Being Frank

Paradoxical Commandement #5

2013-05-19T09:58:00.000-05:00

Telling a little while lie can be so easy. Most have little significant impact on our lives and remain inconsequential to our experiences. They slip from between our lips quickly, flitting into the world with unmentionable effect. At least, we tell ourselves they do. But, as many of us have discovered, white lies grow, effecting our lives the same way proverbial butterfly wings can cause a hurricane. Paradoxical commandment number five hits close to home for me:

Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable. Be honest and frank anyway.

Surely you see how I relate to this commandment. My blog title - Being Frank - is more than just a clever use of my name. Rather, it reminds me of the important message contained in commandment five. I began blogging for two reasons - to hone my writing skills (which are better) and to throw my musings out into the world. I learned quickly how vulnerable any of us can feel when offering an opinion to others. They day I received my first negative comments opened my eyes in a huge way (on this post). I kept at it, although with a more fervent awareness of my new vulnerability.

We tell untruths to protect ourselves or others. As children, we learn to avoid consequence; lying helps accomplish this. Our lies have the potential to explode in our face. They also grow. The first lie might be small, but by taking that first step, each successive lie has permission to expand, growing beyond our ability to manage them.

Our actions can also reflect dishonest intentions. Small infractions might seem minor, but can lead us down a dangerous path. My girlfriend during senior year in high school had trouble with calculus. Tutoring didn’t help, so I “helped” during tests. I finished quickly and held onto my paper, waiting for the inevitable shoulder tap. She wrote the questions she didn’t understand on a scrap of paper and slid it under my desk. I filled in the answers and slipped it back to her. I hated it, but did it anyway. My calculus teacher must have wondered why I always looked mad when I turned in my tests.

Getting caught would probably have meant a zero on our tests and maybe a trip to the Assistant Principal. I knew this. It didn’t stop me from elevating my dishonesty, though. Towards the end of the year, a few days before finals, I stopped by the calculus classroom for something after school. I noticed a stack of finals on the teacher’s desk, and since no one else was in the room, I took one and gave it to my girlfriend.

I never looked at it. That helped me feel better. A little.

Few people know that story, as I have kept it close to the vest for fifteen years, but according to commandment five, I should have no problem admitting my failures. Or, at the very least, I should find the strength to admit to them.

Commandment five encourages a daily vigilance towards honesty and frankness. Admitting to past errors helps us heal old wound, but living an honest life prevents new ones. Both are important as we move forwards through life.

Dr. Keith wrote this commandment as a directive to young leaders. While you may not think you play the role of leader in your life, you do. Somewhere, whether in your career, your family, your community, someone looks up to you. Living an honest and frank life builds your credibility. Open yourself up. Let others in. Live the example you want to set.

- I first encountered an adapted version of the “Paradoxical Commandments,” titled “The Final Analysis,” while listening to a Wayne Dyer audio CD in my early twenties. The meaning and message struck me as true, helping guide my thoughts and actions as I developed from a big kid into a real adult. Later, I discovered the poem was not actually written by Mother Theresa at all, but adapted, framed, and hung on the wall in her Calcutta orphanage. She cared about its message enough to use it to empower the weak and marginalized children to whom she gave her life.

The Paradoxical Commandments are reprinted with permission. © Copyright Kent M. Keith 1968, renewed 2001

Paradoxical Commandment #4

2013-05-05T10:01:00.000-05:00

What’s in it for me? I have asked that question before; I imagine many of us have. We often look for the personal benefit in our lives, maneuvering ourselves into positions of gain. After all, we are capitalists. Our society functions on risk vs. reward, on pain and gain, on me-first principals.

Are these principals our best option? Paradoxical commandment number four suggests a better one:

The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.

Living in a society where investment pays off in future dividends, the concept of doing good for good’s sake might seem alien. Often, even when we don’t ask the question externally, silently, “what’s in it for me” haunts the back of our minds. Should I help out because people will see me helping? Should I do this because someone will owe me a favor? Should I do this to add it to my resume?

Why not do good for goodness sake?

Unfortunately, the modern battle between atheist and theists have hijacked this particular discussion. Somehow, the two sides believe they have immanent domain over goodness (this does not include all atheists or theists). The atheist argues that goodness is enough - God becomes unnecessary. The theist argues that doing good enacts the love of Jesus Christ in the world.

Personally, I don’t believe doing good belongs to either camp exclusively. Where you stand dictates your feelings. The commandment negates the reason for even having an argument in the first place. Do good. That is enough.

We should do good absent a reason. Our actions should seek to create good simply for it to exist. C.S. Lewis sums up our fourth commandment perfectly:

Integrity is doing the right thing, even when no one is watching.

I think the commandment speaks to the longevity of the effects as well. Even as the results of your good act vanish, the goodness itself does not. As another famous man suggests, leave tomorrow for tomorrow. Do good now. Don't worry about anything else.

- I first encountered an adapted version of the “Paradoxical Commandments,” titled “The Final Analysis,” while listening to a Wayne Dyer audio CD in my early twenties. The meaning and message struck me as true, helping guide my thoughts and actions as I developed from a big kid into a real adult. Later, I discovered the poem was not actually written by Mother Theresa at all, but adapted, framed, and hung on the wall in her Calcutta orphanage. She cared about its message enough to use it to empower the weak and marginalized children to whom she gave her life.

The Paradoxical Commandments are reprinted with permission. © Copyright Kent M. Keith 1968, renewed 2001

Paradoxical Commandment #3

2013-04-28T21:42:00.001-05:00

I am a Spurs fan. Always have been. Though I have made my home in another city for the past 15 years, my hear still beats for the black and silver. I have always appreciated their poise and character, and have dedicated my basketball fandom to the Spurs for all time.

There are those who hate the Spurs as much as I love them. They see the organization as an upstart, broadcasting their team-first mentality in a sport full of me-first players. The decry the lack of heroics, they complain about the lack of a flashy superstar, and they loathe the absence of drama surrounding the humble Spurs.

So, we arrive at the third Paradoxical Commandment:

If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway.

The Spurs have found plenty of true enemies, though I have not encountered many I would describe as false friends (fans); I am sure they are out there. Plenty of other successful NBA organizations have gathered false friends (I can visualize the flood of fans fleeing the Lakers bandwagon at the moment), and I count myself among the true enemies of such teams as the Lakers, the Mavericks, and the Jazz (I am shaking my fist at you, Karl Malone).

Have the complaints about the Spurs’ style stopped them from pursuing excellence on their terms? No. They believe in their formula and execute it to the best of their abilities, turning deaf ears towards their critics. Their success has lead the Spurs organization to consistently rank at the top of the four major sports in the US.

Yes, this is Teen Wolf. The original. They
wanted the wolf. He gave them a win.

We have all seen the movie where the hero stumbles as success goes to their head. The false friends abandon them and the true enemies revel in their failure. The story never ends there, though. The hero gets back up, believing in the possibility of success, and tries again, achieving their goal no matter what it takes.

We all have the choice. Succumb to those around us or go out and find your success. Find it no matter who follows in your wake. Success is worth it.

- I first encountered an adapted version of the “Paradoxical Commandments,” titled “The Final Analysis,” while listening to a Wayne Dyer audio CD in my early twenties. The meaning and message struck me as true, helping guide my thoughts and actions as I developed from a big kid into a real adult. Later, I discovered the poem was not actually written by Mother Theresa at all, but adapted, framed, and hung on the wall in her Calcutta orphanage. She cared about its message enough to use it to empower the weak and marginalized children to whom she gave her life.

The Paradoxical Commandments are reprinted with permission. © Copyright Kent M. Keith 1968, renewed 2001

Paradoxical Commandment #2

2013-04-21T10:40:00.000-05:00

People often assume the worst of others. We judge too quickly, assigning motive to actions with little to no information. Then, when true facts arrive, the unfortunate strength contained within first impressions cements our original impressions despite evidence to the contrary. Conversely, the same actions affect other people’s view towards us.

Dr. Kent M. Keith’s second Paradoxical Commandment stands to battle the reality of the above paragraph.

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives. Do good anyway.

The definition of “good” fluctuates based on perspective. What I perceive as good may not be the same as you. People with shared cultural values tend to believe in similar “good,” but not always. Just take a look at the political landscape of the last few years. Though Republicans and Democrats claim to work towards the highest good for our country, they quickly decry anything the other party presents as “good” for the country, accusing each other of selfish and ulterior motives.

The same can be seen on platforms as immense as the geopolitical landscape or as tiny as inter-office politics. The human inclination towards distrust clouds our judgement. Dr. Keith suggests ignoring negative opinion, or at the very least acknowledging and summarily dismissing its existence, continuing with actions in which we find inherent goodness.

This commandment contains two powerful suggestions - do good no matter what, and don't worry about what other people think. Acting in this spirit helps to move you forward on solid footing.

I believe in the contagion of good actions. Good breeds good. One good turn deserves another. Pay it forward. No matter the collection of words, the intent and meaning carries truth and power. Despite how others may view your actions, and no matter the size, the inherent truth and goodness contained within infects others. Soon, through consistent good action, your life changes. You become contagious. You infect others. Goodness spreads. The disease others decried as self-serving becomes the norm instead of the oddity.

Remember, it is none of your business what other people think about you. All it takes is one action to kickstart it all.

- I first encountered an adapted version of the “Paradoxical Commandments,” titled “The Final Analysis,” while listening to a Wayne Dyer audio CD in my early twenties. The meaning and message struck me as true, helping guide my thoughts and actions as I developed from a big kid into a real adult. Later, I discovered the poem was not actually written by Mother Theresa at all, but adapted, framed, and hung on the wall in her Calcutta orphanage. She cared about its message enough to use it to empower the weak and marginalized children to whom she gave her life.

The Paradoxical Commandments are reprinted with permission. © Copyright Kent M. Keith 1968, renewed 2001

Paradoxical Commandment #1

2013-04-14T11:33:00.001-05:00

Words have always had power over me. Crafted correctly, hammered together in creative ways, they illuminate this experience we call life. Written or spoken, powerful words have always moved the human race. Over the next weeks, I will explore a collection of words that have guided me for the past decade.

Dr. Kent M. Keith penned “The Paradoxical Commandments” in 1968 as part of a pamphlet titled The Silent Revolution: Dynamic Leadership in the Student Council. Dr. Keith, at the time a 19 year old sophomore at Harvard, sought to empower the rebellious youth of the ‘60s by offering an alternative to violence by creating change within the system. He echoes the sentiment found in the paraphrased words often attributed to Mohandas Gandhi - “Be the change you want to see in the world.”

This week, I dwell on the first commandment, quite possibly the most frustrating of the ten for me.

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered. Love them anyway.

Right away, the difficulty stands out. I encountered this problem more as a public school teacher than I have at any other point in my life. Each student arrives carrying their own baggage, every parent their own perceptions, and every colleague their own agenda. Schools lie at the epicenter of our culture, sending wave after wave of students into the world, reflections of the people they encountered in their youth. Those waves have the power to destroy. They also have the power build.

Not me. I am not that pretty.

I live in an auto-centric city; we drive everywhere. Of course I have cursed other drivers for their illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered decisions while behind the wheel. The road offers a great education in the first commandment. Finding the patience, the resolve, and the commitment to allow others to drive how they will, without growing angry, breeds a sense of peace in the rest of our lives.

Does this make you mad? Does it surprise you?

Are you surprised when the sky is blue? You know what to expect when you step from your home and look up, so why be surprised? The same is true for people. Why do we allow what we already know about other people to affect us?

Ultimately, the most profound aspect of the first commandment lies within its simplicity. We know people are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered. We KNOW it. So, why do we respond with anything other than love?

Accept what you already know to be true. People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered. Why give them the power to dictate your moods, your feelings, and your actions? Reserve the power for yourself. Follow the first commandment and choose to love them instead.

I don’t always consider myself successful in my attempts to live by the first commandment. Certain people press buttons more than others. Driving always offers opportunities to practice love. Strangers who leave shopping carts in the middle of parking lots test my strength. But, despite every temptation towards an angry, negative response, I strive to hold tightly to the spirit of the first paradoxical commandment. I am a person who loves first, no matter the situation. Every day in which I practice this belief leads me closer to living a life in which it is absolutely and permanently true.

- I first encountered an adapted version of the “Paradoxical Commandments,” titled “The Final Analysis,” while listening to a Wayne Dyer audio CD in my early twenties. The meaning and message struck me as true, helping guide my thoughts and actions as I developed from a big kid into a real adult. Later, I discovered the poem was not actually written by Mother Theresa at all, but adapted, framed, and hung on the wall in her Calcutta orphanage. She cared about its message enough to use it to empower the weak and marginalized children to whom she gave her life.

The Paradoxical Commandments are reprinted with permission. © Copyright Kent M. Keith 1968, renewed 2001

Step One

2013-04-07T11:16:00.000-05:00

You might have noticed my absence from the blogosphere for the last few weeks. As March rolled on, I made a decision to actually finish first draft of the novel. Instead of using my morning time to blog the last few weeks, I used it to write my novel. On Easter Sunday, I finally completed one of the first steps of a project that has stretched eight years now. With 92,418 words spread over 476 double-spaced pages, the first draft is complete. I will make content edits next, then move to proofing. I am excited to move on in the project and start a few more. I plan on completing two more novels this year while submitting this work to agents and publishers. Wish me luck! If you are interested in reading the opening chapter, I have posted it here. Enjoy! Now, on to today’s blog.

Sometimes in our lives, we fail to believe in something until we have proof. Though many of our lives our built on some sort of faith in larger ideals, when it comes to smaller, personal ideas, skepticism rules the day. As a writer, I have experienced this sort of faith challenge for a long time.

I have always held the idea of “Frank Chambers - author” close to my heart. In High School and college, I channeled my words through poetry, usually the tortured heart type as I struggled to understand both the pain and joy of finding love. Interestingly enough, my painful poetry dried up not long after I met my wife, leaving my writing whimsically descriptive and metaphysically introspective (click for some less tortured examples).

In 2004, after returning from performing in London for a time, I faced a decision about my future. Writing remained my passion, though I did not write at the time. So, in order to fuel the fire, I enrolled in post-baccalaureate English classes. I figured an English degree would help me feel like a writer.

Unfortunately, during my first semester back, I faced the first of many internal hurdles. Instead of following through with that path, I chose to fall back on what I knew I did well - music. I reasoned that I could earn my teaching certificate, teach band for money, and write at the same time. Since my certificate would take two years of classes to earn, I might as well get my Masters in Performance at the same time.

Where is the time to write in all of that? Exactly. I succumbed to my own personal skepticism, failing to trust in myself and my dreams.

So, fast forward to 2005. I got married. I scratched down some notes on a story idea called the Lone Procession, but didn’t do much with it.

In 2006 I graduated with my Masters and teaching certificate and started teaching high school band. The plan commenced. The writing did not. Those readers who teach band understand the lack of free time, or energy to write when free time occurs.

In 2008, I realized four years had passed. I hadn’t done a thing. Writer? Nope. Unless I planned on abandoning my supposed passion, I had better get moving. I resumed making notes on the Lone Procession. I spent many a night in creative avoidance, performing “research” on how to write. Finally, I wrote a chapter that is now the prologue.

So in 2010, again realizing how much time had passed since I decided to write, I came across a very simple statement. The first step to being a writer is to write. Duh! Without active writing, I am just a dreamer, an idea factory sitting idle. The universe smacked me in the face, placed the paddles on my chest, yelled “Clear!” and shocked me back to life. I began my blog. I wrote.

In 2011, I changed my career to free up time to write, taking faith steps I should have been strong enough to take in 2004. I started transforming The Lone Procession into a novel.

The question of when to refer to myself as a writer still plagues me. I am not a published author yet, but does being published grant me the title? Is there a graduation from amateur to professional? No. I am a writer because I write. It remains as simple as that. I write a blog. I have completed a novel. Despite knowing this, the internal skeptic still cringes when Samantha refers to me as an author.

Now, I sit here writing, still doubtful, still scared, still mildly skeptical. My belief barrier has taken some blows; it leans a little crookedly, the light hiding behind it shining through new cracks. I have taken step one though, and while I still find embracing full belief challenging, step two looks much easier than it did before. All it took was one step.

Taken out of Context

2013-03-17T10:15:00.001-05:00

Samantha and I had the pleasure of visiting the great city of New Orleans over this spring break. Despite battling through a sinus infection (Samantha) and some sort of throat nastiness (me), and being the least partying people in the French Quarter (in bed by 10:30), we had a great time experiencing the sights and sounds of the Crescent City.

One of the unexpected gems during our brief vacation was the Voodoo Tour. We made reservations with Tree (yes, his name) of Racontours, billed on Tripadvisor as the number one tour in the French Quarter. While occasionally a bit of a rogue, Tree’s colorful character danced our small group through the French Quarter, delighting us with the rich history of the former French and Spanish colonial periods.

I expected a New Orleans Voodoo Tour to aggrandize the stereotypes associated with the practice. I anticipated bloody stories of animal and human sacrifices, of voodoo dolls and their unassuming victims, of black magic and demons. I was wrong. So many of my assumptions fell flat, no more than uninformed drivel handed to me by pop culture.

Voodoo at its roots worships ancestral spirits. Certain spirits have gained a reputation for answering particular prayers, and those have gained more of a following than others. Voodoo dolls are a way of inviting healing powers and luck into your life. They can also be used as a way to extrinsically work out personal grudges without bringing actual harm to others.

Louisiana Voodoo adopted many Catholic elements in the 1800s through the teachings of Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau. A devout Catholic herself, Laveau drew her Voodoo followers into the church by drawing comparisons between the Voodoo’s spirits and the Cult of the Saints. The Voodoo spirit of Legba fulfilled the same role as St. Peter - holding the keys to heaven. Aida Wedo and the Blessed Virgin, Ghèdè and St. Expeditè, Ogun and St. Jude, all merged. Marie Laveau taught that they were expressions of the same forces, the same spirits, and praying to one would mean praying to the other.

Taken out of context, glorified for entertainment value, Voodoo makes for good horror. At its core, practiced in its intended form, Voodoo expresses an adapted version of an ancient tradition passed down by word-of-mouth through many generations by people struggling to live through more hardship than you or I could imagine. Essentially, Voodoo helps people to find spiritual healing through prayer and meditation. While its practices may appear foreign, its goals strike me as similar to every major religion I know.

Christianity taken out of context could look equally as ridiculous as Voodoo’s pop culture portrayal. Masses of people who once a week grow hungry for the blood and flesh of their creator, who incidentally is now undead. Zombies and Vampires? Believe me, I don’t make this point to ridicule anyone’s beliefs, but I think the point is valid. When taken out of context, just about anything can sound malevolent.

If you find yourself in New Orleans with four or five hours to spare, jump on the Voodoo Tour with Tree. Besides a good time with an entertaining guide, the history of the Voodoo world will unfold before your eyes in a very enlightening way.

Suffer the Children a Robotic Rhino

2013-03-10T10:36:00.001-05:00

At this time of year, it is not hard to recall the message of Jesus Christ. While the overly commercialized Christmas season fades in our rearview mirror, Easter rapidly approaches, still mostly safe from the industrial gift-giving machine (mostly). Yet, in some corners, the everyday commercialization of the Word commences with seemingly unabashed fervor.

Cornerstone Church in San Antonio recently opened its newest building - a $5 million children’s center called the Ark. Designed after the story of Noah and the Ark, the new building is meant to attract young people to the church. You can read the news story here.

Church members expect their leaders to responsibly spend their donations. Appropriate stewardship should lead to church growth, spreading Christ’s message of love, sacrifice, and redemption. An innovative pastorate crafts a message that resonates in the hearts and souls of its flock. Children come to Christ through the Word and His calling.

While the design for the Ark is innovative and intended to capture the minds of children, and I do respect their creativity, I question the decision to aim for over the top extravagance. Included in the building are sixteen life-size Ark passengers - nine of which are animatronics built by Hollywood company Animal Makers. The rhino actually appeared in the movie “2012.”

When asked whether or not the animatronics were too extravagant, Executive Pastor Matthew Hagee’s answer raised my eyebrows: “If casinos can build opulent buildings to incentivize gamblers to want to come and enjoy their weekend, how then can you justify not building something that would incentivize people to come and hear about the Word of God?”

I am sure Jesus would appreciate the comparison between Sin City and a house of God. In fact, by returning to the source and consulting the Son of Man himself, it would seem that I missed the animatronic Giraffe standing behind Jesus during the Sermon on the Mount; I lost it in the small print. Oh, and a corrected translation of the New Testament reveals that it wasn’t Jesus who over turned the money changers’ tables at the temple - it was an animatronic Rhino.

Humor aside, my point is this. Given the right collection of messages, a pastorate who teaches parents how to lead their homes, and an appropriate learning environment, there should be no problem guiding children to Christ. Rather than spending money on unnecessary expenditures, raise money to help people who need it.

Mr. Hagee even acknowledged the extravagance: “I don’t have any problem with somebody saying it’s over the top.”

You know who might agree with Mr. Hagee? The more than 500 homeless children in the San Antonio area documented as of November 2012 by SAMMinistries.

What would make a larger Christ-like impact on a child’s life? Knowing animatronics wait for you at church? Or, knowing that a Christian organization gave you a home out of the goodness of their heart.

I think I know which one Jesus would choose.

Grill on Fire

2013-03-03T10:44:00.000-06:00

I love to cook. I hate to clean. I will grudgingly clean my messes after I make them, and have recently learned to clean as I cook, which saves time in the end, but I still hate it. Needless to say, aside from the grate, I have not cleaned my gas grill in more than a year. Unfortunately, after all that time, the greasy build up is volatile, waiting for the right moment to ignite.

Have you ever looked down into the guts of your grill and seen the nastiness waiting below? I use my grill frequently, and so I had more than a year of melted fat, carbonized grease, and mildly burnt meat parts, all built into a thick layer of detritus coating the bottom. The way my grill is built, I would have to mildly exert myself to see the bottom - very mildly; the grates and the heat diffusers partially block the view. And, I would have to be motivated to acknowledge how disgusting it is. The grossness just gathers, fuel for a future fire.

I think the same can be said about ourselves. If we looked deep inside, would we see the leavings of arguments unresolved, family and friend drama, social opinions we aren’t sure we really believe anymore? These are all the elements of yesterday’s version of us. As we grow and move towards who we are, we leave the remnants of who we were behind. Sometimes, these little bits are just as flammable as the nast collected at the bottom of my grill. The longer we ignore them, the more potent they become.

One of my menu items for this week was Teriyaki Chicken. I use a recipe from my Dad, picked up from when we lived in Hawaii. The recipe is simple. Combine soy sauce, a homemade weak simple syrup, white onion, ginger, and garlic into a marinade. Marinate chicken thighs and drumsticks overnight. Grill. Be prepared for flareups from melting chicken fat and dripping juice (the sugar).

I was ready to go. I had my tongs for turning the chicken after eight minutes. I had my timer. I had my spray bottle for squirting the flareups. I put the chicken on.

We are usually ready for personal flareups. We know how to put out small fires and handle small dramas life throws at us. Every once in a while a larger piece of our past catches on fire, but we deal with these as they come. We don’t think about everything else lining the bottom, waiting for the big explosion.

The small flames are expected and manageable. With a squirt here or a squirt there, I put out the fires quickly. If they flare up too much, I move the piece of chicken. This particular batch seemed to flare up quite vigorously, so I moved the chicken into the open spots between heat diffusers. The grease and fat still dripped, but it fell in the depths of the grill instead of onto the diffusers right below. Any flareups would be away from the chicken and wouldn’t lead to charred meat. Smart right?

Well, this plan, while seeming intelligent at the time, didn’t end up that way. See, the chicken still dripped. And there were still some flareup on the grate and on the diffusers, just not as many. And I still sprayed them with the squirt bottle. And the water from the squirt bottle would scatter the flaming grease, knocking it to the bottom. Where it would land on freshly dripped grease. Where it would flare. And ignite a year’s worth of fuel.

Have you ever seen a grease fire? It is quite magnificent. The way it ignores water as if it isn’t even there. The way it just bigger as it finds more fuel, burning through a year of my laziness.

I have seen some spectacular meltdowns in my life and participated in a few. People who haven’t dealt with their own issues, burying them deep below the surface, hoping they won’t ever ignite again. I can remember doing the same thing beforehand. Leaving them there, ignoring the need for a resolution, creates a flammable situation, sure to explode some point down the road.

After emptying my squirt bottle to no effect, I ran inside and grabbed the baking soda and dumped it on the flames. It wasn’t enough. Thankfully, we had a second box and I doused the remaining flames with the white powder. My hand has now been forced. If I plan to use my grill again, I have to clean it.

We can never plan for the explosion, preparing before hand to manage it. All we can do is deal with it when it arrives. Avoid burying issues; deal with them instead. Look deep, clean out the garbage, take care of yourself. Avoid the fire before it happens.

About my meal? Don’t worry. I took the chicken off before putting out the fire. It was delicious

Growing Musicians

2013-02-24T10:23:00.000-06:00

I love this time of year. Region Band auditions are over. Solo and Ensemble is over. Band Auditions and Benchmarks are still somewhere over the horizon. The possibilities are endless. This is the time of year I can once again mold my students into powerful musicians and not just chasers of notes and rhythms. And it is Spring (well, maybe not officially yet, but Punxsutawney Phil did say it would be early this year).

The competitive focus in my bassoon and saxophone studio thrums with intensity during the fall. Focus on region etudes and scales drives most practice sessions, many times stifling technical and musical growth because of the kids’ one-track focus . Lessons attempt to balance fundamental musicianship with cramming notes and rhythms. All in all, the fall is hyper-intensive, super-focused, and driven. It wrings me out like a sponge - hearing the same music every day eventually begs questions of sanity.

At the same time, the local foliage goes through a transition into dormancy - much like my students’ musical development. With a fiery burst, trees abandon their leaves, littering the ground with the past year’s greenery. We are left with bare branches and skeletal woodlands.

Winter arrives. Again, my students have a singular focus - solo contest. While their efforts are more individual, their pieces catered to their own specific skill level, and I regain a measure of sanity from the variety of music, the students still have a short period of time in which to learn a complex piece of music. Their attention has a little more flexibility, and just like in the fall, lessons work to balance good musical skills along with the solos, but they still prefer the solo to fundamental practice.

Now, Spring approaches. The Spring season is my favorite and write I about it every year. I love the newness in the air, the fresh balance of a chilly morning and a warm afternoon. I can’t wait to get outside and plunge my hands into the soil, to take winter’s leavings and craft them into something extraordinary. I look forward to the explosive emergence of greens, reds, blues, yellows, and every other imaginable hue and shade this beautiful planet offers.

In the same way that the planet emerges from the slumber of winter dormancy and explodes in growth and life, so do my students. Now that individual competition sits behind us for the moment, I relish the opportunity to develop the personal strengths of each student, to tackle individual weaknesses, to foster a strong understanding of music theory and how to apply that knowledge to creating a beautiful phrase. I cherish this time of year because I get to grow musicians.

The cyclical nature of our planet means I get to experience this feeling again and again. If it always remained Spring, I wouldn’t appreciate its arrival. In a way, I love the anticipation as much as I do the release. In fact, I think I will focus on that particular aspect of making a phrase this week. Because I can.

Burrito Gigante

2013-02-17T10:56:00.000-06:00

I grew up in San Antonio. To us, the Riverwalk area was a nice place to take out of town visitors, and as I grew older, a fun place to hang out during the All-State Convention. By my young rationale, simply due to location, the food on the River was majestic, high brow, and unarguably upper-class. Now that I am an adult, I have quickly learned that a fancy location does not mean fancy food.

The Burrito Gigante is a humongous dish. It is a flour tortilla practically stuffed with an entire tex-mex buffet, smothered in a curious chile sauce. It is a harbinger of future heartburn, a muddled mix of tastes, textures, and aromas, and, as its name states explicitly, too large for the average person to eat.

I have been better pleased eating a Taco Bell 7-layer Burrito drenched in Fire hot sauce.

Now, had I paid the same price for this smorgasbord of mediocrity as I might at my local tex-mex eatery, I would not be sitting here typing this out. But, with a couple of drinks, two burritos, and an appetizer (which was the best thing about the entire meal), I spent as much as I might for delightful dinner date at a decent steak place.

It might be the ambiance of the place that helps drive the price upwards. Nope. I felt like I was dining in the back end of a mess hall occasionally used for storage. Then maybe it was because of the high quality service. Again, no. Service was not poor, but I did not feel well taken care of. Or maybe it was the claim that this kitchen served only the the most authentic of foods, after all, it was the Original Mexican Restaurant. Again, and this time in Spanish - no.

Ok, ok. It must be the River then. In fact, I am sure the location is the only, the ONLY reason for the prices.

But does that explain the low quality meal? Does the NY Phil phone it in just because they are in one of the most culturally vibrant cities in the world? Does the Louvre hang bad art on its wall - they have the location, why do they need quality? Do the Los Angeles Lakers only strive for a .500 winning percentage - oh, oops, this one is true.

Just because you have the draw and you know people will show up to eat, doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice quality. I can stomach the price if the food is right, but not when you can’t really even stomach the food.

All Work and No Play . . .

2013-02-10T10:17:00.000-06:00

The setting: a frozen mountain retreat in the midst of winter, cut off from the rest of the world until the spring thaw arrives. The caretaker family looks forward to a secluded winter, free from distraction, to help the three of them heal from the familial stress fractures life forces them to suffer. While it seems the setting is ideal for putting a family back together, there is a problem - all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

Happiness, or at least its pursuit, resides in the Declaration of Independence as one of humanity’s unalienable rights. We have the responsibility to discover our own happiness and exactly how to achieve it, absent the interference of a tyrannical and despotic government. Because the process of finding individual happiness falls on our shoulders, we often find ourselves missing the mark. Samantha and I recently had a conversation in which we both discovered that we had possibly just done that.

While I love both the movie and the book versions of The Shining, I experienced the movie first, and so its impression upon me runs deeper. Stanley Kubrick’s masterful directing captures the isolation and loneliness felt by the Outlook Hotel’s winter family. Accompanied by a haunting collection of modern music by Ligeti, Penderecki, and Bartok, the score broods, summing up the overall mood through the constant threat of the Dies Irae - the Day of Reckoning approaches.

Step back and take stock of your life periodically. In doing so, you might discover that you have taken a wrong turn or stayed too long on a short path. Life doesn’t have GPS; a computerized voice doesn’t instruct us to decide this way or that and so we find ourselves lost sometimes. Discovering our wrong turn and rectifying the mistake puts back in the right direction.

The Torrance family sought to find healing in the solace of the mountains. Jack hoped to mend his relationship with his wife and son while beating his alcoholism - a reversal of his normal behavior. He also hoped to find a novel. So, as the winter settled in, he began to work. And work. And work.

During Samantha and my analysis of our own recent life, we discovered that we do not take enough individual time for ourselves. We do other things than just work our businesses, but our lives fill up quickly with obligations to other people, other activities, and other organizations; we find ourselves scheduled to death by our own hand.

Jack Torrance discovers this same problem the longer he spends pounding away at his typewriter. The unfortunate consequence of taking a winter sojourn in a mildly haunted hotel and working nonstop? As the movie says - all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. He goes crazy and attempts to kill his family.

While we may not be sequestered in a lonely haunted hotel, the message is the same for us as it was for Jack. Left to our own overworked lives, without manifesting change, we would find ourselves heading down a similar slippery slope. Death by axe is not a typical result, but don’t doubt that your relationships could end up broken and mangled, not to mention your own happiness. Take stock and make sure you are not headed down the same path as Jack. You might find yourself frozen out of happiness.

Paralysis of Analysis

2013-02-03T10:37:00.000-06:00

I have a student who probably should have made region band this year. Honestly, there is no probably about it. Had he guided his practice efforts the right way, he would have made region band. Unfortunately, he succumbed to his insecurities in a way most of us would find familiar. He couldn’t ever get out of his own head.

Probably three-quarters of the work my students need to do lies in personal perception and how that guides their practice and performance. Fundamentally, most bassoon students, if placed correctly, are highly intelligent, strongly independent young people. If prepared the correct way from the moment they first begin to learn their craft, they would all experience high levels of success. Unfortunately, from the first time they touch the instrument, they experience instruction aimed primarily at correcting mistakes. For many students, their early instruction teaches them to ferret out errors. While this may seem like the best way to focus practice, these students have learned to do it to a fault.

The student I mentioned above suffers from this problem. We can hardly make it through a measure or two before he stops to point out his errors. He constantly stops, describing the mistake, reasoning out the origin of the error, before restarting. Left to his own devices, we would never make it past the first line of anything in our lessons. I am certain his practice sessions proceed the same way. He is plagued with paralysis of analysis.

My job in his lessons is to deflect his focus from errors. I work in small chunks of music; any time he stops, I instantly redirect - “keep playing, keep playing, keep playing” - until he resumes. I don’t let him offer a single unobstructed comment until he has completed the chunk. Once he achieves that, we dissect the phrase, find the errors, prescribe a solution, and work through it again - without stopping. Slowly, I am teaching him to practice the right way. He will make region next year.

Most of us succumb to the same sort of paralysis at points in our life. We over-think to the point of negativity, sometimes thinking long past the point when decisions should be made. Often, we wait so long, decision making slips from our skill set, leaving us bereft of the ability to even decide something as simple as what to eat.

This paralysis resides in fear. My student fears someone will catch him unaware of his own mistakes, so he stops constantly to point them out when playing on his own. When playing in band class, the fear retreats - the likeliness of getting caught making mistakes reduces substantially when playing with sixty or seventy other musicians. If we looked deep within ourselves, our insecurities develop from similar fears. Our society prides itself on perfection. We learn from an early age mistakes are frowned upon, so we prevent them by avoiding activities in which they occur or we jump the gun and point them all out unnecessarily. Neither are the solution.

I teach my students that mistakes lead to growth. We are human; we err. I tell them to give themselves permission to make mistakes. Allowing themselves to err reduces the power a mistake has over their psyche. Eventually, they roll right past their mistake unaffected. Now, to be clear, I stress the difference between ignoring a mistake and moving past a mistake. One is healthy, the other is not. We practice with a “mistake basket” in which they deposit their mistakes while playing a particular passage. After they complete the passage, we examine the basket’s contents and decide which items need our focus. Eventually, we free ourselves from the paralysis of analysis.

Mistakes are necessary for growth, for developing character. Learning how to handle mistakes in our lives positions us to roll with anything the world might throw our way. Avoiding or over indulging them does not offer a solution to the problem, rather it roots the problem deeper. Avoid the paralysis of analysis before it sets in too deep.

To Be Fair . . .

2013-01-27T11:32:00.000-06:00

In last week’s blog - Lancing the Boil - I lambasted Lance Armstrong for his lame apology during an interview with Oprah Winfrey. While I still stand behind my original feelings - he never really apologized, and if he did, it was only to himself for getting caught - I have thought long and hard about the impact Lance has had on this planet. To be fair . . . it isn’t all bad.

Lance is another athlete continuing the storyline that the only way to win is to cheat. Enough sports superstars in the last decade have fallen from grace through doping scandals that it comes across as old hat now. I don’t think anyone should find themselves shocked that athletes cheat. We should only feel shock when it no longer comes across as wrong.

In 1997, before Lance Armstrong’s worldwide fame blossomed in the French Pyrenees, he fought a more dangerous battle than any before or after - testicular cancer. His fight, the lessons he learned as he slugged it out with malignant cells, and the resulting Livestrong foundation, will sustain his positive legacy long after his unfair cycling victories fade from society’s collective mind.

The Livestrong Foundation, who recently cut all ties to the founder and former chairman, no longer contributes to cancer research as it once did (its funding was a drop in the bucket compared to cancer behemoths like American Cancer Society and the National Cancer Institute). Instead, Livestrong focuses on changing the global perspective on cancer. Due to Lance’s efforts through the Livestrong organization, cancer patients no longer endure the disease, they fight it. Instead of cancer victims, cancer survivors emerge from their battle.

Additionally, Livestrong focuses on guiding anyone fighting the disease to organizations that can offer preparation and assistance with the difficulties associated with life after cancer. They offer direction on sperm banking and egg freezing to help with fertility, provide literature on clinical trials, distribute free cancer guidebooks, and connect people with organizations designed to help navigate the maze of healthcare finance.

Livestrong has established an exercise program through the YMCA tailored specifically for cancer survivors. Through Scholastic magazine, Livestrong at School teaches lessons to young students about cancer, ensuring from a young age that cancer no longer appears as a sure death sentence. In 2009 Livestrong hosted the Global Cancer Summit in Dublin, Ireland aimed at removing false stigma associated with cancer in less developed portions of the world.

More locally, in 2007, Lance spearheaded the effort to pass Texas Proposition 15, creating the Cancer Prevention and Research Institute of Texas, funded with up to $3 billion in public money to research the causes of and cures of cancer. Prop 15 would not have passed without the efforts of Lance Armstrong.

The most important effort, though is how Lance Armstrong changed the spirit of how the patient should approach cancer treatment. Through Livestrong, he offered a different mindset, one of active healing rather than passive suffering; unlike cancer, this new mindset is contagious. Would Livestrong have yielded such great results without Lance’s cycling success? No. But to me, that is besides to point; I have always been a believer that the universe uses everything for an eventual positive result, no matter how negative. Ultimately, in the final analysis, Lance’s cheating is our gain, though it make take time for us to realize it.

Lancing the Boil

2013-01-20T11:40:00.000-06:00

This week, Lance Armstrong, cycling villain extraordinaire, took the first step towards healing the wounds caused by his extensive doping scandal. Guided by one of the world’s most pre-eminent celebrity interviewers, Oprah Winfrey, Lance admitted to using nearly every imaginable type of banned performance enhancing substance. He outlined the steps he took to win, to “level the playing field,” as he put it. The one thing that was missing? A real apology.

A boil is typically a cyst or infected hair follicle gone bad. The minor infection expands into a larger area of the body, increasing both in size and effect. A severe boil can lead to more significant infection; even an average size one can cause severe fever and extreme weariness as the body fights. The first step in treating the infection combines the repeated use of a heated compress with thorough washing. Drawing the pus to the surface prepares it for the next step.

Lance needs to learn how to apologize. He reminded me of the time I was caught drinking syrup from the bottle (that stuff tasted good!). I apologized to my Mom, but I was more sorry to myself for getting caught than I was about drinking the syrup. Lance’s delivery, his body language, even his word choices all contradicted the intended apologetic spirit of the interview. Perhaps he felt sorry, but his demonstration of that feeling lacked merit, and to many, appeared equally as insulting.

When treating a boil, doctors will also prescribe antibiotics and topical creams to treat the infection. Employing a multi-pronged attack helps to ensure a successful initial treatment. Taking care to reach the infection from every angle prevents a relapse.

A true apology can be an art many of us find unfamiliar. Our society raises up the strong, and to many, apologizing implies weakness. This is backwards to me; admitting error takes incredible spiritual strength. By cheating in the first place, Lance demonstrated his lack of internal strength. Should anyone be surprised that his apology lacked strength as well?

Lancing a boil can be dangerous, and when used as the only means of treatment, often leads to re-infection or secondary infection. When not approached in the proper way, the pus remains hard packed, continuing to clog the wound. Not consulting a medical professional and taking the knife into our own hands often yields terrible results.

Lance’s apology came across as a personal attempt to lance the boil of his years of lies, deceit, and outright despicable behavior. The boil on Lance’s soul is filled from his mistreatment of friends and associates, his destructive attacks on people’s lives for attempting to expose the truth, and the incredible disservice he has done to his fans. Because Lance did not treat his own infection before attempting to lance it, true healing is impossible. Only after the right steps will Lance truly be able to move forward from this and heal along with everyone he has hurt.

- a good article on how to correctly apologize using Lance's apology as an instructive counterpoint

The Paper Monster

2013-01-13T10:44:00.002-06:00

While I know it is only January, and for the majority of the country W-2s won’t appear until early February, but tax time began in my house on January 1. With both Samantha and I owning our own businesses, tax time is a time of extra work, hopefully ending in a positive result. The best way to earn that positive result in the end? Good planning.

I have planned well in the past, preparing files at the beginning of the year for receipts. Then, through the year, I consolidated information periodically to prevent a huge load of work dumped on me at the end. This year, I employed a slightly different method - the wait and get dumped on method.

While I am only a short time into the effort, I can tell you right now that the planning method is much better. After a year of stuffing receipts into a drawer until they really couldn’t fit anymore, I figured I better start sorting them. With Samantha’s help, we knocked out the sorting in an afternoon and evening. Now comes the documenting.

It has taken me four days to get through the food receipts. Just the food receipts. I have sorted them into months, added the information into a spreadsheet, scanned the receipts, and thrown them away (which is allowed by the IRS). Four days. I could have probably spent thirty minutes one day a month on all my receipts, sorting, documenting, scanning, etc. Instead, I waited until now.

I still have gas receipts, office supplies, music supplies, beauty care supplies (for Samantha’s Mary Kay business), utility payments, home mortgage interest, home maintenance expense receipts, health care, and a plethora of other receipts to document. After that, I will need to document business travel and make decisions about the standard deduction offered by the IRS for travel versus the actual costs. Then I have . . . needless to say, the list is expansive.

I will be the first to admit my lack of a plan for the past year’s taxes was first the result of laziness. I just never got around to it. Later, though, I didn’t want to battle the monster I had created. The pile of receipts had just grown too large to handle, so I ignored it.

With solid pre-planning, I could have been wrapping up my yearly taxes over the last four days. Instead, I am embarking on a journey as long and drawn out as the first Hobbit movie, while not being nearly as exciting.

The tax benefits of owning two businesses are great; nearly everything we do is tax deductible. Successful planning is key, though.

As always, I extrapolate my experiences into life lessons. I think this one is fairly obvious, and I can see where, if employed properly in other areas of my life, it will yield better results. Planning is important. Sure, flying by the seat of your pants can be exciting, too, but it definitely isn’t the way to run your entire life.

Soldier On

2013-01-06T11:55:00.000-06:00

We can not pretend to know the workings of the universe. Try as we might, our world contains so much complication and controlled disarray, if we attempt to sit down and process it all, we often feel our brains reduced to cinder. Rarely do we attempt to figure everything out when things are good. But when our life turns upside down? We always try to fight it or figure it out. Often, the best option is to roll with the punches, knowing the universe is leading you in the direction you should go.

Eight months ago, Samantha and I opened our doors to one of her former students - Elise - who needed a place to stay in between her freshman and sophomore year in college. Elise had stayed with us the summer before when her family situation became complicated, and she knew we still had a room available. Like the guests on the SS Minnow, we thought her stay would be short, but as circumstances unfolded, that was not to be the case.

We all have experienced times when the universe seems to dump on us. Movies often characterize this feeling in a scene with the main character standing in a deluge, shaking fists at the dark sky. This is how we feel. Abandoned. Betrayed. Like we are chained to the bottom of the world’s largest chamber pot, no escape in sight.

About a month into Elise’s three month stay, her fist shaking moment arrived. Her boyfriend broke up with her through a text message. She totaled her car and was dropped from her insurance. She was fired from her job. And finally, financial aid she had been counting on was rejected, leaving her unable to pay for college the next year. All within ten days. The SS Minnow had shipwrecked, leaving a wallowing castaway stranded upon our couch to surf through the various young adult dramas found on Netflix.

The way I see it, there are three ways people react to such a negative situation.

1. They will wallow in it, spreading their malaise to anyone they can. These are the Debbie Downers; their only impetus is to bring everyone to their level. Only then will their situation seem better.
2. They will analyze and attempt to understand it, hoping to wrap their brain around a problem so infinitely large, the only result is inevitable frustration.
3. They will accept the situation and allow the universe to guide them forwards.

I suppose we go through all three of these on our way out of the pit, and it took Elise around three weeks to drag herself out of the muck and into the third step. I remember the moment clearly. I was sitting in my office and she popped her head in. She had met with an Army recruiter and would be enlisting as soon as she could. I smiled, sure this was a momentary attraction that would soon be gone from her flighty 19 year old head.

Of course, the universe doesn’t just use situations like Elise’s to teach those to whom it happens. It is a teaching moment for everyone.

Over the next few months, I couldn’t help but be tickled as the universe turned me on my head. Elise didn’t just climb out of her gloom, she burst forth, a phoenix rising from the ashes. Her dedication to the idea of the Army pulled her forward. Whether or not she realized it, she let go of many ideas that had exerted powerful control over her life in a negative way. She became more independent, crafting her life towards what she wanted it to be. She worked hard, finding a job she could enjoy until she left for basic. She bought a car on her own, found insurance, and came to terms with the boy who had abandoned her. Finally, she developed a fitness and eating routine like nothing she had ever done, losing over sixty pounds in three months to make weight for the Army. She ran towards her solution instead of away from the problem.

She swears in and leaves for basic training tomorrow.

We have a couple of motivational magnets hanging on our refrigerator that reflect on situations like Elise’s. Thomas Jefferson implores that when “you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on.” Or, there is this one - “when life hands you lemons, make lemonade.” But I discovered a quote from Joel Osteen today that seems to fit much better - “Often, out of our greatest rejection comes our greatest direction.”

The universe rejected everything Elise thought was important, but only to direct her to a better place. A place she was meant to go. So, no matter how hard your situation might seem, there is always a way out, a way up. Let the universe guide you; it will never dump you into the crucible of life without a purpose. Be accepting of what it delivers and soldier on.

For the Love of Eggnog

2012-12-30T11:36:00.000-06:00

I am a fan of Eggnog. I love the taste, the texture, the aroma. I love everything about Eggnog. My favorite brand is actually the generic HEB brand. Light Eggnog is too thin, brand name Eggnog is too thick, and Soy Nog - just no. What is my problem with Eggnog then? I am lactose intolerant.

Anyone who suffers from lactose intolerance, or milk related allergies, can understand the pain and suffering for you and those around you after ingesting milk. If I had enemies, I would never wish lactose intolerance upon them. It is uncomfortable, unpleasant, and highly inconvenient. The train scene from Samantha’s favorite movie “French Kiss,” sums up lactose intolerance quite well. After Meg Ryan’s character eats more cheese than she can handle, the evil beast rears its head: "Spasm! Spasm! Oh, God, here it comes... lactose intolerance!" (It really is a cute movie if you are looking for a date night rom-com).

When the holiday season rolls around I know Eggnog follows closely behind; despite all of the discomfort, I am eager for it. Maybe I am a bit masochistic, but I yearn for Eggnog. I cherish its delicate touch on my tastebuds. I somehow convince myself I have been cured from my lactose intolerance. With every sip (and I do sip to make it last as long as I can) I pray my insides won’t succumb to their evil tendencies.

Growing up, I had no problems with milk products. I remember sitting and drinking whole glasses of milk. In fact, if I had trouble sleeping at night, I had a sure-fire concoction to put me back to sleep - warm up a glass of milk in the microwave, dump a whole bunch of sugar into it, and stir in a little maple syrup. As an adult, I can look back and realize I really just put myself into a severe carb coma, but at the time, I thought it was the milk. Then, at some point during my sophomore year in high school, my body rebelled; milk and I no longer agreed.

Over the next couple of years, I convinced myself and my parents that Eggnog didn’t bother me like milk did. During the holidays, we bought extra Eggnog and froze it, ensuring that the Nog would be around for the remainder of the year. I didn’t use it in my cereal or anything, it was just there in the event I craved thick, milky sweetness - which of course, I did.

Eventually, the realization set in that Eggnog and milk were essentially the same thing, minus some heavy cream, eggs, and a pound of sugar or so, and I let go of my unhealthy yearlong binge. But, despite my acknowledgement of the discomfort it brings, I still look forward to the Eggnog time of year.

I am not sure I will ever understand the part of me that willfully ignores the impending results of imbibing Eggnog. It is not an addiction, otherwise I would seek Eggnog out the rest of the year, which I do not. It is more like a yearly visit from an old friend with whom I share a tumultuous, yet rich history. Yet every year, without fail, that visit ends in us rolling around on the ground throwing punches and pulling hair.

Maybe it is human nature to nurture a long term weakness simply because of the temporary pleasures it delivers. I am sure if I look closer, I will discover more of those than just the lust for the sweet Nog. Unfortunately, we so often ignore the reality of our situation to reap the benefits, however temporary they may be. I know I do. When it comes to the glory of Eggnog, no matter how problematic it might be, I set aside all knowledge of lactose intolerance, fully immersing myself in the depths of delicious, liquid sweetness.

A Season of Distractions

2012-12-23T10:22:00.001-06:00

The universe has thrown many distractions our way this year as Christmas approaches. The media latches onto every big story, pumping them for everything they have, blowing them up on our TV screens, on the radio, on our computers. Everywhere we look, there they are. For just a moment, disconnect, find some peace, and focus on what this season is really about.

Christmas is coming. Regardless of the manner in which you participate - be it religious or secular - the roots of the Christmas holiday still stem from the same source - love. For Christians, the Christmas holiday celebrates the birth of Jesus. As St. John the Devine teaches in the Gospel "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son." This gift of love is seen as the first Christmas gift and is supposed to be the model for our gift giving.

Santa Claus is modeled off the legend of St. Nicholas, a fourth century Greek Bishop living in modern day Turkey. St. Nicholas was known for his giving heart. One story, the one most likely to be based on historical fact, has St. Nick giving a bag of gold to a family three times - each the night before their three daughters come of age. St. Nick even goes so far to avoid recognition he drops a bag of gold down the chimney, landing it in a stocking hung to dry.

Whether you celebrate Christmas because of Jesus or simply to follow the gift giving of a fourth century saint, the idea behind the gifting still holds. Our gifts are supposed to be acts of love.

With more information about the Newtown, Connecticut shootings arriving every day, we might tend to focus on the plight of man instead of the hope portrayed in the Christmas message. While I can understand our concern at the failings of our society and the need for discussion on how to prevent such events from occurring again, if viewed from an incorrect position, our view of this Christmas season will definitely be skewed. As I suggested in Following the Ripples, keep your heart and soul set on love.

The shootings give us an opportunity to give a Christmas sized gift as well. The country is expending so much energy right now in figuring out how to prevent future mass killings. Some say limit guns, some say give everyone guns. Some focus on mental health care, some on video games. Everyone knows something needs to be done, but there is no consensus on the next step. Christmas is the perfect message and offers the perfect solution. We must follow the examples of the Bible and St. Nicholas - give love freely. Root every action in love. Teach love to your children through every thought and action. Love yourself, your neighbor, your community, etc.

A gift of love can change the world more than we can know. With so much attention on the so-called Mayan apocalypse, all our thoughts were on whether or not the world would end. Perhaps the end of the age was so much more simple than we thought. Maybe the end of the calendar only signaled a change in the way humans deal with each other. Perhaps now, we will choose to act through love in everything.

This Christmas, remember what is important. As the bumper sticker proclaims - "remember the reason for the season." That reason, ultimately, is love.

Following the Ripples

2012-12-16T10:06:00.001-06:00

In a world where every violent tragedy is painted as a sign of humanity’s degradation and certain failure, I choose to withhold judgement - not of the killer, but of humanity. The act of murder is vile and disgusting; our reaction to this particular tragedy is heightened because of the innocence of the young victims and the heroism of the adults. Instead of allowing ourselves to become inundated with the hateful feeling engendered by this vicious act, I suggest we do something entirely opposite.

When a thrown pebble enters the surface of a pond, its energy is immediately transferred to the water itself, creating ripples. The ripples carry the energy from the pebble until the energy is absorbed or neutralized, returning the surface of the pond to a state of equilibrium. The larger the rock or the faster it travels, the more energy is released upon impact, creating bigger ripples that last longer and take more time to find equilibrium.

A small private tragedy in a localized area rarely makes ripples beyond its own borders. These are our pebbles, leaving small ripples behind which dissipate quickly. To the people involved, the ripples created are no less important, but the number of people affected is decidedly less.

The Connecticut tragedy is akin to a boulder plummeting into a lake. The ripples created are immense - I am sure you feel them ripping through your soul every time you read a news article, see a post on facebook celebrating the lives of one of the dead, or when you look at loved ones of your own. It is impossible to imagine the kind of feelings felt by those at the point of impact, when our own feelings have such tremendous energy.

An instant after the stone strikes the surface of the water, it submerges, disappearing from sight. The only evidence anything occurred is contained in the energy rippling out from the center.

We all feel the ripples of this tragedy. I do not have children, yet tears still grace my eyes at the thought of loss these families endure. Social media roars with the raw emotions every time a ripple pushes past. My hope is that we do not succumb to the rage, the anger, or the hate, pushed forward so aggressively on the crest of the ripples. Instead, we need to embrace the opposite of those destructive emotions - love - and help the ripples to dissipate faster.

After a disturbance on water's surface, ripples travel until the energy is counteracted by an equal force, or until the energy has been absorbed by the lake itself.

As a ripple comes upon you, keep your mind focused on the people in your life and how much you love them. Look to those who have lost someone and see the love they feel for them - that love is what gives them so much pain, not the rage or hate they might feel for the killer. Let the energy of this event ramp up your love for everything and everyone. Negative emotions can not stand in the face of true, perfect love. Be part of the counteracting force that helps to dissipate the negative energy sent out from this terrible event.

A body of water whose surface is disturbed can never truly reflect that which is above it. Only by creating perfect stillness, absent of ripples, can a perfect reflection occur. The more we can help to buffer any ripples that do occur, the closer we as individuals, and we as a race, can get to perfect stillness. The way to find that stillness is to exist in a constant state of love, neutralizing the negative energy sent out from ripples such as the one we experienced recently.

Up on the Rooftop

2012-12-09T10:31:00.000-06:00

The spirit of the Christmas season engenders a vast range of emotions. Excitement blooms as trees claim their traditional places, anticipation for Christmas morning permeates the young and the old, anxiety festers at the state of the checkbook, melancholy lingers for those Christmases past. Odd as it is, just yesterday the Christmas season delivered a new, unfamiliar emotion to me - fear.

I am not normally a fearful person, regardless of the season. I work to keep an even keel, avoiding situations that might encourage a fear response, staying centered emotionally when presented with a fear inducing problem. Fear is such a negative emotion, I avoid inviting it into my life. In fact, I actively pursue the opposites of fear - calm certainty, joyful appreciation, loving anticipation of the uncertain. In my experience, these are much better approaches to living life.

Most fear responses seem to come from the unknown and uncertain. Fans of scary movies would tell you that the fear response is created in the audience by not knowing what is behind the glowing door. As soon as the door opens and the monster is revealed, the emotion shifts from fear to something closer to fright.

Our imaginations are creative powerhouses. They have built this amazing world in which we live. But, along with the our creative inventiveness comes the specter of the unknown. What lies behind the door gives rise to terrifyingly creative answers, most which are profoundly more fear generating than whatever CGI inspired creature inevitably shows up.

My fear response did not have to do with scary movies or real life hauntings. In fact, as mentioned before, I encountered fear while participating in a pillar of the Christmas season - hanging lights on my roof.

In the five Christmas seasons since Samantha and I moved into our house, I have hung the lights once before, two years ago. This year, I followed the same process as before. I used an eight foot ladder to reach the lip of the roof, climbing carefully over the gutter. Once on the roof, I laid the lights down and reviewed the plan. While I am sure we do not have the steepest roof ever built, it certainly felt steeper than the last time I was up there. I quickly, but safely, climbed to the first peak and took a seat, surveying the neighborhood. After enjoying the cool breeze for a few minutes (it was 82 degrees outside), I began scouting the roof.

My memory of being on the roof before has me scurrying all over the place with full confidence in my safety. I scrambled up to the peaks, crab walked down to the edges of the roof unreachable by ladder, and was generally unconcerned. This time, this was not the case. After slipping and sliding to the second peak, I sat there for quite some time. In my mind, I was trying to convince myself that I was taking my time to formulate a plan for hanging the lights.

In reality, I was too scared to move.

My feet had been sliding more than I remembered and my shoes didn’t seem to have the right grip. The drop to the ground seemed further. The angle of the roof seemed more steep. Nothing seemed to feel right.

So, I did what any man would do. I sucked it up. Well, for a moment, anyway. I slid out to the front-most peak, straddling the point, and hung some light holders underneath the shingles. I wasn’t quite shaking, but I was definitely not comfortable. After retreating back to the safety of the center of the roof, I looked around again, weighing my options, telling myself I wasn’t going to give up. I slid my way back to the ladder and climbed down, defeated.

Feeling fear in this way was unfamiliar and it made me ask some questions to which I am not sure I knows the answers. Was it fear or intuition? What is the difference between fear and intuition? Are they related?

I am a big believer in following your intuition, and there is definitely a part of me that says intuition played a large part in getting off the roof, but I have to wonder, can irrational fear influence the perception of an intuitive response? I think so. I think it is important to make sure we know the difference between the two responses and how they relate to each other. Unfortunately, that takes practice encountering fear, which is not something I am interested in pursuing.

Either way, whether intuition, simply fear, or some hybrid of the two, the oak tree and the bushes in front of my house now look quite festive.

Today not Tomorrow

2012-11-25T09:59:00.001-06:00

- Pope John Paul II

I am the kind of person who has the unfortunate habit of living for tomorrow instead of today. Occasionally, I enjoy rare bursts of inspiration when tomorrow and today merge, and instead of continuing to put off today’s work until tomorrow, I live for today and take care of my business. I have to admit, I would much rather live a life full of today’s than tomorrows.

The even more unfortunate truth is that I am certain I am not alone. Neither am I in a small minority, or even a large substrate of the population. The people who live for tomorrow instead of today permeate our existence, leaving those who choose today to enjoy the many fruits of this world. Those of us who sometimes overcome our silent pledge to procrastination occasionally taste the joy the world offers when we power through the resilient bonds we have placed around ourselves.

- Latin for "seize the day"

We begin to develop the terrible habit when we are young, fostering our addiction like a newfound pet. I will put my toys away later. I will brush my teeth in the morning. I will do my chores after this TV show is finished. Eventually, minor delays become major obstacles to moving forward in our lives. School work succumbs to the inevitable; we choose to sacrifice the quality of our work for some simple pleasure that ultimately, if examined further, will turn out to be trivial at best.

- Robert Kiyosaki

Our youth fails to fend off the infection and by the time we are adults our fault has real consequences. How many have put off paying bills until you get the late notice accompanied by a significant late fee? How many of us have put off an auto repair until the car dies? What is a credit card but a way of paying for something later that we want now.

How many people do you know, including yourself, who put off discussing something important with a loved one until too late. The results can vary from broken relationships or unwanted pregnancies to death. Most of the time biting the bullet and getting it over with is the better decision.

Ironically, I began this blog last Sunday but ran out of time before lunch. Did I return to in and finish that afternoon? No. Did I have time and choose to do something else of lesser consequence? Yes. Have I had time since then? Yep.

Now, I am not suggesting we avoid taking times to do what we want instead of what we should. Making decisions about our life is part of free will. I am asking you to reflect upon your decisions and actions and decide how they are made. Do you actually live by free will, or are your decisions determined by a series of earlier actions that lead to an addiction to procrastination. I can understand any reluctance you might feel.

Turning the magnifying lens on ourselves is often quite hard because we have to admit our faults. But, I think it is an important step towards leading a happier existence. So, take some time today and look back at yourself. Or, maybe you can do that tomorrow?

Earn This

2012-11-11T11:07:00.001-06:00

One of the strongest emotional tugs a good story delivers to my heartstrings centers on the idea of personal sacrifice. Frequently, at the end of a movie or during the climax of a novel, I find myself a blubbering mess as the hero gives up everything they are in order to save others. Even now, reflecting on some of the most powerful scenes, my eyes glisten slightly. Of course, nothing Hollywood or the publishing industry can do will ever be as powerful as real life sacrifice. Giving of yourself to save and protect others is one of the most honorable actions a person can take. There is no better example of an organization that exemplifies this idea as the United States Military. Thank you Veterans for the sacrifices you have made to keep us and our way of life safe.

The word sacrifice too often implies the giving up of ones life in order to protect others; this definition is much too limited. There are many ways a person can give up their life to serve without having to die. These sacrifices must be honored as well.

Veterans and current service men and women give up choice for much of their life. They live where they are assigned, relocating many times during their service. If on assignment or deployment, they spend months at a time away from their loved ones. If in a combat arena, they go about their duties with the knowledge that they may never see their families again. Yet still they serve, putting our lives ahead of theirs.

Many Veterans have sacrificed their health for this country and its people. From those who have returned from deployment with bodily injury to those who come back uninjured physically yet suffering mentally, our Veterans put themselves at risk for us. Their constant vigilance despite the risk to themselves deserves our recognition and thanks. It takes a powerful person to knowingly step into a career in which their entire life will be driven by the level of sacrifice their country asks of them.

There are also the few who do give the total sacrifice, giving their life for ours. While too many of the men and women have have died in service of our country are faceless unknowns to the rest of us, their sacrifice is no less, their honor heightened rather than diminished due to their anonymity. They do not serve to achieve acclimation and fame. There is no promise of TV time or a book highlighting their life. They go about their service for that purpose alone - to serve.

Veterans are special people and they should be recognized as such. Whether they are serving now or last wore their uniform decades ago, their choice to enter the armed forces was a choice to sacrifice for you and for me. They don’t know us just as we might not know them, yet with every breath during their service, they lived and died to make sure our lives could be lived free. Though all of their names may not be inscribed on a memorial, the memory of how they live should be written on our hearts.

While I said before Hollywood comes nowhere near close enough to the idea of real life sacrifice, at least they can offer the rest of us a guide on how to live our lives to honor that sacrifice. In the final scenes of the 1998 film Saving Private Ryan, Tom Hanks' character Captain Miller leaves Private Ryan with words the rest of us should live by - "Earn this."

A Splash of Color

2012-11-04T10:11:00.000-06:00

Autumn 2011 was one of the most memorable Autumns since the Houston area became my home. Everywhere the eye gazed, trees exploded with a cornucopia of color. Reds, oranges, yellows, and innumerable shades unfamiliar to our mediocre falls flashed among the evergreens. Every time I stepped from my home, my eyes immediately flew to the trees, eager to drink in the color. Why did we have such a splendid display? Because the trees almost died.

When I first heard the reason, I found it odd. Why should we experience a glorious Autumn simply because Texas had sustained one of the worst droughts in its recorded history? Apparently, the stress of limited rainfall over an extended time period induced the trees to show off their abilities. I like the idea they were celebrating their continued life, the flame hued foliage playing the same role as our fireworks.

What I wish mine would look like.

Those of you who have visited my home have probably noticed the monstrosity of a bougainvillea nestled along the front walkway. For most of the growing season it looms along the entryway, long tendrils reaching lush foliage along the house. Unfortunately, it only blooms in the fall and I am constantly battling it to bloom sooner. The way to generate early blooms? Chop the roots and deprive it of water. After enough time, the poor plant thinks it is going to die and it shoots out blooms as a last ditch effort to propagate. Of course, the responsible gardener will never take it too far, preferring the colorful blooms to an over-stressed pile of dying vines.

How many of us have experienced similar circumstances? Deprived of that which sustains us, the universe will frequently present seemingly insurmountable challenges. Regardless of who you are, being dumped into the crucible happens from time to time. Look to the trees for answers.

I recently watched the 1997 Michael Douglas thriller The Game. Douglas plays the perfectly uptight, super rich, power driven, A-hole he seems to have mastered in many film roles. His character is given a “game” as a birthday present which throws him into a series of scenarios challenging the very core of his personality. Through the drama, he is stripped bare; everything he holds dear is taken from him until he has nothing. It is only then that the game ends, returning everything to a man who has an amazing new perspective on life and a fresh appreciation for the people who share his experience.

While I have never experienced anything as extreme as the character in The Game, my front door bougainvillea, or the Texas trees, I know the universe has thrown me into some tough situations before. While in the free fall to the bottom, I surely had a difficult time keeping my eyes on the positives. Hopefully there isn’t a next time, but if there is, I will be sure to recall the lessons learned from the 2011 drought.

Stressful situations will appear in our lives. We will experience challenges. We will fail. We have to know that we will always rise again. Shake off the shackles of negativity and embrace life. Follow the example of the trees and celebrate your resurgence with a splash of color.

Changing the Radio

2012-09-16T09:24:00.000-05:00

A commercial from my youth stuck with me through the years. It didn’t resonate with me through poignant humor, over indulgent sexuality, or even for the product it was selling. Instead, this particular commercial lodged itself in my memory through shock value and a message that is incredibly applicable to today’s society. The punch line of the commercial - “John didn’t like the song on the radio, so he killed a little girl.”

For those of you who never had the opportunity to see this commercial, let me set the scene. A young man drives down a typical suburban street jamming to the radio. The mood is bright and happy. Everything is fantastic. The guy decides to change the channel, and as he looks down at the knob, a little girl runs out in front of his car.

Sad, I know.

If I remember right, there might have been a series of commercials like this. Or, maybe my brain has just been running with the idea, creating its own series of commercials that could have worked.

“Ricky wanted the air conditioner on, so he killed a young boy.”

“Gerald decided to spit his gum in the wrapper, so he drove over an old lady.”

“Sarah couldn’t wait to get home to taste her french fries, so she murdered a father of three.”

The implied rationale is that driving contains a certain amount of danger; pay attention while doing it. More often than not, the old commercial pops into my mind while driving through my neighborhood. We have a nice running loop frequently populated by fitness enthusiasts, little kids on bikes, and parents with strollers. The nicer the weather, the more people you will see. Unfortunately, it is the people you don’t see you have to worry about. I make sure to keep my eyes peeled.

In today’s tech heavy society, the idea of being aware while driving is even more pertinent. The distractions of today are extremely commonplace.

“Harold wanted to dial his mom on his phone, so he ran over a pregnant woman.”

“Jillian wanted to text “;-)” to her best friend, so she killed a little boy who just turned three.”

“Brian was interested in whether or not it would rain, so he crushed a jogger pushing a stroller.”

The stark juxtaposition of two contrasting desires shocked me as a young person and shocks me still as an adult. We are never 100% certain of the results of our actions, nor can we imagine the infinite possibilities stemming from any one of our decision. Of course, remaining aware of our surroundings, acting responsibly, and being safe, reduces the changes of situations like these from arising.

Please don’t assume I am perfect. Despite the haunting memory of the commercial hanging over my head, I still have lapses in sound judgement. As much as I loathe myself for doing so, I will occasionally pen a text or fumble for directions as I drive. Usually, I realize what I am doing halfway through and reprimand myself for it.

I have plenty of hypocritical moments when I see others staring intently at their phones as they drive. I scold them internally, aware of my hypocrisy, hoping that I won’t make the same error in judgement again. Maybe I won’t. I hope not. I have no desire to be in a commercial.

If you are unsure of whether or not your actions are dangerous, paint them in the stark contrasts provided by the commercial. Is your email as important as the life of a child? A family? An old lady? Anyone at all? If it is truly urgent, pull off the road. Find a gas station, a strip mall, a restaurant parking lot, where you can stop your car and take care of your business. Otherwise you risk making the terrible choices illustrated above.