A Good and Great Man

A longtime friend left for Heaven a few weeks back.  He had lived a long and fruitful life, positively influencing the lives of many and rarely asking anything in return.  He gave much – much more than he got, but that is how he wanted it.  He is missed because we cannot see him anymore, but his touch on our hearts and minds; the memories of laughter, of intelligent discussion and political debate are now integral to our DNA.  A part of us left when he did, because we are a mixture of ourselves and the people we love and who love us. The essence of my life is the sum of what God does, what I do, and what I absorb from friends and family.  So, some of me left when he did, but much more of him stayed behind.  Like I said, he gave more that he got.

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The Rogue Wave

Sometimes, being swept off your feet is not at all that romantic.  Consider walking into the ocean.  The warm grains of sand wrap around your feet and toes, giving way just enough as you walk to build a small hole that tries to hold on with every step. The sand nearer the ocean is damp and cool from the remnants of waves that retreated only minutes past.  Gathering your courage you press onward until that first taste of ocean water touches your toe.  It is cold, and you stop walking – jerking your foot backwards, but only for a moment.  Before you realize it, the waves are slapping against your knees and an occasional drop hits your chest. 

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A Mosquito in the Back Yard

Have you ever wondered what it might feel like to be a mosquito? Probably not, and if you have perhaps you should seek immediate psychiatric help. For the moment though, we’ll pretend its okay to consider becoming a small, annoying pest. The good news about a mosquito is that they belong to a very large family. Cousins, aunts, uncles, brothers and sisters are in abundance, although they come and go rather quickly. Your family name is Culcidae, and there are 3,500 different species in your family. We all know people who can’t go anywhere without meeting a friend (and it’s annoying); mosquitoes are like that.

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Love Happens in the Moments Between Dreams

My bride shifted her leg, just a little, but enough so that my foot no longer touched hers.  That was enough to bring me from a deep slumber into a semi-conscious state where dreams appear real, and reality flickers like a candle on a dark night.  We were spooning, cuddled together under clean sheets and a down comforter, perfectly matched as two spoons in drawer.  She was warm, radiating a soft fire that kept the winter chill from invading our bed.  She says that I am like a heater, always good to keep the bed warm, but it is she who brings warmth.  My knees touch the inside of her thighs, and my left hand rests gently on her hip.  I feel her body rise with every breath, and I hear the soft melody of air caressing her lips.  But my foot is no longer in contact with hers and that causes a ripple in my happiness, so without my asking or prompting, my left foot moves the two inches needed to find her.  And then, having accomplished its goal my foot can be at peace again.  

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In The Desert

Even though I wore denim pants, the sharp grains of sand bit through to my knees like so many small razors, so that the intense heat of the desert floor was able to freely burn my skin in a hundred tiny sparks.  I crawled with my toes lifted off the sand as best I could, because the heat was so intense in the midafternoon they burned with only a momentary touch.  My calves cramped almost hourly, forcing me to stretch and then I touched the desert – inflicting another burn atop a previous wound.  My hands were not so lucky, yet in a way they were fortunate.  One hand was always in contact with the sand, so they burned red; but it didn’t take long for my palms to callus and scar, so I couldn’t feel the destruction happening, I just knew that it was. 

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The Brake Lights in Front of You

When driving on the freeway in heavy traffic and something happens ahead of your car, the tail lights of cars far up the freeway light up, warning you of problems down the road.  It can look like the lights on an airplane landing strip, each red light sequencing its turn to glow immediately after the next one in front, so that fifty lights covering a mile can rush toward your car in just seconds.  It can be an immediate warning system, if one chooses to see it.  Flashing brake lights that far in advance of a problem, can save your life, unless you are so preoccupied by “other stuff” you don’t heed the warning.  Unless you are too busy to see the warning signs; then a big crash may be in your near future.

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People Are Just People

The lady seated to my left is quietly sleeping, now that the turbulence has ended and the plane is smoothly making its way across Texas. Her neatly groomed white hair frames a lightly tanned face, with lips that support a broad smile, and wrinkles that testify to memories of a life fully lived. She boasts those fine lines at the corners of her mouth that come from smiling more often than frowning.  I had the pleasure of speaking to her while she was being helped onto a wheelchair while boarding.   She didn’t understand English and it didn’t matter, because she said thanks with a sincere smile and nod when I offered help. I did not need a linguist to interpret her meaning.

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The Vast Middle Ground

The bell shaped curve, that great equalizer of the school classroom, is meant to explain how a population of test scores will eventually unfold itself neatly along a predetermine path, thus displaying the test results into upper, lower, and average positions. In my eighth grade English class, I prayed that everyone else was as confused and ill-prepared as I, so the entire curve would be adjusted downward, giving me a fighting chance for a graded-on-the-curve C. But the concept of a predictable outcome of highs, mediums and lows, is not just used in school; cars are labeled as luxury, mid class, and economy, you can fly in first class, coach, or in lower fare seats. The bell shaped curve is also used to described our life (yours and mine), in terms of its quality when compared to everyone else. Are we middle class, upper class, or poor? Those labels are thrown at us by politicians, reporters, educators; the need for others to categorize our life into a single box is nearly fanatical in its scope.

Perhaps worse is when we place our ability to be happy (content, or joyful) on a human bell shaped curve, relegating the amount of time we can spend being at the apex of life to 10-15 %, and when we are ‘just average’ to 70% of life’s timeline. I don’t believe people knowingly choose a mid-level happiness state for the bulk of their life, I think it just happens. I think we self-impose an expectation that being in a constant state of over-the-top exuberant happiness is wrong – only weird or naive people think like that. We tend to accept that good is good enough, and great is rare.

Ask someone the question, “How are you?”  The overwhelming response is, “Good.” You will get a few greats, and a few that are  ousy, but good will dominate. I submit that being great is a much more natural state that being good, and that we can, and should, redefine the curve to include more great, and less good and lousy. I believe that the plan was always for greatness, and we have deviated from where we can be.

Here are a few ways to move the bar towards great:

  • Redefine the driving force that creates your personal happiness (or joy) away from external sources to internal ones. Try not to rely on a person, place or event to make you happy. Choose to be happy all on your own.
  • Use your own definition for happiness, not that of someone else. It’s your life, you get to define it.
  • If happiness and joy are elusive, try doing something great for someone else, and something great for yourself too. Feeling great spreads from person to person like butter on warm bread.

I’m not proposing an arrogant version of great or a prideful view of happy. Just the opposite, I am promoting a humble and sincere version of being at the top, where there is room for everyone.

I find joy in my faith, where I am told that I am special, I am one of a kind and I am loved beyond my capacity to comprehend. There is nothing wrong with feeling good, but there is something very right about being great.

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Fast Fast

The title of this piece is either a double entry (which should be caught by spell check), or the writer is finally showing signs of his age.  Or perhaps the meaning is exactly as it is written.  Fast fast could mean to hurry hurry, now now, or to run very fast; and I mean very fast.  Or, since fasting in the Biblical sense means to abstain from eating (mostly), the title could mean to not eat at all, nothing, nada: no food whatsoever.  Combining the two definitions would mean to hurry up and not eat.  Personally, I love to eat; so I wonder why I might desire to quickly move towards something that I don’t want to do.  In reality, I would drag myself in the slowest possible fashion towards a goal of eating less, let alone not eating at all.  So maybe there is another choice.

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To Teach or Preach?

There is a thin line, (sometimes it’s a fishing line so it appears invisible), which separates preaching from teaching; especially if the topic is your children’s behavior, or religion.  Discussions about God and spirituality may start with the noble intention to teach, but through various hairpin curves and hidden trap doors, evolve mysteriously into full blown, sweat filled, amen-alleluia, God-is-a-coming-soon, sermons. They become the type of interaction where everybody is wet with perspiration – no matter the temperature inside or out.  With all nobility swept aside, a dialogue into your kid’s behavior barely stays a nanosecond in the teaching mode before leaping at warp speed into preaching.  Of course, that is how it should be: they need it.

Each communication method has its own benefits and hindrances; the use of either is not a matter of right vs. wrong, but more a selection of appropriate timing.  Teaching, or coaching as it is called in sports, is a service that is nearly unencumbered as to “when” it is applied; it is always acceptable to teach.  Circumstances and companions will dictate the depth and length of the lesson; which, subject to your role as teacher or student, can range from a moment to seemingly, an eternity.  Yet with all viewpoints included, teaching is mostly about giving.  One person gives their knowledge, experience, or opinion to another – it is meant to be an unselfish act of sharing.  The acceptance of all, or part of the lesson, is completely the responsibility and choice, of the recipient.  I think that is where to “leading a horse to water…” saying came from. 

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