Choose Peace...Only Not When I am Directionless.

Choose Peace.

I have listened to several teachers say that at any moment of your life that you can choose peace. You can choose how you approach anything that life throws at you. If someone cuts you off in traffic or takes the last parking place that you were waiting for, there is a choice as to how you react. You can be angry, swear, give them the middle finger, and consequently you will be in a poor mood for sometime afterward.

Now, I like to think that I am evolving. I am gaining in wisdom and patience and tolerance and understanding. Sometimes, that image is shattered as I find myself acting exactly the opposite that I want.

I lost the directions to a place in Austin. I thought I knew exactly where it was. However, when I arrived there, it wasn't there. It looked like the office building that was in the picture on the web. It really did.

I stopped at a library branch and tried to look it up on the Internet, but all the terminals were taken and there were three other people waiting for one to open up. I looked in the yellow pages in the library and could not find the listing. Finally, being a little frustrated and impatient, I called my Dad and asked him to get on the Internet and search for me. This was on a cell phone, parked in the library parking lot, looking at the time on my dash, and wondering if I was going to be late or not.

Dad did the best that he could, but I was short with him, frustrated, impatient. I could have handled it a lot better. He probably felt upset that his son calls him and all he does is demand that he do the Google search the correct way. Some son.

I made it in time. However, I felt bad that I lost my cool.

Choose peace. The phrase never entered my head until the whole episode was over. I wish it had. If it is a choice between being late or being a butt to my dad, I can afford to be late next time.

Having a lot of Money...or just the feeling of...

We all want money. Come on..admit it. All of us have on occasion to win the lottery, scratch off $50000 one day at the store. You know.

Why?

From all the things I have read, the statistics of happiness compared to the socioeconomic status, a current of unhappiness runs through all levels of society. Ironically, the newly rich have lower levels of perceived happiness shortly after having received a lot of money. This is actually similar to the perceived happiness in a person who has just lost a lot of money.

What's going on?

I would like to be rich. But is it really that I would like to have money or would I rather have the feelings associated with a lot of money. For us in this society, money equates to power, possibilities, security, freedom from stress and worry, peace of mind and joy.

What would be the difference if you were given a wish that you wanted to feel what it would feel like to be rich, or to actually be rich. Think carefully.

I would love to have possibilities. I would love to have power to change things for the better. I would love to have peace of mind. I would love to have security. I would love to have freedom. I would love to have joy.

Most of all, I would love to have all of these things regardless if I have a lot of money or not. In fact, I want these feelings in my life before I ever get a lot of money, so that I can really appreciate what being rich means.

Giving till it Heals.

I have not been a great giver in a lot of my life. During my College years and Camp years I was a much greater giver of my time, skills, money, support, etc. I was more focused on other people a lot. I am getting back to that slowly because I now believe that by giving I help both of us. I help the recipient in that they get the support, assistance, money, time, skill, labor that they need or desire and I get the "high" from knowing that I have done what I was meant to do in the world, serve others.

In this light, I am going to put something out there that I hope somebody in their life can do. I hope it will be me, but anyone who gets in this position first is welcome to do it. It will be a life-changer.

Mission:

With $10000 dollars, spend the next 100 days giving away 100 dollars to a stranger each day.

The gift doesn't have to be to anyone in particular. Just go about the day and when you feel the person or moment is right, that's when to give.

My hypothesis is that by the end of the 100 days, the giver will be more fundamentally changed, closer to whatever God or belief system they may have, better able to cope with problems and stress in their own life, and have a greater appreciation for people everywhere.

Yes, this sounds like a lot to hope. However, I know that an act of kindness releases endorphins, serotonin and other neurotransmitters in the person who gives but also the person who receives and anybody who even witnesses the act of kindness. So at the very least, the giver will be adding to the joy or "high" of so many people.

I dare myself to do it in my lifetime, and I dare you. I think it would be the best spent $10,000 that was ever spent.

I even think that whoever does it first could write a book called "Giving Till it Heals: A 100 days of Spiritual Therapy" or something like that. Name you own book.

Get seen on Oprah. Get famous, get rich, and then you can go through the entire experience again but give away $500 a day for 100 days.

A Lesson on Talking

I have had a few very interesting but very quiet friends. I am not really quiet. I like to talk, like to sing, like to make noise. Sometimes that is just what it is, noise. These friends were quiet, thoughtful, deep, and in their own way as intense as I am.

One of my friends has a soft voice, thinks out every word he says, is reflective, and very engaging when he does talk. I know that what he says if something that has taken time, it is deliberately thoughtful, and worth hearing. Sometimes I would stop talking and there would be this silence for what seemed like hours and then he would speak and I still to this day remember most of the words he ever said.

Another friend was warm, caring, a light shone through his eyes. He put people at peace around him. His faith was something that was an intrinsic part of him. He didn't use "God" language when speaking, never quoted a scripture, never used other people's words, but his simple and straightforward wisdom, spoken in slow and measured words was powerful. Again, not a person with whom I will forget their words anytime soon.

What does this teach me about myself? Why am I, being such a word-smith, loving to tell stories and anecdotes, telling jokes, etc, so impressed by those that use few words to mean as much?

I don't know if people listen to me, or if anything I say is worth remembering. Sometimes (as you can see in this blog) I use several words when fewer would make the point better. I don't like being misunderstood. I use a lot of words. I also confuse people a lot.

Perhaps these people in my life that use few words realize that they don't have the compunction to make sure people understand what they are saying. They don't have the fear of being misunderstood. Therefore, they can use few words to say much. In the process, I think that says it all.

Walking Wounded and Silent Suffering.

Sometimes I come across someone that to all outward appearances, they seem calm, polite, put together, confident. Yet, something about them gives an impression of sadness, weary endurance, or silent suffering.

What do I do in these situations. I can feel something is wrong. Sometimes I can see the stress or anxiety on the other person's face. How do you approach people like this?

I am tempted to start up a conversation, but very few people share their sorrows with a stranger. I can pray for them. This I do, but isn't there more I can do?

I can be nice to them, send them positive thoughts and energy. But I meet more of these people all the time. Let's face it, I was one of them not too long ago.

Sometimes when I was suffering in silence I wanted someone to stop and talk with me. I know my family wanted to talk with me, but with family, I just didn't want to share my thoughts. Why would I feel different if it was a friend or even a stranger.

What makes us the walking wounded, the silent sufferers. What makes us the people who see others suffering and do nothing because we don't know what to do.

So, if you are reading this and have some advice as to how to help people who are suffering in silence, please tell me.

Cooperative Play

There are all kind of online games out there today. Some are on Facebook, others are massive online role playing games, and others just don't fit a category at all.

A lot of the games you get points or money or experience for blowing things up, killing, stealing cars, injuring or incapacitating people, etc. However, a few you can only "win" or get any better by helping other people, by cooperating as a group.

Isn't it great that in some games, helping your neighbor is a good thing?

I remember even playing Monopoly as a child, when I was in trouble and I was about the exit the game, one of my friends would "loan" me some money, and there were several times that I did the same. Why? Because the joy of playing with other people beat the joy of watching someone else loose and leave the game.

Now I am finding that the joys I can experience alone, such as playing piano or guitar or pottery or watching TV for that matter are never as enjoyable as when I do them with someone else.

It is amazing how much fun you can have with two not so good guitarists. When it is the quality of the company you keep rather than the quality of any music you produce that makes the day.

I also notice that hard work, or dull repetitive work is faster and more fun if you are sharing it. And why is mowing another person's yard is always better than having to mow your own?

What do I do when I recognize my Prejudices?

I like to think I am an enlightened soul. No really. I thought of myself as a person to whom race, color, creed, religion, sex, or socioeconomic standing meant nothing to me.

However, the other day I realized that I pre-judge almost everyone I meet. I don't think it is even conscious most of the time. I just know that a lot of learned responses from me put people into a label, a box, a category. This limits me in finding the greatness in them.

I had to get gas, and there was someone else coming into the convenient store. He was about my age, black, dark sunglasses, and a grey hoodie. I found myself checking my wallet. I looked around the shop for other people. I noticed the security camera behind the register. I am ashamed to say this. Ashamed to admit it.

These things happened so fast that it wasn't until later that I engaged my mind and saw my reactions for what they were. I was reacting to the prejudice I learned growing up. Why the fight or flight response? Why did I see and label this person, who may be the nicest, kindest, most gentle being on the planet, as someone to be cautious around? Someone to be feared?

Again, I am not proud of my actions. I know that my grandfather was racist. I have always seen myself having so fewer prejudices. But there it is.

I can only pray that God helps me to engage my brain, and my heart and stops these patterns of automatic thought. It is a disservice to humanity.

I choose to be a person who loves. Not a person who prejudges. But I have a long way to go.

When the Next Step is too Much.

During college I went with my communication class to a high-ropes course. It had zip lines, climbing walls, repelling, you name it. Supposedly it was there to build community, individual accomplishment, and be a great break from the college life for a while.

I went through all the stations and even in the climbing did so much better than I thought I could ever do. Then the last station was a pole that had a swinging bar suspended about four feet from the very top of the pole. When you got to the top you were to jump and catch this bar and then the instructor would let you down.

I tried. I got to within one step of being on the very top of this 15 inch round end of a telephone pole. I knew that one more step, though it meant abandoning the niche my foot had and supporting my weight and maintaining my balance for a second on one foot, would get me to the top. I tried. I lifted my leg several times but could not bring myself to take that step.

This was silly. My mind knew that they had guide and safety ropes on me. I couldn't fall. Yet, each time I tried to lift myself up to the top I had this fear stare me straight in the face. It was so frustrating. Finally I exhausted myself in trying to do this, as the instructor was strongly suggesting that I let go, rest and try the station again later.

I refused to give up. But all that happened is that when I finally let go, my legs were done for, no energy left at all.

Consequently, I never did go back to that station. I even tried to hide the tears from the other students, because I felt like I had so let myself down.

Later on, I realized that if I had backed off sooner, rested and came back to it I might have done it the second or third time. My stubbornness not only prevented me from accomplishing the task, it broke me down and took away my confidence.

I have only started learning wisdom recently.

I am stubborn.

Why can't I realistically back away from something that is out of my league, or can be tackled when I am not tired or impatient?

How many things could I have done so much easier if I had backed off the first time and came back when I could physically, mentally, spiritually handle it better?

Anjinryuumei - A kind of Peace

Sometimes other cultures have so much better a definition for words that frankly, we take for granted in English.

In Japanese, anjinryuumei means "the peace of keeping an unperturbed mind through faith." What a wonderful word. I focus on the part that says "unperturbed mind through faith." My mind is many times perturbed.

In Timor there is the word "simu malu." This means bringing about peace through mutual understanding. How simple yet so true. If I truly understand another, peace is so much simpler.

What is best is that there is a great Norwegian word "Fred" that also means peace. That's fantastic. "May the Fred be with you." How great is that?

In Swahili there is "amani." Which has so many different translations, but the one that I like the best is the "Peace of God which cannot be understood."

What is great about the many words of "Peace" is that for some languages, they are the most simple of constructions. Which probably means that they are some of the oldest words in that particular language. (Yes I realize that does not apply to some).

Even in Latin the word for peace is "pax" which can be traced to the very beginning of that language.

This leads me to believe that we as humans have needed a word for peace since our very beginning. At some point "peace be with you" really meant that at that moment, though we were enemies, we would suspend hostilities long enough to talk. A parlay.

I think I will call my particular brand of peace "Goofy Peace." The peace that comes from shared groans after hearing a particularly bad pun.

Have peace in your day. Even Goofy Peace.

Admitting Mistakes

I once worked with emotionally and physically abused children at a facility in Texas. It was the most difficult job I have ever had.

Most of the children were one step away from 24 hour lockdown status. Yes I know it sounds like jail. Just think of this as a half-way house to keep children out of jail until they grew up.

Now I have an ego. Most every job I have ever had I had confidence through the door that I would excel at it. But this one, that confidence disappeared very quickly.

I won't go into detail, but I was so out of my depth. When the ones for whom you are responsible do not grasp cause and effect, have triggers that set off violent or suicidal behaviors, that little piece of paper I got from my college doesn't mean diddly.

For the first time in my life I was called into the boss's office with another staff who was also having trouble. The boss confronted this other staff first and for twenty minutes the boss yelled at her and she defended herself, trying to shift blame, throwing up excuses, etc. Then she got off with a warning to improve her behavior.

When it was my turn, the boss asked about several incidents in question and asked if I had anything to say. She was totally in the right. I had no arguments, no defenses. I did not effectively manage the children and I knew it. So I said so.

There was a very uncomfortable pause that seemed to last a long time. I thought I would be fired, or suspended or something. Instead, the boss reiterated the purpose of the facility, the importance of focus, understanding and care for these children. I also got off with a warning.

When I talked with one of the staff several weeks later, she said that the boss usually yelled at people, and I was one of the few ones for which this didn't happen.

I would like to say it was my glowing personality, but let's face it, it wasn't.

I hope it was the fact that I was open and honest and truly wanted to become a good staff and caregiver. Perhaps I was just so out of my depth that all the excuses in my own mind just sounded like so much garbage. Who knows.

Jumping to the worst conclusions.

Why do I still sometimes jump to the worst conclusions given very little evidence. There have been times that I have gotten my taxes done and been shocked at the amount.

Thoughts go through my head like, "WHAT." "HOW." "WHY." and feelings of being even more poor than I was before and wondering if I could survive even another year with these taxes multiply in my head.

Then the day comes when I go to the tax man and he rightly points out how many mistakes I have made in my return, overestimating and underestimating, and forgetting entire sections of things that I could deduct. Suddenly that painful number starts going down and down.

It is silly. The car mechanic comes out with a big smile on his or her face and you think the cost just went up a thousand dollars. The air conditioning goes out and you see yourself on Ramon noodles for the foreseeable future.

I am trying to train my mind to approach life a little differently.

A big tax bill, it means I get the opportunity to manage my money better.
A smiling car mechanic means that he is happy at the money he just saved me.
The air conditioning means that I get to see if that cute Home Depot woman is working at the register today.

Yeah. Not easy to believe those things, but I am going to try anyhow.

A Quiet Place

How many times have I searched for a quiet place. A perfect scene. A peaceful grove.

I can remember the place that I felt most at peace, until recently.

It was a a summer camp. We had a huge log hunting lodge that was turned into a chapel, with an upstairs porch that overlooked the campsite and the bluff. It was a great place, open to the world.

I spent many nights on that porch, looking up at the cross on the hill, and seeing the stars. A quiet place many times where the worries of the day and the background noise of life would be still for a moment.

It is strange how things happen when being still, being quiet. Sounds that I never heard during the day would come alive. My senses would become sharper. The peacefulness of whispered conversation, quiet talks, and shared community seemed to happen the most then.

Now for me a quiet place is anywhere that I can tone down my mind, be still, be at peace, listen. And perhaps hear and feel and be aware of the significant moments of silence that make the rest of life richer.

Bare Necessities

Okay, one day I was short of toilet paper. Yes, that miraculous thing that keeps civilization together. I went to Walmart to see what the selection was, and while going through the aisles I was humming.

Now usually I hum nonsense, no tune, just something thrown together to occupy my mind. However, when I listened to myself I realized that I was humming the song from the Disney movie "The Jungle Book" "The Bare Necessities."

I starting singing this is a low voice, and sort of got a bounce in my step like I was Baloo talking to Mogli. Suddenly, going to pick up the bare necessities was kind of fun.

Someone seeing me in the Walmart that day may have had some strange thought about it, but I had a great old time.

The Bare Necessities of Life include being Goofy!

Meditation and its problems

I have recently started meditating. It is a time to quiet the body and mind, do deep breathing, center yourself, focus on one thing or nothing, etc. Sounds easy right?

I lay down in bed and adjust the pillows so that my head is totally supported from neck to scull. This seems to take some time, always adjusting the pillows. Then I make sure that my lower back is supported sufficiently, slip the shoes off, make sure the air conditioner is putting out a cool but not cold stream of air, find some location for my arms, which never seem to find a comfortable position. Then...Then I am ready to start relaxing.

I start using the vowels and consonants of the many names of God, or repeat a verse, or something using sound. Everything seems to be going great. Yes...I can feel myself becoming more peaceful..

Then, something starts butting against the side of my body. I open my eyes and there is my 14 pound cat, hitting its head against me because I am being to noisy.

I try to explain to it in a calm voice that I am trying to relax, and give it a scratch or two behind the ears.

I start again.

It now starts meowing every time I make a noise, and pounding its head against me.

I get up, throw the cat out of the room, close the door, and have to get comfortable again.

I now know why Mother Teresa, Gandhi, and St. Francis of Assisi didn't own any house cats.

What is Good?

For a long time I have been the kind of person to question everything. What is the right thing to do at any moment? What is the right decision, the right career, the right path to follow. What is good and what isn't.

I am no sage, no prophet, but I do seek after the truth of things. So please feel free to disagree with what I think I have found out about what is Good.

Good is......

Desiring that the other person becomes the best person they can be.

Adding to the sum total of joy and peace in the world.

uplifting those that are down, whether spiritually, physically, or mentally.

Creating or sharing beautiful things that inspire you and may do so for others, and willing to be inspired by what they do.

Caring for yourself so that you have the ability to care for others.

Being willing to share when sharing is called for,
listen when listening is needed,
laughing when laughter will lift up,
crying when shared emotions will heal,
and loving above and beyond all else, the golden rule.

Yes it is a little abstract, a little vague. But I'm still working on it.

Profound Doubts

Sometimes I have doubts. Sometimes I have profound doubts. Though some of these blogs may seem very optimistic, somewhat rose-colored outlook on life, it wasn't until recently that I could see the optimism and beauty in anything. Now I am basking in it and want to experience it as much as I can.

It took a long time of just surviving, just hanging on, just being numb to everything and not putting up a fight to change things for me to get to this point where I now appreciate life so much more so than I have in years. I have gone through a very dark time in my soul, but I am better for it.

Doubts are good. Bad things happen that shake out beliefs, dim our hopes, make us cry out for release or sometimes even for justice. A void is created and we feel empty inside. Then when we recover, when we bounce back (even after 15 years) we find that the void is filled, and suddenly the things we took for granted and the things we overlooked are new and fresh and wonderful. We are a greater person, better at expressing our love, a better brother or sister or mother or father or daughter or son.

I still doubt. I am still human. But I am growing.

Childhood Heroes

Growing up I was a science fiction fan. I watched everything having to do with the future and possibilities. Some notable characters were Superman, Batman, Kirk, Spock, Mr Robinson (Lost in Space), and Dr. Who.

I found that I was drawn to Spock in Star Trek. He had control of his emotions most of the time, was logical and pragmatic, had a bearing and gravity about him at all times. Even when he did feel emotions, they were passionate. I would argue that he loved more deeply than did Kirk, who lets face it, was a bit of a player!

I use to model myself on Spock. Calm, logical, collected.

Then I grew up.

I found that as a hero he left a little something to be desired. Humanity.

When talking with people, I noticed that when I was human, laughed, winked, frowned, smiled, etc. people were more interested. When I acted like Spock, well they closed down. No one wants to talk to a computer.

Being human is easier. Let's face it. I was born to play the part.

Building and Destroying

I read that one of the highest rated job satisfaction career are in demolition.

It makes sense to me.

When I was young my brother and I would build these complex Lego structures. Futuristic cities, cable cars, nuclear power plants, helicopters, spaceships, you name it. We would spend hours creating these things. In the eyes of children they were works of art.

Now my brother and I, not being sentimental, would proceed to destroy these marvelous creations. The power plant would break in half, the cable car would drop from an imaginary mountain, the cities wrecked by the spaceship crashing into them...

For those moments, destroying things was fun. The only times we regretted that destruction was when a Lego piece would crack or some favorite connector would split and we couldn't build those things exactly how they were again.

How many times have I destroyed something I was creating because I wanted to start over. Too many times. "Lets just stop and start over!" sometimes works...sometimes doesn't. Sometimes a piece is broken, a part twisted, a connector lost and cannot be found again.

The Power of Human Touch

I am an avid reader. One book that really got to me had a story in it about the power of the human touch. It captured my attention.

There was a hospital that had several preemies that were on the borderline of surviving even a few days. The staff was told on some of them to not form attachments, don't touch them, don't hold them, don't get attached because they would likely not survive. Well, against the wishes of the administration, an elderly nurse went in after rounds and if she could, held the hands, stroked the heads, and the ones she couldn't even do that with she still talked with and sang softly to them.

The days went on and while it is sad that a few did succumb and died, most of them started getting better. They started over the next couple of days to put on weight; one even could be weaned from the ventilator that she was on.

Finally, all but two fully recovered to the place that they were stable and could be moved out of intensive care.

When the nurse's behavior was reported to the administration, they did a great thing. They asked her to keep holding and touching and talking and singing to the preemies that would come through the hospital.

This was several years ago, but it started the studies into the importance of touch and premature infants. The book went on to say that the success rate of recovery for these infants averaged 40% greater than those that were not given any physical attention. In fact, because of this there are now several hospitals that have volunteers that all they do is physically touch and talk and even sing to preemies.

How wonderful that the loving act of one nurse and the importance of touch has saved so many lives.

When I was indescructable.

My family lived in Minnesota when I was in preschool. The winters there were very cold and the lakes and streams would ice over for months at a time. It was perfect for a five year old to go out and have fun.

My brother and I would be outfitted in these bulky, head to toe snowmobile suits, wool mittens, with scarves around our neck. We would wear these large, fur (or something) lined rubber boots. Even with all of this, as soon as we hit the outdoors we tossed the scarves, usually took off our mittens and unzipped partway our snowmobile suits.

We would take off to the stream that ran next to our house and proceed to toboggan all around the stream and on it (even though we were warned about going on the stream itself.) One time I was sliding across the stream and the ice cracked and I fell in. I didn't think much of it, as I crawled out, except that now there was a place we couldn't run the toboggan. My brother and I continued playing like it was no big deal.

Well, when I got home my mom took one look and stripped the clothes off of me, turned on a hot shower and tried to warm me back up. In her words, I was blue. Really blue. I didn't think it was that big of deal. I never felt the cold. I was indestructible.

Thank God for mothers that know when to get their babies out of the cold.