"Having an artistic personality type, I tend to have big feelings. Because I work within a creative vocation, I get to explore them fairly regularly in my writing and performing. But even with that vocational permission, I live most of my days on the surface of things. Most of us don’t have much time in the margins to reflect on what we are feeling or how we are acting out of those feelings and values. Often it takes painful life-disruption before we stop and reflect on what’s beneath the surface of the life we have built. We live with patterns of behavior and relate to others without being awake to our real fears or woundedness." Sandra McCracken
"Have mercy on me, O God, according to Thy lovingkindness, according to the multitude of Thy tender mercies." Psalm 51:1
If you've been following my story over the years, this story is nothing new. You've heard all this before. But this story resides just below the surface and gets kicked up from time to time. So here it is again.
When I read these words of Sandra McCracken this morning, she took me back twenty five years. Beginning in August of 1990 within a nine month period I experienced an unthinkable amount of personal loss and grief. My best childhood friend killed himself. One of my best friends and his fiance were murdered. Our neighbor's ten year old son accidentally hanged himself with his sister's jump rope. This kicked up the unresolved grief of the death of my little brother when he was eight days old and I was ten. A good friend's wife died with a brain tumor. And then within a few weeks of each other, both of my grandmothers and my great aunt died. You would think that at some point I would have reached a saturation point, that my soul and psyche couldn't feel any more pain. But that was not the case. With each subsequent death, the pain grew deeper and harder to process. There is no darkness like emotional darkness. I never tried to end my life, I just wanted my life to end.
The mother of my friend who was murdered invited me to a grief support group called Compassionate Friends. We all just shared our stories of loss and pain. Since it was a group for bereaved parents, I always prefaced my remarks with "I have not earned the right to be here. Your losses are so much greater than mine." The group always answered, "You are welcome here. Please share your story with us."
Looking back at that year with Compassionate Friends, I was right, I had no business being there. Losing a child is the ultimate loss and grief. No loss or combination of losses begins to approach it. But then, how do I measure the value of saving my own life? My parents would have lost me.
Sandra McCracken said, "Often it takes a painful life-disruption before we stop and reflect on what's beneath the surface of the life we have built...without being awake to our real fears or woundedness." In 1990 it took a "life-disruption" of epic proportions for me to deal with my brother's death. At his funeral, a well-meaning uncle asked me to stop crying. He told me that it would upset my mother. I was ten years old. Who was I to question an adult? I stopped crying. I had never cried again. After a meeting, the director of Compassionate Friends told me, "David, I think you need to consider that the loss of your brother is more significant to you than all of these deaths." I did consider it and within days I learned that she was right. Grief has a way of eventually catching up with you. You either deal with the pain of grief or it will deal with you.
This morning it took no "life-disruption" to cause me "to delve beneath the surface." I only needed to read McCracken's words and listen to her music.
I publish these words with deep, deep appreciation for my friend who took me to Compassionate Friends. Maybe it's too dramatic to say "she saved my life", but not by very much. And as I sit here "in my right mind at the feet of Jesus" I feel profound gratitude for my wife, my son and all the people who tried to help me. And they did help me.
I,too, am of "the artistic personality type" and I certainly "have big feelings." There's nothing I can do about that. What I can do is, regardless of the loved ones I have lost, to channel those feelings into the living people I'm surrounded with every day. Living people get hurt. Living people suffer. Living people often accumulate pain. But living people are living. In Buddhism sentient beings are beings with consciousness. A sentient being knows that it is alive. "Sentience", in some contexts, is life itself(Wikipedia). Life is good. But it doesn't always feel that way.
McCracken says, "I live most days on the surface of things." And that's a good thing. Just like when we swim, that's the only place we are able to live. There is a powerful scene in the 1980 movie Ordinary People, a movie that earned Timothy Hutton an Academy Award in his first leading role as Conrad Jarrett. Conrad, in a life-or-death panic, sought out his counselor in the middle of the night. Conrad had just learned of the suicide of his friend Karen. And his survival guilt had reached a breaking point. Regarding his brother's drowning in the sailboat accident, his counselor asked him, "What did you do that was so wrong?" After a poignant pause, Conrad answered "I hung on." "Yes", he said, "You hung on."
Also in that scene Conrad's counselor told him, "Not all feelings feel good." Thankfully, not all feelings feel bad. Although there are very deep places below the surface, I don't live there. In spite of those losses and so many since then, I choose to live on the surface of things. That's the only place I can breathe.
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
Sunday, July 31, 2016
Feeling 41
"And I was born in the backseat of a Greyhound bus rollin' down highway 41." Ramblin' Man, Dickey Betts
Highways have personalities. The personality of a highway is unique to each of its travelers. We like or dislike certain roads depending on any number of factors. But for better or for worse we have feelings about them. I have warm fuzzy feelings for US 78 north of Birmingham, Alabama. The girl I would marry and I spent many hours on hwy 78 in 1975 and 76 between Birmingham and Jasper, She lived there, I had a job there, we both went that direction every week from college, so why not car pool? Because of I-22 I don't often travel that way, but just thinking about that road feels good.
I have good feelings for Alabama 167 from Troy to Enterprise, Alabama. The right turn from US 231 from wherever I was traveling meant that I was forty miles from home. Continuing south, Hwy 167 becomes Florida 79 about twenty five miles south of Enterprise. Hwy 79 holds fond memories because of the multitude of family trips to Florida over the years along that road. Besides quaint Florida towns, five miles north of the Gulf of Mexico hwy 79 crosses the West Bay Bridge. Until recent years it was a draw bridge. Growing up we always hoped a boat was coming so that we could watch it in action. As excited as we were to get to the beach, waiting for a boat to pass was never an inconvenience.
Some highways have personality because of their history. Route 66, for example, is a national treasure. 66 was one of the original highways in the US Highway System. From Chicago, Illinois to Santa Monica, California it became a major east-west corridor in the United States. Established in 1926 it was removed from the highway system in 1985 because the interstate system had made it obsolete. A few years ago a Route 66 revival was born and gained momentum with the Pixar movie Cars. For those willing to look, traces of the Mother Road are still visible all along the original path.
Until recent years I had no feelings at all for US 41. US 41 is a north-south corridor from Lake Superior at Copper Harbor, Michigan to Miami, Florida. The highway covers 2000 miles through seven states. I had driven on it a few times to avoid traffic near Atlanta and occasionally between my house and Ringgold, Georgia. But I had no particular emotional connection to it. I do now. Although Hwy 41 parallels I-75, more often than not coming home from work I choose hwy 41. Besides the fact that it takes me through my quaint town of Ringgold, it's just fun to drive that way. Just south of Ringgold the authorities post a very generous 55 mph speed limit. I find it hard to believe that it's 55 and not 45, but that's what it is. So that's what I do. The sensation of speed on any highway is a relative thing. If you're traveling the speed limit of 85 mph across New Mexico's vast expanse, you feel like you're sitting still. 55 mph on hwy 41 between Ringgold and my house is exhilarating.. In the first place the road is flanked by a lot of stuff not far off the road. When you're going 55 mph south all that stuff is going 55 mph north. And then there are a generous number of curves. Curves produce Gs. G means good. In the unfortunate event I find myself behind a slow poke (you know, 50), there is one passing lane that provides an opportunity for acceleration. Acceleration is fun. And for the record, I'm not in a sports car. I drive a modest four-cylinder Nissan Altima. A family car. But it accelerates.
So am I driving recklessly? No, I'm not driving recklessly. Am I driving dangerously? I'm driving the speed limit. The rest of it happens by itself. You wouldn't want me to hold up traffic, would you?
Unlike Route 66, US 41 is alive and well. When I travel the ten miles that I frequent, I'm aware of the fact that I am touching 41. I sense its length and its history. I'm aware that there is much more to hwy 41 than I have experienced. I consider the possibility of a south-north adventure. I've only been to Miami once and I've never been to Copper Harbor, Michigan. I like saying it's on my things-to-do list rather than my bucket list. I prefer to think that I'm about to live instead of I'm about to die.
But if I do meet my unfortunate demise on Highway 41, let my epitaph read, "He was driving the speed limit."
Highways have personalities. The personality of a highway is unique to each of its travelers. We like or dislike certain roads depending on any number of factors. But for better or for worse we have feelings about them. I have warm fuzzy feelings for US 78 north of Birmingham, Alabama. The girl I would marry and I spent many hours on hwy 78 in 1975 and 76 between Birmingham and Jasper, She lived there, I had a job there, we both went that direction every week from college, so why not car pool? Because of I-22 I don't often travel that way, but just thinking about that road feels good.
I have good feelings for Alabama 167 from Troy to Enterprise, Alabama. The right turn from US 231 from wherever I was traveling meant that I was forty miles from home. Continuing south, Hwy 167 becomes Florida 79 about twenty five miles south of Enterprise. Hwy 79 holds fond memories because of the multitude of family trips to Florida over the years along that road. Besides quaint Florida towns, five miles north of the Gulf of Mexico hwy 79 crosses the West Bay Bridge. Until recent years it was a draw bridge. Growing up we always hoped a boat was coming so that we could watch it in action. As excited as we were to get to the beach, waiting for a boat to pass was never an inconvenience.
Some highways have personality because of their history. Route 66, for example, is a national treasure. 66 was one of the original highways in the US Highway System. From Chicago, Illinois to Santa Monica, California it became a major east-west corridor in the United States. Established in 1926 it was removed from the highway system in 1985 because the interstate system had made it obsolete. A few years ago a Route 66 revival was born and gained momentum with the Pixar movie Cars. For those willing to look, traces of the Mother Road are still visible all along the original path.
Until recent years I had no feelings at all for US 41. US 41 is a north-south corridor from Lake Superior at Copper Harbor, Michigan to Miami, Florida. The highway covers 2000 miles through seven states. I had driven on it a few times to avoid traffic near Atlanta and occasionally between my house and Ringgold, Georgia. But I had no particular emotional connection to it. I do now. Although Hwy 41 parallels I-75, more often than not coming home from work I choose hwy 41. Besides the fact that it takes me through my quaint town of Ringgold, it's just fun to drive that way. Just south of Ringgold the authorities post a very generous 55 mph speed limit. I find it hard to believe that it's 55 and not 45, but that's what it is. So that's what I do. The sensation of speed on any highway is a relative thing. If you're traveling the speed limit of 85 mph across New Mexico's vast expanse, you feel like you're sitting still. 55 mph on hwy 41 between Ringgold and my house is exhilarating.. In the first place the road is flanked by a lot of stuff not far off the road. When you're going 55 mph south all that stuff is going 55 mph north. And then there are a generous number of curves. Curves produce Gs. G means good. In the unfortunate event I find myself behind a slow poke (you know, 50), there is one passing lane that provides an opportunity for acceleration. Acceleration is fun. And for the record, I'm not in a sports car. I drive a modest four-cylinder Nissan Altima. A family car. But it accelerates.
So am I driving recklessly? No, I'm not driving recklessly. Am I driving dangerously? I'm driving the speed limit. The rest of it happens by itself. You wouldn't want me to hold up traffic, would you?
Unlike Route 66, US 41 is alive and well. When I travel the ten miles that I frequent, I'm aware of the fact that I am touching 41. I sense its length and its history. I'm aware that there is much more to hwy 41 than I have experienced. I consider the possibility of a south-north adventure. I've only been to Miami once and I've never been to Copper Harbor, Michigan. I like saying it's on my things-to-do list rather than my bucket list. I prefer to think that I'm about to live instead of I'm about to die.
But if I do meet my unfortunate demise on Highway 41, let my epitaph read, "He was driving the speed limit."
Saturday, July 30, 2016
I feel therefore I am.
"I must be the best worrier in the world. Nothing I worry about ever happens." Will Rogers
I read a lot about worry and anxiety. I do this for two reasons, 1. I enjoy reading about the brain and 2. I have issues with both of them.
I could get rather technical, but I won't for two reasons 1. You probably aren't too interested in the technical inter-workings of the brain and 2. I would have to Google every sentence because I haven't memorized the technical details.
So what I'm going to write is just from my head (so to speak). The human brain, it has been said, is the most complex organism in the known universe. Nothing comes close to the incredible capacity of the brain. No amount of research and study, for example, has cracked the surface of the brain-mind argument. Are the brain and mind the same thing? Are they separate? Does one control the other? Are we born as Carl Jung, Joseph Campbell and others have suggested with "archetypes", the "collective unconscious" prerecorded in our brain and nervous systems? And are we to believe that these have been handed down for millions of years from our oldest ancestors? And are a part of our dreams and imaginations?
I'm just getting started.
All of the chemical and electrical wiring of the human brain basically control three things, the automatic functions that keep us alive such as heart beat and breathing, our thinking ability (decision making) and our emotions. Memory is for another lesson.
Our limbic system, which is a part of the oldest reptilian brain, and includes the amygdala and the insula, primarily control our emotions. Our brain processes our emotions before it processes our cognitive functions. In other words we feel before we think. And unless we learn to override our feeling with our thinking, our emotions control us.
Cognitive-behavioral therapy is a complex and effective method of intentionally training the emotions to react to our thinking instead of giving in to the brain's pre-wired ability to feel first. If you struggle with worry and anxiety there is little hope of getting better without conscious effort.
I have often thought that movie animations are primarily for the adults who bring the kids. How are children able to appreciate the subtle puns and innuendos that are scattered throughout the movie? I think Pixar's Inside/Out is one of the most brilliant movies ever produced. If you've seen it you know that Riley's five emotions actually exist. They all work together to help her function. To help her be Riley. I thought the movie was brilliant before I read this morning, "The insula has an important role in the experience of basic emotions including anger, fear, disgust, joy and sadness." liquisearch
My intention this morning is not to tell you what to do about your worry and anxiety. I'll leave that to the professionals. My intention is to make you aware of what the problem is and where the problem lies. There's nothing wrong with you. Fear, worry and anxiety are as natural as falling off a log. You can't help being on the log. The trick is to improve your ability to balance.
So the next time you express your concern about something to someone and he says, "It's all in your head." Just say, "Yeah, I already knew that."
I read a lot about worry and anxiety. I do this for two reasons, 1. I enjoy reading about the brain and 2. I have issues with both of them.
I could get rather technical, but I won't for two reasons 1. You probably aren't too interested in the technical inter-workings of the brain and 2. I would have to Google every sentence because I haven't memorized the technical details.
So what I'm going to write is just from my head (so to speak). The human brain, it has been said, is the most complex organism in the known universe. Nothing comes close to the incredible capacity of the brain. No amount of research and study, for example, has cracked the surface of the brain-mind argument. Are the brain and mind the same thing? Are they separate? Does one control the other? Are we born as Carl Jung, Joseph Campbell and others have suggested with "archetypes", the "collective unconscious" prerecorded in our brain and nervous systems? And are we to believe that these have been handed down for millions of years from our oldest ancestors? And are a part of our dreams and imaginations?
I'm just getting started.
All of the chemical and electrical wiring of the human brain basically control three things, the automatic functions that keep us alive such as heart beat and breathing, our thinking ability (decision making) and our emotions. Memory is for another lesson.
Our limbic system, which is a part of the oldest reptilian brain, and includes the amygdala and the insula, primarily control our emotions. Our brain processes our emotions before it processes our cognitive functions. In other words we feel before we think. And unless we learn to override our feeling with our thinking, our emotions control us.
Cognitive-behavioral therapy is a complex and effective method of intentionally training the emotions to react to our thinking instead of giving in to the brain's pre-wired ability to feel first. If you struggle with worry and anxiety there is little hope of getting better without conscious effort.
I have often thought that movie animations are primarily for the adults who bring the kids. How are children able to appreciate the subtle puns and innuendos that are scattered throughout the movie? I think Pixar's Inside/Out is one of the most brilliant movies ever produced. If you've seen it you know that Riley's five emotions actually exist. They all work together to help her function. To help her be Riley. I thought the movie was brilliant before I read this morning, "The insula has an important role in the experience of basic emotions including anger, fear, disgust, joy and sadness." liquisearch
My intention this morning is not to tell you what to do about your worry and anxiety. I'll leave that to the professionals. My intention is to make you aware of what the problem is and where the problem lies. There's nothing wrong with you. Fear, worry and anxiety are as natural as falling off a log. You can't help being on the log. The trick is to improve your ability to balance.
So the next time you express your concern about something to someone and he says, "It's all in your head." Just say, "Yeah, I already knew that."
Thursday, July 28, 2016
The Power of a Compliment
com.pli.ment "A polite expression of praise or admiration."
To get a compliment is a wonderful thing. To give a compliment is even better.
This morning after a business meeting, a friend complimented me on my writing. I have not known her for very long and she has known my writing for an even less time. She not only said something nice about something she had read that I had written, but she asked me several questions about my blog. Follow up questions such as these are compliments too.
To those of you who are totally confident of yourselves you will not understand this. Most people are very insecure. Most people need constant positive feedback and affirmation to feel good about themselves. You have an opportunity every day to provide that. A genuine and well-placed compliment can be all the difference for the way someone feels about himself or herself on any given day.
I come from a long line of kidders. We kidders mean well. We really never intend to hurt people's feelings. However, because people are insecure, we do make people uncomfortable and hurt their feelings. "Hello, my name is David. And I am a kidder." "We love you David." My Dad kidded and he also gave "backhanded compliments." If I, for example, showed him a report card that was all As and a B+. he would say, "Crockett, is that the best you can do?" (smile). I took it as a compliment. I may as well have because that was as good as it was going to get.
I'll never forget the first straightforward, genuine compliment my father gave me. I was 37 years old. I had done something fairly incredible. It even now is one of the most incredible things I have done in my life. I was proud of myself then and I'm proud of myself now. I had recruited and rehearsed 80 local youth to perform a musical by Ken Medema at the Tivoli Theater in Chattanooga. Ken was there to play. His manager was there to conduct. There was a sound and lighting crew. Ushers in the aisles. Stage hands on the wings. I even had a publicist! And about 1500 of Chattanooga's best were there to listen. The very successful production was all to benefit Habitat for Humanity. It raised a significant amount of money and even more awareness. I had plenty of help but for the most part, I did it. Mom and Dad had come up from Enterprise to participate in the event. The next day they were getting in their car to go home. Dad hadn't said anything to this point. Dad looked at me and said, "Son, for years you've told about this genius friend you have named Ken Medema. And I can see that. But in my opinion the real genius is the person who put all that together. And that was you." My mother and I both understood the significance of the moment and we both started crying.
Selah.
Another aspect of compliments that is very important is how to receive a compliment. Did I mention that most people are insecure? Because of that it's many times difficult for people to accept a compliment. No matter how you feel about whatever affirmation this person just gave you, the only proper response is "Thank you." That's it. Don't start telling them all the reasons why "it was nothing" or why you don't deserve it. Just say "Thank you." However, because of this phenomenon, the compliment you give will not always be received well either. Give it anyway.
I really appreciated my new friend's compliment this morning. It made me feel good about myself and my ability to write. You are reading this because of a compliment. In the fall of 1973 as a freshman at the Enterprise State Junior College, Mr. Smith, my composition teacher said, "David, you can write. You are very good at this." I was too busy in college for several years writing reports and research papers to write anything for fun or publication. But I never forgot his vote of confidence. It always meant a lot to me that a gifted teacher appreciated my writing.
And now I'm a professional writer. A youth ministry magazine paid me $50 for an article they published so that makes me a professional. One of these days my name will be on a book. And you'll have to buy it to read it. But for now my words to you are free. Meanwhile, just like this morning, for you to tell me that my writing means something to you goes a long, long way.
To get a compliment is a wonderful thing. To give a compliment is even better.
This morning after a business meeting, a friend complimented me on my writing. I have not known her for very long and she has known my writing for an even less time. She not only said something nice about something she had read that I had written, but she asked me several questions about my blog. Follow up questions such as these are compliments too.
To those of you who are totally confident of yourselves you will not understand this. Most people are very insecure. Most people need constant positive feedback and affirmation to feel good about themselves. You have an opportunity every day to provide that. A genuine and well-placed compliment can be all the difference for the way someone feels about himself or herself on any given day.
I come from a long line of kidders. We kidders mean well. We really never intend to hurt people's feelings. However, because people are insecure, we do make people uncomfortable and hurt their feelings. "Hello, my name is David. And I am a kidder." "We love you David." My Dad kidded and he also gave "backhanded compliments." If I, for example, showed him a report card that was all As and a B+. he would say, "Crockett, is that the best you can do?" (smile). I took it as a compliment. I may as well have because that was as good as it was going to get.
I'll never forget the first straightforward, genuine compliment my father gave me. I was 37 years old. I had done something fairly incredible. It even now is one of the most incredible things I have done in my life. I was proud of myself then and I'm proud of myself now. I had recruited and rehearsed 80 local youth to perform a musical by Ken Medema at the Tivoli Theater in Chattanooga. Ken was there to play. His manager was there to conduct. There was a sound and lighting crew. Ushers in the aisles. Stage hands on the wings. I even had a publicist! And about 1500 of Chattanooga's best were there to listen. The very successful production was all to benefit Habitat for Humanity. It raised a significant amount of money and even more awareness. I had plenty of help but for the most part, I did it. Mom and Dad had come up from Enterprise to participate in the event. The next day they were getting in their car to go home. Dad hadn't said anything to this point. Dad looked at me and said, "Son, for years you've told about this genius friend you have named Ken Medema. And I can see that. But in my opinion the real genius is the person who put all that together. And that was you." My mother and I both understood the significance of the moment and we both started crying.
Selah.
Another aspect of compliments that is very important is how to receive a compliment. Did I mention that most people are insecure? Because of that it's many times difficult for people to accept a compliment. No matter how you feel about whatever affirmation this person just gave you, the only proper response is "Thank you." That's it. Don't start telling them all the reasons why "it was nothing" or why you don't deserve it. Just say "Thank you." However, because of this phenomenon, the compliment you give will not always be received well either. Give it anyway.
I really appreciated my new friend's compliment this morning. It made me feel good about myself and my ability to write. You are reading this because of a compliment. In the fall of 1973 as a freshman at the Enterprise State Junior College, Mr. Smith, my composition teacher said, "David, you can write. You are very good at this." I was too busy in college for several years writing reports and research papers to write anything for fun or publication. But I never forgot his vote of confidence. It always meant a lot to me that a gifted teacher appreciated my writing.
And now I'm a professional writer. A youth ministry magazine paid me $50 for an article they published so that makes me a professional. One of these days my name will be on a book. And you'll have to buy it to read it. But for now my words to you are free. Meanwhile, just like this morning, for you to tell me that my writing means something to you goes a long, long way.
Monday, July 25, 2016
Cellphone Hookup
No, it's not that kind of hookup. Your mind's in the gutter ! I'm talking about the kind when you are meeting someone with no particular place to meet or time to meet. They drive toward you and you drive toward them staying on your phone from time to time. Then you finally find a place to meet. That's the hookup I'm referring to.
I don't enjoy this kind of rendezvous, but family circumstances and driving distances between us sometimes makes this method the best option.
For me short of an unfortunate accident, these are the four possible outcomes of such a meeting. 1. Very good. 2. Good. 3. Bad 4. Very bad. 1. Very good is when the rendezvous point involves a nice restaurant where we can all meet, eat and take a break from driving. 2. Good is when we find any rendezvous point, possibly a travel center or fast food. Bad is when you both overshoot the hoped for mutual exit and somebody has to backtrack. Very bad is when you lose your cellphone connection about twenty miles from the hookup and have no idea where the other party is. There is no possible way to hook up so you are both in Neverland. So far, after dozens of these hookups, only good and very good have happened. But it's the possibility of Bad and Very bad that keeps me from totally relaxing on the trip.
When the calls start and math skills are employed, Bad and Very bad come into play. And for me, adrenaline comes into play as well. If you've done this you know how it works. Party A calls Party B to see where they are. Party B tells Party A the mile marker where they are. And Party B does the same. Since you're both moving towards the other then you just cut the difference between the markers in half. Assuming about a mile a minute for each party, you estimate the hypothetical exit number where you can meet. If you're both in the same state, dealing with the same mile markers then this is fairly easy. If you're across state lines then the time and distance calculation can be tricky.
If we are 500 miles apart, for example, that means that each of us will be driving three and a half hours or so to the drop point. So for a couple of hours Bad and Very bad really don't exist. It's just a drive. When the calls start it's no longer just a drive, it's an adventure.
As I said in the years of doing this, Bad and Very Bad have not happened. But my nervous system knows that both have nearly happened and that either could happen. Regarding Bad, as I approach the drop point I try to tell myself, "If the hypothetical exit doesn't exist when our paths cross, then what's the bid deal? Somebody will just have to take the next exit and turn around." My thinking brain understands this. My reptilian brain does not. My reptilian brain shouts, "This is BAD!"
Several years ago Very bad almost happened. With about 40 miles between us, or about 20 minutes of drive time,we lost our cellphone connection. Very BAD! We were both over three hours from home with no contingency plans in place. We were also in territory that was totally unfamiliar to me. For the next fifteen minutes my thinking brain and reptilian brain took turns at the wheel (reptilian brain 98%. Thinking brain 2%). My struggling thinking brain kept running scenarios, but my reptilian brain was screaming louder and louder "THIS IS VERY BAD!!" Miraculously with one exit left between us we regained the connection and were both able to take the exit. Within minutes we were talking and laughing at a McDonalds where we exchanged human cargo and headed toward our respective homes. No Very bad and not even Bad happened (except in my nervous system).
Yesterday exits had been plentiful for about 30 miles, but with 15 miles to go they were quite scarce. If we had failed to hook up, the "next exit" past the "hypothetical exit" would be several miles and very time consuming.This is BAD! As it turned out, an exit appeared out of nowhere. We all talked and laughed, exchanged cargo and were bound for home.
So what's really at play here? What makes this method actually work out in every situation? Is it just luck? Or is the Divine involved? Hermes was one of the Greek gods of travel. He was the god of transitions and boundaries. "Travelers sought his protection as they made plan to venture about." Or is it Janus who helps me, the Roman god of travel with two faces--one facing forward and one facing back? Or Jehovah? It's not like they had cellphones and a GPS to cross the wilderness. They eventually found the Promised Land.
I don't recommend cellphone hookups. I advise you, like in the olden days, to have a definite time and place to meet. But if you want to add a little excitement and adventure to your trip, just head out with your fate residing in the little black box in your hand and your basic arithmetic. Just have plenty of time, plenty of gas and a god or two in your pocket. And a little Xanax never hurts.
I don't enjoy this kind of rendezvous, but family circumstances and driving distances between us sometimes makes this method the best option.
For me short of an unfortunate accident, these are the four possible outcomes of such a meeting. 1. Very good. 2. Good. 3. Bad 4. Very bad. 1. Very good is when the rendezvous point involves a nice restaurant where we can all meet, eat and take a break from driving. 2. Good is when we find any rendezvous point, possibly a travel center or fast food. Bad is when you both overshoot the hoped for mutual exit and somebody has to backtrack. Very bad is when you lose your cellphone connection about twenty miles from the hookup and have no idea where the other party is. There is no possible way to hook up so you are both in Neverland. So far, after dozens of these hookups, only good and very good have happened. But it's the possibility of Bad and Very bad that keeps me from totally relaxing on the trip.
When the calls start and math skills are employed, Bad and Very bad come into play. And for me, adrenaline comes into play as well. If you've done this you know how it works. Party A calls Party B to see where they are. Party B tells Party A the mile marker where they are. And Party B does the same. Since you're both moving towards the other then you just cut the difference between the markers in half. Assuming about a mile a minute for each party, you estimate the hypothetical exit number where you can meet. If you're both in the same state, dealing with the same mile markers then this is fairly easy. If you're across state lines then the time and distance calculation can be tricky.
If we are 500 miles apart, for example, that means that each of us will be driving three and a half hours or so to the drop point. So for a couple of hours Bad and Very bad really don't exist. It's just a drive. When the calls start it's no longer just a drive, it's an adventure.
As I said in the years of doing this, Bad and Very Bad have not happened. But my nervous system knows that both have nearly happened and that either could happen. Regarding Bad, as I approach the drop point I try to tell myself, "If the hypothetical exit doesn't exist when our paths cross, then what's the bid deal? Somebody will just have to take the next exit and turn around." My thinking brain understands this. My reptilian brain does not. My reptilian brain shouts, "This is BAD!"
Several years ago Very bad almost happened. With about 40 miles between us, or about 20 minutes of drive time,we lost our cellphone connection. Very BAD! We were both over three hours from home with no contingency plans in place. We were also in territory that was totally unfamiliar to me. For the next fifteen minutes my thinking brain and reptilian brain took turns at the wheel (reptilian brain 98%. Thinking brain 2%). My struggling thinking brain kept running scenarios, but my reptilian brain was screaming louder and louder "THIS IS VERY BAD!!" Miraculously with one exit left between us we regained the connection and were both able to take the exit. Within minutes we were talking and laughing at a McDonalds where we exchanged human cargo and headed toward our respective homes. No Very bad and not even Bad happened (except in my nervous system).
Yesterday exits had been plentiful for about 30 miles, but with 15 miles to go they were quite scarce. If we had failed to hook up, the "next exit" past the "hypothetical exit" would be several miles and very time consuming.This is BAD! As it turned out, an exit appeared out of nowhere. We all talked and laughed, exchanged cargo and were bound for home.
So what's really at play here? What makes this method actually work out in every situation? Is it just luck? Or is the Divine involved? Hermes was one of the Greek gods of travel. He was the god of transitions and boundaries. "Travelers sought his protection as they made plan to venture about." Or is it Janus who helps me, the Roman god of travel with two faces--one facing forward and one facing back? Or Jehovah? It's not like they had cellphones and a GPS to cross the wilderness. They eventually found the Promised Land.
I don't recommend cellphone hookups. I advise you, like in the olden days, to have a definite time and place to meet. But if you want to add a little excitement and adventure to your trip, just head out with your fate residing in the little black box in your hand and your basic arithmetic. Just have plenty of time, plenty of gas and a god or two in your pocket. And a little Xanax never hurts.
Saturday, July 23, 2016
One Good Band Leads to Another
A student introduced me to Switchfoot in the spring of 2005. It was unlike any music that I was familiar with. At that time I mostly listened to Classical music and 70s music. I also enjoyed Christian contemporary music such as Amy Grant, Rich Mullins, Phil Keaggy, Jars of Clay and so many others. I didn't listen to any "hard rock" or "heavy metal." Even through the 60s I had not listened to any of that except what played on the radio from time to time. And even then I didn't particularly enjoy it and often changed stations when it played. Part of that was because my Christian world preached that this music was unhealthy and even evil. Do you remember the horrible scare of "backmasking"? Or that the beat of rock music actually tears down heart tissue? Did you know that rock music will drive you to sex and drugs? I heard much good 60s music, but I missed a lot too.
Switchfoot changed all that. Here were positive songs with positive lyrics set to "hard rock" music. And I loved it. I bought A Beautiful Letdown which contained Meant to Live, the song that influenced the direction of my vocational life. I listened to it over and over. And I bought and enjoyed several other Switchfoot CDs as well.
A couple of years after my introduction to Switchfoot, I was given an introduction to Pandora radio. I am not an early adopter of this kind of internet technology, so I didn't sign up right away. Eventually I did sign up for the free version to see what all the fuss was about. Well what it was all about was the most incredible music service of its time. As you already know, I created "radio stations" of my favorite bands and then Pandora played a steady stream of music of that genre.
One of the first stations I created was, of course, Switchfoot. Pandora then introduced me to Skillet, Red, Fireflight, BarlowGirl, and others. If Switchfoot was "hard rock", much of this was "heavy metal." Red was the hardest music I had ever listened to on purpose. I grew to love Red as much as I loved Switchfoot. There was blood in the water. Skillet and Red became my go to bands. The Red station introduced me to Thousand Foot Krutch, Kutless and other Christian bands of that type.
Roll over Beethoven was an understatement. I didn't totally abandon my love of Classical music and more traditional Christian music, but my tastes had certainly morphed. There was just something about those driving rhythms, heavy bass, radical lead guitar, synthesizers, hoarse voices and hopeful lyrics that did something for me. And it still does.
I enjoyed Pandora so much that I subscribed to the service. Now I listened to a higher quality of stereo and no commercials. Along then my son said, "Dad, you've got to download Spotify." Well I didn't have to download Spotify and I didn't. I now had the radio, the CD player, Sirrius/XM radio and Pandora. What did I possibly need with another music service? But he was persistent. "Dad, just trust me. You would love this." So I downloaded it. There in the top left corner was a search box. I learned quickly that I could type in about any song, musician or band I could think of and Spotify would find it and play it for me right then. I learned that I could create radio stations and playlists. If Pandora opened up a world of music then Spotify opened the universe. Within a few months I had subscribed to the service. and cancelled Pandora.
The thing that amazes me about the internet and music is how one good thing leads to another. And how quickly it happens. I accidentally found the Switchfoot movie Fading West on Netflix a few days ago. This morning I listened to my Fading West playlist on Spotify at the gym. I'm old enough to remember if I heard a song on the AM radio that I liked and I wanted to listen to it again, I either had to wait for the DJ to play it or ride my bicycle downtown and buy the 45 at the record store. Well it was exciting to hear the "flip side" for the first time. I bought "Turn, Turn, Turn" but "Eight Miles High" became one of my favorite Byrds songs.
So where is all this headed? I didn't know Pandora until I had it. I didn't know Red until I had Pandora. I didn't know Spotify until I had enjoyed hundreds of hours of bliss. Soon enough my son will call me and say, "Dad, there's a music service you've got to have." And I will say "No I don't." What could possibly be better than what I've got? Surely, this is as good as it gets.
Switchfoot changed all that. Here were positive songs with positive lyrics set to "hard rock" music. And I loved it. I bought A Beautiful Letdown which contained Meant to Live, the song that influenced the direction of my vocational life. I listened to it over and over. And I bought and enjoyed several other Switchfoot CDs as well.
A couple of years after my introduction to Switchfoot, I was given an introduction to Pandora radio. I am not an early adopter of this kind of internet technology, so I didn't sign up right away. Eventually I did sign up for the free version to see what all the fuss was about. Well what it was all about was the most incredible music service of its time. As you already know, I created "radio stations" of my favorite bands and then Pandora played a steady stream of music of that genre.
One of the first stations I created was, of course, Switchfoot. Pandora then introduced me to Skillet, Red, Fireflight, BarlowGirl, and others. If Switchfoot was "hard rock", much of this was "heavy metal." Red was the hardest music I had ever listened to on purpose. I grew to love Red as much as I loved Switchfoot. There was blood in the water. Skillet and Red became my go to bands. The Red station introduced me to Thousand Foot Krutch, Kutless and other Christian bands of that type.
Roll over Beethoven was an understatement. I didn't totally abandon my love of Classical music and more traditional Christian music, but my tastes had certainly morphed. There was just something about those driving rhythms, heavy bass, radical lead guitar, synthesizers, hoarse voices and hopeful lyrics that did something for me. And it still does.
I enjoyed Pandora so much that I subscribed to the service. Now I listened to a higher quality of stereo and no commercials. Along then my son said, "Dad, you've got to download Spotify." Well I didn't have to download Spotify and I didn't. I now had the radio, the CD player, Sirrius/XM radio and Pandora. What did I possibly need with another music service? But he was persistent. "Dad, just trust me. You would love this." So I downloaded it. There in the top left corner was a search box. I learned quickly that I could type in about any song, musician or band I could think of and Spotify would find it and play it for me right then. I learned that I could create radio stations and playlists. If Pandora opened up a world of music then Spotify opened the universe. Within a few months I had subscribed to the service. and cancelled Pandora.
The thing that amazes me about the internet and music is how one good thing leads to another. And how quickly it happens. I accidentally found the Switchfoot movie Fading West on Netflix a few days ago. This morning I listened to my Fading West playlist on Spotify at the gym. I'm old enough to remember if I heard a song on the AM radio that I liked and I wanted to listen to it again, I either had to wait for the DJ to play it or ride my bicycle downtown and buy the 45 at the record store. Well it was exciting to hear the "flip side" for the first time. I bought "Turn, Turn, Turn" but "Eight Miles High" became one of my favorite Byrds songs.
So where is all this headed? I didn't know Pandora until I had it. I didn't know Red until I had Pandora. I didn't know Spotify until I had enjoyed hundreds of hours of bliss. Soon enough my son will call me and say, "Dad, there's a music service you've got to have." And I will say "No I don't." What could possibly be better than what I've got? Surely, this is as good as it gets.
Friday, July 22, 2016
One Song
According to Jon Foreman "switchfoot" is a surfing term. You switch your feet and face the opposite direction.
"We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside
Somewhere we live inside
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside" Meant to Live, Switchfoot
Have you ever been completely stuck? I got stuck in the crawl space of a mountain home in the middle of nowhere a couple of years ago. The owners were home. I could have beat on the floor with my flashlight and they would have eventually figured it out, but I was in a precarious situation to say the least. I found myself in a very dark, very cramped space and I didn't see any way out. There was a block wall on my left and seemingly impenetrable plumbing and duct work on the other three sides. I couldn't move. Because of how I got into my predicament, backing up wasn't an option either. After I got my panic under control, I found a way out. It wasn't any fun, but I did it. The whole ordeal was over in a matter of minutes, although it took a little longer for my heart rate and sweat glands to return to normal. I was very glad to see the light of day.
But that's not the kind of stuck I'm talking about. I'm referring to when our lives are stuck. We consider our options and there doesn't seem to be any good way forward. Or any direction for that matter.
In the spring of 2005 I was stuck. I was in a job that I was highly qualified and trained to do. My supervisors were pleased with my work and those I supervised were for the most part pleased as well. But I was profoundly stressed. And profoundly unhappy. I wanted to quit, but my always supportive wife was concerned about my tendency to give up on myself and my job too easily and too soon. And she had good reason to be concerned. I had an abysmal track record with "careers".
But my unhappiness deepened. My unhappiness began to slide toward despair.
I so enjoy finding good music, but every now and then good music finds me. The song Meant to Live by Switchfoot told me what I was supposed to do. The answer was not crystal clear, but it was clear enough.
Jon Foreman, the founder, writer and lead singer, is passionate about surfing. All of them are. He said "Switchfoot is about change and movement, a different way of approaching life and music." This week while looking for a movie to watch on Netflix, I noticed Fading West by Switchfoot. And I watched it. The movie, released in 2013, is a documentary/travelogue of their 2012 World Tour. Their yearlong tour included Australia, New Zealand, S. Africa and Bali. As it turned out, the movie is as much about surfing as it is about their music and their concerts. Foreman said, "Surfing brought us together and surfing keeps us together." He said that regarding the day to day stresses of touring, the water is a "reset" for all of them. "We find the water as often as possible." And if Fading West is any indication, they find the water fairly often.
It is so very good to be listening to this triumphant Switchfoot music when I'm not in any crisis or distress. I'm not looking for any answers or direction. I'm not looking for anything. I can just allow myself to be bathed by their words and music. A crisis? No. A reset? Yes.
"And we find what we're made of through the open door.
Is it fear you're afraid of? What are you waiting for?
Love alone is worth the fight." Love Alone is Worth the Fight, from Fading West, by Switchfoot
"And I was lost but not alone." The Edge of the Earth from Fading West by Switchfoot
I was in a crawl space this afternoon. It was dark, dirty and very cramped. But I didn't get stuck. If you've ever been stuck in a crawl space or in your life you have no plans to ever be stuck again.
It is so very good to be listening to this triumphant Switchfoot music when I'm not in any crisis or distress. I'm not looking for any answers or direction. I'm not looking for anything. I can just allow myself to be bathed by their words and music. A crisis? No. A reset? Yes.
"And we find what we're made of through the open door.
Is it fear you're afraid of? What are you waiting for?
Love alone is worth the fight." Love Alone is Worth the Fight, from Fading West, by Switchfoot
"And I was lost but not alone." The Edge of the Earth from Fading West by Switchfoot
I was in a crawl space this afternoon. It was dark, dirty and very cramped. But I didn't get stuck. If you've ever been stuck in a crawl space or in your life you have no plans to ever be stuck again.
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