A Bittersweet Season

Like many, Christmas is by far my favorite time of year. There is a richness of life and color. Houses, trees and city streets seem to stand up a bit straighter as we all do when we put on our best clothes. The world shines a pregnant glow. The air grows cooler, but we imagine the warmth inside all those shops and homes with smoke-filled chimneys.

We hear solemn and joyful music we only listen to once a year. Even the most health-conscious among us tend to forego our self-discipline for the rich banquets and sweet delicacies of these waning, blissful days. And, of course, there is the joy of family and friends, of giving and receiving, the joy of togetherness that is more poignant now than at any other time.

But, accompanying this Norman-Rockwell delight, others are overwhelmed this time of year by a deep sadness. Why? Perhaps because, while being reminded of the fullness of life and family, they instead find exposed the empty spaces where that is missing for them, or at least where it is stifled by the world’s cruelty or human dysfunction.

Of Love and Body Fluids

(Warning: What you are about to read will likely either A) gross you out beyond measure, or B) give you a nice dose of transcendent inspiration. Perhaps it will do both. If after reading this, you do find it’s both, you might want to ask yourself whether that’s actually a coincidence.)

I remember sitting in my English class back in high school when our teacher invited us to close our eyes and entertain a romantic fantasy. He asked us to draw a picture in our minds of the perfect man or woman–a person with whom we were in love, or had a crush on, or for whom we simply had a strong infatuation. We were to sketch in our minds every last detail: their hair, their eyes, their shape, everything about them we found beautiful or attractive. He asked us to focus on how wonderful they were and to celebrate our love or emotion for them.

Minding Your Ps…

No need to tell you where I was, but it was wonderful.

It was high summer and I was on vacation, visiting a location I had been many times before. The sun was setting, I was alone, standing on a quiet country road at the head of an expansive bean field. The crop was low and plush, and you could see all the way to the end. The fading sunlight had been replaced by a host of fireflies, pulsing their glow over the entire field with a soft, glorious caress. I could barely catch my breath for the reverence of the moment. It was a pocket of earth that had the strongest sense of peace, of innocence, a place where you could smell the organic fruit of pure and unadulterated life. For me, there was no other place like it on earth.

The Pain Now Is Part Of The Happiness Then

Today, I’m in mourning. There’s a weight on me that feels like the dense pressure in your chest they say is common with a heart attack. I’ve cried more in the last few days than I have in years. My emotions go from disorientation to shock, from guilt to a sense of peace. I’m in mourning because sometime last night, I lost one of the best friends I’ve ever had.

Three Questions To Ask Yourself Before Speaking

If you’re like me, you get in trouble for opening your mouth a lot. It’s part of being human. But, there are lessons we can learn on how to filter our speech, whether it’s with our family, our friends, co-workers, or with the stranger on the street. The following is one of the most effective lessons on this I’ve ever heard.

Some call it the “three golden arches of communication.” These are three filters we should pass our words through before speaking up about something. As with anything, they don’t always apply, but I bet you’ll find that they could be used more often than not in conversation.

Life Is Relationship

Have you ever heard of Viktor Frankl? He was an author and psychotherapist who died about 9 years ago at the age of 92. Among his other accomplishments, he wrote a great book called Man’s Search For Meaning. This book begins by showing the way Dr. Frankl would start out his therapy sessions with a new patient. Many of these patients would come to him at the end of their rope, wallowing in despair, and Frankl would start out by asking a simple question: “Tell me, why don’t you just commit suicide?” Seems like a pretty counterproductive way to begin therapy, wouldn’t you say? But, faced with such a stark question, these people, no matter how far gone in their hopelessness, were forced to come up with a credible answer. Why were they still alive? What sense of meaning made life worth living?

Character and Wonder

I love movies. For good or ill, they have had a major impact on my life. I’m a fan of most genres—comedy, romance, drama, action.

As a fairly analytical human, I was thinking a while back on what makes a great movie…great. Certainly there are many ingredients—good writing, talented actors, a visionary director, striking cinematography, etc. But, I asked myself—are there more intangible qualities in the greatest movies that go even deeper, that elevate a movie to a higher level, leaving us somehow changed?

Humility and Gratitude

(Originally written June 2007)

A beautiful woman died the other day. And, for my own life, I have no reason at all to complain.

Jacqui was to turn 28 in a month or so. She was a gorgeous, petite girl with striking eyes and auburn hair. She was filled with love and with an amazing energy for life. She was married just under 2 years to a wonderful man. But, she died. Of cancer.

Awakening From The American Dream

I hate to admit this, but there’s a side of me that sometimes enjoys the idea of oncoming disaster.

Maybe I’m too detached and numbed by the virtual world of movies and television, where a 10.5 earthquake sends California into the ocean or an ice age suddenly covers all of North America.

It’s not that I welcome the human suffering that disasters bring. The death, distress and turmoil that have resulted in such events as 9/11, Katrina, or most recently, Gustav, are in no way to be celebrated or made light of.

So, perhaps my fascination with disaster is just immature fancy and should be subdued. But, one thing that excites me about any larger than normal upheaval is it feels revolutionary—it often serves as a type of wakeup call for humanity to get its priorities back in order.

That’s one of my thoughts as I observe the onset of potential disaster in our country’s economy.

The Greatest Of These

(This is a feature I wrote for Good News Magazine back in 2000)

THE GREATEST OF THESE

How Alzheimer’s other victims have loved, persevered and come to terms with one of life’s most dehumanizing diseases.

Love never fails. But . . . whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known. And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love. (1 Corinthians 13:8,12—NKJV)

The greatest of these is love. When knowledge vanishes, or faith and hope are tested, love can fill the depths of our need, coloring our perspective with the hue of what’s important, what is lasting. And certainly, love can give us reason to live when all else falls away.

Throwing In The Towel

Here’s another life lesson I had as a kid that has left a significant mark on who I am today. In my early teens and at various other periods growing up, I was the victim of a lot of “persecution” by my peers…teasing. The persecution came in a lot of forms, some physical with bullies, but I guess most of it was verbal–name-calling, etc.

Fingal’s Cave

There are certain works of art that have a lifetime impact on you. At least for me. They literally shape who you are. Reading Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Madeline L’Engle as a kid could qualify. Reading Plato in high school was significant for me (if that qualifies as art). One of the most epic encounters with a work of art occurred for me back in 1986, in my freshman year as an undergrad. I was taking a class on “aesthetics,” which refers to the principles of beauty. But the focus of the class was really the philosophy of art. This class had a far greater impact on me than most in my undergrad years, but on top of that, there was this one musical composition in that class that will be with me forever.

Freedom In Relationship

(Originally written just prior to the 4th of July)

Jean Valjean was “a very dangerous man.”

That was the description written about him on the yellow passport he carried. After nineteen years of horrible imprisonment for the small crime of stealing a loaf of bread, he was set free. But, although now outside the prison walls, he knew he was still a prisoner, and the paper he carried proved that to all he encountered.

Vengeance Is Mine: An analysis of the spiritual origins of violence and murder

(Note: This may seem a departure from the typical theme of this blog, but given the recent rash of mass shootings, I though it appropriate to re-print an article I wrote several years ago on the subject. Specifically my analysis considers the spiritual origins and causes of such violence. The context of the article is the Columbine school shootings, but I think it’s still relevant to what’s happening today. Also, this was originally written for a Christian magazine and audience, so you’ll notice such a worldview predominates throughout. Not the only way to approach the issue, of course, but perhaps you’ll find it helpful.)