When I was a child, I found the world to be a confusing and frustrating place. Other children were difficult and extremely unimaginative for my taste. Teachers were posturing authority figures with very little empathy. My family was wonderful, but I could sense their frustration with my lost-in-my-thoughts, hyper active ways. I began to think that there was something wrong with me, that I was somehow just born defective and that nothing could ever change that.
One of two places where I ever felt a truly deep sense of reverence and connection was in the darkened room of a movie theater. The other was listening to my father read to me stories of adventures, of Robin Hood, of King Arthur, of the legends. Both of these things were a deep education for me into what right or wrong was, what honor meant, and what it took to be a person of substance. In the years following, I found myself tested again and again, like all of us have. Sometimes I succeeded. But many times, I failed. Horribly. Epically. Other times, I got distracted and got wedged into a situation where I didn't live up to those old values learned in my childhood. Each time, it was like a small piece of my spirit broke away and fell to the ground. It was almost unrecognizable in the moment, but over time, I felt the crumbling of "myself", the fracturing of the child in me. I felt broken. I felt lost. I felt the creeping nothingness that follows the decimation of who you were. I felt a confirmation of that recurring feeling: there was something wrong with me. I was born defective... It was only after I returned to the stories of my youth, that I reread the books I had been read by my father, that I started to remember who I was. While I am definitely not perfect, I know find myself thinking about how I can live within the values I learned all of those years ago. I am committed to very intentionally living them for the rest of my days. I would rather die than lose that part of myself again. But what about you? What do you stand for?
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Working with children, as I do, takes an enormous amount of emotional intelligence. Teaching them music, poetry, and drama - even more so. It's my job to help them find a way into connecting with themselves and then infusing that connection with a real confidence that allows them to show it in front of others, even though they might be afraid.
It's a tall task, far beyond simply teaching them the musical staff, notation values, and the like. This is deep psychological and spiritual work. For me to do it, I have to constantly work on myself. This can take some ridiculous forms, like my wearing a crown and sunglasses while teaching nine year olds to battle rap, which I did earlier today. Besides just general over reaching ridiculousness to soften the atmosphere, I am constantly on the look out for insightful new techniques and methods to emotionally connect with both my students and others. Such a concept was introduced to me recently while hearing a report by two clinical psychologists who work primarily with abused children. They say that a vast majority of children who are abused will fall to say something because they don't feel that they can trust anyone, especially adults. They then lock away the deep pain caused by what they have gone through, letting it eventually turn toxic and manifest in other ways. These men stated that often, when in distress, a child tends to be asked something along the lines of "What's wrong with you?" or "What's wrong?" The psychologists then stated that the best phrase to use in such a situation, when seeing a child in distress, is to ask "What happened to you?" That phrasing is very specific, communicating that one; something has actually happened (they aren't making it up or exaggerating) and two; it recognizes them as being worthy of recognition in themselves - they matter and that you are taking an interest in them. It may seem overly cuddly feely, but these things really matter in the lives of children. The difference in obvious. While I began using this phrase on a daily basis when children appeared to be distressed, I noticed a very marked change in how willingly they communicated their problems with me. There has been an overall deepening of many of my connections with my students and I plan on using this phrase well into the future. However, this got me thinking. Sure, this technique may be designed for children, but how many adults walk through the work, anxious and desperate, depressed and never have someone ask them the same question, "What happened to you?" My guess is far too many. It becomes so easy to push our way through life, eyes always ahead, only on our own business. I'm guilty of this. And I'm not suggesting that we become derailed in our lives, needing to save the entire planet through emphatic conversation. We all know what an energy drain that can become. However, I would like to offer the idea that if you have the inclination; if you ever feel the internal urging to do so, check on someone around you. Ask them how they are. If they are distressed, consider asking them "what happened to you?" I know from experience that, during the darkest moments in my life, a question like that might have pulled me back from the edge before I got as close as I did. One of the things I have struggled with ever since I was a young man is a creeping sense of cynicism. I have a knack for seeing the worst in things, the ulterior motives in others, and to perceive the inevitable entropy that will envelop almost any situation. It has made it hard in the past to be inspired by things, or to truly appreciate the things around me.
A girlfriend of mine in the past once told me that I had become "too cynical" about the world. Of course, in mentality I was exhibiting at the time, I thought that she was simply too optimistic. Oh, how wrong I was... It took a lot of heartbreak and difficult situations to lead to me rediscovering the light again. I started seeing what was good in the world; what there was to be inspired by and what could be done to make things even better. Despite at one point being more negative than most, I now feeling as if I've gone the other way. While many I know eventually succumb to cynicism, I have somehow pulled myself out of it. I have allowed myself to become moved, shockingly enough. It's one of things that I am most proud of. So, how can it be done in your own life? I don't know. The journey is different for all of us. But, if I was a betting man, I would say that it has a lot to do with accepting your injuries, your scars, accepting that while there may be darkness in the world, there is also a whole lot of light too. And in the end, it's what we focus on that fills our life. I choose inspiration. I choose creativity. I choose connection. I choose love. I choose light. What about you? My grandfather on my mother's side was the WW2 generation. He had an honorable heart, a classic Irish look in his eyes, and a deep commitment to his family. He passed away in 2004 and I miss him very much.
He had this phrase that he would offer me over and over again, through the initial pain of growing up, then through my bout with cancer, then early adulthood and, eventually as he went through pain later in his life. "Offer it up". This is what he meant: Whatever pain you are going through in your life, whether it be physical, spiritual, emotional, or mental - make it about something bigger than you. Offer it up. Offer it for others to benefit from. Offer it up as tribute to make the world better. Offer it up, in his words, to God. Make your suffering for something greater than yourself. Make it worthwhile. We can see this used over and over by some of the most revered leaders of our time: Malala, Mandela, and so on. The choice is ours. When we suffer, as we know that we will, offer it up. The only way out if through. If you believe the scattered yet bombastic messages sent to us from every angle of the globe, truth is a relatively malleable thing; moldable and flexible, easily bent into whatever shape the messenger wants to force it into. This method of truth telling presupposes that there is nothing inherently true about the truth, nothing factual about the facts, in fact, nothing beyond finding that which fits the narrative that the supposed "facts" are being formed into.
How else can we so clearly see those who hold a particular point of view so adamantly defend their position, even when it is shown to be untrue. Well, nowadays a common response is to dismiss the source of the negative proof. The thing in question suddenly turns from the topic at hand to the "unmistakeable" lack of credibility of anyone who questions your perspective. For that reason, many have begun to call this, either verbally or through their own actions "The Post Truth Age". Where facts no longer mean anything, yet emotions and opinions govern all. We're a funny lot, us humans, aren't we? But are we, in actuality "post truth"? Of course not. The truth is like a beacon in the distance, a city on the hill - yet we confuse ourselves willingly. We need to be right. Our egos become wrapped up in it. We are like seekers who see something that might be the truth and then decide to rip out our eyes so as not have to see contradictory evidence. But the truth, in all it's glory, is just that, undeniable. It pulses white light into the darkness of our confusion. It makes all of our arguments seem suddenly childish and invalid. It scatters it's critics like small insects underneath a rock. The truth can be painful, it can be harsh, frightening, and might prove us wrong. But it is real. And that is beautiful. We are like people who woke, not remembering our previous lives, on a new shore, with rolling hills of orchards around us, all that we need to sustain and grow. We have build homes, have children, and develop systems of government over time. Before long, commerce is in full effect, both we and our children begin setting goals and having dreams for the future, whether that be a desired lifestyle, relationship, or vocation. We build large structures as memorial to our institutions and ideals, our personal proof that we are conquering, made of more special stuff than all of the living things around us.
We forget that this was once a wild land, given to us in our unconsciousness. We forget that we have been placed here and our children's children children now operate from the assumption that this land will always be, because to them, it always has. Then, the hand of God brings destruction to bear, a natural disaster, and all of our proud monuments are made low. We lament our losses naturally and just as naturally ask the question "How could this happen?" But the answer is very clear. The land is a gift. The disaster comes with the gift. It is a part of the whole. For each effect, there is an opposite effect. For each wondrous creation, there is a wondrous destruction. For each Garden Of Eden, there is an eternal expulsion from the garden. For every birth, there is a death. Each day, after the sun rises in our world, we settle into the reality of the mundane. The day to day tasks. We have to get ourselves and the children dressed, we have to get them breakfast, get to school and work. Once we arrive, there is a never ending list of things to do. Over the course of the day, we engage in many conversations and, in turn, likely pass many judgments within them.
Generally, most of us speak so many words or judge others so often that it's hard to imagine them not simply vanishing into the air, ineffectual and vaporous, as if they never existed in the first place. Except. we know the opposite to be true. Words do have power, whether in actual conversation with others or in the more subtle cumulative effect on your own brain, your own subconscious. If you constantly speak from a place of anger, victim-hood, and suffering, you are vastly more likely to find causation of those experiences entering into your world. If you instead speak words of healing and love, even to yourself, you will begin to find more and more of that filling your life as it ingrains itself in your mind. In this short message today, I implore you, pay attention to your words. Watch what you say. What your mouth. And even more so, watch your thoughts and your judgments. We are creating our lives every moment. It's up to us what they will be like. Early this morning, as the moonlight poured in through my window, illuminating my room with soft blue light, the kind that makes your memory and sometimes, your fantasies come to bear. I was still in some sleep inspired reverie when my thoughts turned to Adam and Eve, that story told to us about the creation and fall of man.
I thought on the strangeness of the story - Man, woman made of man's rib, the snake, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil...a fatal ploy that was oddly set to work against the female Oedipus complex of Eve. God had to have known that, when faced with such a challenge, the human condition would falter in vast instances. Now, I'm here to debate theologians or those with alternative versions. This was and is, purely my own imaginings... First we meet Adam, first human, created by God and set in the wondrous Garden Of Eden. I wonder, was he made as a child? Or as a fully grown man? What was his first year of life like? What was his first night like? How did he learn to communicate? How did he learn to name and hold dominion over others? Then, comes Eve, woman. Given to Adam as a companion and constructed from his rib (which seems quite patriarchal and not at all likely), they are, for all intents and purposes, made for each other. They are told by God, their parent that all trees are available to them, save one, the Tree Of The Knowledge Of Good And Evil. Such a set up could not have been better planned. How could it have ended any other way? So, who then is the snake? I've met several snakes in my life, some belonging to my own mind. They entice you, lure you with exhilaration, with what could be, what you could experience. Then, against the obviously subliminal warning of God, Eve takes it. Then, offers it to her husband. Suddenly, they become aware of their nakedness... What does that mean? Don't tell me it's sex...That's too easy. How was it that the Knowledge of Good & Evil made them suddenly become aware of the need for couture? Why was nakedness tied to Good and Evil? Then Adam, of course, blames his wife and, to make a long story short - they are booted out of the G.O.E. never to return. Cherubim with flaming swords guarding the entrance. One of the things that struck me completely about this was the archetypal play at work: God creates a world and then a man to live in it, which he gives dominion. But the ruler is lonely, so God creates a companion from the man, who then disrupts the plan of both man and of God (or so God says). It has been said before that man and woman are both perfectly built to throw off and screw up the opposite gender. No one quite knows how to distract somebody then a romantic partner. It seems almost inevitable, doesn't it? In the story, Eve wasn't being wicked, was she? She was simply wanting to experience what she was told that the tree would provide? Then, she shared with her husband - thus setting the entire course of humanity. And ultimately, with all of the richness in this story, I was left with this: relationships do pull us one or another way. We can move further into responsibility and mastery over our lives or retreat into induced experiences (like the fruit from the Tree). But in this case, Eve pulled Adam, in fact all of us, from the land of quiet servitude, of blind, unknowing obedience, into the world where our ancestors and we suffer and grow stronger, suffer and grow stronger. And from that suffering, we have created great things. Can you imagine what life would have been like without Eve and that little snake on the tree branch? This weekend, I had a moment to stand with a man with whom I have previously had a contentious relationship. The last time we spoke, he had been rude to myself and to others, snide in his comments and outlook. All of this is to say that running into him again wasn't my choice or in the plans.
However, when it unexpectedly happened, something changed. He is fresh off having a surgery on his stomach and is obviously weak and in pain. He is trying to stay optimistic, but his eyes betray something else. As I stood there, seeing this weak, disheveled man in front of me, I remembered my own surgeries, my own struggles with staples in the skin, and waking up in the middle of the night in pain, praying for the willpower to get to your feet and into the bathroom. At that moment, everything changed. Instead, we fell into conversation. I focused on encouraging him and letting him know that he wasn't alone. That he had people behind him rooting for his recovery. A bit later, after the air had grown light with humor, he mentioned that he had been divorced to his wife of 27 years. He said "There are these little things that I miss that I never thought I would. She used to come in the bedroom in the morning brushing her teeth and it used to make me mad. Why couldn't she just stay in the bathroom instead of waking me up... But now, no matter when I wake up, I miss it." And that struck me deeply. It isn't just the little things like that in our relationships with our partners, children, friends, siblings, and parents; although it is especially prevalent there. But it also can resonate in the rest of our lives. The truth, at least how I see it, is that within the little moments lies the sweetness. In those little moments, the big things reveal themselves. Sometimes, it's just a glance. Just a moment that causes you to fall in love. Maybe one movement of her eyebrow reminds you of how much you care for her. It could go on and on. There are more versions of it than there are people. This conversation reminded me of what I try to practice everyday. It's attention to the details of sweetness, of love. By noticing all of the beautiful things, by never forgetting to say things like "I love you" or "I appreciate you", it comes more and more into my life everyday. While I can't assume to prescribe something for all of mankind based on my own singular experience, I would at least ask you to consider attempting what I'm talking about. Try it out. It absolutely can, in my experience, change your life. This is a prayer for America...
My dear friends, to all who will listen, I say unto you... It's time to push back. It's time to push back against the ones who enslave you with their lies, who keep you frightened and divided. To the oligarchs who collude, who travel in the politics of outrage and hate, whose only end is personal gain. It's time to push back against those who weaponize your body and your mind. Who take innocence and discard it like trash along a darkened highway. It's time push back against those who claim dominion over your actions, your moralities, your privilege, or your right to speak your truth. It's time to push back against mind games and the cognitive dissonance we are asked to endure. It's time to push against the bullies of the world, to let them know that they hold sway no longer. How do we push back? With love. With love. With a smile. A conversation. With understanding. With kindness. With gratitude. How do we push back? With love. With equality. With passion. With the truth. How do we push back? With love. But you must love yourself first... |