Ready Or Not

Joy to the World

It's rainy today out here on the farm, but not unpleasantly so. As a matter of fact, it's a bit inspiring. I suppose that's why I'm sitting at the computer, writing. 

We're 19 days away from Christmas at this point and for all I know, it will happen just like it always has. Nobody has to do anything to bring it about, although I have no doubt that many people, if not most, probably think that it can only take place if they do their part.

I passed the Quaker Bridge Mall a few days ago and the lot was jammed packed with cars and still other people driving around to find a place to park--any place would do. And I thought to myself that I was glad I wasn't one of them. But, of course, that's my personal choice and outlook. Don't get me wrong: I'm not against shopping and gifts and decorations and all the other wonderful traditions of the season. Far from it! As a matter of fact, I think all of that adds a lot of joy to the holiday festivities. 

The main thing to keep in mind, though, is that Christmas will happen with or without any of us doing anything. 

Years ago I was on a train from Greenwich, CT to Grand Central Station. It was a few days after Christmas. Along about 125th Street, the train slowly made it's way through an area of high rise apartment buildings. As I looked out, I could see apartment windows decorated with meager strings of lights and star or a face of Santa or a snowman or even a Nativity.

My first thought was along the lines of "isn't that a shame! Those poor people probably didn't have much of a Christmas, and if they have children, they probably got very little, if anything at all." Then I suddenly realized that that was a pretty shallow point of view. How would I know what kind of Christmas they had? As a matter of fact, they may have had a wonderfully rich Christmas, maybe not materially, but spiritually and emotionally. And isn't that which counts most?

Maybe they were all snuggled in, drinking hot chocolate, singing "Rudolph" or "Silent Night" and feeling warm inside the steamy windows. Maybe they celebrated with thanksgiving because someone who was ill--a child, a mother or father or grandparent--was well again. Maybe they were just admiring that single string of lights, their eyes dazzled with hope and love.

No, we don't make Christmas happen. It will happen all by itself. We can add to it if we wish and keep the traditions that mean so much to us. But it will happen all by itself. And if we are alert enough we will find its richness in the simple story of shepherds and Magi and a father and a mother and a child lying in a manger.

A Psalm of Nature

A couple of people have commented that I'm rather haphazard about writing for my blog. They are right, of course, but the thing is I try to do it as something genuinely strikes me that I feel may be worth sharing. I don't want it to be a case of just writing any old thing in order to habitually fill some space. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

This morning when I got up and checked the gage, it was 21 degrees outside. Now there's some inspiration for you! "The times, they are a changin,'" The past few times that we have been out hiking, we've walked a couple meadow-like fields at Fireman's Eddy. The experience for Chris and me as well as our faithful pup, Faye, has been exhilarating. 

The tinge of fall colors and the freshness of the air, the vegetation and the wildlife (Chris almost stepped on a quail), have been like a psalm written by nature itself. 

I've always been a bit of a romanticist, more inclined toward feelings than intellect; more appreciative of inspiration than perspiration (not that I want to spend 40 years in a cave contemplating my life.) I tend to be more interested in how something strikes me rather than why it strikes me in a particular way. All of that, of course, is a good reason why I would not have been a very good engineer or financial wizard. 

But that leads me to say that that is the reason we need everybody. Oh, we could very well do without mean-spirited, egotistical, narcissistic, and selfish people, and above all, most certainly those whom we consider to be evil. But the way life works best is when all of us follow our own inclinations for contributing to the common good.  i.e.-There isn't one universal model that we are all supposed to duplicate--one-single perfect image of a human being.

It's hard, though, because the world is always lifting up examples of the so-called ideal person, either in physique or beauty or intelligence. How sad! The entertainment industry thrives on that; ad agencies are based on that; even religions have an element of it in making judgments as to who is more righteous than whom.  

But to me, the truth is that we need one another. I'm not going to make a list here because it would be too long and I also wouldn't want to leave anybody out. The point is that anything anybody does that makes the world a better place, a more loving place, a more beautiful place, whether on the small or grand scale is exactly the way it's supposed to be.  

I suppose that's what taking those hikes in the meadow or mountain trail or deep in the Pinelands represents for me. Here is nature doing it's thing. The trees aren't in competition with the bushes nor the streams with the river nor the quails with the wild geese. They are all doing what they do best--being themselves. And as a result, they write the perfect psalm.

Art Takes on New Meaning

I just got back from one of my favorite places on the planet--the Martin Guitar Factory in Nazareth, PA. I had to take my guitar up for adjustment. As usual, the technician did some marvelous work. 

For those of you who have never been there, I highly recommend it as a great place to visit. You can take a tour of the factory and watch true artists at work at each station, each one adding something different to the finished product. From where I live, it's a mere hour and a half, so I feel privileged to be able to hop in my car and make my way up Route 31 to 78 and into PA. 

I bought my first Martin back in 1971 for $450. The particular model I got at the time now costs around $3900. I saved for a year for it and it became my sidekick, so to speak, in all kinds of settings. I performed with it at the Music Pier in Ocean City, took it on retreats in the Poconos and various other places, used it for singing at weddings and funerals, and did special music in church with it. Through the years it had taken a beating having been exposed to all kinds of weather and temperatures, not to mention from constant use.

So a few years ago, I took it back to the factory and had it refurbished as a gift for my oldest son (his only inheritance, I'm afraid). As the original owner the work was done at minimal cost--a great added feature to owning a Martin. 

When I retired, the congregation of the Cranbury United Methodist Church presented me with my present Martin guitar which has been a true treasure for these days of my life. I put it that way because "these days of my life" are rich with opportunities to learn new things and to spend time improving in things that have already been a part of who I am. 

Regarding that, I had a revelation. The area in which I live is filled with artists and craftspeople. I've had the opportunity to observe many of those folks at work doing their thing. I've been to studios and workshops and art galleries and have seen firsthand the incredible results of their talents.  It's truly inspiring!

Well, on one particular day I was thinking about all that and I thought that what I needed was a hobby...something that would be a fulfilling expression of who I am.  I knew one thing: I am not an artist or good at crafts. Putting two boards together without light showing through is a real challenge for me. Then it suddenly struck me: my music, my guitar--that's my art. (Please don't misunderstand me: I'm not professing to be some great performer). What I mean is that it was right in front of me. I had been thinking of it as just something I do and have done since the age of 12, but what if I made a mental and spiritual shift to more fully appreciate that part of me? What if I focused on that as that perfect hobby? And I did that and it has come alive for me in a way that boggles my mind.

The thing is that I had grown so used to it being just another aspect of my life that I had actually treated it matter of factly. 

I guess my point is that each of us has something that represents who we are that is more significant than perhaps we're giving it credit. In other words, we've dismissed it as "just something we do fairly well" or we're pretty good at, but we look at it as being no more than that. I think a lot of us have a tendency to downplay our abilities and therefore tend to focus on what we can't do. Sometimes we even go to the extent of envying someone else's life and looking at our own as not all that interesting. 

My father was an electrician and when he retired, he looked for ways to fill his days. I would never have guessed in a hundred years that he would have turned to crafts, with his hands rough and tough from hard work, yet he discovered something about himself that led to a hobby, the results of which have produced great enjoyment for many, many people. He created models of buildings and houses using popsicle sticks. They were of my hometown of Medford but particularly of the time in which he was growing up. They are definite representations of genuine folk art. 

I think that something lies within each of us that if we had more respect for it and gave it more attention, it would enhance our lives a hundredfold, not to mention the lives of others. It may have nothing whatsoever to do with our jobs, but the truth is that it's probably right in front us or just under our feet.

Come to think of it, life itself is an art and we are the artists. 

Thinking With the Heart

I've been working on this particular posting for over a week now. Usually I finish them in just one sitting, but for some reason, each time I got into writing it, something didn't feel right. So, as a result, I stopped and did something else. This morning as I was having my coffee, I figured out what was going on for me. It's simple really: I was trying too hard.

In other words, I was relying too much on my head and not enough on my heart. I had an idea of what I wanted to say, but I treated it linearly, not spiritually. That, I think, is a common thing for a lot of us with regards to the way we approach life.

I'm not saying that linear thinking isn't necessary in getting our ducks in a row. Certainly our bank accounts and budgets (if, in fact, we bother to make one) are dependent on our ability to use our brains in calculating where we stand financially. And our calendars are pretty concrete indicators of our obligations, socially and otherwise (although, for the life of me, I can't remember when I'm supposed to go get a particular test this month at the Capital Health Center). And knowing the directions to a destination we need to reach by a certain time pretty much rely on clock and map or GPS.

Having said all that, those things in general are the black and white and sometimes gray issues of life. But we live in a world which offers us the full spectrum of color. We have been taught and have learned how to think with our brains. That's a wonderfully useful technique. However, just as important, and maybe even more so, is learning to think with our hearts.

Chris and I were away leading  a retreat in Lancaster, PA (specifically Bird-In-Hand) a couple of weekends ago. It was a great time with some wonderful people! Saturday afternoon was free time and so Chris and I took off exploring the area. We had been there before--actually many times through the years--but each time we have had a deep appreciation for the beauty and serenity that emanates from the people and the countryside. There is a gentle charisma to the nature of the people who serve you in restaurants and stores or with whom you simply have conversations.

The point is that that is not something that they have carefully figured out in their brains. It flows naturally from them from their hearts. In all the times that I have been there, I have yet to see anyone who seems panicked or stressed or impatient. Even the traffic respectfully cooperates with the pace of the Amish buggies, and everything seems to flow with ease--unless, of course, you're encountering those from outside the region who are used to life in the fast lane, so to speak.

I made a promise to myself this morning as I came to the realization of which I spoke at the beginning: I promise to start each morning by thinking with my heart about the potentially colorful splendor that awaits me as I live and move and breathe throughout the day. I want to make sure that the source by which I go about this life emanates from deep within to those I meet and has been carefully thought out by my heart.

Some Days Are Diamonds...

When I woke up this morning I had the distinct feeling that it was once again time to write. Actually, I've been especially busy over the last couple of weeks--most of it good, some of it "had-to-do" stuff. But what's fascinating to me is how life from time to time gives us inner signals that "now is the right moment."

When I say that, I don't necessarily mean that "now is the right moment" in some grand, earth-shaking way--just now is the especially opportune time to accomplish something that you've had on your list to do; or now is the moment to sit, relax, and listen to that music or watch that movie or enjoy that sunrise; or now is the moment to write that blog posting or that letter you've been putting off or that phone call you've been thinking about making.

I truly believe that there is a series of those kind of experiences that occur in our lives, but we're not always sensitive to them. We have other things to do-at least that's what we tell ourselves. And it is true that there is a lot of obligations and responsibilities that constantly knock on our door. We can't abandon the things that Stephen Covey says are the urgent and important matters of life. However, what does it mean to truly live life with a sense of joy and freedom and with an ongoing renewal of the spirit? That's a question that's worth considering I think.

I know you all know the, I suppose, overused expression that no one ever reaches old age or even the point of death and says to him or herself, "I wish I'd spent more time at the office." Trite as it may be, there's at least a seed of truth in it. And that sudden feeling that I'm referring to, where life is nudging us to do something or be something or shift gears in some way may be just the right moment to become fully alive in some new wonderful way.

Most of us have been taught to be responsible people. That's a good thing. I do think, however, that sometimes we've been over programmed with that to the degree that we feel guilty if we're not tending to "important" business every single moment of the day. (By the way, I have to confess that "responsibility programming" didn't fully take hold with me.) 

I think that there are regular, everyday moments and then there are the "just the right moments." The first are the normal tasks to do and things to think about,etc. Those are largely ego-based. The second are moments of inspiration. Those are spiritually based. Sometimes the two merge and the experience is exhilarating! 

I guess my overall point in all this rambling is that from time to time we need to abandon even the most urgent and important and indulge ourselves in those things that will remind us that life is not only worth living, but we are worth living it.
 

Some Days Are Diamonds

Time and Place

Chris and I got away for an overnight last week. We drove up on Monday and came back on Tuesday. We went to Plymouth, Massachusetts particularly to go whale watching and to visit the Plimouth Plantation (that's really how they spell it). We also did a tour of the Mayflower II, and of course we feasted on fine food and had morning coffee by the water at the harbor. 

It was a quick trip, and as was the case when we went to Maine for three days back in June, we wished we could have had more time. But it seems like summer has slipped away from us. As many of you know, especially if you read my last posting, we were very occupied taking care of all the things that were involved with my brother-in-law's illness and eventual passing. It was a busy and often very difficult time. We don't regret for a minute any of the the things we had to do--we did them out of love and devotion. Of course, I want to make it very clear that it was really Chris who had the full responsibility on her shoulders. I was mostly a support person for her.

Monday--Labor Day--we went to the beach. It was virtually empty because it was overcast and a bit on the rainy side. As you know, most people want the sun to shine brightly as they sit by the sea or lie out on their beach towels soaking up the rays. We, however, like the beach in all kinds of weather (with a few exceptions like hurricanes, for instance). 

I mostly sat in my beach chair contemplating my life as a semi-retired United Methodist minister. While I was doing that, a memory came surging back into my consciousness. I remembered that one time many years ago I asked a youth group what they would ask God if they were granted the privilege of asking God one question. They all had similar answers, mostly about their destinies of love, wealth, fame, and happiness in the future. Then they wanted to know what I would ask God and I told them that I would ask "What time is it, really?" 

What I meant by that was what time is it in the chronology of my life expectancy? what time is it in the stretch of human existence? what time is it in the life of this planet on which we live?

The thing is, I'm not sure I would really want to know the answer. For instance, if I had known such a thing as some of the unfoldings of my life story, say, back when I was a teenager or in my early twenties, I may have been scared to death to go on. But the thing is, I didn't know and I did go on, just taking it one day at a time (there's really no choice in the matter). There have been some scary times, painful times, uncertain times, sad times, and confusing times. I think that's true for mostly everybody.

However I've always seemed to have been all right through it all. As many times as when things have been unpleasant that I have been inclined to say, "Why me?" there were equally as many times or many, many more times when things have been wonderful and I have said "Why me?" So I guess the answer to the question about "what time is it really?" is that it is the appointed time for me to walk on this planet for now--don't worry about tomorrow. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote in his essay Self Reliance, "Accept the place the divine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events." And if I read correctly between the lines, the word is that you're going to be all right through it all.

Something I Have To Remember

        Thomas F. Eden                      1953 - 2013
 

Tom and Christopher (about age six)

     My brother-in-law, Chris's brother, passed away peacefully during the night two weeks ago. We had been expecting it. He was in hospice care at the Masonic Home in Burlington. Of course, expecting it does not mean that we were shock-proofed. The call came at 3:30 a.m. The first thought at that hour is that someone has dialed wrong; the second thought is that this is it--the call you been dreading even though you knew it would be coming sooner or later.

     Tom was a great guy. He was a strong but gentle spirit. He loved his family, his friends, and most especially his 12 year old son, Christopher. He had a slow, dry sense of humor even to the end. We would go down to visit him and always be surprised that someone in such a final stage of life could still be so witty. Because he never complained, it didn't seem as if he were suffering any great physical agony of any sort; although he surely must have been quite uncomfortable. But that was Tom--apparently he regarded complaining as a fairly useless exercise of emotions. I have to remember that. 
     Amid all the complaining, blaming, and self-pity that seems to come so naturally to human nature, there is another point of view that is available for those who have eyes to see: life is what it is with or without our permission.
     Though there are certainly exceptions to the rule in the overall scheme of human existence, especially when you consider what is going on in the world at large ("man's inhumanity to man"--I haven't figured out how to phrase that in a politically correct fashion), and even though there are definitely some mean-spirited people in the world, for the most part in our individual lives, things just happen because they happen. In other words, no one was out to get us, hurt us, or punish us. The world is not against us because it rains on the day we were going to the beach. We don't get a cold because someone wanted us to be sick. We didn't have a flat tire on the way to work because God doesn't like us.
     Is there a time to complain, to blame, and to feel sorry for ourselves? Of course there is. I just think we sometimes get carried away with it. We use it not as a healthy source of venting our emotions, but as an excuse for not taking responsibility for ourselves or as a way to control other people ("Do you see what you've done to me?" "it's your fault that I'm this way!" "Do you realize how you have ruined my life, my day, my happiness?"--those sort of things). Tom never complained. I definitely have to remember that.
     He will be missed by his family, his friends and those who knew him because he was a good person and pleasant to be around. He brought good energy to the world, and if there's one thing we need more of, it's that. And if there's one thing we need less of, it's the tendency in human nature to be so caught up with our misery that we make others miserable along with us.

"See, I am making all things new." (Revelation 21:5b

    
    

Where Life Is

 

 I had one of those frustrating days yesterday when my laptop and I disagreed on how it should be working. Talking to it did no good; begging was humiliating; and prayer didn't seem like an appropriate way to handle such a technical predicament (although I will confess that I used it anyway--even though I suspect that God probably doesn't regard such a thing as a priority in the world of human spiritual needs).
     I worked all day on it trying to get things back to "normal." I performed the usual system restore and disk cleanup and a few other computer incantations. But, alas, to no avail. I was left with the last resort effort of restoring my hard drive to the original factory settings, which, as many of you know, means that your files won't be saved--they will go to whatever mysterious realm old files go when they suddenly disappear.
     I'm happy to say that by the end of the day I was back in business. The old "all's well that ends well" adage had graciously applied to my situation. As a result, I had a peaceful night's sleep, thinking more highly of myself than I probably ought to have thought (paraphrasing the words of St. Paul in his letter to the church in Rome). All in all, it was a very satisfying result after a time of great frustration.
     Several years ago I did a program at the Pinelands (formerly Mt. Misery) with Gwen White (wife of one of our former bishops, C. Dale White). While we were setting up, we were talking about the fact that we both often refer to sources beyond United Methodist and Christian materials in general when we prepare to lead workshops. That discussion was very liberating for me personally to hear someone I deeply respected so much admit to that. And several years after that I was in correspondence with Bishop Reuben Job regarding a spiritual life center he was proposing in Nashville--also implying the use of some nontraditional resources. At the time,I had an interest in possibly being a part of that.
     So yesterday when I was going through what might have been an extremely frustrating time, I referred to one of my favorite non-Christian thinkers and writers--Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk. He talks about the perspective of "Being Here Now." In other words, be very present in the task or event in which you are engaged at the moment. When you do that, you do so with a nonjudgmental and even appreciative attitude. 
     If it's something fun, your attentiveness to the experience magnifies it with a greater sense of joy. If it's something frustrating, you see it as just what is and not as a curse of some kind.  Therefore you go about it as one of life's peculiar puzzles. As Thich Nhat Hanh says, when you do that, whatever you're doing, you are living life mindfully in the only moment you actually have at the time--the present moment. 
     In other words, if you're preparing dinner, be present in the experience of that. Be mindful of the task as a meaningful and important part of life and not as a terrible chore you have to carry out. And when you sit down to eat, be mindful of the pleasure of the food before you. 
     Anyway, the point is that as John Denver has sung, "Some Days Are Diamonds, Some Days Are Stone."  But both kinds of days are legitimately life. And as such are meant to be experienced, I believe, for what they are--in the present moment. By the way, that's where true peace exists and joy and love.
 


    
     
 

Sometimes That's Just the Way It Is

     It's been a while since I last posted, but we've been really busy with family matters. Chris's brother is in hospice care at the Masonic Home in Burlington. Her mom had a heart attack last week and was in Robert Wood Johnson in New Brunswick. On top of that, Chris has been handling all of the financial responsibilities for her brother's personal life and for his care in hospice. So we've been doing a lot of running around to the Masonic Home, to the hospital, to office buildings and, when possible, to the grocery store for our own lives here on the farm.
     I'm personally without a car these days since the one I was using finally gave up the ghost. But, hey, it was a great car in the sense that it got me to where I needed to be for the last year and a half or so and it made it to 260,000 miles. And considering the fact that I only paid a dollar for it, what's there to complain about?
     Also since I last posted, we've been to Maine once again. We never seem to have enough time up there to satisfy our spirits, but what little time we did spend was as enjoyable as usual. I managed to get to one of my favorite places--the Farnsworth Museum in Rockland,ME. They particularly feature the paintings of Andrew Wyeth along with some of his father's (N.C. Wyeth) and his son's (Jamie Wyeth). I am a major Wyeth fan and have also been to the Brandywine River Museum down in Brandywine, PA, and had a wonderful tour given by his granddaughter. I highly recommend that as a day trip for those of you who are in this general area.
     But life goes on in its inevitable way, doesn't it? We want full control over the circumstances and conditions of our lives, and sometimes we actually have it in a limited sort of way, but the key word there is "limited." The fact is that we can decide to be healthier by doing the things that make that possible. We can decide to pursue certain goals, and if we have the determination and persistence, we can usually bring about the desired results or something similar thereof.Yet no one is guaranteed a life of smooth sailing--not even the wealthiest, most intelligent, healthiest, most religious, or kindest people in the world.
     So what does this unpredictable nature of life mean? I think it means that we should go ahead and live life with a sense of joy and laughter when things are going well, a sense of openness and prayer when they are not, and a sense of thanksgiving that life overall is in the hands of a Divine Spirit whose wisdom and understanding far exceeds our own--even all of ours put together.

Sometimes that's just the way it is.

     
     

    


    

You've Got a Friend

Spirit cloud looking down on me as I walk the labrynth

 The name Walter H. Beckwith won't mean anything to any of you, but it means a great deal to me. He was the man who is responsible for me even thinking about becoming a minister. For some reason, I'm thinking of him today and remembering what a strong, positive influence he had on my life.

He was appointed the pastor of the Medford [United] Methodist Church when I was 14 years old. He was a recent seminary graduate and was finishing up his probationary status in the Southern New Jersey Annual Conference. He was then about 25 years old as best as I can remember and was filled with youthful vitality.

Up until his arrival on the local church scene, I had the impression that all ministers were old and always dressed in dark suits, and that church in general was for old people. Even so, I was fairly active in the Methodist Youth Fellowship of which, by default, I was elected president (no one else was interested in the job). 

With his arrival, suddenly there was a surge in attendance at youth group meetings and it became one of the best things that had ever happened to me. We met every Sunday at 6:30 p.m. and then if we stayed for Evening Service at 7:30, we could go to the party afterward. We would go to someone's house each week and play games and have snacks. Once a month we would have a special event like going bowling, having a campfire with hot dogs and smores, going on a hayride, or at Halloween we would put a float in the parade.

He really knew how to get kids excited about church and still have fun in their lives. It changed everything for me in the way I saw religion. Then one night when he dropped me off at my house, he told me that he thought I would be a great asset to the ministry. Me? Really?  I went in the house and told my mother and she said that I shouldn't get too caught up with that idea because no one in our family goes to college...we don't have that kind of money. So I learned not to say anything more about that to her, but I had a feeling that maybe that's what I was supposed to be. 

Without going into further detail, unless you think you might interested in the longer story sometime (no obligation there), the rest, as they say, is history.  By the way, my parents were very proud and pleased as they witnessed my graduation from Princeton Seminary in the Princeton University Chapel and my ordination at St. Peter's Church in Ocean City, NJ. Also, by the way, my father died 3 months later, and when we were cleaning out his things, I found a copy of a hymn on his nightstand that was sung as an anthem at my ordination: "Our Times Are in Thy Hands."

And no truer words were spoken--our times are in God's hands. But as we make these life journeys, we don't travel alone and we don't become who we are alone either. Here and there significant people have spoken a word or a phrase or a whole paragraph that has set us on the path we're meant to go. It might be a parent, a neighbor, a friend, a child, a teacher, a relative or any one of a hundred other possibilities. But one of those at the top of my list is the Rev. Walter H. Beckwith. He died a few years back, but I was able to speak with him before that and to thank  him for his role in my life.

                        From left to right: Chris, Kevin Kemp, Ellie, my sister Betty Lou and Gary. 

 

Thoughts On A Rainy Day

     I’ve been thinking lately about the meaning of life and the meaning of my life in particular. Do you ever do that?

     I realize that that’s an age-old truth that some of the greatest minds in history have endeavored to uncover. Theologians, philosophers, and poets have all come up with various interpretations…even the meager likes of us preachers have presumed to give some answers to questioning minds. One hopes that those who have listened to us have been discerning enough to dismiss some of our ranting and raving about what a sorry lot we human beings are and the awful state the world is in.

      Is there one single meaning that universally applies to every life? Also, what do we mean by “meaning?”

     To my surprise many of the things I was told as a young man and many of the things I believed in no longer seem either true or relevant to the way things really are—not everything, but many. I don’t know if that means I’ve gotten older and wiser or just older. I would love to believe that it is the former—older and wiser. But, of course, that depends a great deal on the definition of “wiser.”

     Those of us who are clergy have a tendency to think that our Sunday morning words are the truth and nothing but the truth, so help us God. But I can’t tell you how many times after a sermon that I have wanted to slip quietly away during the final hymn of the service, realizing the inadequacy of what I just proclaimed to be the meaning of a particular passage of Scripture and thereby a segment of the meaning of life itself.

     If indeed I am older and wiser, the wisdom I have come to is this: God has given us the gift of life to decide for ourselves what the meaning is. For some it is about earning proper credits for the next life; for some it is fame and fortune; for some it is making this world a better place for all people; for some it is finding the way to true happiness (that’s what the Dalai Lama says it is); for some it is all about living out the work ethic; for some it is being nice (which a friend of mine said is the simple definition of being Christian); for some it is learning and growing; for some it is art or music. I could go on and list several other options, but I’m sure you get the idea.

     On this somewhat gentle rainy day, the meaning of life, at least to me at the moment is to be thankful. Come to think of it, maybe that’s the meaning everyday and all the rest is living with an open mind and heart for whatever may come my way. John Lennon said: "Life is what happens to you while you're making other plans."

Yet and Still

So today I am about nothing in particular except to think about ways to improve my life.  I say that not because there's anything wrong with my life, but because to not think along those lines is to resign myself to the way things are as being enough. In other words, no need for more growth intellectually, emotionally, spiritually, or in my general well-being. That idea sounds as if I would be ready for the proverbial "rocking chair."

My recent hospital stay has made me very reflective in some ways. Things could have turned out a lot differently than they did. I could have ended up with a full-blown stroke that left me paralyzed or even led to my demise. Instead I got a tap on the shoulder from some spirit guide that whispered in my ear, "Jack, relax, enjoy life, laugh, love, and do what you can to make the most of the years you have left on this planet." 

There are some things that I know I probably won't be able to accomplish. I won't become that rock star that I wanted to be when I was seventeen; I won't grow any taller--in fact, I'm getting shorter than my original towering height of 5'7"; I won't ever become that world-famous preacher that I thought I might want to be when I was in my first year of college in North Carolina; there's a pretty good chance that I'll never write that great American novel that's Number 1 on the New York Times' Best Seller List for weeks on end; and for sure, I won't get any younger, chronologically speaking.

So where does that leave me in the grand scheme of things? Well, I can still play the guitar and sing for my personal pleasure and for anyone else who may enjoy what talent I possess along those lines; and I can practice and even get better in some ways. I may not be able to grow any taller physically but I can stand erect and be thankful that I can still be up on two feet. I can work on my skills as a speaker/preacher and treat them with respect as a form of who I am, and give thanks for those who are willing to listen to what I have to say. I can continue to write with a sense of purpose and enjoyment because you don't have to be on any list of best-sellers to be qualified to do so. And I can continue to work on not letting an old person into my form.

 The bottom line is this: the meaning of our lives is not based upon fame or fortune. It's based on how much we treasure it ourselves as each new day dawns as a gift from God.

Another one of Life's Realities

I haven't written in awhile--ever since we got back from a terrific vacation in the Florida Keys. It was a wonderful birthday present from my wife and I guess that in some ways I'm still under the spell. On the other hand, life's realities have caught up with me in a very attention-getting way. 

Sunday night before last, I was standing talking with a friend in the living room when, suddenly, I began slurring my words and the left side of my face began to sag (not to mention that I was drooling out of that side of my mouth--oh, never mind, I just mentioned it. Not a pretty image.) 

I was having what is commonly referred to as a TIA; i.e.- a mini-stroke, mild stroke, partial stroke...something like that. Chris had been on the front porch talking with another friend and came in looking panicked as the person to whom I was speaking also was panicked and they said, "Jack, sit down." 

That was followed by a call to 911, the arrival of the police, the EMT's, and paramedics. All the while, I had no recollection that anything had occurred other than having been talking with a friend about the beautiful spring weather. It apparently had lasted about 3-4 minutes.

Needless to say, I was taken to the hospital and spent the next few days there undergoing tests, taking medications and selecting food from the hospital menu. Happily I was released without any side effects from the
"stroke." It was, however, a definite warning sign to make sure that I take my meds and continue to follow up with the appropriate appointments with my doctors. My diet has been and is almost completely vegan (with some very minute variations there from time to time) so there's no worry along those lines. I'll just continue my same healthy eating plan.

The interesting thing from all of this is that rather than being discouraged or upset, the whole experience has made me feel very positive about life. I can't explain it, but I will say this: Another of our friends who was there that night was holding my hand and had her hand on my shoulder. She's a deeply spiritual woman, but definitely not in any kooky sort of way. She suddenly said to me, "Jack, there's an angel standing right next to you." Then she described to me what she saw . Bottom line: I absolutely believe her. And I have a very deep conviction that there's one standing right next to you, too.

Free To Be and Free To Live

 THE TAIL OF A WHALE OFF PROVINCETOWN, MA on CAPE COD

     There is a story about a man who had a love for exotic birds. One day he decided that he wanted to own one. So he traveled to a place in a jungle where he had heard there were hundreds of colorful parrots. He intended to capture one and take it home and keep it in cage as a pet. And so, he did.  

      Weeks later he said to the parrot, "I'm going to return to the place where I found you. Is there anything you would like me to tell your friends back in the jungle?"

      The parrot said, "Yes. Tell them that I'm very happy living in a cage here at home with you."

      So the man went back to the very spot where he had captured his parrot and announced to all the others: "Your friend has a message that he wants me to give you. He said that he's very happy living in a cage at home with me."

      At that, one of the parrots fell off a tree branch and fell to the ground dead.

      Needless to say, the man was completely shocked! When he went back home, he told the parrot that he had delivered his message. Then he told him that as soon as he did, one of his friends fell off a branch and fell to the ground dead.

    Upon hearing that, the parrot in the cage fell off his perch to the the bottom of the cage, dead. The man was obviously very upset at this, but he reached into the cage and took out the dead parrot, opened the window and put the parrot outside, sadly intending to bury him later. 

     As soon as he did that, the presumed dead parrot got up and flew to one of the branches of a tree in the yard. The man said, "You tricked me! I thought you were dead!"

The parrot said, "No. My friend was sending me a message. He was telling me that I have to die to myself to be free to live!"

You will no doubt have your own interpretation of the meaning of that story; but as I see it, it refers to the idea that when we came into the world, the intention was for us to live lives that were free of all the things that have in any way hindered us from truly being ourselves and fully enjoying and getting the most out of life. Genetic factors aside, it's almost as if we were born with a clean slate, innocent of all fears, prejudices, self doubts and a whole lot of other negative emotions.

     Then as the years progressed, outside influences--well-meaning family, friends, and society at large--began to condition us in ways that took away our sense of well-being and freedom. We were caged up, so to speak, and prevented from being the person we perhaps most want to be. However, I don't think it's ever too late for us to liberate ourselves. What I think it takes to do that is increasing our state of mindfulness--being aware of how we think and feel and why we think and feel the way we do.
    I recommend two particular books along those lines: Mindfulness by Ellen Langer and Wherever I Go,There I Am by Jon Kabat-Zinn. There are many others on the market, but those two I think are especially good.

Chris on horseback enjoying the freedom of the ride in the hill country of Santa Fe, New Mexico.

 

I Still Believe...

Well, I’m sitting at my desk, writing this on my birthday, reflecting on the years that have passed, wondering how I got here. For those of you who may not know, I just became a seventy year old and in many ways just as naïve as ever:

I still believe that laughter is the best medicine for curing what ails you emotionally.

I still believe in magic even though Penn and Teller have tried to convince us otherwise.

I still believe that it’s possible for dreams to come true, especially when it comes to love.

I still believe that finger painting is the most fun of all the art forms I’ve ever tried (though sadly I haven’t done it since kindergarten).

I still believe that most people are nice, and those who aren’t, are just afraid to be so.

I still believe that there’s such a thing as Heaven, but that we don’t have to wait to get there to be happy.

I still believe that taking a walk in the woods on a beautiful spring day is one of the most spiritual experiences you can have.

And finally (though not really), “All work and no play truly makes Jack a dull boy.”

Please take note of the picture included with this post and you will see an owl’s face in the sky looking down on me as I walk the labyrinth that we made in the field just after the hay was mowed a couple of years ago.  That’s just one of the many reasons why I still believe after all these years of walking this planet. “A very happy unbirthday to you,” (Alice In Wonderland, Walt Disney Productions, 1951)…unless, of course, it is your birthday, in which case, Happy Birthday!