See and be Known – Day Thirty-Four

see and be known

When I was growing up, our family lived in four different houses, but they were basically in the same school district. So, for me, I went to one elementary school, one junior high, and one high school. Then I went to university in the same state, but began a (thus far) thirty year succession of moves—out of country, different states, more education, different jobs . . . . One thing I learned quickly was that each new place harbored new bugs, and the first year is one of accepting new illnesses while my body’s immune system learned how to fight them.

When I finally discovered some of my physical pain was due to autoimmune disease, I began a life-long journey of finding a balance to supporting my immune system. Autoimmune disease is basically an internal overreaction. Certain sectors of the immune system no longer focus on disease but attack healthy cells. So, many “normal” modes of targeting a virus can trigger a heightened attack on my joints and nerves. It requires listening to my body, noticing how it responds to certain supplements and foods, exercises and activities. It is a mindfulness practice that, for me, holds some urgency.

It seems as if we do a similar psychic thing to ourselves. That is, maybe I am overreacting to an internal judgment about my inadequacy and undermine – attack – the healthy strengths I do possess, rendering myself socially or professionally infirm. Also, perhaps we do this as a society by passing judgment without thought, without real insight, and attack the whole of another’s position. In doing so, we debilitate constructive civil conversation.

Recently, I have been reading some of the musings of the German-Jewish philosopher, Hannah Arendt. She writes about that intersection of thinking and action—that both are necessary for making things right in the world. An expert on Arendt, Lyndsey Stonebridge, observes, “Thinking, [Arendt] says, is not the same as judgment, but it creates the right conditions for judgment. But also, she says, if you can’t have that inner dialogue, then you can’t speak and act with others. What she called ‘the banality of evil’ was the inability to hear another voice, the inability to have a dialogue either with oneself or the world, the moral world.”

It is this sense that is so important for our time as it was in Arendt’s, found in a concept she coined and elaborates on: “organized loneliness.” It is this experience of living in a society in which individuals are unseen and disconnected, of feeling superfluous in the world. It is certainly something that I wrestle with as I draw closer to turning 50. And it seems to be an overarching universal experience in our globalizing world—more connected and more isolated. But just as I cannot really see a truth about my capabilities until another person observes it, sees me as I am, so as a society we cannot see our system for what it is until we can understand it from another cultural perspective.

Of course, that is a very oversimplified observation. Still, though I feel like I cannot really change a political system, I can be a part of changing culture. One way is to actively open my eyes to see another person, another culture, another belief system. And when my eyes are open, they remain open for another to return that gaze. It is vulnerable. It is frightening. It is thrilling. How beautiful it is when two people extend trust and really look at one another. I am changed, and just maybe, together we can change our culture, and the world.

How do I need to change my perspectival lens so I can really see someone today?

Life and Breath and Meaning – Day Thirty-Three

the air I breathe

All that lives must breathe. If it does not breathe, it is not living. The trees and shrubbery outside my window inhale carbon dioxide and exhale oxygen. The birds in its branches and the 2nd grader walking home take in oxygen and expel carbon dioxide. The tree and the girl exist because the other does. Indeed, a coal miner might take that same bird into the cave to test the breathability of the air. The bird stops breathing, the miner is soon to follow. Find oxygen. breathe. live.

Breathing is at the forefront of my mind because for me it is not a given the function will behave properly. For some reason my lungs do not make the O2 – CO2 exchange correctly. Apparently, my heart is skewed at an “awkward” angle, the pulmonary arterial valve allows some regurgitation, and the pulmonary artery strains with pressure. So, when I performed the comprehensive pulmonary functions test this morning, I nearly ended up in the ER. Thankfully, my doctorate in mindfulness practices became useful, preventing me from passing out. Ugh.

The device for measure pulmonary function has been around for quite a while. Originally invented in the 1840s by the British surgeon, John Hutchinson, the Spirometry, spiro (to breathe) and meter (to measure), provides diagnostic information to assess lung function. Other devices and technology are now recruited to gauge a range of elements that impact lung function. That my daughters and several nephews live with impaired lunch function, I am grateful for these specialists who can monitor this very important somatic task! God bless Gale who did just that – expert and with great compassion – for me today.

But there is so much more involved than the inhalation of air, the expulsion of carbon. Our bodies are complex systems, each affecting the other, and when one piece isn’t working properly, other vital organs react. And everyone has unique reactions to dysfunctions that may occur. And these physical operations within the body are affected by equally complex outward systems of atmosphere, climate, social interactions, emotional counteractions, and countless other effects in between. I love the observation made by Pablo Neruda after a childhood exchange with another boy through a hole in the fence:

“To feel the intimacy of brothers is a marvelous thing in life. To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life. But to feel the affection that comes from those whom we do not know, from those unknown to us, who are watching over our sleep and solitude, over our dangers and our weaknesses — that is something still greater and more beautiful because it widens out the boundaries of our being, and unites all living things.”

A simple exchange of a toy for a resin pinecone inspired Neruda to poetry, to leave gifts of words to those he would never meet, but with whom he will ever be connected. And this is the source of art, the reason we do art – it is human to create. It is divine to create.

My words, my being are linked to you, as you are to me. And just as the shrub outside my window exists because the girl walking past it does, I thrive because you are also in this world. Jesus said, As the Father loves me, so I love you; abide – live, breathe – in my love. And as I love you, love each other. My life for yours; yours, for each other. (Jn15:9-13) Yours is the air I breathe.

Breathe in gratitude for the stranger who offers unexpected kindness today.

Breathe out the fear from not understanding exactly what is going on.

Breathe in a sense of the very presence of the Holy Spirit.

Breathe out the remaining malaise and unease.

Breathe in gratitude for the gift of each breath.

Creative Conversation – Day Thirty-Two

Relationship changes us

When I returned home from visiting my daughter in Indonesia bands of muscle in the guise of steel ropes threaded with industrial hex nuts formed a latticework on my back. No amount of stretching, yoga, or deep breathing seemed to loosen the grip these giant pods of lactic acid had on my back. This morning, my dear husband had some extra time to finally begin work on the trellis. Thank you, God, for giving me this man! I believe my neck is a full inch longer now. (note to Howie: I think you’ve only loosened a top layer)

Message therapy can be traced back to 2800s BCE Egypt and China. Hindu practitioners perfected the Ayurveda art of healing touch through the millennia, and then a Swedish doctor (former gymnast) developed the “Swedish Movement System” in the early 1800s. This and Japanese Shiatsu seem to be the most commonly used in the western hemisphere. Interesting, recent research found that the efficacy of massage therapy has more to do with the mechanisms of DNA than squeezing out lactic acid. It actually triggers the process that turns off the inflammation-promoting gene, PGC-1alpha, and turns on the gene, NFkB, that contributes to healing muscle tissue. As one with a connective tissue disease, this information is enlightening and strengthens my resolve to appeal for regular massages. (ummm, Howie?)

There is so much more that happens when a massage is given. First, the action occurs between two human beings (massage chairs and tables notwithstanding). And when a friend or lover performs the therapy, it is an expression of compassion, an act of love. It is relationship, it is being human. Maria Popova goes so far as to ascribe this as the perpetuation of creation: “Action is therefore the most optimistic and miraculous of our faculties, for it alone gives rise to what hadn’t existed before — it is the supreme force of creation.” Because when Howie gave me a massage this morning, he was putting his declarations of love into action, and we grew to know something of each other afresh.

You see, relationships cultivate, prune and transform our truths. Adrienne Rich poignantly explains in her 1975 essay: “An honorable human relationship — that is, one in which two people have the right to use the word ‘love’ — is a process, delicate, violent, often terrifying to both persons involved, a process of refining the truths they can tell each other.” Our words carry the truths, but truths spring from action.

It is not enough to say, “I love you,” though often it is sufficient in the moment. To love is to act on that love. And keep on.

It is not enough to say, “That is unjust,” though many times it sparks a movement. To make things right is to act on the system that supports injustice. And keep on.

It is not enough to say, “I believe,” though frequently it reawakens the seed of trust buried deep within. To believe is to live that belief. And keep on.

Still, Popova warns, “contrary to the popular indictment that speech is the cowardly absence of action, action cannot take place without speech. Above all . . . it is through the integration of the two that we reveal ourselves to one another, as well as to ourselves.”

Speech and action. Act and being.

Another May-born, Indian poet and philosopher Rabindranath Tagore (May 7, 1861–August 7, 1941) places all the weight on relationship: “Relationship is the fundamental truth in this world of appearance.” It is not as if I know precisely what I mean when I speak, articulate a position. I may not even understand precisely what I want to say about how I feel. To speak it, to say it out loud, I do not know whom I reveal when I disclose myself. But with Hannah Arendt, I must “be willing to risk the exposure.”

When we are with one another, and not necessarily for or against—actively with the other—such risks seem possible. And worth it. Throughout these 40 days of meditations on turning 50 I’ve been a bit more vulnerable, exposing some struggles and many perspectives previously hesitant to express. Yet, I have discovered a few beautiful souls who are with me, hints of what is possible after I pass through next Friday, with these people – and others along the way. I also know that I am different from when I said “yes” to Howie nearly 24 years ago. I am constantly amazed by how much we are changed when we converse, share our thoughts—it is a creative moment, creating more of ourselves, becoming more.

So how can I be with someone today – and create something more, something beautiful?

License to Commune – Day Thirty-One

vine connectedToday I spent time at the DMV to renew my driver’s license. Since I’m turning a certain age soon (in nine days, but who’s counting) they find it necessary to check my vision. Also, there is a new process in place that requires my information and photo be processed through a centralized system. To do this, I am issued a temporary printout of a provisional license until the card is sent in 2-3 weeks. This made me wonder about the history of the driver’s license and what this new change means.

So, Chicago (of course!) and New York City were the first (in 1899) to require a test of driver’s competency before granting permission to drive a motorized vehicle. Missouri and Massachusetts were first 1903) to require a license, but MO did not actually call for an exam to acquire one. Pennsylvania was first to insist the driver be at least 18 years old in 1909, and Connecticut gave permission for those who are 16 or older in 1921. But some states did not include a photo of the driver until well into the 1980s in response to activism by Mother’s Against Drunk Driving, and underage drinking.

It wasn’t until 2005 that the Department of Homeland Security instituted the Real ID Act to set a national standard all states must follow for issuing secure driver’s licenses. Since the US has no national ID card, a Federal guideline is understandable. At the same time, driver’s license protocol is within the purview of each state. Whereas the 2004 Intelligence Reform and Terrorism Prevention Act supported state-federal cooperation to implement the more uniform, secure protocol, Real ID circumvents state input. I certainly appreciate more secure identification, and the newer enhanced versions can be used in lieu of a passport when driving across a border country.

More people travel and work across multiple states, so a connected database is convenient. It does presage another step away from independent state governing, a large piece of the identity of the United States. But is that a bad thing? Centralized databases that encompass more of our lives and liberties do impinge on privacy. At the same time, while we are gravitating away from the mythological ideal of a 1950s era nuclear family, we are becoming still more connected to more people across a broader space—global space. When there are clever computer wizards with extra time on their hands hacking into government and financial systems across this global space, I am glad for some added security and greater recourse when said clever hackers attempt to obtain my documentation.

My daughter lives in a country that has no real traffic laws. She is also getting around on a motorcycle in this crazy land with no traffic laws. In crowded cities. With slender, winding roads. And frequent torrential rainfalls. I know—I rode on the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle in this crazy traffic, on twisting roads, during a torrential rainfall! I appreciate uniform traffic laws!

As far as privacy is concerned, I wonder how much one might reasonably expect and still have access to convenient, high-tech, deftly connected services. I am absolutely not saying the government or corporations or whomever should have carte blanche access to my personal information. There is sufficient tech to securely mask my identity from necessary information. At the same time (beginning to feel a bit like Tevye’s many hands, ‘on the other hand’) it seems we are often more concerned with privacy than with the implications of how connected we actually are.

No matter how hard I might try to be alone, block others off from access to me, my existence impacts others—and others impact my life. The question is, do I want that influence to be formative or disfiguring? Today’s Ignatius meditation is from John 15:1-8, about how dwelling in the vine makes the branches produce good fruit. And all of the branches are connected to the vine. If mine is malnourished, it will affect a neighboring branch. The key principle here is ‘dwelling.’ To dwell is to live and linger, nourish and nurture, and protect. It implies relating to those with whom I dwell and impacts the confidence with which I enter this great big world—that is, the fruit I produce. Be mindful with me: How do I impact those with whom I am connected? What is beautiful about those connections?

Flavor Fusions and Angels – Day Thirty

entertain angels

The year before I was born (1966, if you haven’t been keeping up) McDonald’s started using frozen french fries. The first credit card in Great Britain, the Barclaycard, was also introduced that year. Mississippi repealed Prohibition – its last holdout, Simon and Garfunkel released ‘Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme;’ the first law requiring ingredients listings on packaged food is passed, and Quaker instant oatmeal is introduced that year. In 1967, Wisconsin legalizes yellow margarine, the Wholesome Meat Act is passed, and ‘Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner’ (staring Sidney Poitier) premieres.

Dominos, Hardee’s, Taco Bell, Arby’s, Blimpie, Subway, Chick-fil-A, Long John Silver’s, and Wendy’s all open in the 1960s. And, well, Happiness is a place called Shakey’s! Shakey’s, probably one of my favorite childhood restaurants—I loved watching the cooks throwing around pizza dough and slinging scoops of sauce over the pies – and the balloon chef? anyone remember those? Incidentally, the Andy Warhol directed film, ‘The Nude Restaurant,’ was also released in 1967. I hope no one remembers that!

The trend is self-evident—fast, cheap food, with little variety. All-American meant beef patties, hotdogs, and pizza. And fast food drew the family out making it that much easier to dismiss the communal meal each evening at home. The first part (introducing cheap, preservative-laden, toxic food) signed the death warrant for the people of the superpower. The second fueled a symptom of the illusion that hasn’t really existed in this country—not in the sense politicians often portray this ideal—save (possibly) a couple of decades mid-20th century. But that’s for another blog.

Despite a recent scuffle over the reluctance to receive the displaced, the principle on which our constitution rests is that of welcome. The statue of liberty – a gift in support of abolition and freedom, and a beacon for the dispossessed – invites all peoples to augment, enhance the community. The best evidence for this is the types and range of food available to dwellers in this fair land. Now I can order salmon with citrus salsa verde and jicama cilantro slaw; or, mojo chicken, tomatillo & avocado salsa with pickled red onion tacos! And if you must get a burger, make it one with pineapple, Benton’s bacon, lettuce, cilantro and Sriracha; or with granny smith apple, muenster and chipotle aioli!

My sons are benefiting from this flavor fusion, too. At Howie’s instigation, the three of them are learning to cook meals that use a variety of ingredients and cooking techniques. The new combinations and compositions work so well that one night they fought over the remaining brussels sprouts. Brussels sprouts! Holidays’ growing up my mother was always inviting people to join us for the big meal. It was usually a family whose relatives lived in another state, or was from a different country, or not comfortable in their own home. They always introduced new traditions or foods, some of which I still use.

We need food to survive. Our bodies require the nutrients. Our souls require the ritual, the pleasure of fragrance and flavor igniting the senses, the motivation to gather and linger together. Our culture thrives on the practice of amalgamating herb and spice, oil and game, potions passed down through generations. How much we learn of our heritage through a simple meal. I’ve dined in Hong Kong and London, Turkey and Ireland, Indonesia and Oklahoma, and enjoyed Korean food in Seoul, and Singapore, and Palatine, IL. But the most amazing food I think I’ve had is where they experiment with ingredients and techniques from different cultures.

The gift acquired by inviting a visitor is invaluable. Not only do I see the face of God in a new light, I might learn the means to make Brussels sprouts even enjoyable! It is also a good opportunity for mindfulness practice: allow the flavor to linger in the mouth and discern distinct flavors, provoke old memories, make new memories. And, I just might find I’m entertaining angels.

Just Like You, Nothing Like You – Day Twenty-Nine

like no one else

One of the first personality inventories I took sorts people into groups represented by one of four animals (lion, beaver, golden retriever, otter) developed by Smalley and Trent in the 1980s. I never liked taking these inventories mostly because the questions could be answered differently depending on the day, or two answers were equally true. The animal incarnation proved this when my responses graphed a line nearly straight across. Also, I resist being placed in a box.My dyslexic-processing brain confronts categories of any kind, and to place billions of beautifully unique persons in 1 of 4 categories is anathema to me.

Still, our culture insists. There’s the assessment based on the Greek humors – Sanguine, Choleric, Melancholy, Phlegmatic – developed by Graeco-Arabic medicine, c. 400BCE. And the most widely used by businesses and university-entrance constabularies, Myers-Briggs Personality Inventory first published in 1944, based on Jungian categories of personality traits. And the MMPI, the TIPI, the Keirsey, and the DISC. The one that holds some promise for meaningful insight in my professional opinion, though, is the Enneagram. Its origins are in dispute, but likely set with Oscar Ichazo in the 1950s. It is the most nuanced test, inviting the numinous that plays a very real role in how we express who we are.

By far the most enjoyable types of personality sorters are funneled through Buzzfeed and other social media channels. My daughters will often send me one along with their results, at once laughing at the absurdity of its validity and giving a nod to a modicum of the same. Apparently, I’m Hermione Granger, my Disney princess alter ego is Rapunzel?, and my Norse god counterpart is Odin. I took that last one three times, adjusting my fence-top answers, and it always returned Odin. Grr. I’m Thor! I. am. Thor. Ok, I suppose “wise” and “leader” are characteristics I hope describe me. And I do have a little issue with being in control. But that hammer.

The real concern I have with personality sorters is two-fold. One, it often becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy or cop-out default (well, I am choleric, after all, I’m just stating the truth), and two, human beings are organic, living, changeable creatures impacted by one another, circumstances, brain chemistry, the weather . . . . Sure, I have some overarching tendencies that are characteristic of my behavior. We are habitual beings, too (and there are good, psycho-socio- and neurological reasons for this). Crucially, each carries a specific genetic piece of God’s character, unique. And because we are human and made in the image of this same God, we will recognize God in each other—and, in a similar way, I will recognize myself in you.

The point is, perhaps I have the expertise to see that you process your thoughts out loud and might be categorized as “extroverted.” By understanding this I can then discern that when you are talking about a solution, it is not your final draft. But to call you “a thinker” or “lion” or “phlegmatic” or Loki, well, I will miss all of the other beautiful bits about you that are not in the “S” category, or whatever. I can blow you off because I am not comfortable with introverts, or read your stand up comedy for “socializer” and misunderstand your need for alone time.

Sometimes these inventories are fun for validating the aspects that are true about me, and can help begin to understand someone else a bit better. But there is a gaggle of studies that show how “personality” traits change over time. Indeed, brain chemistry and hormone distribution changes at many stages of development. Mindfulness practice is shown to augment these changes in productive ways, as well. The most salient of these is that it helps me see you for who you are without my junk getting in the way. When I am present with you, mindful of your being, your personhood, I can see you more—and love you better—because to be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known! And my prayer is that at (nearly) 50 I might have such a disposition of presence as this. So, my goal today (or tomorrow—it’s a bit late now): be with someone and notice 5 distinct things about her that I love, traits that he does that I would like to develop. Will you join me? Because, I am just like you. And, I am unique.


Wiki-Relating – Day Twenty-Seven

wisdom ts eliot

When I was in primary school the only way that I might quickly find information on a particular subject was to go to one of our bookshelves lined with maroon-ish colored hardbound volumes. Carefully spelling out the key word (the Ss were two volumes!) and it would take longer if one didn’t remember “i before e,” a paragraph or three could be found, perhaps alongside a diagram or picture. And that was all the information one really needed.

The first edition of Encyclopædia Britannica was published almost 200 years before I was born in 1768 by “a society of gentlemen in Scotland.” While encyclopedias have existed for over 2000 years—Marcus Terrentius Varro’s, Nine Books of Disciplines appeared c. 30BCE—these contained mainly collections of treaties on the natural sciences, histories, etc. Later collections would include religious and philosophical compendiums.

The French Encyclopédie—the first major collection to resemble modern volumes—was perceived as more French Enlightenment driven. Scotsmen, Collin Macfarquhar and Andrew Bell envisioned the more conservative Britannica as countermeasure – organizing information, cross-referencing to provide a resource more accessible and to more people.

Fast forward to 1993 when Rick Gates proposes the first on-line encyclopedia. A free-as-in-freedom concept (vs. merely open source) was outlined by Richard Stallman the end of 2000. But it was Jimmy Wales and Larry Sanger who finally launch Wikipedia in 2001, using Ward Cunningham’s 1995 technology and concept of the wiki. It has become one of the most frequently visited site with a recorded 18 billion page views in the month of August 2015 alone. As of November 2015 the English version contains over 5,000,000 articles.

And all of this information—not to mention the seemingly infinite content WWW-wide—is available with a touch to a smartphone. Anytime. Anywhere (well, with cell service and/or wireless connection). And when any child can look up whatever he or she wants to know, why would kids need to defer to adults as expert of anything? What is compelling about considering those older than me as worthy of special regard or respect? When they see how these same adults put a man who reasons as a toddler in our highest office, it’s a very good question.

How do I as a leader, someone entering into her second half-century (oy vey!) acquire the respect of those younger – when they can just look up a YouTube video that demonstrates mindfulness technique or breathing exercise? Or open an app to find the sense of a Hebrew word in context? What does it matter that I hold certifications in these subjects, or MAs in those or a Doctorate in that?

Perhaps the answer to these questions is as ancient as our oldest texts: relationship. Historically, vocations and information were imparted during the relational apprenticeship. The older, (presumably) wiser individual came alongside the younger person eager to learn the trade or gain knowledge in the discipline. Respect – authentic respect, vs. fear – is only earned, cannot be demanded. And it is hard-won in the context of trust-building relationship. This takes time. And relationships are not easy. They require commitment, a sort of covenant to see this agreement through. And persisting, choosing to remain to see the process through is the worthiest aim for respect.

It is more difficult than ever to forge relationships of this sort. Most young people are more content to communicate via smartphones and computers. As I type, my youngest son is “playing” with his best friend—while he remains in our living room and his friend mere blocks away. These 40 days of meditations are ways for me to process and work through how I might enter this new phase in my life. Some ideas have come to light, and processing with my dearest friend from college has been invaluable. Still, I would love to hear from others who have thoughts, comments, ideas, encouraging words. Perhaps you might like to join me?

Create Love, Not War – Day Twenty-Six

art is nonconformity

The history of humankind as resident on this earth depicts lands riddled with the puncture wounds of markers moved and the battles fought to place them. In 1967 alone, there were 67 conflicts underway. In Saigon the Second battle of Bàu Bàng went down in March, the ongoing Vietnam War advanced, Che Guevara’s Ñancahuazú Guerrilla, the people of Portuguese Guinea fought the Guinea-Bissau War of Independence, equality was at stake in the Chicago Freedom Movement, and the War over Water (Jordan river) was only one issue behind the Six-Day War over territory Israel and Arabs claimed—to name only a few.

A common theme underpinning these clashes is a human one: recognition of identity as part of a distinct community, and a desire for basic regard—the dignity—to freely live that out. Many were fights for independence from colonizing nations that were concerned more for their own interests than that of the people whose home they entered. Others pertained to the assertion of basic rights as human beings, rights that were not afforded them based on arbitrary indicators (skin color, religion, etc). And religion, well, the number of wars justified by religion cannot be quantified. Wars motivated by religion are most heinous because it assumes a god who would prefer one human being (or ethnic group) over another—and that preference implies the other is dispensable.

I recently finished a science-fiction trilogy (my guilty pleasure) that rather purposely speaks to societal structure in relationship to religious belief. The central character commented on whether members of one powerful group were gods, stating, “They are not. Gods create. If they are anything, they are vampire kings.” His point, rulers that suck the resources out of a place (or peoples) to prolong or enrich their own lives are no different from parasites. True, it is no easy thing to be part of organizing a society that honors the social contract while keeping basic human dignity in tact. War is easy. Peace is not.

Peace is ongoing, organic, necessitates effort, is hard work. It entails collaboration, cooperation, teamwork, listening. Cooperation assumes sharing, and sharing means giving something up for the good of all, so that those who have none may have some. The issue in war is always that someone is holding on to control, to power, unwilling to yield, disinclined to take the moments necessary to really see the other. Because once I see you, know you, I begin to love you. And if I love you, oh how I want to share with you in my life.

I began this entry because I was interested in the Israel-Palestine concern regarding boundary lines and the 1967 map frequently referenced these last few years. Obviously, I got a little sidetracked when I noticed there were so many other places that suffered over similar aims, as are so many current disputes equally significant to those affected. And I am increasingly concerned about a leadership that is so self-interested and preserving while there remain dire needs worldwide – and in our own country. And it is difficult to keep from wondering how this leadership can continue to be supported.

In my (nearly) 50 years of life, I still believe in a God that creates. I believe a God who communicates that making right relationship between God and us, and among us is God’s purpose—from the very first spark of creation to the kingdom of on earth as heaven revealed in all its fullness. I believe we are created to be for one another, that we have grown as people in technologies and the insight and knowledge of each other – that I am capable of seeing God’s character reflected in you and your culture. That by knowing you I know God more, and together we can more effectively, productively lead – collaboratively, creatively, peacefully. It is possible. With God, all things are. I believe that. Jesus, help my unbelief.


I write about one way to lead collaboratively in my book, found here.

Ordinary Time – Day Twenty-Five

ordinary time

The first time I ever cursed out loud I was about ten or eleven. I was hurt so badly by a friend, all I could think to do was use a phrase I heard others use—it contained nearly every curse word I knew. On the walk back home I repeated it over and again as a sort of incantation to purge the muck from my friend’s betrayal that almost threatened to choke me. By the time I returned home I felt even worse and I never repeated the phrase again.

The poet Marie Howe describes the force of poetry as like a counter spell to the mean girls’ curses and disparaging discourse. It is a way to use language to speak truth, but in a way that redeems the muck and discouragement that intrudes on our day. And it makes that reality accessible to others because it is human, it is lived experience, and my experience is not unique. Not really. There are millions of other women turning 50 this year. There are still more who struggle with purpose and identity and the exasperation that comes from feeling ineffectual, blundering through the day always feeling like I’m only keeping up. Hello everyone!

Howe routinely refers to Ordinary Time, the weeks that are not between the Holy days of the church. And while we currently reside in the 4th week of Easter, ordinary time teaches us to be present, to notice in the now, and be with it. So today I employ an exercise I’ve led others in, but always need reminding to do. This, with an added instruction from Marie Howe: notice 10 things today and describe them—not with metaphor, rather, see things as they are.

Ten Things On My Trip to the Pharmacy

A wasp dips and skitters back and forth under the eave overhanging my front porch.

A pleasant breeze, slightly warm but with a hint of chill, almost, but not quite comfortable.

Lining the street are trees just turned to leaf, each a faintly different hue—50 shades of green?

A car closes in on my rear, does my speedometer really display under the speed limit?

The branches on the side of a large tree bounce and sway, circular, as the wind swirls amid the bunches.

My eyes blur, a drop or two escape and slip down my cheek. I only just did my makeup. Well, good thing I have no appointments today.

Orange cones cluster around a large truck—in the very center of the intersection through which I must turn.

A car stops further back making space for my wide turn—my coffee sloshes close to the edge of my cup.

The church on the corner displays at the parking lot’s entrance a tall, thin, purple flag with the word “Welcome” in white—it posts next to a poll that last week displayed a sign with the words, “Church parking only. Violators will be towed. Strictly enforced.”

The clouds have made space for the sun’s rays making all the newly green places brighter, almost yellow. My spirit is brighter now, and if it were a color it would be this bright green.

Howe observes, “language is almost all we have left of action in the modern world.” With a majority of our discourse occurring in the stratosphere, noses to a smartphone, what we do is often not as morally substantial as what we say. I find this heartening. It is a powerful reminder the weight or influence my words might carry. Still, when all I really have right now is language, the words that flood my heart and convictions, it reassures me to think they might amend the worldview of another, if even a little.

So, what are ten things you notice today?

Put Your Record On – Day Twenty-Four

let your hair down greer

Around the time when I was born, in the late 1960s, James T. Russell invented the technology behind the Compact Disc. Russell was a huge music fan and wanted to enjoy it via media that recorded the music with better precision than LPs and cassettes. The writable CD comprises a thin layer of dye sandwiched between a layer of protective polycarbonate and a layer of aluminum. Lazar light passes through the (normally translucent) dye, bouncing off the aluminum and back out. A higher-powered lazar, then, will “burn” a dark dot that acts as a “0” and passes back to make a space – “1,” and so on, creating a binary code of information.

This first type of CD cannot be changed—the code is burned, indelible. Developers, then, drew from a fundamental premise of chemistry that atoms are arranged differently based on configuration and state (liquid, gas, solid): Replacing the dye with a layer of metallic alloy that can exist in two discrete solid forms and shift between the two, a lazar can alter a spot to crystalline (reflective “1”) or amorphous (non-reflective “0”) and back again. Now it is rewritable, a CD-RW. DVDs and Blu-rays work on the same principle. DVDs are forged with red lazar beams that produce light waves with a wavelength of 650 nanometers (less than 100th the width of a human hair), and Blu-rays use the still shorter wavelength emitted by blue light.

These days, on some days, I feel like an LP etched in unyielding grooves save the scratches that accumulate and distort the information stored within. I wonder if I’ve become too worn and scratched to play anything pleasing or beautiful that others might enjoy. Or will they tire of straining past the scratched bits and the places that repeat, and repeat, and repeat until someone lifts the needle past the rants and move it to the next spot. Some days I fear that I am become as irrelevant as that record, everything changing in nanoseconds around me as my body aches and groans, grooved and scratched, while infinitesimal nanoscaled wavelength’s of light dodge and burn unfathomable ideas and technologies. Some days.

And then my sons come home from school and plop themselves down on the chair in my office, tell me how they hate school . . . and then how this kid told him he would totally win the debate, or how that teacher plays math games on the chalkboard with him before school . . . . And I remember that we are much more like that Blu-ray – and really, containing infinitely more information because God’s word is written on my heart and is stored there where bits become alternatively crystalline and amorphous, rewriting my story, again and again and again . . . with the same infinite supply of information . . . .

And the Word became flesh . . . and dwelt among us . . . and in him is life and the life is the light of all people . . . grace and truth . . . God’s heart . . . unfathomable love. And love does not become scratched. It yields and heals and rewrites, perfects, never fails. Sometimes I am afraid. Things change – and remain the same. God never changes and I do. So, it’s all right. Today I’ll put my records on, go ahead and let my hair down.