National Rainforest. We would race along; climbing over logs, balancing on fallen trees, following the stream that runs along our property down the mountain. It was an introduction to the joys of trail running (not that we actually used trails). Then when I was in high school playing soccer we used to go on what we called "jungle runs." We would run ten miles through the woods and if you weren't bleeding or covered in mud by the time you came back you would have to keep running until you were. It had been awhile since I had gone on a true trail run until the other day when my feet just led me away from my usual road routes and onto the trails. It brought me right back to those old memories where you have to almost have rubber ankles and your balance and agility are constantly being tested by tree roots, rocks, puddles the size of ponds that force you to skip across fallen limbs then jump over a tree that has come down across your path and any number of other natural obstacles along the way. I have been hiking plenty, but there is something about running hard through the forest or (as was the case last Saturday in Utah) up a dry desert ridge, that you just can't feel any other way. There's something almost primal about it like getting in touch with our hunter gatherer ancestors as you give yourself over to nature, understanding that you are moving as a part of it not just through it because it is the trail that makes you pay attention and if you try to just run you will miss something and probably even get hurt. Maybe that's what it's really about, the heightened awareness and the connection. It's a microcosm of how I wish every moment could be, where we keep moving, but at the same time we are in tune with what's around us, adjusting to it and being a part of it, while still somehow remaining in control of the part that is ours. Then again maybe it's just refreshing because it gives us something different than the monotony of road running. Either way it's good to hit the trails.

Braking the unwritten rules

Riding on the metro in Washington DC there seems to be an unwritten rule that you don't really talk to people unless you already know them. There are plenty of exceptions, but for the most part you sit or stand in sometimes very close proximity and you do your own thing. You listen to your headphones, you make your phone calls (which brings personal into public in a way people don't seem to notice, but that is another blog perhaps), you read your newspaper, you take a nap, you do whatever you do, but no matter what, you isolate because that's just what everyone does. It's often the same in other cities too and plenty of other situations where we seem to maintain our childhood instruction not to talk to strangers. The thing is, there is generally no good reason for it and perhaps if we actually did talk to each other the world would be a friendlier and more connected place. People might feel less isolated and less alone. In the past week and a half I admit to at least partially maintaining the status quo (though in my defense, it's hard to engage with people who have gotten really good at not looking at anyone), but on a few occasions I have broken that rule and ended up having some pretty deep conversations. One woman next to me was clearly having a very bad day and needed to talk to someone and all it took was a, "how was your day?" to open the door for her to release some burdens that were weighing on her. I heard stories about job struggles and car struggles, talked to a young person trying to decided what to do with their life, one who loved their life and as an added bonus, I even taught a woman how to pronounce Puyallup (if you don't know just ask). I can isolate with the best of them, but I guess the point is that sometimes we have to take that risk and break the unwritten rules. You never know what kind of impact you might have or what gifts you might receive. You might make a friend, but even if you don't you will have created a human connection in an often all too disconnected world and there is something to be said for that. Sometimes we need to question the rules and ultimately make our own.

A paradox of planning and spontaneity

It is a complicated reality to be a spontaneous person who plans everything. To set goals and know that there are steps required to get there. To always have a plan, but at the same time an awareness that nothing is ever really set in stone. We plan for almost anything, but we don't know which plan we will use until the time comes. It sounds confusing, but that's the problem with trying to understand another persons thought process or even to explain your own. It's not about committing to things or not committing, but it does mean that we are responsive to the possibilities that present themselves. Life is a little like chess in that way. We make our move, but as we do we have to try to see every possible scenario of every move we make and every response plus our counter response until the game plays out. We anticipate as much as we can, but we can't predict so we have multiple plans because life often changes which plan we end up using or even forces us to create a new plan.

The trick is to have some knowledge of what's possible and then to be willing to plan quickly and simply make things happen once we decide what to do. It's all about flexibility. The thing is, if we see something out there that sounds good, we should at least try to make it happen. It is easy to make excuses and to stay home, but in most cases, it's just as easy to get out and go do. Somehow we often manage to get it into our heads that we always need to have a plan. We are asked the question, "where do you want to be in ten years?" and it's not that we shouldn't be able to or that we can't answer that question, but we shouldn't feel like whatever answer we give locks us into that decision for the next ten years. In general it is important that we do what we say we are going to do or we have a thoughtful reason why we aren't, but we should always be mindful of being stuck. We should never be limited by our own plans or our own stubbornness.

The other side of a sermon on being holy

If there is good to be found in everything, is there also evil? Are sin and evil the same thing? Matthew 7:11 "If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" We tend to gloss over the, "though you are evil" part, but it actually speaks to us even more deeply about the need to seek and do good. There exists in every opportunity, in every choice the ability within our freewill that we have been given to choose evil, to choose good or to remain neutral and allow others and circumstance to choose for us. The fall of humankind in stories from all over the world is most often the result of the inability to resist temptation. That doesn't always mean to choose evil, but in the case of the Biblical story it is actually the giving in to temptation which leads to the knowledge of what is good and what is evil and ultimately to the choice which would have to made from that point forward.

The giving in to temptation, eating from the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, is considered to be the original sin. According to Augustine and what followed from him as the doctrine of "Original Sin," every human inherits this sin and is therefore born sinful. In the Genesis story it builds until the time of Noah when, "God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually." Gen. 6:5 God started over with the flood, but people constantly forget the good and chose evil instead and so we remain in need of redemption and of something to hold onto which reminds of the good. To sin is to turn away from God, or as it is often defined, "that which separates us from God." The struggle is and will always be to choose good over evil, to rise above our temptations. The inherent sinfulness or propensity for evil within us does not deny that at the same time there exists also within us inherent good and a desire to do good, but instead it places the duality of our inward nature at odds with itself and forces us to constantly choose and to be what we hope to be rather than what we could become if we give in to the constant temptations which surround us.

Out of place and stuck in time

It's not exactly tourist season in Washington DC, but as always there were plenty tour groups walking around DC today. The thing that was funny to me though was how underdressed I felt walking around in my jeans and coat, because even the tourists were wearing ties (I do have mine packed so I guess I will be prepared if I go into DC again, but that's not why I'm here). I am always struck by the monumental (literally) sense of history that exists in DC. I have been to much older places in the world, but in places like Rome and Paris the cities have such a different feel as though their history is a part of them and it's still alive but in DC it can feel awkward like the whole place is a museum. At the same time though it's also where the governance is suppose to be getting done and the real history that exists here is more recent. People come here and I think they can get stuck in the atmosphere of these pristine white marble temples/government buildings and like most museums there is this feeling that you shouldn't really touch anything. To be fair though, a lot of the buildings actually are museums and they are pretty incredible and more inviting than the government buildings. At the Supreme Court building they have this huge wide staircase that when deserted is pretty imposing and uninviting (which is kind of the point of the design as a larger than life entry portal for the "Temple of Justice" based on the ancient temples of Grease and Rome). I suppose it could be just that there weren't tourists wondering around in shorts and tank tops all over the place and the snow does have it's own effect, but whatever it was, it felt different than on previous visits.

Despite the feeling that it was there to look at and take pictures of and not to actually go into I decided to cross the expanse and enter the halls of justice. The court room is really not that big considering how big the things that happen there are. The most interesting feature in the room is the frieze that borders the walls near the ceiling. Acknowledging the great law givers in history, the frieze features the characters of Hammurabi, Moses, Confucius, Muhammad (yes I realize the problem with depicting him, but the respect for what he brought to the world in terms of law and justice has to count for something), Charlemagne and Napoleon amongst others. You have to appreciate the way it gives the proper due to these important figures from every corner of the globe. For any seeker of justice this is a special place dedicated to interpreting law and establishing a precedent for justice with far reaching ramifications.

Ultimately DC and the neighborhoods that surround it are an amazing place to be. Even on a cold day when the buildings look even colder and the formality of dress seems a bit oppressive, you know that there is life and you can sense that things are always happening here. There are people and cultures represented from all over the world. You can find any kind of food, art, clothing and whatever else from any place you can think of. There is a museum seemingly for almost anything from Air and Space to Modern Art to the Spy Museum (where you can test yourself to see if you would be a good spy) to Asian, African, European, Native American and plenty of other kinds of art. My last stop on this very brief visit to DC was of course the Methodist Building which sits right next to the Supreme Court and is the only non-governmental building on Capital Hill. If you stop in you can probably get a tour including the chapel where Martin Luther King Jr., Desmond Tutu, and others have preached, where many have worshiped where some landmark celebrations have taken place (you can find some of the history at: http://www.umc-gbcs.org/site/c.frLJK2PKLqF/b.3791391/). I look forward to every chance I have to be in this place.

The competitive fire of expectations

As I rounded the corner about halfway through my run I caught a rare glimpse of another runner up ahead (I tend to run at odd times and in a year and a half I have seen another runner only perhaps ten times). They were running along the same path about a quarter mile ahead of me and instantly my competitive instinct kicked in and I found another gear as if this other runner and I were in some kind of race (which they clearly knew nothing about). In mere moments I had closed the distance by half and my heart rate actually slowed as if my whole being had fallen into a methodical rhythm when much to my chagrin the other runner turned off onto a side road and my exhilarating surge of adrenaline quickly subsided. Almost as quickly as it had started, just like that the chase was over and I was back to my solitary and contemplative run (which is actually what I prefer, but the thrill of trying to overtake a competitor certainly awakened something within me). I freely admit to my extremely competitive nature, but what struck me about this was that it was more reflex than thought. My body responded without any prompting from my thoughts and clearly my instinct was to catch anyone who was ahead of me. Running, like any endurance sport, is mostly mental. Like that fact that for me, no matter how hard I have run, something clicks in my mind and I always have to finish stronger than I started. Training is important, but being willing to hurt is more important and I believe that a personal expectation that you can win is what separates the good from the elite. I am by no means placing myself among the elite, but I do understand the mindset that is required.

In life I believe it is the same. Being competitive is one thing, and from some perspectives it certainly is a component of achievement, but more than competitiveness I believe achievement takes the expectation that you can accomplish whatever you set out to do. In competition you have to believe you can win or you never will. In life even if the competition is with yourself (perhaps especially when it is) you have to believe, even expect that you can do something or you probably won't. I am not saying it doesn't happen that a person with very low expectations of themselves exceeds them, but that is the exception not the rule. My own personal expectations of myself are incredibly high and my own competition with those expectations is what drives me. My father (who I respect perhaps more than anyone else) once told me that my expectations are both my greatest flaw and my greatest attribute. I have to admit it felt good to know that my competitive fire still burns strong and though some may see it as arrogant I refuse to apologize for the expectations I hold for myself which push me to believe that anything is possible. The trick for me is to allow a change in expectations to be simply that. If you have high expectations sometimes you will fail, but every failure teaches us more about what we can do and we can choose to dwell on the failure or we can choose to adjust and to constantly seek our new goal. If we believe in ourselves we will tend to succeed more often than we fail and our failures will come to be seen as simply learnings along the path as we discover our true direction.

Anthropomorphism

Anthropomorphism

I asked my daughter the other day how the tires of her stroller got covered in mud and her response was, “Bob (the stroller is made by “Baby On Board” and has always been known as Bob) likes the mud.” Having a name is one thing, but having likes and dislikes is something new and it made me think of all the ways that we anthropomorphize things. Perhaps the objects we most often ascribe human traits to are our cars, but if we really think about it, we do it with all sorts of things. “The washing machine is acting up.” “I think my computer is mad at me.” People give names to their guitars (B. B. King’s “Lucille” is one of the more famous examples of this) and have quasi love affairs with their instruments. There are commercials running where people have conversations with their bed or their car after traveling, we have talking geckos, dancing peanuts (complete with top hat and monocle) and any number of other things we animate and make like us. In a manner of speaking you could say that it is an attempt at relationalism in the sense that we are personifying these things so that we can relate to them by seeing them in our own image.

From a faith perspective we do the same thing with God as well, limiting God and trying to comprehend things from within the scope of our own understanding. It is one thing to think in theanthropic terms seeing the divine in the human and the qualities and attributes, which are both, but it is another thing entirely when we create God in our image instead of the other way around. For Christians, both Jesus himself and Paul pushed us to see the divine in each other and showed us that as we relate to each other we relate to God, but they were both careful not to limit God into only being seen in us. Again, it is a relational thing in a sense of trying to understand God better by quantifying God in human terms, but as I often quote one of my favorite theologians, Nicholas of Cusa said, “If we could understand everything about God, God would not be so impressive as God.”

It makes sense and being able to relate is something special. Feeling like you know God better because of any way that you feel you can relate is probably a good thing. There is something to be said though in our ability or inability to relate to things that are not like us. We should be able to relate without having to make them like us. We should be able to see something as different and understand that that’s okay. In terms of god we need to accept that we don’t get to know everything. On the other hand, maybe Bob really does like the mud and what do I know.

Special connecions

There is something very special about a relationship in which you can go for months or even years without talking and then when you do you quickly slip into your old rhythm as though you had spoken every day. You miss them when you don't talk and there are always thoughts of picking up the phone and calling, but then you get distracted, you get busy, you end up with some reason you can't and then a week goes by...a month...more until finally one of you makes that call, sends that email, you manage to be in the same place, whatever and you pick things up because the connection and the foundation is so strong that the saying, "absence makes the heart grow fonder" holds true. This is not true for every relationship, but for the special ones the connection really can be so strong that time is not so much of a barrier. If we find a relationship like this, cherish it and be thankful because they are all too rare in our lives. We should never take it for granted, but instead take advantage of whatever chance we get to be in connection with each other. Technology has made it so much easier to connect, but we still have to do it and be intentional about it. I am personally more thankful than I could express for the several relationships I have which are like this. If you are one of those people in my life you have my love and gratitude for the gift you give me by being you and I look forward to whenever we will connect again.

The laying of a cornerstone.

When I was in graduate school I was asked to spend some time with perspective students and to give them a tour of the school. There was a standardized tour that they had written up directions and instructions for, but anyone who knows me knows that if you are asking me to do something it will be my version. My tour was a little different and if you ask me more comprehensive than the standard tour. The highlight if you happened to be assigned to me was a trip outside through some bushes down a dirt path to the corner of the seminary's first building. As you came through the overgrowth you reached a forgotten, though once hallowed place where the "cornerstone" was laid and inscribed with the words, "Christ Jesus Himself being our chief cornerstone." For me this was an important introduction to the school. It wasn't because I am a Christian and wanted them to see that Christ is the cornerstone, it was more about showing people the thing on which the institution was built upon. The cornerstone is a symbol of what is or at least was important to the builders and framers of the school and there is something significant in that. It is a Christian school though it promotes the study of all religions and is both ecumenical and interfaith in its scope and practice. The point for me was to introduce the importance of having a cornerstone; of having something substantial holding you up, because without it you just become whatever they teach you and you loose whatever “self” you started with. You can learn many things, but without something substantial in you and of you to apply those learnings to, you never really gain knowledge, you just have stuff that you know.

On Sunday January 31st, 2010 I attended the laying of the cornerstone of First United Methodist Church in Seattle. First Church was literally the first church of any kind in Seattle and they have just moved into their fourth building after a long process of deciding where to move and what would work. The other part of the process for the church was to decide what they are about, what their "cornerstone" really is. It is not easy to be a downtown city church in today’s suburban world where less people live in the city and churches are swallowed up by the skyscrapers and highrises that supposedly mark progress. First church decided to stay downtown (though in a different part of downtown than before) and to be a downtown church. They decided that that was who they had to be. It is a unique place where multimillionaires and homeless people can and do worship together. They built themselves on an ideal of being able to reach the population of the city around where they are. The building includes a social services center and is very intentionally an open place while at the same time being a safe place. Their "cornerstone" is laid as a foundation of being a welcoming and serving presence in the heart of the city. The motto is, "serving the soul of the city" and the whole thing works because everyone that is a part of it understands that that is their foundation and they refuse to let even themselves get in the way of this collective ideal.

As I walked into their new building on a day that was proclaimed as First Church Day in the City of Seattle by the mayor and First Church week in King County by the county executive, I felt compelled to think of my own cornerstone. In one of the classes I teach regularly the question we ask ourselves on the first day is, "what do you believe in so strongly that you would stake your life on it?" in other words, “what is your cornerstone?” A cornerstone has elements of faith, family, national/cultural identity and any number of other factors. Whether you feel strongly about any of those, they have an influence both good and bad on how we form the foundation of ourselves and of our core beliefs, which become our cornerstone. It may even be that we rebel against one of these things, but that rebellion defines us just as much as a strong affinity does. For both an individual and for an organization like First Church or my school, our cornerstone is constantly being built upon, but those things, which are most important remain the same even if they sometimes seem to get covered up by the things we place around them. These aren’t opinions or ideas, because the reality is that we all should be open enough to change any one of those, but there are some things that simply are who we are and we couldn’t change them even if we wanted to. The important thing for all of us is to take the tour from time to time; through the bushes and down the overgrown path to remind ourselves of the things that matter most, the things, which hold us up and make us who we are. As long as we can hold onto these the whole world can crumble around us, but we can always rebuild because our cornerstone is intact.

Memory

When your memory starts to fade, what will you hold onto?

My grandfather is a man of history, a man with memories. He is a storyteller possessed of endless stories that I have spent hours upon hours listening to; now his memory is slipping away and I wonder what stories i will never hear. Over the years with every visit new tales unfolded of life in Black Diamond and the toughness of my great-grandfather or of the way he lead his crew during World War II. Then there were stories of my mother, my aunts and uncle and in those his deep fondness and love for his family was always so clear. He and my dad taught us how to throw and to hit a ball and we could talk sports for hours and I listened and learned as he would confidently and accurately predict who would win every game. The doctor says there is a chance his memory will come back, but even if it doesn't I have my own now to hold on to and I will.

I used to visit a man whose short term memory was almost completely gone, but his long term memory never left him. I was a newer person in his life, but I think he lumped all of his pastors into one persona and still managed to associate me with the role whether it was me he was relating to or not. In his mind he was back in his twenties newly married and loving life. It makes me wonder if I get to that point what memories I might live in. We form new memories everyday. We meet people who may just be passing through our life, but who also may change us forever by their presence in it. The question is: what are the moments that are so meaningful they will never be erased? Is there a time in our life we would be happy reliving? in every life there are moments that define us and I would like to think that it's these that we hold on to. A time, a place, a person, your anam cara, something so special that it becomes a part of you, not so much a memory, but really a part of you that can't be take away; an anchor that holds you even when all else is slipping away, that's what we all need. Our memories are the best kind of gift, the kind we make ourselves. They become a story we can both hold onto and pass on and in the end I believe it is the parts that are most true to ourselves which will live on. I remember...

When to the Sessions of Sweet Silent Thought

Sonnet #30"When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste; Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long-since-cancelled woe, And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight; Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before.  But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end"

While listening to Public Radio International (PRI) the other day I was reminded of my time with the Seattle Young Shakespeare Workshop.  The program was on the use of words and the ability of the few rare and gifted persons like William Shakespeare to craft them in ways that can make the simplest word seem eloquent and which force you to think about every word for fear that you might miss the meaning of the whole. The program quoted one line from Sonnet 129  (a sonnet that was actually assigned to me to perform as a soliloquy) "had, having and in a quest to have extreme," and it was like that one line triggered something in my mind and I found myself reciting the rest of that sonnet that I had not read or thought of in ten years.  "I summon(ed) up remembrances of things past."  There was a point in my life when I had a Shakespeare quote for nearly every situation.  The sonnets offered the romance of lines like, "shall I compare thee to a summers day, thou art more lov'ly and more temperate" (#18), or the ability of love to see past all things and perhaps in truth see more clearly, "I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare" (130)

When I feel blocked as a writer I still find inspiration in those lines of iambic pentameter floating through my head, but more than that they remind me of the ability of every word to do so much and the opportunities for inspiration that exist in every moment.

Hit by a car

If you read my church newsletter you will see a version of this applied to the Church, but as I wrote it, it seemed just as relevant when applied to the individual.

When I was in High School I ran cross-country, and I can remember one time when I was with a group of four guys running through a neighborhood about two-thirds of the way through a long and familiar run. We were cruising along at a decent pace and as we approached a side street that we needed to cross we saw a car coming down the hill. They had a stop sign and we figured we would get there about the same time so we just kept on running. Then as we crossed the street the car not only missed the stop sign, they failed to see the four runners crossing the street and I was hit on my left side rolling up onto the hood of the car. They weren’t going very fast and they stopped right away without hitting any of my teammates, but I can’t say that I appreciated the experience much at the time. One of my teammates slammed his fists on the hood of the car denting the hood further (after the indent my left hip had made) and we (including me only slightly bruised) ran on leaving the driver with a dented hood and hopefully some thought for watching where they were going. I tell this story because the other day I was out running and came within inches of a repeat (minus the teammates) of the incident in high school. Perhaps it was getting hit once that made me just a bit quicker in recognizing a driver that is not paying attention to my coming, but whatever it was, I managed to dodge at the last minute. I am not sure the driver ever even saw me. My point is not to criticize the two drivers, but instead to make the observation that sometimes we get so comfortable as we are moving along, we miss things and we fail to react. The drivers in both cases had probably driven those roads a hundred times; they were in their comfort zone. They were probably going home or to some place they often go and they were not expecting someone to come running along. They went through their motions of looking left for cars, slowing, but not stopping since there were rarely cars or anyone else around, and then they went on their way. In one case they ran into something that hopefully made them think and at least for a while certainly broke them out of their comfort zone, and in the other they came close, but instead missed things entirely. Both of these are what can happen when we get too comfortable.

The dilemma for us is that we want to be comfortable, we want to have familiar things with familiar people around us, even if we know that we might miss things. Even talking about changes and the possibility that something we are used to might disappear is scary to us. In our lives we can become complacent; accepting things as they are and never really thinking about what else could be. We are moving right along relatively happy, so why should we change things? Maybe we shouldn’t, maybe we should do more of what we are doing, but maybe we have just never really thought about what else we can do because we got so comfortable with what we were doing. The point is to ask the question: “are we too comfortable?" And, are we missing things all together because we are passing by on our old familiar route? There are points at which we run into things and they shake us up a bit and maybe even change the way we do things a little for a while and it's in those times that things can happen. It’s in the midst of those times that we can get unstuck, we can break free from our paradigms and out of chaos be reborn, or we can return to how we were because we realize it really was good. Often we realize that the best answer is probably somewhere in between those things, but either way we come out better because we were forced to think about things all over again and re-prioritize.

We need to be open to the uncomfortable so that we can truly see what is around us. Sometimes we even have to dive in and choose the uncomfortable, trusting that good can come of it if we leave ourselves open to it. I believe that to be a true visionary leader we must find a way to be comfortable with the uncomfortable and to confidently lead others out of their comfort and into the unknown. Without the unknown life would be boring.

Happiness

I have recently encountered a lot of people who seem to be perpetually unhappy (not depressed which is something more clinical and severe, just generally unhappy) and it makes me wish there was something I could do, but it also makes me wonder about happiness. Some of the most joyful(happy) people I have every known were people whose lives were much harder than mine has ever been, so I often think of them when I am feeling down and it helps me gain perspective. When I was in Nepal a few years ago I met some young people who had to sneak out of their houses in order to practice their religion and when caught were beaten severely. The thing is it only made them practice their faith all the more fervently and they managed to take their joy wherever they could find it. In Guatemala I met people who by my cultural standards had almost nothing, but who were some of the most generous and friendly people I have ever met. In each case they are happy because they understand how simple happiness can be. It can be as simple as being thankful for what you do have or for the little things that matter and not worrying about what you can't control.

Perhaps what we all really need is to have our own list of favorite things like Maria in "The Sound of Music" (and it probably helps if you can sing them too). I started writing my own and if I get it to make sense I will record myself singing it and post it with this (sometimes being willing to make a fool of one's self can make not only you happy, but can be the thing which helps an unhappy friend find a way out of their own unhappiness). In the musical "You're A Good Man Charlie Brown" the cast sings a song called "Happiness" and they each make a point about our ability to choose what makes us happy and to let the little things count. Charlie Brown has the best list of course: "Finding a pencil (dropped by the little red haired girl who he is so in love with that even her pencil is important to him and which means he gets to find her and give it back), two kinds of ice cream, walking hand in hand, five different crayons, being alone every now and then, morning and evening, day time and night time and anything at all that is loved by you." It seems there is wisdom to be found in song and maybe Bobby McFerrin gives us the best advice with his immortal tune:

"Don't Worry...Be Happy...

In your life expect some trouble

But when you worry
You make it double
Don't worry, be happy......
Don't worry don't do it, be happy
Put a smile on your face
Don't bring everybody down like this
Don't worry, it will soon past
Whatever it is
Don't worry, be happy"

My Favorite Things

Walking in cities and hiking through forest

the song of the birds a magnificent chorus

snow covered mountains and cool flowing springs

these are a few of my favorite things

banana popsicles, creamy gelato

feeding my new infant daughter her bottle

to burst into song cause you just have to sing

these are a few of my favorite things

preaching and teaching and churches with steeples

traveling the world and meeting new people

the sound of the rain and the life that it brings

these are a few of my favorite things

when the flu hits

when my friends hurt

when I'm feeling sad

I simply remember my favorite things

and then I don't feel so bad

Lack of hope/Finality

I feel like I have been around too much negativity lately (especially about budgets and things) and it's rubbing off on me to the point I actually said something pessimistic yesterday(which is completely out of character). I guess my answer is to write about hope and to reach out to the people who seem ready to give up. I started this blog a while a go when someone used the phrase, "this is the last..." when we both knew they didn't really meant it:

The "Final Frontier," which is only movie five of the now 10 or 11 movies, or the "Last Crusade" which wasn't last (yes I understand that the writers were clever in their word choice and that neither meant it had to be the last movie); we use the words final and last so often without knowing and without even really wanting them to be true. This is the last time I am doing this, this is the last time I will see you, this is the last time... how many times does Brett Favre have to retire only to come back and play as good or better than before until we understand that there is always a chance and rarely is something actually final. I realize that sometimes we really do have to let go of things and move on and the release can even be worth celebrating, but rarely if ever should we cut ourselves off from the possibilities of "what if" when we really don't want last to be last or final to be final.

Perhaps we just need more hope. Hope that the impossible can happen. Hope that there will be a next time, or hope that an end can mean new beginnings in a different way. Hope that what you want, that what was good, wasn't just some fantasy, but was real and can be again. Hope that the joy you seek really is available if you are willing to keep seeking it. Hope that in every challenge we face we can be made stronger and the rewards that much more sweet for the trial we had to endure to get them.

We live in a time when governments and media seem to follow Machiavelli's advice using fear to influence the populace. Stephen Colbert of "The Colbert Report" uses the term, "fright facts" in his parody of all the unsubstantiated scare tactics that seem to be influencing so many people and he's right to poke fun at it, but it's only funny because it's true and people are buying it. It is sad to me that people are more influenced by fear than they are by hope. When Obama ran on a platform of "hope" it seemed people all over the world really wanted to hope, but it doesn't take long for people to loose it and to fall back on skepticism and fear. We have a choice; we can live in fear, or we can live in hope. In fear we can do nothing, just hide. In hope we must be intentional and willing to do what is necessary even it's hard. We need more hopeful people.

Story time and spontaneous dancing

As I sat with my 2 year old at the library's story time today listening intently then jumping up when it was time to sing and dance, it occurred to me what a joy it can be to listen to a good story told by a good storyteller (or even a bad story told by a good storyteller, but not so much for a good story told by a bad storyteller). When we were children that was the best entertainment. We could listen to our parents or our teachers read story after story as we entered those imaginary worlds and as we absorbed new words and new thoughts planting the seeds that would form our imaginations. Just looking around at the faces of those 2-3-4 year olds rapt with attention and filled with a sense of wonder I couldn't help but wish they might all hold on to that forever. We need a sense of wonder. We deserve a chance to have new seeds planted in our imaginations. As adults we read for ourselves (though recorded books are becoming more and more popular) and that is such a gift, which allows us to travel to places we may never go and live adventures we may never have. I enjoy movies, but the best movie ever made doesn't even compare to a good book.

Perhaps the greatest gift my daughter has been given is the freedom to imagine and to dance to the music in her head whenever the feeling hits. At story time the librarian directs the dancing and singing, but at home a spontaneous dance moment from dad or daughter(with or without music playing) can occur at any time (same goes for spontaneous singing). It's just this energy, this joy that needs to be expressed. We had a family dance session (with music) after dinner and it was the most fun we have had at home in a while. The lesson for me is about removing our inhibitions and freeing our minds from all bonds. It's almost like you can hear the rhythm of the world around you and you let it move you. You allow yourself the freedom to do what you feel, to be enthusiastic about living each moment and you let your mind wander and wonder. People talk about the rhythm of life, but how many let themselves hear it and respond by dancing? It may seem a bit silly (whether you are reading things or you have actually witnessed it), but maybe that's what makes it worth writing about; we could all use more silly in our lives.

The blending of voices/collaboration

In my cluster of churches we have Tongan, Samoan, Hispanic, Filipino, Multi-racial and european congregations. For one day a year we all get together for a choir festival as we celebrate the diversity within our unity. It should be a simple thing to pt together and in most ways it is, but it somehow manages to seem like a lot of work too. When we sat down to discuss the service, we were presented with a lengthy, but well written liturgy put together in a simple way to kind of slot between the choirs. The thing missing was the Eucharist and for the Tongan and Samoan pastors that was critical. Our discussion turned into an interesting one about the differences between a European service with long unison prayers and lots of readings, but no communion and the services of other cultures which are more focused on a spiritual experience with less form and a whole lot less reading, but always with communion especially if it is with another group. I am not sure that everyone really heard each other at the table, but the group has a lot of respect for each other and didn't get bogged down in the little things. We ended up taking out some of the formulaic stuff (with a nod the fact that it really was well written) and putting in the Eucharist. The previous year we had just left things up to two of the pastors and went with whatever they came up with. This year it started that way and turned into a collaboration that I personally appreciated for the insight I received into my own worship tendencies and a cultural sensitivity that reminded my a lot of the kinds of dialog that take place when putting together interfaith and ecumenical gatherings and worship. There is always a balance and I was proud of the pastors who were willing to stand up for what was important to them so that they could feel their people would be represented and their voice was being heard. It wasn't like there was any intentional saying it has to be a certain way, but it still meant something to hear a pastor stand up and talk about why the Eucharist is important to them. Those who love liturgy didn't loose out either and the service did its best to blend the voices of our faith communities into the voice of one church.

That same week I was part of an ecumenical service involving a Russian Orthodox Abbot, Episcopal, Lutheran, Presbyterian, and United Methodist pastors and with a choir of people from the Latter Day Saints. The service was put together using an Episcopal pattern with some Presbyterian prayers and a sermon by the Russian Orthodox Abbot. We could not do communion together because of some fundamental differences around the act, but we did have a blessing of the bread at the end. The part that stuck out to me though was that we used the Nicene Creed which clearly was inappropriate for the ecumenical group gathered, but I appreciated our Orthodox brother simply being willing to omit saying the Filioque (this is the part where is says the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father (agreed on) and "from the Son" (not agreeable). As much as I appreciated his willingness to ignore it, he shouldn't have been put in that position and I was disappointed that he was. Another part of the service that stood out to me was the bowing before the altar and crossing ones self. These are not a common part of my tradition and in some ways I felt awkward as the pastor who doesn't really do those things and who has a theological issue with bowing to the altar or to the cross. In some ways the services was so liturgical (traditional formulaic) that I felt like I (or at least my style of worship) was the most left out of the service (though I had plenty of parts to read). This service was not a collaboration, it went well and had some good moments, but we were each just doing what we were told to do.

On a separate non-religious note about collaboration I recently finished listening to an interesting collaboration called, "The Copper Bracelet." This is the second book using the same set of characters and with each chapter being written by a different writer. The first was, "The Chopin Manuscript" and I read it because there were chapters by several of my favorite authors including David Hewson (which was my uncle's name, and who is a very nice guy on top of being a great author (I met him once and talked to him about travel and choice of graduate schools for something like 45 minutes)). This is obviously a very different kind of collaboration from that of a putting together a worship service, but there were some lessons in it that I find similar. What stands out to me is the effortless way one author can simply kill off or resurrect a character in a way that no single author would our could. When it's your character there are always some who you simply know will survive, but when another author takes over all bets are off. I was actually annoyed at one point when a character that seemed interesting was abruptly killed and it made all his development in previous chapters seem pointless.

What is all comes down to is that in collaboration you sometimes have to be willing to let go. You do what you do and the next person does what they do and so on and you can't always worry about what they will do with the things you created. On the other hand, in a good collaboration there is a mutual respect so that the important things are understood and in the end all the participants can feel they were are part of getting things to where they got. It can not be just about everyone doing their part, it needs to be about everyone actually being a part of things. Collaboration can be beautiful and it can be disastrous and either way we can learn a lot from it.