What is your MRFH?

"Behind the mask of summer sun,
the green rush of spring,
the peace of winter’s silence,
and autumn’s fiery crown
there are only moments strung together".  Arlene Gay Levine

What is your MRFH?  Your MRFH is not only important, it may be the most significant measurement in your life.   If you have a high MRFH, then you will probably live a life of dissatisfaction and frustration.  If your MRFH is low then you stand a very good chance of living a rich and fulfilling life.

The most difficult thing about your MRFH is not living it, but finding it.  The problem with any MRFH is that it differs from person to person.  It is not one size fits all. The number is different for everyone.  So you can't compare your MRFH to someone else's to determine if your number is right.  The only way to determine if your number is right is if it's right for you. If your H is eluding you then you haven't found the right number.

It is very difficult, but not impossible, to have a high MRFH and achieve fulfillment.  Jesus spoke about this to the rich, young ruler and the eye of the needle thing.  This however would require near unlimited resources.  And even with the resources the H would elude you if it was not tied to your own core values.  And with any MRFH, it is a certainty  that these values would need to have little or nothing to do with those resources. On the other hand someone with a low MRFH can be fulfilled regardless of their resources.  It is possible, and even probable, that with a very low MRFH  you will experience most, if not all, of the things that matter most to you. Isn't that  the most important  R for H?

So if you find that you are not H, instead of thinking that you need to have more and to be more, just lower the M.R. With a very realistic and low Minimum Requirement For Happiness, you may be surprised how happy you become.

He ain't heavy. He's my brother.

"It's a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we're on the way to there
Why not share
And the load
Doesn't weigh me down at all
He ain't heavy, he's my brother"  The Hollies, 1969


It is very common for American Christians to express concern for those Christians around the world who are being ostracized and otherwise persecuted for their beliefs.  These persecutions are very real and sometimes very deadly.  I do not want to minimize the fact that multitudes of people are persecuted and even killed because of their Christian beliefs.

To be completely fair though, I think we need to show concern for  those of other faiths who are persecuted by Christians for their beliefs or are harassed for having no religious convictions at all. This type of discrimination and abuse is just as prevalent in the United States as anywhere else in the world.

One of the most horrible persecutions at the hand of Christians happened in the early 11th century. Hundreds of thousands of European soldiers under the banner of the cross, massacred thousands of Jews, Turks and other "infidels" in the name of Jesus Christ. The soldiers were promised by the church that all of their sins would be forgiven and that they would inherit a prominent place in the eternal kingdom of God.  Does that sound familiar?

About 400 years later came The Spanish Inquisition.  During the next 300 years there was an organized and deliberate effort to purge all of Spain of non-Christians.  Spain was supposed to literally become a "Christian nation."The property and businesses of hundreds of thousands of "heretics" were confiscated and several thousand people were executed for not converting to Christianity. In the 16th Century, during the Protestant Reformation, Christian on Christian persecution was a common occurrence.

By now you're saying, "Well that was hundreds of years ago in distant parts of the earth. What does that have to do with any of us living in the United States today?  Christians in America aren't like that." Although the examples I will reference do not involve torture and death, they do, in my opinion, involve oppression by Christians of non-Christians.

Look no further than Topeka, Kansas and the Westboro Baptist Church.  Before you tell me that they are not really Christians, go to their website and read it for yourself. Right under the link for their "Picket Schedule"  is the link for their "Confessions of Faith".  If you open those links you will find several historical confessions of faith that are 100% quotes from the Bible.  They base their "God Hates Fags" protests and vitriol on their understanding of the Bible.  Who am I and who are you to suggest that they are not Christians?  Regardless of whether or not you accept this church as a Christian church, they base  their bigotry and hatred on the Bible and they protest under the banner of the cross of Christ. No matter who you and I think they are, they certainly think that they are Christians.

To call this "persecution" would be a little strong, but it is another example of confessing Christians imposing their will on people of other faiths. The Oklahoma City courthouse  has been under siege by non-Christian groups for years because of  a prominent monument of the Ten Commandments. The Christian argument has been something like "America was founded on the Bible, i.e. Christian values. Therefore it is appropriate for this cornerstone of American values to be prominently displayed at a court of law." The counter argument has been "America was founded on the Constitution and not on the Bible. The first amendment of the Constitution expressly forbids the establishment of any official religion. Granted it forbids the impediment  of the practice of religion, but the Constitution of the United States forbids government sanctioned religion of any kind including the Christian religion." When  The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster had all but won the right to erect their monument beside the Ten Commandments, the monument was removed in the dark of night.  But the story doesn't end there. Just last week a group of cowboy Christians from Topeka, Texas arrived on horseback to present their monument of the Ten Commandments to the governor of Oklahoma.  God bless America!

So what's my point?  My point is that over centuries and even today Christians aren't the only people who are persecuted for their religion.  Furthermore, over the centuries and today Christians have done their share of the persecuting.

All major world religions hold at least a couple of things in common.  First, at their core they teach human compassion and kindness. "While we're on the way to there, why not share?" may not be a direct quote from the Bible or the Qur'an, but both of these holy books contain that principle.  But also at the core are doctrines and statements of faith which can be used as tools and weapons.  According to the more zealous devotees of every religion, those who do not obey a strict interpretation of these commandments are subject to judgment and punishment in this life and the next. Sometimes that punishment can be martyrdom. These believers are more than happy to help their Supreme Being exact that penalty. The members of the Westboro Baptist Church do not define Christians, just as suicide bombers do not define Islam.

Jesus said, "My yoke is easy. My burden is light."  The Hollies sang "and the load doesn't weigh me down at all." Jesus also said, "You will know the truth and the truth will set you free."  I say, giving up judgment of other peoples' beliefs will be one of  most freeing thing you'll ever do. Yes, "It's a long, long road," but there is enough room on it for all of us.

Salvation is Created

Music has a way of searching out parts of my soul and psyche that I have long forgotten existed.  I have been a subscriber to Sirius/XM radio for over two years and I enjoy listening nearly every day.  I have become so spoiled to no commercials that it's difficult for me to listen to commercial radio at all. I have had 70s, 80s, and 90s music programmed in from the beginning.  But only two weeks ago did it dawn on me to program 60s music. I have no idea why it took two years for this to occur to me.  For my entire adult life I have thought that 70s music defined me.  I thought Dan Fogelberg, James Taylor, Carole King, Carly Simon,  Don McLean, America, Bread and so many others were the musicians who wrote and sang the most significant songs that carry my own story.  I was wrong.

The music of the 60s has opened passages in my subconscious  that have been closed for decades. The songs have dragged my emotions through a time warp of passionate proportions. How does it make me feel?  Some of the songs make me  feel really good. I mean a good that I can't comprehend intellectually. I would try to tell you if I knew. But I don't know!  But it's like Conrad's counselor in Ordinary People told him "Not all feelings feel good." I'm certainly feeling that too. When the crucible of one's adolescence is in play,  you can't control how it's going to feel.  You just go with it.

There is a phenomenon though that I finally had to stop and look at.  The songs that affect me most deeply, for better or for worse, were recorded in 1968. So I took a closer look at 1968.  In 1968 I was fifteen years old living with my family in  Enterprise, Alabama. I had a mother and a father,  a brother and a sister. We had a dog and a cat. I was surrounded by extended family, by provisions and sustenance, and by love. I had some really good friends. I was doing very well as a sophomore at the Enterprise High School. I was to become an award-winning band member with my trombone. Although I thought I had problems at the time, looking back, in so many ways, I had it made.

My girl friend was two years older than me. You've heard "Once you move past holding hands, you can never go back."  We never in two years moved past holding hands. A little strange maybe, but it worked for us.  I cared about her a lot and she cared for me. But because of that age difference  and other issues that come between two people, the friendship fizzled.  Just as well.  We both moved on to better things. I'll just leave the autobiography at that.

I did a little research about what was going on in our country in 1968. On January 31 the North Vietnamese launched the Tet offensive. This offensive, involving over 70,000 North Vietnamese solders, took the war from the forests to the cities. It changed the course of the war. On March 31 LBJ announced plans to limit the war in Vietnam, but very little changed.  On April 4th Martin Luther King, Jr.  was assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee. On May 3rd the US and N. Vietnamese agree to peace talks. But all they did was talk.  On June 4th Robert Kennedy was assassinated. On October 31, LBJ announced  a halt to all bombing. but the senseless war and the killing continued. Student demonstrations, which would become massive and deadly, were just heating up.  "All we are saying is give peace a chance" was to be more than a popular song; it became the anthem of the anti-Vietnam movement.

With all the horror and tragedy of 1968 I thought "Why does this music make me feel so good?  Why, in spite of the sometimes painful aspects of the evoked memories, are my triggered emotions full of goodness and hope? Was I that insensitive to the world around me?"  So I read on...

On December 21st, 1968 NASA launched Apollo 8 atop a Saturn V rocket, the most powerful rocket of its kind.  That rocket propelled Frank Borman, James Lovell and William Anders into space.  On December 24th these three astronauts became the first humans to orbit the moon. But much more significant than the orbit itself, they sent  back to us the first photos of Earth from space. For the first time in human history we all witnessed the iconic "Earthrise." This created a paradigm shift for all of mankind and for all time.  On Christmas Eve, 1968 "Peace on Earth and goodwill to men"  if not a real possibility, became a necessity. Our blue planet wasn't that big after all.

When they returned to spaceship Earth, the astronauts received hundreds of cards, letters and telegrams celebrating their incredible journey and contribution to mankind.  One telegram stood out more than all the others. It simply read, "You saved 1968."

I'm sure that soon enough I am going to have my fill of music from the 1960s.  The music of Dan Fogelberg, my favorite 70s singer,  will forever be a touchstone for me.  Nothing will ever change that. That night in Chattanooga, the last time I saw him before he died,  when he gave his band a break, Fogelberg remained on stage.  Under the quiet blue lights, he placed his hands on the keyboard and touched the piano with a single chord. I knew in that instant he was about to sing my favorite of his,"To the Morning."  And he did.

Ah music!   What can I say about  what music means to me?  If there were words to describe it, then we wouldn't need the music.

Lost and Found

I've read that Daniel Boone never forgot a path he walked or discovered.  If  he had spent any time on a path, he could always find his way back to it. More importantly, he could find his way back from it.

I am the total opposite of that.  I have absolutely no sense of direction. If my GPS says to head north on highway 67 instead of to turn right or left, I have to stop and use the compass on my phone to know which direction to go.  Early or late in the day when our major star is low in the sky, I can figure it out pretty well.  Other than that I need the help of a compass.

One of my  former jobs involved  calling on people in their homes. Usually I made these calls during normal business hours or early evening, but sometimes I found myself in homes rather late.  Many years before GPS,  leaving late from a home on Signal Mountain, Tennessee, I got lost trying to find my way out of a large subdivision. I was so turned around I couldn't even find my way back to their house to ask directions. And I wasn't going to knock on a stranger's door at that  late hour. So I drove around in circles (rectangles) until I found the entrance.

I have a symbiotic relationship with my GPS. Technically, symbiosis involves two living organisms. But I find the pleasant female voice of my GPS to be real enough. Her presence is comforting and reassuring all along the way.  Part of the symbiosis is that as much as she helps me, there are times when I have to help her help me. Although she is usually incredibly accurate, there are times she completely fails me.  Once when she said "you have arrived at your destination" I was beside a large cemetery.  GPS humor I guess. Sometimes too I know better than she which way I'm going.  She will protest for a mile or so telling me to make a u-turn. Then once she realizes I'm serious about my direction, she will recalculate the route.

My father, too, was one of those people who if he had been there once, he always knew how to find the place again. He may have used a map the first trip, but he never had to use it again. I wish I had inherited that ability from him, but that's one ability of many that he took with him when he died.

I would like to think that if my life depended on it, such as was the case with Daniel Boone and early pioneers, that I would have developed a better sense of direction.  As it is I'm very thankful that my directions are seldom a matter of life and death, and that my GPS provides me with constant help. I remember how excited I was when Telstar was launched into space on July 10, 1962.  But could that nine year old boy have had an inkling of why he was so excited? Back then I only had to find my way back and forth from Elmore's Dime Store. As a kid,  I also enjoyed Lost in Space, But God forbid I try to find my way home from there.

The Reason Things Happen

"Everything happens for a reason" should be changed to just "everything happens." But you can find meaning in nearly anything.  I certainly don't think God or Satan make things happen according to some divine or dastardly plan.  Read the local paper or watch the evening news and tell me that some benevolent and also all-powerful God is controlling everything. The God I worship is certainly a big and benevolent God.  But all-powerful? From what I see if He's all-powerful then He must not be very benevolent. I'll take "benevolent".  I'm more in the need of the love than the power. On the other hand if Satan is in control, with all the good in the world  he's not doing a very good job either. If you maintain that everything happens for some good reason, you are setting yourself up for a lifetime of frustration and disappointment. Things happened the way they happened because that's the way they happened.

With that said I also think that you can assign meaning to nearly anything.  Seemingly meaningless events can become quite significant.  All you have to do is pay attention. And think about it.

This morning I was looking at the hummingbird feeders out our kitchen window hoping, as you would imagine, to see a hummingbird.  Today, like the last several days, my observation was not rewarded.  They will be back, but for now they're mostly gone. But as I stood there I noticed a leaf fluttering to the ground.  There was nothing unusual or remarkable about the leaf or its descent. It slowly floated in a zig-zag from the tree to the ground like leaves do. It's just that I noticed it.  Then it occurred to me that no one else in all of recorded history will see that leaf fall.  It wasn't just a once-in-a-lifetime event.  It was a once in the history of mankind event.  I will never see that leaf fall again and neither will anyone else. So  did it mean anything?  Only if I allow it to.

As is so often the case with me, that event reminded me of something else that happened many, many years ago.

I was sitting in an IHOP near Oklahoma City.  It was one of those a-frame IHOPs like they all used to be. I was with a group of young people traveling back home to Alabama from an incredible week in Telluride, Colorado. I'll just leave it at that.  It was on several different levels a marvelous week.  It wasn't just me. Ask anybody on that trip. If I started I don't know where I could stop.

So as I was eating my pancakes there was a family across the room in my line of vision.  There was a mom and dad and three kids.  The kids looked to be about 7ish, 3ish and less than a yearish.  The three year old boy was holding the string of a helium filled balloon that was suspended above his head.  None of the family and, as far as I know, no one else in the restaurant saw what happened next. As I continued to look, the little boy handed the string to his little sister who was sitting beside him. She was in a high chair at the end of the table. She held the string for a few seconds and then she let it go. Her eyes and her brother's eyes followed its ascent until the balloon rested in the apex of the ceiling. At first neither spoke. But as they continued to crane their necks the little boy pointed skyward and exclaimed, "She dropped it!  She dropped my balloon. Way up there!" She never uttered a sound.  I looked at the family expecting them to share in my utter delight.  I expected them or someone at my table to laugh with me and enjoy the moment. To my amazement nobody saw it. They didn't see the pass or the "drop".  They didn't hear what the little boy said to his sister. They just continued to eat and talk as if nothing had happened.

Had something happened? A baby girl had dropped her brother's balloon. Only if you drop a helium balloon it goes up instead of down. A helium balloon is lighter than air. If you let it go it will float away.  That's just the nature of helium balloons.  That was that. Something happened, but it probably didn't mean anything.

That was nearly 40 years ago.  If it didn't mean anything then why did I think about it this morning? Can there be any possible relationship between the random descent of a leaf in October of 2015 and the accidental accent of a helium balloon in June of 1976?  What do these two events have in common?  They have me in common.  Both times I was there.  If I hadn't been looking for a hummingbird this morning then I wouldn't have seen the leaf fall.  If I hadn't have been looking at that little boy's balloon then I wouldn't have seen his sister drop it. I wouldn't have heard what he said to anyone who was listening.  The leaf would have fallen and the balloon would have risen had I not been looking.

But I was looking.

So like I say,  not everything happens for a reason. But you can find meaning in nearly anything. Any time Jesus said "The Kingdom of God is like..." He continued with some seemingly meaningless thing like a seed or insignificant  person like a child.

You want to see the Kingdom of God! ?  Look around. You're standing in it. It will never get any more meaningful than this. You want to know what incredible thing happened today?  You did. You'll never happen again. In the history of mankind you will never happen again. Who's watching? God's watching.  And He's delighted beyond words.

Self-inflicted Wounds

"Oh I'd rather go and journey where the diamond crest is flowing and
Run across the valley beneath the sacred mountain and
Wander through the forest
Where  the trees have leaves of prisms and break the light in colors
That no one knows the names of

And when it's time I'll go and wait beside a legendary fountain
Till I see your form reflected in it's clear and jeweled waters
And if you think I'm ready
You may lead me to the chasm where the rivers of our vision
Flow into one another

I will want to die beneath the white cascading waters
She may beg, she may plead, she may argue with her logic
And then she'll know the things I learned
That really have no value in the end she will surely know
I wasn't born to follow."  Wasn't Born to Follow,  The Byrds, 1968

As it turns out, Guru Mack was a liar and a fraud.  He promised his flock freedom and happiness, but all he delivered was hot air and empty promises.  But before he got old, and before one of his wives pushed him off a cliff to his death, Guru Mack said this to his followers-- "This self you speak of is not a fixed object, it's a story you're telling. If you want to change your self, you've got to change your story."

I was introduced to Joseph Campbell through The Power of Myth. The Power of Myth did not start out as a book. The Power of Myth was an interview which became a PBS special and then became a coffee table book. Bill Moyers interviewed Campbell not too long before his death and the rest is history,including my own history. 

The first thing I learned about in the book was the myth of "myth."  Myth is not a falsehood.  Myth is the truth.  Myth is the truth of all truths.  The entire history of civilization is carried on its myths, its stories.  Eons before "recorded history" each generation carried forward its known existence with its stories.  Even pre-historic archaeological digs tell stories. We wouldn't know these people and places ever existed without their myths, their stories.

If our lives do nothing else, they tell a story.  The most marvelous thing about us though is that we are not bound by our stories..  Guru Mack was right; we can change our stories. We not only can change our stories going forward, we can change the stories of our past. If the stories we remember cause heartache and distress, then we can remember different stories. Of the  thousands of stories we can choose to remember, why do we quite often recall the ones that cause us the most pain? "And then she'll know the things I learned that have no value in the end."  All of our stories have value.  All of our stories matter.  The good stories and the bad stories are all important. But it's up to us to choose the ones we want to remember. The good stories are just as true as the bad ones.

Guru Mack doesn't exist.  He's the figment of a writer's imagination.  He's from Season Three, Episode Seven of Orange is the New Black. Yet he still has something important to say. If you're tired of your  stories, then change them.  In the process you may just  change your life.

Before It All Got So Crazy

This morning Sirius/XM  Classic Vinyl cycled to a song that flooded my soul and psyche with blissful feelings, Whenever music makes me feel this way, I know without checking that it was recorded pre-1970.  In this case the song was Questions 67 and 68 by the Chicago Transit Authority. Yes this song was recorded by Chicago Transit Authority in 1969 before they became known as just Chicago. It  was the actual Chicago Transit Authority that took exception to their name, So they dropped the Transit Authority. Most of us know them as Chicago.

But I digressed.  In 1970 I bit off a variety of "Christianity" that nearly wrecked my life.  Well it did wreck many aspects of my life for several years before God Himself intervened to save me from myself.  Saul encountered Jesus on the Damascus Road.  I encountered Him in a puppy  and in a bowl of turnip greens.

And as I am speaking Spotify just cycled to Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is off the same album.  How happy can one person  get?  To say that this music "does it for me" is a gross understatement.  I'm a very happy person now and it does me much good to know how happy I was before Cujo bit me.

There's nothing I can do about 1970-74.  But I don't want to do anything about those years. Things weren't all bad.  I graduated from high school, I graduated from my town's junior college and entered senior college as a junior in '73.  I drove by that junior college this weekend and thought, "That's where you started.  You graduated from there. You earned a degree".  I'm much more proud of that associates degree now than I was at the time.

Spotify is now playing Beginnings from Chicago Transit Authority

"Time passes much too quickly
When we're together laughing
I wish I could sing it to you.
Wish I could sing it to you...
I feel a thousand different feelings"

Perhaps "A Thousand Different Feelings" would be a better title for this post than "Before It All Got So Crazy."  However this music probably wouldn't affect me so deeply without those dark years.  Besides the fact that not everything about those years was bad, even the darkness served a very important purpose. I read that grief acts like a dredge that enlarges our capacity for joy.  I think this purging can be true of nearly any negative emotion.  I must have a very large capacity for joy!

I just asked Spotify to play Questions 67 and 68 one more time.  Spotify's motto is always "Your wish is my command."  I love that about Spotify! For the past little while I have struggled to put into words how this music makes me feel. Well a therapist would say, "It's how you choose to feel when you're listening to it."  "Isn't that what I said?"  "No, that's not what you said."

So what else was popular in 1969?  How about You've Made Me So Very Happy by Blood, Sweat and Tears.  "No, when you're with that person you choose to feel very happy".  Whatever...