Just Walk Away...

A good friend of mine suggested that I watch the movie Christopher Robin. So I did. At first I was put off by the talking stuffed animals. But as the movie progressed, they became less stuffed animals and more  living, breathing  creatures. As I listened to their dialogue, I was deeply affected by their opinions and philosophy of life. Pooh told Christopher Robin several times that he was a "bear of small brain," but he had plenty enough brain to offer rich concepts of abundant living.

I didn't write down or memorize these statements or these truths. If I watch the movie again  I'll stop and write down some of the quotes.  Pooh said something though that has stayed with me: "When I want to get somewhere, I walk away from where I've been."

If you're in a soul-numbing, dead end job, just walk away.
If you're addicted to narcotics or alcohol, just walk away.
If you're in a destructive relationship, just walk away.
If you're prone to worry and anxiety, just walk away.
If you're hanging onto anger and resentment, just walk away.
If you're hanging onto guilt and remorse, just walk away.
(add your troubling issue), just walk away.

"Walking away" also involves "walking toward." You may need to stay in your job until you find a new one or are financially able to move on. You may need more education to become qualified for that dream job. You may need to walk toward a counselor who can provide therapy and help. You may need to walk toward a psychiatrist who can prescribe medicine and counsel to guide you through withdrawal and chemical dependence. You may need to find a shelter for battered women to provide temporary protection and relief from physical and emotional harm. You may need to confide in and lean on a friend who can offer love and support as you find your way. You may need to find a church where caring people can help ground you in eternal truths. You may need to walk away from a church that offers easy answers for every problem. Finally, like Pooh, you may need to reach inside yourself and re-discover your center, become reacquainted with yourself, your own priorities, principles, and hopes and dreams.

In one dramatic scene, Christopher Robin woke up, realized that he had overslept and said, "Oh no! It's tomorrow!" to which Pooh replied, "It's usually today." And if a journey of 1,000 miles begins with a single step, today is as good a day as any to take it.  Now you have to figure out which way to go. Pooh used Christopher Robin's compass to go north. If you're not quite sure which direction to go, north is as good as any. Better yet, take inventory of your options and choose the one that you think is best. Pooh, "What day is it Christopher Robin?"  "It's today."  "Ah, today. My favorite day."

Ordinary Wonder

transcendent--"beyond or above the range of normal or merely physical human experience;surpassing the ordinary; existing apart from and not subject to the limitations of the material universe".  Synonyms:supernatural, otherworldly, mystical, spiritual, sublime, ethereal.  Antonyms: ordinary, mundane

I have had my share of encounters with the "transcendent."  None of these happenings were drug or alcohol induced. I was not "on" anything. It's just that several different times in my life something has broken through the fabric of the ordinary, the mundane into some other dimension. What happened  can only be described as "mystical"  or "transcendent."  These experiences left me dazed and somewhat bewildered.  The upside of these experiences has been to put me in touch with a dimension of life that's beyond the ordinary.  The downside of these experiences is that the ordinary in comparison feels mundane. If you remove the "extra" from "extraordinary" then the "ordinary" feels rather empty.

One of my transcendent experiences happened while driving on Highway 78 east from Jasper to Birmingham, Alabama. It involved beautiful music on the radio and a church I was passing along the way. There was no danger to me or other motorists as the whole incident only lasted a matter of seconds. But "transcendence" seems to happen out of time. The most powerful transcendent experience of my life came in a dream in 1982. When I woke up from the dream I knew that my dream self was a part of a transformational experience.  My dream self then transformed my waking self into something new. Thinking about the dream even now, thirty seven years later, I am touched with its beauty, its power and its purpose. Another transcendent experience was on a sailboat in the late 1980s. This experience temporarily  filled me to overflowing with a sensation of buoyancy and wonder.  Although I was very much in the body through the entire experience, my psyche seemed to float to somewhere else.  From a passing of time perspective, this experience lasted about twenty minutes. This was considerably longer in duration than all my other transcendental experiences combined. Another thing that separates this experience with the others is that something very similar happened at about the same time to my best friend; so for the first time I was able to talk to someone who understood what I was saying. Unfortunately, my friend got killed before we could talk about it again. Other mystical experiences have touched me and changed me over the years.

With this said, the secret to abundant living is not to rack up as many transcendent experiences as possible, but to find the extraordinary in the ordinary.  This phenomenon is perhaps best illustrated in Thornton Wilder's play Our Town when the events of one ordinary day in one ordinary town are transformed to the extraordinary. But we do not need to watch a play or sit under a Bodhi tree to see the extraordinary at work. Extraordinary things happen all around us every single day. The sun, which is 93 million miles away, has a surface temperature of about 6,000 degrees Fahrenheit. Yet after the heat and light have traveled their eight minutes to earth and have punctured Earth's atmosphere, the average temperature at the equator is only 88 degrees. With a little sunscreen the heat of the sun is quite bearable to humans. Green living things on Earth use the light of the sun in a process called photosynthesis. This process synthesizes foods from carbon dioxide and water. Of all things, oxygen is a byproduct of this chemical interaction. Ninety nine percent of the gases in our atmosphere are oxygen and nitrogen. A human being dies if deprived of oxygen for about five minutes. In the time you've spent reading this, your life has been spared because of your breathing. Amazing. That the Earth synthesizes enough oxygen every day for all 7 billion of Earth's inhabitants is quite extraordinary.

UNICEF estimates that about 350,000 babies are born every day. That's 14,500 babies born every hour. Or that's 243 living, breathing human beings born in the world every single minute of every day. After nine months suspended in amniotic fluid, these tiny earthlings are now surviving on their own, breathing oxygen from the air like all of us.  Isn't  that extraordinary? ! The world could not contain the books about the extraordinary things  that happen to us every second of every day.

It has been quite some time since I have had a bona fide "transcendental experience". Do I miss them? Of course I do. Do I need them?  I must not or I would have them.  The thing I miss the most about "mystical experiences" is the sense of existential arrival and departure that they provide.  It's as though the experiences provide a cosmic signpost that reads "You are here."  So without some otherworldly guide to point the way, the Universe leaves that up to me. So what do I want to do with my life?   Where do I go from here? I think I'll go to the kitchen and brew a cup of coffee. My Keurig is quite extraordinary. 

Resting Glitch Face

I had an  interesting experience a couple of days ago. It was about 10:30 am and I was on my way to a doctor's office. I had been up over two hours.  I called the office en route and a woman I didn't know answered the phone. After a brief exchange I said "good bye", only she didn't hang up the phone. I could hear what she was being said in the office. The woman I had spoken to said "He sounded like he was about half asleep." And another responded "He always sounds that way."

I don't have a resting smile face. Unfortunately it's closer to a frown.  I am not an unhappy person it's just how my mouth and face settles in when I'm not thinking about anything in particular. It's something that I am aware of and that I work on. I had a boss once, a boss I eventually fired, who constantly commented on my facial expression.  Publicly and privately he would look at me with a forced smile and say, "Smile David!!" And I would flash a smile for his entertainment.  I was not smiling the morning I told him where to get off and then drove away in the car that I had already packed with my stuff.  Smiles aren't always necessary.  Smiles aren't always appropriate.

So the woman said that I "sounded half asleep."  I wasn't asleep and I wasn't even sleepy. I just have a rather low monotone voice until I get excited about something.  A "resting monotone" I guess you'd say. And I wasn't offended by what she said and have made no plans to talk to anyone about it.  I ask for and deserve the observation.

Boost, a cellular phone network, has a commercial that includes a husband referring to his wife's "resting glitch face."  I did a double take the first time I heard it. The next time I  understood what he was saying. I think mine is more like a "resting solemn face."  I catch that face in the mirror or another reflection from time to time and it scares me a bit, too.  But in spite of my best efforts, I'm stuck with my face! And you are too. Feel free to look away.

When I got to my doctor's office, the woman who made the comment wasn't even there and like I said, I was not compelled to say anything to anyone else about it.  I need to bring the tone of my voice up a notch or two and I need to smile more. But one reason I'm not that concerned about it is that children like me.  Children I know like me and children I don't know like me.  If my voice and face was too scary, I don't think children would hang around me.

So what's my take away from all this?   What is a lesson I can learn from it?  What I learned is to make sure I hang up the phone at the end of a conversation and in the meantime to be careful what I say about the person I was talking to. By the way, I didn't say how long I eavesdropped on those office ladies.  It was actually several minutes, but they stopped talking about me and I lost interest in their conversation. A "resting self-centered streak."

Just charge it !

charge account--"An existing line of credit at the business that issued it.

My best friend growing up was Billy Jones.  I met Billy the very first day of the first grade at the College Street Elementary School in Enterprise, Alabama.   To say that we “hit it off” would be a gross understatement.  We became friends before we knew just how easy our friendship would be.  Billy was seventeen days older than me.  I was born on the 19^th and he was born on the second.  His house was within walking distance of our school in one direction as my house was within walking distance from the other. This is to say that our houses were within walking distance of each other. And bicycles bisected  the distance at light speed.  From the first grade through the fourth grade when he had his accident, we were inseparable.  On Friday nights either I spent the night at his house or he spent the night at mine. And most afternoons we were playing at either house or in the ball field behind the school.

About halfway between our houses was a business known as “the dairy.”  It wasn’t an actual dairy because there were no cows.  No milk was produced at that location.  It could best be described as a milk distribution center.  For me it was a place to buy chocolate milk.  For a nickel I could buy one of those school lunchroom size cartons of chocolate milk.  Billy and I stopped there quite often on our coming and going to our houses.  One day though Billy said the magic words.  He had never used these words before and I had never heard them.  When she handed my carton to me, I gave her a nickel, but when she handed Billy his, he said, “Just charge it.”  And I was completely amazed by what happened next. Billy didn’t hand her any money.   I thought “charging it is the way to go.” A few days later we stopped at the dairy again and the same thing happened. When she handed the chocolate milk to Billy he said “Just charge it.”  So when she handed mine to  me, I said “Just charge mine too.”  She said, “Ok, David. Will do.”   This new system was working really well and we continued to charge our milk for several weeks.

One afternoon when I got home after school my mother asked me, “Are you charging milk at the dairy?” Now how in the world would she know that !?  I said, “Yes I am.”  She said, “David, we don’t even have a charge account at the dairy.  The milk man stopped by today to collect the money.”  Of course I had no idea what a charge account was or how the milk man found us, but I did know that my mother wasn’t happy with me.  My only punishment that I recall was having to listen to  a lengthy explanation of what a charge account entailed. And she made me promise not to ever charge anything without talking to her first. And I promised.  And I didn’t.

A few weeks before his accident, Billy and I built a fully functional space ship in the closet of his attic bedroom. We flew together to the outer edges of the Milky Way. And we always got home in time for supper. What happened just happened. It wasn’t anybody’s fault.  Billy’s brother thought it was his fault. I thought it was mine. But now I understand that we were both wrong. It was just a horrible accident. I visited Billy once in the hospital but because of my guilt I never went back to his house after he went home.  The next year because of all the school he had missed,  Billy was ‘put back” to repeat the fourth grade and I went on to the fifth.  And that was that.

A few weeks ago my wife and I bought a new car. The finance officer at the Nissan dealership asked what sort of financing we intended to do.  I looked at him, smiled and said, “Just charge it.”

Enlightenment Without Meditation

Disclaimer: Read ALL of this before making a judgment about me or reaching any conclusions of my opinion.

First of all, I don’t think you’ll ever find enlightenment without meditation. But I do think you can find enlightenment without “traditional meditation.” By “traditional meditation” I’m speaking of some form of kneeling or sitting quietly while focusing on your breathing and nothing else.  To say that the only authentic meditation involves a particular “religious” discipline is to say that you can only find enlightenment in a finite number of ways.  By “religious” I don’t mean Buddhism or Christian Zen, I mean a repeated activity in the sense of “she did that’ religiously’.”

Perhaps the most dramatic example of “traditional meditation” was performed by the Buddha under the Bodhi tree. Tradition tells us that he sat there virtually without moving for 49 days and nights. That’s seven weeks of sitting completely still. So if that’s the ultimate example of how mediation is supposed to be accomplished, I don’t think it has ever been or will ever be repeated again.  Whatever form of meditation you practice will be inferior to that. What I’m saying is don’t judge me because I perform very few acts of “traditional meditation.”  There are other ways to meditate.

Several years ago I decided to give “traditional meditation” a shot.  I got up every morning at five a.m., sat upright in a straight backed chair, and for an hour concentrated on my breathing. I’m not saying there was no benefit to the exercise, but after about two months of this early morning ritual, all I felt was sleepy. But for the record, meditation did not promise that I would feel anything. Toward the end of my journey in “traditional meditation” I had a sort of out of body experience. My spirit floated to the ceiling and I could look down at my chair.  Not to poo poo my own possible spiritual breakthrough, but I’m pretty sure that I went to sleep and dreamed the whole thing.

I started this by saying that I don’t think you’ll find enlightenment without meditation. And I’ll stand by that comment.  But to understand my opinion I need to redefine “meditation.”  I think you are meditating when you give your full attention to anything.  If you give your full attention to the music  you’re listening to, you’re meditating. If you give your full attention to watching the birds on your feeder, you’re meditating. If you give your full attention to listening to  your wind chimes, you’re meditating.  While you’re driving, if you give your full attention to your driving and your moving surroundings, you’re meditating. If you give your full attention to writing in your journal, you’re meditating. The Buddhists call it “mindfulness.”  Some practitioner of Zen thought said, “When you drink tea, drink tea.”  They also tell us when we eat, to eat. Don't distract yourself by reading or watching TV. Just chew mindfully and swallow. And be grateful.  Do whatever it is that you’re doing and not something else.  In the international bestseller Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, the late Robert Pirsig said that he enjoyed working on his motorcycle as much as he enjoyed riding it.  If you leave out “the Art” you’re left with The Zen of Motorcycle Maintenance. You can experience the Zen of anything. 

I have a good friend who receives much benefit from “traditional meditation.” He employs a kneeling bench and a candle. He meditates there at least thirty minutes a day.  He attributes this time and place for his renewed ability  to find joy and meaning in his life. he believes his meditation has quieted his monkey brain and opened his awareness exponentially.   I applaud him for that discipline and that effort. I’m just saying that if  you’re not willing to do that, then don’t despair; the opportunities for meditation are limitless.  The path to enlightenment starts right at your feet. But I will say this, although enlightenment is possible without "traditional meditation", it's a lot more likely with it. And then "traditional meditation" leads to even more mindfulness. So, can you become enlightened without "traditional meditation"?  Yes. But is it very likely?  That depends. Yes, if you employ walking meditation as a daily habit. No, if you never meditate at all.  By the way, while you read this, were you aware of your breathing?  My point, exactly. Without being aware of your breathing, but by concentrating on these words, you were meditating. And possibly enlightened.

The Place Where God Calls You

The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet."  Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking

It has been a long time since I felt that a dream meant something.  I have certainly dreamed dreams since 1982 that I felt were significant, but nothing has ever approached the beauty and power of that dream.  In that case I sought the help of a Lutheran minister who took dreams and dreaming seriously. He said, “Young man (like I said, it was 1982), Young man, God has given you an epic dream.  If you will pay attention to it, it will change the direction of your life". I did. And it did.  The dream I had in my waking moments this morning was not that sort of dream.  But since it has stayed with me all day I have come to believe that it meant something.

In recent years I have come to name the institution where I earned a master in music as “graduate school” instead of seminary.  Truth be told it was a Baptist seminary.  In spite of the fact that at the time it was one of the most admired and respected schools of theology in the world, it is now a third rate Calvanistic Bible college.  The seminary music school where I earned that degree was one of the most outstanding music schools in  the country. I applied myself and graduated with honors musically and academically. I was very proud of my accomplishments, and my teachers and peers were proud of me too. The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary is not only a horrible excuse for a seminary, but there is no music school there at all. It has been closed for several years. I still have my diploma, but what is a diploma worth regardless of what it cost if the school no longer exists?

Upon graduation, after considering five different offers, we decided that it was “God’s will” for us to move to Rossville, Georgia to the Rossville First Baptist Church. I poured my heart and soul into both the music ministry and the youth ministry of that church.  After four years, burned out and washed up,  I resigned that position. I spent the next two years as youth director of the McFarland United Methodist Church, the church across the street. Those two years were for me a marvelous time of grace and healing. In a future life I look forward to finding out what happened to me and to that church if I had stayed there.  But after two years the Signal Mountain Baptist Church of Signal Mountain, Tennessee tempted me with a large part-time salary and the opportunity to lead in church music again.  I  left that position twice and was invited back twice. So all told I spent fourteen years as the Minister of Music over a twenty year period. Nearly two years ago Rossville First Baptist Church closed its doors forever.  Several weeks ago the  Signal Mountain Baptist Church closed its doors for good.  My school of music doesn’t exist and two of my life’s most important churches  ceased to exist as well. Where does this leave my life and legacy?  Educationally and vocationally do I even exist?

When I woke up this morning the dream had been powerful enough that it took me a few seconds to clear my head and to know what was real and what was a dream. In the dream I was just starting down Signal Mountain on Signal Mountain Road.  The incident had just taken place so there weren’t many cars or people around. Instead of pavement in front of me there was a gaping hole in the asphalt. I didn’t know for sure but I was fairly certain a car had fallen into that hole. Since the road is on  the side of a mountain I knew that the hole was quite deep and that if there was a car the driver had probably died in the impact.  I approached the chasm to take a picture and then decided the photo wasn’t worth risking my life for if the road continued to cave.  And I woke up.

I said that I felt like the dream meant something, but I have little idea what it means.  I do think that the black hole is a metaphor for the black hole at the center of the Milky Way.  The gravitational pull of a black hole is so powerful not even light can escape, thus it’s a black hole. In spite of their reputation as  death stars, black holes are the engines of their respective galaxies.  The galaxies exist because though dark as eternal night, the black holes exists.

Now for the interpretation. I don't know where to go, but I know where to start.  One dead music school. Two dead churches. A driver on  Signal Mountain less than a mile from the church fell through the black asphalt to her death.  I’m standing on the road near the hole safe and sound. I’m okay. The dark black hole didn't kill me. 

A few years after leaving Signal Mountain Baptist Church for the third and last time, the McFarland United Methodist Church gave me the opportunity to be their music director. By then I had matured in my faith and theology that I didn't so much seek "God's will" as to discern what would be best for the church, my family and for me. Why would God have a problem with that? I decided to go for it.  Those four years turned out to be four of the best years of my music ministry. It didn't matter that my diploma had expired and that my seminary was on life support, it only mattered that there had been a need and that I filled it as best I could. Buechner said that's the place God calls you.  Saying yes to that call has made all the difference.  I'm reading a book, All About Dreams: Everything You Need to Know about Why We Have Them, What They Mean and How to Put Them to Work for You. When I'm finished reading I'll get back to you on the meaning of this black hole dream. I'll probably learn the obvious, it means "seven years of feast followed by seven years of famine".

An Interrupted Life

“Work begins when you don't like what you're doing. Tension, a lack of honesty, and a sense of unreality come from following the wrong force in your life. As an adult, you must rediscover the moving power of your life!”- A Joseph Campbell Companion: Reflections on the Art of Living

I have not as thoroughly identified with an author as the one I’m reading now. I’m reading the diary of Elly Hillesum. The published diary is so true to her German text that the translator plays a bigger role in its English publication than does the editor.  However, the editor states that if he had published her entire diary, the book would be over 400 pages long, This book, An Interrupted Life: The Diaries of Elly Hillesum, 1941-1943 is 223 pages. Elly, a Dutch Jew, wrote her diary during World War II.  She was 27 years old in 1941 and died at age 29 at Auschwitz in 1943.

I started writing and publishing to Facebook nearly fifteen years ago.  The first story I published was about the death of my beautiful mixed shepherd, Maggie. I received several favorable comments about the story so a few days later I published something else. I have now published several hundred stories over that period of years. One big difference between Elly’s diary and what I write is that she is willing to be a lot more open and honest about everything.  It’s not  that I’m dishonest. I don’t make the stories up. It's just that she delves into her deepest beliefs, thoughts and feelings about everything that matters to her. What I write and what you read is the tip of the iceberg.  Elly relates the iceberg. Maybe I’d be more correct to say that I’m the Titanic and very much aware of the icebergs.

I’ve been rather discouraged of late with my writing and publishing.  Blogspot, the blog platform I use, has been telling me for years that about 120 people read my posts.  Once over 900 people read my story about the closing of a church. I enjoy knowing that people read and benefit from my writings. But a couple of months ago either something happened to the way Facebook distributes my posts or Blogspot is telling me wrong about the number of people reading.  It tells me that only about twenty people read my posts on any given day. I’ve figured out the problem is with Facebook and not Blogspot and I've let that affect my writing.

This morning in a session with  my counselor, she suggested that I write a journal. I realize that I could benefit from a pen and paper journal, but I told her that I have a journal and that I post to it about once a week. It’s called In a Different Light and I jot down my beliefs, hopes, feelings,  and past and present experiences.  Maybe not all of them, but a lot. So I decided again that I don’t write what I write for you. I write for me.  It doesn’t matter if 500 people read it or nobody reads it, the things I write need to be written. As Joseph Campbell stated, I must continually rediscover the moving power of my life. The words matter not because they’re read, but because they’re written.

An irony of Elly’s diary is that she states from time to time that she would like to write a great book. She feels destined to write a great book.  I seriously doubt that she knew that she was writing it. Maybe one of her last thoughts in the gas chamber was, “I wish I had written my book.” Would she have written all that she wrote if she had known her words would become a best seller? Although the illusion she creates is that she’s writing to me, and I would guess most of her readers feel that way, she was more than likely just writing to herself.

The truth is there is no such thing as "an interrupted life."  Esther "Elly" Hillesum was born on January 25, 1914 and she died on November 30, 1945.  That was her whole life. Her life ended that day at the hands of the Nazis, but it wasn't interrupted. The affect her 29 years  had on people then and now cannot be measured. I have a birth date and one day will have an end date. The challenge is to live the dash as meaningfully as possible for myself and those around me. Meanwhile, if I help bring meaning for you, we're both better off.