beyond assumptions

Trust

2011-12-24T16:29:00.000-08:00

Being divorced gives you a fair amount of free time. Time that one could spend in reflection, I suppose. Or exercising. Or donating to charity. Or, in my case, playing mindless, soul numbing video games.

OK, maybe "soul numbing" is taking it a bit far. Perhaps it would be more accurate to observe that there's little I would take from such experiences and say at the end of my life "damn, I'm really glad I spent time playing THAT game! I really learned something."

With the notable exception of a concept from the latest game I've played: Words of Power.

Now, in the game, learning such words allows you to do all manner of things, mostly in combat. You can push stuff around, breathe fire at them, run at impossible speeds, turn invisible. The notion is that once you learn the true name, the true essence of something, it is yours to use in some type of magical way.

Now life would be AWESOME if it worked like that, though I would have to be much more careful about the words I taught my children (let's just say disciplinary situations would become much more fraught with peril). But of course, that isn't the way of things.

But I am in a profession that believes in the power of words. And I am starting to find that there are indeed "words of power" in a sense. But first you have to understand the nature of the problem deeply enough. My word right now is "trust."

I should take a step back here. If you read my last post, you may recall that an autism consultant has been giving me some feedback about ways to work with my son, Patrick. Among that advice was the recommendation to reduce his sense of demand -- in large part so as to create a relationship he chose to participate in, a relationship where he could develop trust.

So this idea of trust has been in my mind a lot lately. I've been thinking about the clients I work with, and the various ways in which they struggle to trust...whether it's trusting in themselves, trusting in their partners, trusting in therapy. I've thought a lot about how I want Patrick to feel trust in me, to have an instinctive sense of our interactions as safe, to know that I won't let him fail because I'll be there to support him when he needs it.

And then one morning, I was reflecting on myself. I was thinking about that side of me that somehow questions whether people want me around, that side of myself that feels a pressing need to do things for people in order to be considered good enough, the side of myself that (despite these efforts) never feels like it can quite get there.

And it hit me. The missing piece here was...trust. Trusting in others. Trusting in myself. Trusting rather than having to prove myself. Trusting rather than constantly striving. So I took a few minutes and sat with that anxiety, picturing it as a ball of energy, holding it and accepting it, summoning whatever kindness and compassion I could and directing it there.

And, frankly, it took a few minutes before it began to relax, to melt away. And once it did so, I became aware of this almost palpable sense of relief, of opening up, of just letting life happen rather than trying to make it go one way or another. I experienced trust.

So I'm not sure if "trust" as a concept is what really changed things. Maybe the true power came in having that experience of holding that feeling, experiencing it relax, of experiencing trust. But still, the word "trust" has come to mean something different than it did before. It's a reminder of how I hope to approach things differently, a habit of mind that I hope to cultivate.

It's my word of power.

Much love and joy to you all, my friends.

Demand

2011-11-14T17:45:00.000-08:00

So recently we had an RDI autism consultant fly up to see us from Houston. It was an eye-opening experience in a number of ways. But I think what struck me the most was what she had to say about Patrick and demands.

When she brought the issue up, I wasn't sure at first quite exactly what she meant. So when I asked her about it, she commented on how Patrick is saying "no" to what we say, even before he has really thought about what we're asking of him or inviting him to do. This seems to be something that's really common for kids with autism, it turns out.

So, essentially, my efforts to get him to engage have been misplaced -- or perhaps have even backfired -- by causing him to associate my words with a sense that he's about to be forced to do something whether he wants to or not.

The recommendation she offered was to invite him nonverbally when I can. To talk a lot less. And to give him space and time when he's overwhelmed rather than compounding the situation by chasing after him and adding further demands to what he's already experiencing.

It also caused me to reflect on the "demands" of being a parent to child with autism. At least for me, the demands come from the intense feeling of incompetence when your child screams "no" and runs out of the room. It comes from wanting so desperately for him to grow and succeed, and feeling like you're failing and letting him down.

And yet...it is those very feelings that often cause me to chase after him when he runs, those very feelings that cause me to feel like giving up rather than patiently giving him space and re-engaging around a familiar activity.

And so, with a nod to Pema Chodron, I think it's time that I learn to become more familiar and comfortable with these feelings. To sit with them patiently and compassionately. Because in a development that really shouldn't surprise me given the field that I'm in, I'm learning from this that learning to help Patrick is, first, about learning to grow myself.

Peace to all of you.

unfriend

2011-03-07T15:14:00.000-08:00

I do believe I have been unfriended.

For those of you perhaps unfamiliar with the term, "unfriending" is a Facebook term. It's a command used when you have decided to drop someone from your "friend list."

I should clarify that I have not, I think, actually had someone drop me from their Facebook "friend" list. Or if someone should have had the good sense to do so, I have been sublimely ignorant of it.

No, I have been unfriended rather differently, it seems. The particulars of the situation relate to the divorce, and I should think it unseemly to go into the details. Suffice it to say that this person was better friends with my ex-wife than with me, and now no longer desires to be in my company.

I must say that, as someone trained from a very early age to be nice, to be careful, to avoid doing things that could provoke someone's anger...being unfriended is a bit emotionally jarring. My mind reels with thoughts that I had somehow done something wrong, and my heart stabs with a kind of panic at the thought.

And yet...I have done nothing more to this particular individual than to divorce their friend. And I tend to think that the divorce itself happened with some modicum of dignity and respect. So I am left to believe that this person's reaction to me has more to do with their loyalty to my ex-wife than to anything in particular I have done.

In an odd way, I almost admire loyalty like that.

But what strikes me most about this situation is that it represents an old and deep fear of mine, the idea of being rejected for no particular reason that I could control. And in facing this situation, in embracing my reactions, I find that there is some pain, some fear, some anger, some odd and lingering sense of dread.

And that is all.

Mind you, it is not a comfortable experience, and certainly not one I would recommend. But facing it, I realize that it actually holds little power. It is not so terrifying as I imagined it could be in the sixth or seventh grade, when such concerns plagued my young mind.

I can face this, open myself to it, accept it fully. I can be curious and accepting of the experience. And maybe doing that is a pathway to growth.

I am reminded of the lyrics by Ms. Alanis Morissette: "Thank you India/Thank you terror/Thank you disillusionment/Thank you frailty/Thank you consequence/Thank you, thank you, silence."

Peace to you, my friends. And also to my "unfriend."

An imperfect revelation

2011-02-08T18:06:00.000-08:00

People seem to have a peculiar need to see some things as perfect, as without flaw. There are those who treat the U.S. Constitution, for example, as if it were perfect (particularly the bit about the "second amendment"), neglecting that whole nasty piece about how African-Americans would be considered as less than a whole person. Similarly, there are those who desire to view scripture as inerrant, and who go to great lengths to assure us that obvious biblical discrepancies (e.g., about where exactly Jesus was born) are in fact entirely consistent with one another.

But why? Why are people so fervent in their insistence that such documents are without error?

My own personal belief about this is that believing that such documents are inerrant allows for someone to have a kind of dangerous certainty about their own beliefs. They can believe that they are on God's side, that they are on the side of the framer's of the Constitution, etc. They can believe that they are, in a word, right.

But rightness is dangerous; it leads us to believe that we are justified in putting down those who are "wrong." I daresay that the vast majority of atrocities in the history of our world have been accomplished by those who believed (even fervently believed) that they were right in doing so. Humility, even some degree of doubt, is less comfortable but far less dangerous. Or, better, we should value compassion more dearly than our need to be right.

But going back to revelation for a moment, it seems to me that revelation cannot be anything but imperfect. For one thing, if we view God as attempting to communicate Godself to us through revelation, then we have to see that God has a host of problems. For one thing, revelation has to be translated into words, which are limited and imperfect and prone to misunderstanding. Second, God has the limitation of having to communicate words through people, who we know impart their biases and political objectives into what they say (arguably despite...or even because of...the best of intentions). Third, God's revelation occurs in a historical context, in response to a particular set of problems and needs faced by the people of the time.

But what then does it mean to say that we follow an imperfect set of revelation? Is there something lost in the glory or majesty of religious belief? Or are we called upon to engage our religious texts more fully, to seek layers of depth and meaning in the texts? Do we not grow in some meaningful sense if we wrestle with difficult texts, understanding the context and limitations of the source material? Does it perhaps call on us to have some humility and perspective on our own sense of what is right and true?

Winter

2011-02-02T06:14:00.000-08:00

I have never been a big fan of winter. Perhaps in part this is because I have yet to get into winter sports like skiing or hockey or ice fishing. But for me, winter has been defined by what it lacks: warmth, leaves, the ability to do things outside like golf. And so, in some important sense, winter has always felt to me like a time of deprivation.

But my thinking on this has been challenged lately by two friends of mine. One was a conversation in which my friend revealed that winter is their favorite time of year, one that is not so "hot and buggy" as the summer, one that allows us to see the structure and texture of trees, suddenly revealed without the covering of leaves to obscure our vision.

Another friend wrote a lovely poem about winter on her blog here. And again was the theme of winter as revealing, opening up a reality we had blinded ourselves to seeing.

My mind, of course, immediately responded that the reality we're talking about here is rather cold and unpleasant. And I thought of some of the worst winter moments from my time in North Dakota, where the realities of winter confront you eight months out of the year it seems.

And, interestingly, I then thought about Buddhism and therapy. Because it seems to me that both have to do, in part, with our relationship to unpleasant experiences. Both mindfulness and therapy call upon us to open ourselves to experiences that are unpleasant, to relate to such experiences with more curiosity and acceptance and kindness, to mine such experiences for the wisdom they contain. And, perhaps, to see the beauty in them.

It seems to me that much of our fear in life is diminished when we are no longer uncomfortable with simply accepting the experiences of fear, anger, terror, or loneliness. Indeed, we have much to learn from them, much that can teach us about ourselves and open us up to the experiences of others.

Peace to you all in this time of winter.

Bonhoeffer and revelation

2011-01-01T19:05:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking lately of a story I heard at a conference. The presenter was talking about their work with a rather difficult adolescent, who tended to act out when dealing with adults (on the one hand) and associate with problematic peers (on the other hand). And the psychologist who was working with her brought up the notion of a "safety switch." Basically, the idea is that the safety switch has two basic positions: one position should tell us that the situation is safe so that we can be open and vulnerably; the other position should tell us that the situation is dangerous and we need to protect ourselves. His message to this adolescent was that she had a broken "safety switch" such that she couldn't trust those she should -- and didn't protect herself from those she couldn't trust.

I've been thinking about that story as I've listened to Eric Metaxas' book on Dietrich Bonhoeffer. It's a tale of a remarkable intellect who showed remarkable foresight and courage in confronting the evils of the Third Reich. Part of what struck me about the story was Bonhoeffer's early decision to stand up to the Nazi movement, while many of his peers still sought to maintain a friendly or open relationship with Hitler -- hoping, rather naively in retrospect, to convert him.

I think this story struck me in part because I tend to be a believer in openness. I find the notion of closing one's mind disconcerting, and the root of many evils. For instance, I find that the bigotry against homosexuals often has its root in a closed-minded interpretation of scripture -- or, at least, that people use such interpretations as a kind of justification for their own bigotry.

Which leads me to related point. Often in the biography, there is a discussion of scripture. Bonhoeffer seems to take scripture with utmost reverence, meditating upon it and seeking divine guidance from it. He exhorts his students and followers to follow scripture closely, and asks openly how they can take any other position than what they have -- given what scripture has to say.

In the context of his opposition to Hitler, such arguments are of course heroic. But it seems to me that throughout history we have had to question or de-emphasize certain passages or teachings from scripture. There are passages from Paul that have been used to justify slavery. And there are passages that are still used to justify bigotry against gays and lesbians.

So when Bonhoeffer argues vehemently that he could take no other position because by doing so he would go against the scriptural definition of Christianity itself...I am, on the one hand, awestruck by his courage and conviction...and, on the other hand, discouraged as I can hear those opposed to gay rights using the very same language.

Perhaps there are those who would seek to justify scripture, who would make a scriptural argument against these bigotries. I am hardly a scriptural scholar and cannot pretend to have vast expertise in this area. But it seems to me that the larger issue is that we simply cannot pretend that scripture is without error, without fault. We must face the fact that there is great wisdom in the scripture but also great potential for misuse. And that a text whose last words were written almost 2000 years ago cannot hope to provide definitive guidance to all current social issues.

The tricky question meandering its way through my mind has to do with the fundamental source of Bonhoeffer's opposition to the Nazi regime. Was he outraged by what he saw as the Third Reich's fundamental incompatibility with a church based in scripture? Or did his openness to the suffering of Jewish friends and colleagues guide his thinking? I believe it was likely both. Indeed, I think it a bit misleading to view him as a simple Biblical literalist. Bonhoeffer seemed to do something deeper and more complex than that. He seemed to feel that God was a reality in the world, a reality that could be accessed through scripture, through reading it as if God were speaking some message to us today. It was, I think, his way of opening himself to God.

But to return to the original question, the difficulty is figuring out when we must stand firm, recognize a threat and act against it. How do we know on the other hand when it is best to stay open, to offer friendship and conciliation to those with whom we disagree? I believe that there are those who would simply say that we must ask scripture. But if the scope of scripture has limits and errors (as I believe it does), then our task becomes much more complicated.

In a sense, the task then comes down to the question of whether we believe that God is a historical reality or a present one. For if we believe that God is a reality that speaks to us today, then we must seek to be open to God's revelation. Surely, that can come (and for many has come) through an openness to the messages of scripture. But if God is felt to be the source of all that it good, then surely revelation must also be possible through other avenues of goodness...through an examination of conscience, through compassion for the poor and marginalized, etc.

Naturally, all of this this is fraught with a kind of peril. One person may believe a position to be true; another may believe that God is against such a position. How do we decide? If we limit ourselves to letting scripture alone settle all disagreements, then we are forever bound by the limitations of scripture. If we allow for an openness to revelation from other sources, then we open ourselves to conflicts and disagreements over the true will of God, as we are left without any definitive source of proof.

I should add here that, in fact, I don't think the situation is quite so dire as my previous paragraph makes it sound. I think it is possible to identify larger themes of revelation from scriptural and other sources, to see God's will calling us to compassion, to social justice, to care for the poor, etc. I also believe God has continually challenged us to grow and expand in love, to challenge our prejudices, and not to rest too easily on our assumptions about the way the moral world should work.

Perhaps in the end, we must simply trust in our own (albeit limited) ability to sense God's revelation to our time. We must acknowledge our capacity for error in doing so, and thus do so with humility. (It seems to me that Bonhoeffer did so as he pushed for his view in moving forward with the Confessing Church, but struggled with how this was at odds with the views of other theologians he respected). But this quest to discover God's revelation fundamentally requires openness; an assumption of entirely correct thinking make us deaf. We must not assume that we have all the answers. We must listen so that we can hear what God is saying to us through the voices of our children, through the sufferings of the poor, through the misery of the oppressed, through the devastation of our planet.

At the same time, our very openness to our world should call upon us to take action when it is required. It should cause us to flip our moral "safety switch" and stand with conviction against that which is clearly wrong. In the face of great evil, we must not retreat into safety (which is, itself, a kind of closing) but stay open to God's call for us. In the end, I think this is what Bonhoeffer did.

Loneliness

2010-07-18T20:10:00.000-07:00

I was blessed this past week to have my very good friend and college roommate, Steve, drop by for a visit. His visits occur only infrequently, unfortunately, because he and his wife live in Arizona. Which is despite the fact that the climate there is basically inhospitable for human life. What with living in a desert and all.

I'm sure they'd say the same thing about midwestern winters.

But mostly what I find myself thinking about now is the experience of loneliness. This is perhaps in part because I've been alone most of this weekend. The boys are at Meg's place. So while I've had time to get things done, it has been...alone. I went to a movie by myself, golfed by myself, cleaned up the house by myself.

Of course, loneliness is only partially related to the actual presence of isolation. I remember a profound sense of loneliness growing up in a family of six children. I remember feeling alone in school surrounded by hundreds of children. I remember feeling alone in my marriage.

Mind you, isolation doesn't help any.

But part of what I find interesting about the experience is figuring out how much is fresh and how much is a kind of emotional echo. Because I think there's some of both. There is in loneliness a sense of missing companionship...but (at least for me) there is also a sense of having always been missing companionship, a sense of having always been an outsider, a sense of never quite fitting in.

This latter part of the feeling is not so much fresh as...known. And the very fact that this feeling is so familiar tells me that this part of the experience is not really about what's happening now. It's about a thought, a belief system, an emotional pattern that I carry around inside of my head. A pattern of neurons firing that is so well tread that it occurs at the slightest provocation.

It is tempting to see it as a kind of emotional enemy, something to be defeated and overcome. But my experience tells me that creating such a battle inside your soul is not the solution. My latest project for myself is to follow what Pema Chodron talks about -- to learn to relax into such experiences, to respond to them with openness and compassion rather than tension and resentment.

Because ultimately the loneliness that is truly about this moment is manageable and can be addressed. The loneliness from the past is a part of me; it cannot be destroyed, and a battle will only turn mind mind into a war zone. Such things can only be healed.

Peace to you, my friends.

the divorce mower

2010-04-05T14:19:00.000-07:00

Meg is moving to her new place on Saturday, a day in which I will be taking the boys to a birthday celebration with my side of the family at Chuck E. Cheese's.

Meg's announcement of her impending move led to some urgency in getting some things taken care of before she left, things in particular that I need the van to transport (Meg will be getting the van in the divorce). The thing of particular import today was a lawn mower.

Buying the mower itself was a fairly simple process for me. I have a place I like to go to for servicing needs, and they sell a reasonably good brand of mowers. So I borrowed the van, went to this repair place, and picked one up.

Lawn mowers, it turns out, are kinda expensive. But the lawn mower itself is kinda cool.

Which, I was thinking, is an oddly appropriate metaphor for my feelings about the divorce right now. It's a big financial hit, what with less income, taking on a greater share of the costs for the home, and having to buy all this stuff. But I am left with a living situation that is less conflictual, more full of hope. Cooler.

It is now officially my divorce mower.

Peace to all of you.

Divorce is...

2010-03-13T19:59:00.001-08:00

I was thinking recently that I might jump-start my effort to update my blog more frequently with a series of entries under the heading of "divorce is...."

I'm finding that, like most events of significance in life, divorce is many things, with layers and depths. It is grief. It is growth. It is imprisonment. It is liberation. It is fear. It is pain. It is hope.

It is, in short, a difficult journey...though perhaps not primarily so much one through the legal system, but through the heart, through the soul. Divorce has a tendency to expose and lay bare fears, angers, resentments, and bitterness. The least pleasant sides of yourself and of your partner are on full parade with an alarming frequency.

It is perilously easy to demonize, dangerously tempting to assume the worst in this kind of situation. And yet I have come to think that perhaps the greatest test of one's character is how you treat someone who is divorcing you. To do so with some sense of integrity, some sense of compassion, some sense of dignity and healthy boundaries...that, my friends, is growth. Painful, difficult, sometimes even excruciating...growth.

I can say with the utmost honesty that I fail that test at least as often as I pass it. But I hope and pray that I am getting better, that through this all I will have become more aware, more honest with myself, more compassionate.

My prayers for peace and love to all of you.

on divorce and worry

2010-01-19T20:45:00.000-08:00

I've been reading one of those books on the stages of grief as they relate to divorce. There is a lot of stuff in there that is true and helpful. Still, I can't help but find a bit laughable the notion that they can capture "stages" that describe what divorce is like for people.

Take me. At heart, I can be something of a worrier. And so, I find that the emotion most prevalent as I navigate this strange world of divorce is...(drum roll please)...worry.

My mind seems to have an almost endless creativity in finding things to worry about. I worry about whether I'm at fault for what happened. I worry about whether I'm being kind enough to Meg. I worry about whether I'm being kind enough to myself. I worry about how all of this is going to affect the kids. I worry about all manner of choices related to the divorce...from the bank I chose for refinancing the mortgage to my decision to stay in the home rather than move away. I worry about finding love again. I worry about whether my heart will heal enough to be open to it.

The worry itself, of course, really shouldn't surprise anyone. Worriers, when faced with stress...worry. It's as close to a psychological truism as they come.

Part of what I find intriguing about the worry, though, is that logic seems to have little power over it. I know that most of these worries are untrue or exaggerated. But knowing this logically has little power over worry. Indeed, worry seems to respond to this by worrying about why on earth I would have so many illogical worries.

No, worry seems to respond better to a kind of inner gentleness, to acceptance, to kindness. I pray that I might remember to bring that attitude to myself, to Meg, and to our boys in the days to come.

a holiday divorce

2009-12-20T07:51:00.000-08:00

My wife asked me for a divorce about a week before Thanksgiving.

From what I know of other divorces, ours has been relatively civil. We both remain dedicated to putting our children first. There haven't been any truly ugly conflicts.

Still, divorce is a kind of hell. It robs you of the ability to enjoy things. When things are going well and everything seems nice and normal, you look up at her face and remember that she's divorcing you and says she doesn't love you anymore. When things aren't going well, you question whether this is any better or worse than what you'll be facing when the divorce is over.

And, strangely, it feels a little bit like it has robbed me of the holidays. I feel little reason for joy at the moment.

I have heard many people talk about the holidays being the most difficult time of the year for them -- people who have lost loved ones or who struggle with depression, for just one example. And I guess I can understand that now, in a way that I haven't in the past.

I'm trying to work on facing this situation as fully and openly as I can -- to face the pain rather than resent it, as it were. But I'm finding that this isn't easy, and sometimes not possible. To some extent, the pain has to be contained in order to just get through the day sometimes.

Sorry for the rambling, folks. Thank you for all your prayers and support.

Changes

2009-11-15T08:07:00.000-08:00

Everything can change in a day, in a moment even.

There may be no change in location, in employment, in income. Things can go along day-by-day much as they always have.

Yet a single phrase, a single conversation can change seemingly everything. It can change how we see ourselves, how we see our relationships to others. It can change our sense of our future, our hopes, dreams, and plans.

A single phrase can bring pain or redemption. And perhaps sometimes both.

I am faced today with a difficult change in my life. I cannot go into details for now. But I would appreciate your prayers.

Veteran's Day

2009-11-11T08:18:00.000-08:00

Veteran's Day haunts me with stories.

When I had finished my second year of graduate school, I was looking for something to keep me gainfully employed...some type of work that would give me "clinical experience" for my resume. After some searching, I applied for a summer "traineeship" at a VA hospital, and was accepted.

Mind you, at this point I had had a total of maybe two therapy cases at the college clinic. And here I was suddenly dropped into a world of severe PTSD, alcohol dependence, and misery. I sat with people recounting memories of violence that were almost incomprehensible to me -- violence from their childhoods, violence they committed as soldiers, violence committed against them as soldiers, violence from their fellow soldiers.

As I look back on it now, it seems to me that so much of what I witnessed there had to do with the impact of such experiences, of the need to escape those memories by drinking, by blaming, by dissociation, by escape.

It left me with a complex set of feelings about military service. I am amazed beyond telling by the courage and sacrifice of those I got to know. I am horrified by what we as a nation asked of them, by the human impact of what we put them through. I am mindful that sometimes such sacrifices must perhaps be asked. I question whether our leaders would ask for such sacrifices so often if they grasped the enormity of the cost.

Regardless, I am thankful to the veterans I met that summer. For what they sacrificed. For what they taught me. For making almost every clinical experience I've had since then seem easy in comparison. For letting me witness their courage in the midst of such great suffering.

discouraged

2009-09-20T19:55:00.000-07:00

I have not posted here in some time, so I'm not sure if anyone is out there reading this. Still, I apologize for my absence. I have no excuse but to say that summer was busy, that with time it seems comes more responsibilities and distractions.

I am writing this evening because I am aware of a heavy sense of discouragement in myself.

You see, some time ago, my wife became upset with the Catholic church's teachings on women and decided to seek out a more progressive institution. She eventually found a relatively small ELCA church with a kindly pastor and decided that it was (from all we could tell) the most progressive church in town.

As most of you are most assuredly aware, the ELCA recently had a national meeting wherein matters relating to gay pastors serving openly were discussed. As I understand it, this national meeting passed a historic vote, allowing congregations to accept openly gay pastors if they chose to do so. I remember my wife and I cheering the news.

Now, mind you, I cannot say that I have been an active member of her church. I haven't formally left the Catholic church, and I haven't attended church of any kind regularly in some time now. Still, I felt a deep sense of discouragement when my wife attended a meeting of the congregation that ridiculed the ELCA's actions as unfaithful, that planned a likely separation from the ELCA, that threatened to withhold funds from the ELCA.

By my wife's report, there were about 50 people at that meeting and 47 spoke. All who spoke were in favor of denouncing the ELCA.

I guess my discouragement is in part that there simply is no church in our area that practices a faith I could find compelling.

But more of my discouragement comes from...look, I happen to personally know at least four of the people who were at the meeting (in addition to my wife). These are people that I like and respect. I am discouraged by their prejudice, by their fear, by their clinging to their fears and prejudice and pretending that it is the Word of God that tells them they must do so.

I am discouraged because at this moment, Christianity itself seems mostly to be about confirming pre-existing prejudices rather than confronting them. It seems to be about moving back the clock, about a search for certainty rather than an openness to Truth in all it's complexities and ambiguities. (And I know that this isn't true, or at least isn't what Christianity should be about at it's core.)

I am discouraged because at this moment humanity seems so small, petty, even vindictive.

I hope to wake up tomorrow and recognize my shared humanity with those I find so discouraging this evening. I hope to see how others may find me at times to be petty, small, or vindictive. I hope to grow in compassion through this exercise, to open my heart and to be less judgmental of them. I am aware that in some ways my feelings of judgment are perhaps an indication of my own flaws.

Still...tonight I find myself thinking of those I know who are gay, lesbian, or transgendered. I think of their stories, of the emotional damage done to them by churches, by society, by people (dare I even say people of good will?) who perpetuated beliefs that they were sinful for who they love.

I had been hoping that society was starting to move beyond such beliefs. Tonight, for this moment, I am discouraged.

Progress

2009-05-26T14:20:00.001-07:00

The other day, I heard my nine-year-old, autistic son wander into the bathroom. He struggles with things like remembering to wipe himself after he goes there, so after a few minutes I knocked on the door and asked if he needed any help.

Now, I was fully expecting one of two responses: 1. "yes" which would mean that he needed my help, or 2. "no" which could mean any number of things. But on this day, he responded "leave me alone!"

He's been doing much more of that in the past month or so -- sharing increasingly complex things about how he feels, what he thinks, what he notices. And I've been aware of how much joy this brings me, to feel like I finally have this window into my son's world.

There are many things of which I'm unsure these days...church, even God at times...but this ability to have a glance into my son's mind, to know the richness of life that such an ability opens up to him...this is a miracle to my mind.

I pray that I might never lose sight of it.

the 200

2009-04-28T20:48:00.000-07:00

My son Patrick ran in a race today.

My wife and I had been taking him to "track practices" for several weeks, actually. He'd line up for whatever event it was, engage in some type of cross between walking and jogging, and eventually cross the finish line. He seemed a bit bemused by it all, actually.

I should clarify that I wasn't personally able to make it to the big finale event tonight, so my report of the events is based on my wife's recollection.

Anyway, she decided to have him run in the 200 yard dash. And so he lined up, the race began, and by the time the other kids had crossed the finish line, he had gone about 10 yards.

From what I gather, he seemed in no particular hurry after this, and kept his typical pace in progressing down the track. Eventually some adult monitor of the race went out to meet him and encourage a slightly faster pace. The crowd cheered.

I must admit that I have mixed reactions to the event. I'm delighted that the crowd was so generous in its attitude towards my son. But I'm also pained by his struggles, by his delayed motor coordination, by the sense of aloneness and confusion he felt (or at least that I imagine him feeling).

It's a reminder, I suppose, that life will pose challenges to him that I can't fully prepare him for. It's a painful reminder of how far he lags behind his peers despite the progress we've seen in him.

In some ways, I guess, the race is symbolic of where he's at right now. Ten yards of progress when other kids his age have made 200.

Yet I have so much pride in him for those ten yards. What comes naturally to other children does not always come natural to Patrick. His gains are the product of concerted effort and challenge and struggle, not byproducts of just doing what comes naturally to him.

And so now when I think about those ten yards...and the other 190 he ran after all the other kids were resting, I like to consider this: he earned them.

A poem

2009-04-07T14:05:00.000-07:00

I ran across this poem by Dr. Mohja Kahf. I think it's stunning. And stunningly beautiful.

All Good

They see it as far-off,

but We see it as near.

Quran, The Ways of Ascent 70:6-7

Out in the blue infinitude

that reaches and touches us

sometimes, Hajar and Sarah

and Abraham work together

to dismantle the house of fear, brick

by back-breaking brick.

With a broom of their own weaving,

they sweep the last remains

away. They sit down for a meal

under the naked stars.

Ismaïl and Isaac come around shyly,

new and unlikely companions.

Hajar introduces them

to her second and third husbands

and a man from her pottery class

who is just a friend.

Hajar's twelve grandchildren

pick up Sarah's twelve at the airport.

The great-grandchildren appear,

set down their backpacks,

and tussle to put up the sleeping tents,

knowing there will be no more rams,

no more blood sacrifice.

Sorrows furrow every face.

This, in the firelight, no one denies.

No one tries to brush it all away

or rushes into glib forgiveness.

First, out of the woods, shadows emerge:

the dead of Deir Yassin,

killed by Zionist terror squads,

the Kiryat Menachim bus riders

killed by Palestinian suicide bomber.

They face each other, tense up.

Some of them still do not have gravestones.

The ghosts of Mahmoud Darwish

and Yehuda Amichai begin to teach them

how to pronounce each other's names

in Hebrew and Arabic. The poets

will have a long night. Meanwhile,

a Hamas sniper, a Mosad assassin fall

to their knees, rocking; each one cries,

"I was only defending my—my—"

Into the arms of each,

Hajar and Sarah place a wailing

orphaned infant. Slow moaning

fills the air: Atone, atone.

The grieving goes on for untold ages,

frenzied and rageful in the immature years,

slowly becoming penitent and wise.

When an orange grove is given back

to its rightful owner, the old family drama

finally loses its power, withers, dies. A telling time

for new stories begins. Housekeys

digging bloody stigmata into the palms

of Palestinians cast from their homes

turn into hammers and nails for the rebuilding.

Despite the abject pain

each person here has known, no family

that has not lost a child,

no one wishes they could change the past

because of which we have arrived

at this transforming time.

Hajar pours water that becomes

a subtle, sweet, and heretofore unheard of wine.

Sarah laughs again, more deeply.

Abraham is radiant. Everyone, this time

around, can recognize

in the eyes of every other,

the flickering light of the Divine.

In the very end, in the fourth,

unseen dimension that has been here

from the very beginning, unfolding

just outside the limits of our perception,

suffering, not in its rawest form,

but distilled in temperate hearts,

takes us to higher levels of cognition.

Hajar and Sarah, Ismaïl and Isaac, you and I

break out of the cycle,

Here, Now, to higher life,

and it is fine.

If They Can

2009-04-02T06:42:00.000-07:00

I'm reading Ross Greene's excellent new book "Lost at School." For any of you involved in parenting or dealing with kids, I'd very highly recommend it.

One of the things I find so interesting about the book is his discussion of prevailing theories of child behavior problems. Essentially, most current ideas are focused on the notion that kids act up because the misbehavior WORKS. So child behavior problems are thought of as manipulative, attention-seeking, etc. And the theories to change these behavior problems focus on making sure that the behavior doesn't work any longer -- so you take away attention during the tantrum, make sure you don't give in to the manipulation, etc.

Greene does a great job of pointing out how often that approach simply doesn't work and is often counter-productive. And then he puts forwards a different theory: kids do well when they can. In other words, most child behavior problems result from a skill deficiency. And when kids are faced with situations they lack the skill to handle, they become overwhelmed and fall back on the only thing they can think of. That might be a tantrum, shutting down, biting, etc.

One of the really interesting things to consider is the number and variety of approaches to disciplining children that never get around to actually teaching kids the skills or abilities they need to succeed. So we have "zero tolerance" policies that put kids into detention or suspension. We have written agreements that kids and parents sign, saying that the disruptive behavior won't occur again, etc.

We're so focused on notions of accountability, in other words, that we assume that it is the entire picture. We forget that our kids might be lacking some skill or ability they need in order to succeed. And amidst all these consequences, we risk ruining the relationship with the child that is needed to help them.

There is a surprising amount of resistance to the notion that "kids do well if they can." People complain that if we don't suspend a kid, we're sending a message to the other kids that it's OK if you do something destructive. But this is based on the strange assumption that these other kids are only behaving well because they fear the consequence of not doing so (rather than seeing that they're doing well because they CAN -- because they have all the skills necessary to behave well). It also neglects the issue of what message we send to these other kids by continuing to use a disciplinary strategy that is entirely ineffective in helping a child to succeed in the future.

But I suspect that an underlying resistance to this model comes from the intuitive leap people make. If this approach is really better for dealing with behavior problems in children, then what does it say about our approach to behavior problems in adults? What does it say about the adult correctional system?

in other news...

2009-03-23T18:53:00.000-07:00

So I've been aware of how many of my latest postings have been about the Pope or things I struggle with in the Catholic tradition. So for this post, I've decided to point my ire elsewhere, and what more commonly despised object could I find than a managed health care company?! (really, it's kinda like shooting fish in a barrel with these guys....)

You see, MBH is the company that manages mental health care services for clients covered by medicaid in Nebraska. As such, they manage services for many of the most severely mentally ill people in our state. So they made this decision recently that may sound technical, but that actually has a big impact on how services are provided.

You see, they've apparently decided that when psychiatric care is billed as "psychotherapy with medication management" (which is the most common billing code for psychiatric care), it is "overlapping" with standard psychotherapy codes by psychologists and counselors and the like. In other words, they won't pay for both.

Do they let providers know of this change ahead of time? No.

Do they give providers another way to get paid? Well...kind of. See, to still get paid, they're now asking the psychologist/counselor to contact the psychiatrist and inform them of this change. Then the psychiatrist has to weigh if they're willing to take a reduced fee for billing under another code (for "medication management" alone). If so, they can submit a request to MBH to change their authorizations to this "medication management" code. And if all of that happens, we psychologists/counselors can resubmit our application to MBH for the therapy codes that we had already been approved for.

So let's just think this one out, shall we?

1. If the psychiatrist refuses to change billing codes, the patient will lose access to their regular therapist. And since psychiatrists are notoriously difficult to get into (most people in our area have to wait a minimum of 60 days to get into one), patients are likely to have much less access to therapy.

2. This change essentially creates an economic conflict between psychiatry and other mental health service providers. Believe me, institutions that hire psychiatrists are concerned enough about paying their salaries that they feel great pressure to maximize every dollar they can bill for. So psychiatrists will likely feel a pressure to bill the more lucrative service code...but will have to weigh that against what is right for the patient.

3. Providers are likely to think a good long time before referring a client to a psychiatrist, given the financial downside to them for doing so.

4. The change speaks volumes about the unwritten "hierarchy" within the mental health system. If there is a supposed conflict, why should the psychiatric services continue to be authorized but not the therapy services? Who makes this choice?

5. Who makes the choice? Mindless, faceless, fracking bureaucrats who are so bent on saving money (and maximizing profits) that they couldn't care less about good patient care.

Argh!

This just in...

2009-03-17T09:52:00.000-07:00

OK, so the pope's new pronouncement, offered just today, is that condoms won't help Africa's AIDS crisis. Actually, this isn't new. They've been saying this for years.

The problem? It's just patently false.

This is one of those situations where ideology is trumped by stubborn little things called "facts." Like the facts from scientific studies that have been done showing the effectiveness of condoms in preventing the spread of AIDS. Like the studies showing that educating people about effective contraception doesn't increase the rate of sexual activity, it only increases the rate of SAFE sexual activity.

So I suppose if you put aside that condom use prevents infections, deaths, and the further destabilizing of families and societies...then, sure, I guess you can argue on ideological grounds that condom use won't help the AIDS crisis. But if this were any other issue...or, better, if some grounds other than religion were to be used to make the argument...people would be referring the pope for psychiatric care.

THIS. IS. CRAZY.

plenary indulgences?! WTF?!

2009-02-10T11:59:00.000-08:00

I will begin by noting that, as a good Battlestar Galactica fan, "WTF" here stands for "What the Frack?"

It would seem that the church of my upbringing is making an effort to make things easy on me as I struggle with whether to remain Catholic. They've brung back plenary indulgences, choosing rather oddly to highlight the traditional teaching of purgatory as a time of suffering needed to cleanse the soul before one is ready to enter into heaven.

[insert image of frustrated Catholic banging his head against a wall several times here]

Ow.

OK, so...plenary indulgences. Isn't this one of the teachings that led to great schisms within Christianity awhile back (or, at least, the practice of selling such)? Yep.

Doesn't the teaching implicitly suggest that God is a rather sadistic bastard who is so unforgiving and intolerant that people need to be "purified" through pain and agony before they can be welcomed into heaven? Yep.

Do I find the church's teaching that they could have any influence on such a process (were it to be true) rather arrogant? Why yes, yes I do.

And yet do I somehow just feel Catholic somehow, as if I'd be losing some part of my identity if I entirely left the church? Sigh. Yes.

OK, so my message to the Vatican right now is (to quote Bob Newhart from a memorable Mad TV scene): stop it. Thinking about encouraging the sacrament of reconciliation by bizarrely shedding light on an illogical, two-tiered system of forgiveness? Stop it. Thinking about letting avowed anti-semites back as bishops in a poor play to the ultra-conservatives that left the church because, say, we now say the mass in something other than Latin? Stop it. Thinking about encouraging plenary indulgences? Stop it.

Oh, and while I'm at it, I have another suggestion for the Catholic church. Stop using the word "modernity" so much. As in the phrase, "as we attempt to dialogue with modernity...." Instead, substitute the word "reality" or, if you prefer, use the phrase "modern reality." I think it clarifies things.

on pain and suffering

2009-02-03T17:34:00.000-08:00

I've been reading more of Pema Chodron lately, and I was intrigued by her discussion of the difference between pain and suffering. I guess I had always used the terms semi-synonymously, but in her definitions, pain is our immediate response to an unhappy event. If someone drops a hammer on our toe, we feel pain. If someone calls us an ugly name, we feel pain. But what is interesting about pain is that it feel fresh, new, immediate.

Many of us spend a lot of energy trying to retreat from pain in various ways. We withdraw into emotional and behavioral coccoons in a lot of unhealthy ways, out of an effort to feel some sort of comfort, and in so doing we create what she calls suffering. So if someone is so afraid of rejection that they keep to themselves all the time and feel lonely -- that loneliness would be a form of suffering. You get the idea. But what is interesting about suffering is that it always feels familiar. Like we've had that feeling before, or sometimes like it's always been there with us.

I was thinking about this today because I was contemplating getting older, and feeling this sense of loss about it. Lost opportunity, perhaps. But then I realized that the feeling itself was the same thing that I felt even back when I was younger. It hadn't changed, it had merely attached itself to this issue of aging. The feeling was part of my particular brand of suffering, I just hadn't realized it.

The solution, of course, is to lead a life where we are more fearless, more willing to experience pain rather than retreating into "comfort" and it's consequent suffering. I like that idea.

25 things...

2009-01-27T08:37:00.000-08:00

One of my oldest friends, Jonathan, has tagged me for this task on Facebook. Here are the rules:

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

So here are my 25 things:

1. I am a middle child, and it's frustrating to realize how much this says about me. Like the years I felt jealous and insecure for not being able to stand out in some way relative to my siblings. I am likely not the smartest child of our family (an honor I would probably give to my older brother John, though I would never publicly acknowledge that fact), certainly not the most artistic (my sister Theresa gets that one), nor the most athletic (which would easily go to my sister, Ann).

2. I tend to feel "just OK" at things. I'm OK as a writer. OK as a blogger. OK as a psychologist.

3. I'm aware that this feeling of being "just OK" is perhaps often more of an emotional echo of how I felt growing up (see #1, above) than a true assessment of my skills or abilities.

4. There's a strange kind of perfectionism that comes out of a need to be more than "just OK" at things. I have that, though you couldn't tell from the level of messiness in my car.

5. I think I have some level of raw talent as a speaker. Which led me to early success speech contests where we had to answer some question based on an analysis of the news (known as "extemporaneous speaking" or "extemp" for short).

6. My lack of preparation led me to have increasingly less success at extemp as my high school career proceeded. I strangely still carry some sense of shame about that.

7. I co-wrote and submitted a script for the television show "Star Trek: Voyager." I really enjoyed that creative process. The script was denied without comment.

8. I really enjoy golfing and probably put too much energy into trying to figure out how to fix my swing flaws and get better at that game.

9. In a lot of ways, I think I kinda stumbled onto my current career. It wasn't so much a calling as a class I kinda liked in college, and so I took some more classes and ended up as a psychologist.

10. That having been said, I think I (rather luckily) stumbled on a job that suits my abilities and interests pretty well.

11. I've come to think that something called experiential avoidance (e.g., a desire to not feel anxiety or pain) is at the root of much of mental illness and general human suffering.

12. I think that the Buddhists have actually been light-years ahead of Western psychology in understanding and addressing this fact.

13. I look back on my years of undergraduate education at St. John's as having been some of the best years of my life, largely because of the friends I met during that time.

14. I was probably even more neurotic then than I am now.

15. In some ways, I think that suffering can be a gift -- in that we can develop an experiential awareness of how hard life can be, how hard it is to overcome difficult habits, etc. It can be the basis of compassion. I thank Pema Chodron for that insight.

16. For right now, I'm reading much less Western psychology and much more Buddhist literature (from Pema Chodron and Thich Nhat Hanh). Strangely enough, I just find it much more relevant and helpful to the work that I do.

17. Likely as a consequence of this, I sometimes have clients wonder if I am a Buddhist (or am somehow trying to convert them to Buddhism). I tell them that I'm not a Buddhist so far as the religious aspects of Buddhism are concerned, but that I am a "student of Buddhism."

18. I'm really enjoying watchind DVD's of the historical miniseries "John Adams." Very good stuff.

19. I'm also really enjoying the album "Flight of the Concords" by the group Flight of the Concords. They're just so talented and funny.

20. I'm trying to get back into a better exercise routine.

21. In my frustration at myself for not exercising more regularly, I've asked my sister Ann to help hold me accountable for reaching my exercise goals.

22. I have two autistic sons, and am aware of feelings of guilt over whether I'm doing enough to help them.

23. My wife is far better at staying organized and on-task than I am.

24. We just found elevated levels of radon in our home. I'm calling around to get estimates on getting the "mitigation" done to fix that problem.

25. I never previously knew that the procedure for reducing radon levels in one's home is known as "remediation."

Peace be to all of you.

confession

2009-01-15T07:26:00.000-08:00

I happened to read a news story this morning about the Catholic church. Apparently, they worry that the sacrament of confession is becoming underused, and in their concern about it's central role in the salvation of souls, they've decided that the only logical thing is to remove the shroud of secrecy around a secret papal tribunal.

Oh, how mindful I am of the temptation to make a snarky remark here. But for now, let me just comment that this move somehow fails to make me feel more like participating in the sacrament of confession.

It's not the utter lack of logic involved in the move (this is supposed to make me more interested in confession just how exactly?!). It's also the bizarre logic involved in the tribunal itself. Apparently, this tribunal is used only for really serious sins that can't be handled by priests or bishops.

Like what, you ask? Genocide, maybe? Or mass murder? Nope. The Vatican apparently feels that these relatively minor sins can easily be handled by priests or bishops.

So what kind of sin is so serious that it can only be handled by a special papal tribunal? Well, the list of sins here involves things such as the desecration of the blessed sacrament (including, and I'm not making this up, if you were to be offered the eucharist and inexplicably spit it back out!). Other situations involve the unhappy circumstance of seeking the priesthood (or of becoming a deacon) if you've ever paid money for an abortion in the past.

Sigh. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to defend the intentional desecration of religious objects. But this policy just seems idiotic. What they're essentially saying is that Hitler could have sought absolution from his sins by a parish priest (it's only genocide, after all), while some rebellious teenager with a bad case of indigestion during mass would need a special papal tribunal to have his soul reach heaven.

But in the end, this irritation I'm experiencing probably says at least as much about me as it does about the church's policy itself. I hope to have the time to sit with this irritation today, to see what it has to teach me.

Peace to you all.

"difficult"

2009-01-07T11:20:00.000-08:00

I met with a difficult person today. I think that probably most people would think of this person as difficult. They show that kind of chronic, cranky irritability and tendency to blame everyone but themselves that most people find...well, difficult.

But today I am mindful of how my mind reacts to this person. I want to label them as "difficult," I want them to just be quiet and go away. I presume things (not entirely without reason), such as that they might use their irritability to get their way with people.

But what I struggle to do is to sit with this person, to be present to them. It's disquieting and uncomfortable, and I'd prefer to avoid that discomfort.

In some fundamental sense, really, the problem in this situation is not with this other person. It is my own desire to stay in an emotional place that I find comforting. It is in my reluctance to stay in a situation I find harsh, abrasive, uncomfortable.

So you see, in a way, this terribly difficult person is my teacher on this day. If I can do what I hope, if I can pull this off, I may have just been able to learn, to grow in love and understanding in ways that I had previously avoided.

God help me.

On 2008...

2008-12-31T19:46:00.000-08:00

Looking back is an interesting exercise. There's this assortment of memories that stand out for me from the past year. Like going to New Orleans for a Personality Assessment conference, walking down Bourbon Street, and thinking that I'll never listen to Sting's "There's a Moon Over Bourbon Street" quite the same way again. I remember the conferences I attended and learned so much from -- some of which was technical, but mostly about expanding compassion and humanness in this work that I do.

I remember golfing more this last year than I have in the past. I remember time spent on the driving range, time spent looking for advice on how to fix my swing flaws. I remember being good enough to routinely beat my older brother's scores when he came back from Japan for a few weeks -- and how empty that was, how just having that time together was far more meaningful.

I remember the growth and progress of my sons, moments of joy and frustration, progress and puzzlement. Mostly I remember the pride I feel in them and the love they inspire from me.

I remember the election, how my hopes soared and my interest peaked. I remember being glued to political coverage and the talk of the punditry. I remember following opinion polls and the trends of such polls. I remember my sadness at the loss of Tim Russert, who was one of my favorite TV personalities.

I remember moments in therapy -- moments of surprise and delight, moments of connection, moments of sadness.

I remember talks with friends, the joy of reconnecting with old friends on Facebook, and the wisdom I so often have the privilege of finding on the blogs I follow.

I remember reading Pema Chodron and listening to some of her audiotaped lectures. Such good stuff.

Peace be to all of you, and the best of wishes for a happy new year!

Seeing beyond...

2008-12-23T18:59:00.000-08:00

I've been reading this new Psychology book on "Metacognitive Therapy." It has some pretty interesting things to say about why we become depressed or anxious when we do, but that may be a post for another day. On this day, I've been considering what it has to say about feelings and reality. One of the things the author discusses is the need to get a sense of detachment from our feelings and thoughts -- to see past them, through them, or beyond them -- in order to get at the reality of what is happening. Or, put another way, to focus our attention externally rather than filtering our sense of reality through an inner "filter."

I say this in part because I have not been feeling particularly ready for Christmas this year. There's my struggle with church, with religion, for one thing. And there's also a sense of loss I have around that topic, particularly around Christmas.

But as I try to see beyond those reactions, I'm aware that my underlying faith is not diminished by the fact that I'm experiencing a struggle with my religious tradition. I'm aware that my experience of loss doesn't mean that this occasion is any less full of meaning, joy, or love. And that perhaps new insights or appreciation stem precisely from this type of struggle.

In any case, peace be with all of you this Holiday season.

A dream

2008-12-17T09:37:00.000-08:00

Mary visited me in my dreams last night. Yes, THAT Mary (hey, I was raised Catholic after all!).

Anyway, it seems that she wanted to clear something up about that whole "Silent Night" thing. Turns out, the night was not so silent.

"Jesus screamed his little head off" she informed me.

"Really?" I asked. "But he's, you know..."

"God?"

"Yeah, God."

"Well, how would you feel about the rather abrupt shift from being in heaven to living on earth?"

"Umm, well..."

"And how else was he supposed to let us know that he was uncomfortable? Or hungry? Or just wanted to be held?"

"Alright, alright, I get it," I demured. "But somehow it just doesn't seem so...holy...to think of the night that way."

Mary shook her head at me. "Your problem is that you too easily attribute holiness to feelings or images that are comforting. Didn't your boys cry when they were born?"

"All the time," I agreed.

"And did that make them, or make their births, any less holy?"

"Well, umm, no, I guess not."

"Their cries are opportunities for us to give them comfort, for relationship, for connection. They are as filled with holiness as any other moment, if you can just get past they distress they create in you."

"Yeah, alright, Mary" I offered. "But you gotta admit, 'Screaming Night, Holy Night' just doesn't have the same ring to it. It sounds like one of those bad horror movies that they put out on Christmas."

And Mary laughed.

Now?

2008-11-30T12:39:00.000-08:00

This past week, the Vatican decided to forgive John Lennon for remarks he made in the early days of Beetlemania -- remarks to the effect that the Beetles had become more popular than Jesus.

I find myself deeply tempted to rant. About how ridiculous it is that the Vatican took offense to something so insignificant to begin with. About the utter insanity of a religion supposedly based on love and forgiveness taking over 30 years to forgive a comment by a popular young musician. About how the Vatican might have better uses for it's indignation.

I suppose part of my reaction is that this is the kind of thing that drives me absolutely insane about religious belief sometimes: how elevating something to a religious belief somehow means that it should be exempt from critique or criticism. How questioning or criticism of religious belief turns some otherwise rational people into thin-skinned idiots making mountains out of molehills.

It seems to me that it is one thing to have an opinion of what is good, because if I have such an opinion and you question it I can change my mind, modify my opinion, change and grow. But elevating such an opinion into the will of God (as if such a thing were possible!) makes it into eternal truth, makes me condemn as heretic those who would disagree, prevents me from growing, learning, adapting.

All of this makes me wonder the extent to which this kind of reaction is due to a sense of threat to that which is highly valued. And so I try to imagine how I would react if someone were to make a kind of threat to something I value. For instance, I think of the hurt I felt when a young child at a daycare center heard that my son Patrick was coming that day and said "oh, no! Not Patrick! I hate Patrick!" To paraphrase Pema Chodron, that experience freed me of the notion that I have relatively little in the way of aggression in me.

Still, I do not elevate my belief in the value of my son into divine Truth. After some reflection, I can see how other kids would find Patrick's eccentricities strange or difficult. I am able to broaden my view of my son to see how other children might see him.

So I have a proposal: let's do away with doctrine. Let's have teachings, ideas, and beliefs -- but let's stop imbuing them with divine providence (even the implied divine providence of being official church doctrine). Let's focus instead on ensuring that any teaching, any belief, is ultimately in the service of promoting love, compassion, understanding. And let us explicitly state that we should hold no belief so strongly that it prevents us from showing love, compassion, or understanding.

Any thoughts?

Awards!

2008-11-22T14:55:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite blog authors, Katherine, of "Meaning and Authenticity" has been so kind as to give me the "Superior Scribbler Award." I am delighted and honored, of course -- in no small part because I find Katherine to be so profound, kind, and honest in her writings. Thank you for this recognition, Katherine. I'm honored and will do my best to start posting a bit more often.

Here are the rules as I understand them:

*Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.

*Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.

*Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to this Post, which explains The Award.

*Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!

*Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.

For my part, I choose to honor the following blogs:

Seeking to Build Bridges. Sarah's writings are honest, intelligent, and compelling, whether she's describing daily concerns, theological issues, or social concerns.

Magdalene's Musings. She has one of the first blogs that I discovered, and was one of my early inspirations for starting a blog myself. I admire the love for her children and congregation that come through in her writings. She is generous in sharing her sermons on her blog, and these never fail to make me think about the scriptures from a new perspective.

Faith in Community. Diane's writings are smart, charming, and insightful. And we both have connections to both South Dakota and Minnesota. I enjoy her writings in part because her blog is about having "faith in community" -- which is something I wish I could have more of.

Velveteen Rabbi. I once heard an episode of "This American Life" where David Sedaris commented on a performance by Sarah Vowell (who, coincidentally, is one of my favorite authors). His comment ("she must be stopped!") was described as the pinnacle of praise by one comedy writer to another. I can relate to Sedaris' sentiments when I read Rachel's blog. She writes so well, with such beauty and grace, that I sometimes feel as if I should just stop trying.

A Boyd's Eye View. This is a relatively recent find for me, a blog by one of my oldest friends and my debate partner during our Freshman year. It had been many years since we'd talked before we found each other on Facebook -- and from there I found his blog. It's cool to find that the humor, quirkiness, honesty, and intelligence I remember him for is still there.

Prop. 8

2008-11-18T07:18:00.001-08:00

Just so very well said. I particularly love his commentary on those using their religious views to support their vote in favor of Prop. 8.

on "politics," a post script

2008-11-07T11:17:00.000-08:00

After I wrote my "politics" post, I came across people commenting on some similar ideas. Interestingly, several discussed Lincoln's address to a nation much more divided than ours is currently. These words express what I think I was getting at far better than I could:

"With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan--to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations."

- From Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address

Oh, how our politics might be different, it seems to me, if we could proceed with "malice towards note; with charity for all...."

politics

2008-11-05T11:11:00.000-08:00

I heard an interesting exchange today on MSNBC's "Morning Joe." Joe Scarborough was talking about his sense of how insulting some commentators have been in describing Obama's victory. He pointed to comments such as that Obama's election was a victory of hope over fear, arguing that it is insulting to insinuate that right-wing conservatives vote as they do simply based on fear (vs. voting on heartfelt convictions, differences in worldview, etc.).

It was a humbling topic for me to think about, in large part because I've found myself agreeing with the commentators Joe was troubled by. I believe that the RNC and McCain's campaign was trying to scare the American electorate by pinning emotionally laden labels on now president-elect Obama. They called him "socialist." They made inferences about how he "worked closely" with Bill Ayers. They called him a "celebrity."

It is difficult for me to see these attacks as anything other than an attempt to spread fear, an attempt to play into people's prejudices.

And yet, Joe's point is something to consider. The fear that came out of the campaign must stem from their sense of threat to something they consider dear -- be it conservative values, a candidate they trust and admire, or a hawkish foriegn policy that they feel protects our country.

It feels odd to consider that the policies and worldview I espouse could be considered a threat to anyone. And yet my acceptance of things like gay marriage, my very refusal to condemn such arrangements, feels threatening to people who wish for a society that defines marriage more narrowly. I do not have to be, feel, or act angry in order for them to feel threatened by my point of view. Perhaps I would be considered all the more threatening by staying calm.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not questioning my positions. I hold them proudly. But I think the larger point I'm pondering is one of how we relate to those with whom we disagree. If those of us who consider ourselves Obama supporters seek to follow his call for unity, then perhaps we must take extra care in how we express our joy at this election. Perhaps we must take particular care to assert our perspectives without gloating or shaming or assuming negative motivations in those with whom we disagree.

Peace to you all.

jammin'

2008-10-13T19:07:00.000-07:00

So one of the decisions my wife and I made last year was to spend more time with Patrick working on his autism. Our approach to doing so was to send him to school for half days (where they focus on the major academic subjects), and we take him in the afternoons.

As it works with my schedule, I pick him up right around 1:00, and today that happened to be my lunch hour. So I took him with me to the local Dairy Queen, where I ordered a cheesburger, and he ordered a dish of vanilla ice cream.

But what was remarkable about the occasion today was that we were sitting there, eating, and I begin to notice Patrick moving his head. Which didn't really seem very significant to me. I mean, autism spectrum kids will do these weird movements sometimes, right? But then I noticed that the movement was, well, rhythmic. In fact, it was timed to the song on the radio .

Pleased with what I saw, I started moving my head with him, smiling my satisfaction. And to my great surprise, Patrick puts his hands up in the air, moving them back and forth (at one point he even modified this to include a kind of finger pointing thing). He smiled back at me and laughed as we did our little dance together.

I'm not sure just quite what the good patrons of our local Dairy Queen thought of this exchange. But as my son stood up out of his chair and went into full dance mode, I responded in kind without even thinking about it. Patrick would add in these little variations to his dance, and would respond with laughter and understanding when I added in some of my own.

It was this wondrous moment of movement, of coordination, of relationship, of joy. I'm so happy to have had that moment with him.

2008-10-10T18:31:00.000-07:00

I'm struck by the level of hatred I'm hearing about at McCain rallies. There are truly outrageous things being said by people in the crowd (e.g., calling Obama a "traitor," calling for Obama's head, etc.), and it really seems like the tone of those rallies is frightening.

Which is why I have to give credit where credit is due to McCain -- who today told the crowd that Obama is a good and decent American, that they would have nothing to fear from an Obama presidency.

I think it's arguable that the only decent thing McCain could do in response to these kind of comments was also the most politically risky -- to confront his supporters, to stand up for Obama's basic decency. His willingness to do so reminds me of what I have always admired about him.

Don't get me wrong, I'm an Obama supporter. But in a political system that seems to drift towards the demonization of our opponents, I think it's important to take notice when somebody bucks that trend.

Well done, Senator McCain. Thank you.

an observation...

2008-10-09T08:54:00.000-07:00

The negative smears by the McCain/Palin campaign are essentially arguing guilt by association -- Obama has "associated with" Rev. Wright, knows Mr. Ayers, so therefore he must approve of their beliefs and actions.

But when someone at a Palin rally calls for Senator Obama's head? We're told that they're just loonies.

Look, I'm not arguing here that Palin or McCain are responsible for the conduct of everyone at their rallies. I just think it's equally as silly to hold Obama responsible for the beliefs or conduct of everyone he's ever had an association with.

Frankly, this tactic smacks of desperation. It's beneath the honor of someone with McCain's distinguished background, and I think he knows it. I think that's why he's so grumpy lately.

on my radar

2008-10-08T06:31:00.000-07:00

I was reading an article about family therapy recently, and the author was talking about the level of noise that can occur in unhappy families. The idea is that there can be so much commotion, so much noise that important messages are lost, are no longer heard. So to be effective, a therapist sometimes has to up the ante -- has to give a message enough emotional "oomph" to make sure that it is heard. The example the author gave was of showing a family that scene of the traumatized horse from "The Horse Whisperer" (where they bind its legs while talking soothingly to it) in order to make a point about setting limits while communicating safety and caring.

But what struck me about that notion today is how things can fail to get our notice, fail to arise compassion in us. I think about Jacob's struggles at school (that I posted about earlier) as one example of this -- how it took him lying down on the garage floor before my compassion finally kicked in.

I suppose this is, to some degree, necessary. It's like how the biblical teaching to "love thy neighbor as thyself" can't be taken too literally because it would be all consuming and ultimately counter-productive. We need to insulate ourselves to some degree, to filter, to prioritize. I suppose it could be said that all of this makes some degree of "noise."

But I think it is also true that (to use another biblical metaphor) our hearts can be hardened if we are not careful. We can become so preoccupied with our own concerns, worries, and cares that the proverbial noise turns into a kind of cacophony that very little can penetrate. Or we could think of it as a kind of emotional armor that keeps virtually any touch from getting through.

It is better, it seems to me, to strive for a softened heart. Better to face pain, to be open to it, to face it and respond lovingly to it. Better to let our difficult emotions wake us up, soften our hearts, awaken our capacity for compassion, for love.

Thoughts...

2008-09-30T15:58:00.000-07:00

I saw an interesting movie recently. I believe the title was "Cashback." It's about an art student struggling with a kind of depression after breaking up with his girlfriend. The premise of the movie is that he finds in the midst of his depression that he is able to stop time. And by doing so he discovers that love, that beauty, often is in hiding -- that we have to stop and notice it or else be swept along by the nonstop current of life. I enjoyed it.

Recently my six year old son, Jacob, started complaining about school. I really didn't think too much about it, figuring that he was just getting used to the idea of working for so long. Then a day or so ago, he lied down on the garage floor before school, crying and complaining about how he dislikes all the time they spend on reading exercises.

This caught me off guard. The reports from his teacher have been fine. He seems to be making good progress academically, and they haven't noticed him being particularly stressed out at school. Part of me wonders if it is a struggle with sustained attention -- staying focused on something for that long? Or maybe he doesn't feel confident in it yet, and dislikes the feeling of struggle (even though his progress is OK)? Maybe he is miserable at school but suffering in silence?

These thoughts weighed heavily on me all day, and I spoke to his teacher about them. She seems as concerned and puzzled as I feel.

But regardless, I was struck by how easily I disregarded his earlier reactions, how I only took it seriously after he had the day where he cried in the garage. It makes me feel a bit guilty, a bit ashamed.

But my hope is that this incident will be a reminder -- a kind of encouragement to myself to be more open, more present, more centered.

Peace to you all.

on disdain

2008-09-26T12:23:00.000-07:00

I had a fascinating conversation with someone about disdain the other day. It had to do with why we sometimes cling so tightly to this emotion, this habit. Basically, we discussed how disdain allows us to maintain a sense of superiority (or at least of not being something that we dislike), but at the same time sets us up for a kind of self-loathing. Since there is almost always some part of ourselves that recognizes, understands, or contains what we dislike -- we are setting ourselves up to harshly condemn that part of ourselves, to set up a kind of war on ourselves.

Some people resist giving up their disdain because they equate doing so with acceptance, with agreement. But learning to have compassion for those who, say, have prejudices, doesn't mean that we must become prejudiced ourselves. It merely means that we can understand the fear and false assumptions that underlie prejudice -- that we can appreciate how toxic and difficult these can be because we have experienced them ourselves.

In other words, getting rid of disdain involves an acceptance of our shared humanity. It means joining with, being a part of, the human race. It means working to create change through dialogue, understanding, and peace -- rather than through rejection, hostility, or anger.

political musings...

2008-09-12T21:38:00.000-07:00

I have to admit, I'm a bit surprised that Palin is getting as positive a reaction as she has so far. A brief review of the concerns:

1. She advocates teaching creationism in public school science classes.

2. She clearly wasn't even aware of what the "Bush doctrine" is! (Which is only a minor thing, really, given that it's been the basis of our foreign policy for the past seven years. Yeesh.)

3. She actually expects people to believe that her decision to fire the local librarian when she was mayor wasn't related to a desire to censor books she finds objectionable -- despite the fact that her decision to fire the librarian came within days of a talk they had where she specifically brought up the issue.

4. She has repeated blatant lies (even after profoundly shown to be lies by all media outlets) about her so-called rejection of the "Bridge to Nowhere."

5. She accepted some of the most extravagant earmarks for the state of Alaska, yet has promoted herself as being "a reformer."

6. She has denigrated those involved in community organizing.

I could go on. But it seems to me that what we're dealing with is a reasonably photogenic individual who is clearly from the far right wing of the Republican party. Somebody with little knowledge of (or experience with) policy issues on an international level (or even of issues transcending those of the State of Alaska). And someone who calculatingly heaps praises on Hilary Clinton, but who would be among Hilary's harshest critics if Hilary were to be the current Democratic nominee.

This is not change. This is precisely the kind of campaign put forward for Bush in 2000.

We all know how that turned out.

birthday

2008-09-09T16:10:00.000-07:00

On this, the 39th anniversary of my entry into this world:

I took the day off from work.

I golfed 18 holes at a very difficult course about 30 minutes from here.

I had my "Phil Mickelson" moment: three separate attempts to chip the ball onto the green, with each one rolling back to within three feet of where I stood.

I went to an IEP meeting for my younger son, focused on how to help him stay focused at school.

I ate a yummy dinner.

I got to enjoy having my boys blow out candles on the cake with me. Three times!

I thought often of my own father, thinking his reactions were probably much like my own when he had his birthdays.

I was aware that the true joy of the day was not the golf, not the day off, not the cake, not the present -- but the simple joy in my sons' eyes as they wished me happy birthday.

My 6 year old son, budding existentialist?

2008-09-02T13:55:00.000-07:00

So a day or so ago, I walked into a room, and my six year old looked a little tense. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Dad," he replied, "I'm not for sure I know who I am."

I paused, briefly, trying to make some sense out of his question. Then I just figured I'd respond directly.

"Well, I do!" I told him. "You're Jacob. You're my son."

He looked up at me, seeming relieved. Then he started talking about Power Rangers.

church thoughts

2008-08-12T07:14:00.000-07:00

It's interesting. I'm finding myself more aware of a certain belief or perspective about church/religion/philosophy that I have -- namely, that their entire purpose should be to enhance love, joy, peace, compassion, and justice. I think this is largely why issues of doctrinal correctness drive me batty. If one side or the other has no impact on these matters (or if it comes down to a matter of personal preference), then the issue is moot, even silly.

So here's the thing, as far as attending a church goes, I can see some value to practicing in a community whose goal it is to similarly grow in love, etc. But I am concerned that this is not always the case, that some (many?) see church more as a pathway to heaven, as reaffirmation of doctrines (or prejudices), of proof that they're "right."

I'm not trying to argue that my reaction is correct, but merely to state what my reaction is and to explore it a little. I'm struck initially that my reaction might be a bit harsh, a bit judgmental. Surely, people are searching out goodness while they attend church. They may believe that being "right" or holding correct doctrine is part of that path.

Second, what of my compassion for them? Am I so weary of my church journey that I fail to see their pain, their struggles, their aspirations?

I think part of what this boils down to is that I have become more comfortable seeking for spiritual growth on my own. And that has value, I think, but also cost. It allows me to focus on areas that are most meaningful to me, but prevents more of a sense of connection, of togetherness. It shields me from being confronted, challenged. To the extent that my own reactions (described above) ultimately call for me to grow in understanding and compassion, I am prevented from such growth.

And yet...I do not trust this thing I have called "togetherness." I will have to meditate further on that.

Peace to you.

Seven Facts Meme

2008-07-23T06:27:00.000-07:00

The author of one of my favorite blogs, Katherine, has tagged me for this meme. Here are the rules:

a. List these rules on your blog.
b. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog.

1. When I moved to Nebraska with my wife, I wasn't really that big of a college football fan. I enjoy football, sure, but mostly followed the NFL. So when I came here and was asked who "my team" was, I really didn't have an answer. My father always used to root for Notre Dame, so I threw this out as a reply after some hesitation. Never did I realize that this would brand me as a heretic in this state of "the Big Red."

2. I have a hunch that many Nebraskans secretly feel that Bo Pellini (the new Nebraska football coach) is the next coming of Jesus...or Tom Osborne. And they're probably ambivalent about which option they'd prefer.

3. "Managed care" is actually the corporate front for the coming of the antichrist. Don't ask how I know....

4. I minored in theology as an undergraduate.

5. My favorite religious writer/theologian is Abraham Joshua Heschel. I was profoundly moved by his book "God in Search of Man."

6. I have myself on a "behavior modification plan." If I go without eating fast food, I put that money into savings towards a new set of irons (for golf).

7. My wife and I are looking into having a new deck built, mostly out of fear that our current deck is contributing to high levels of arsenic in our boys' systems. Ooh, and I'd love to get one of those new water heaters that only heats the water when you need it (rather than keeping a big 'ol pot of water hot all day).

religion, shenpa, vanity, etc.

2008-07-22T19:31:00.001-07:00

There is a saying that you should always meditate on what causes you frustration. I've been aware of experiencing frustration when I think about participating more actively in a religion lately, and tonight I had an opportunity just sit with that feeling. I think that what came up is perhaps instructive.

My first image was of sitting down at a local Catholic church, having this new priest that I didn't know preach on how homosexuality is sinful. Reading selected Bible verses as if these were proof that my revulsion to what he was saying was going against God's will.

What's interesting to me about the image is that it assumes a particular kind of relationship to God, to the priest (in this case), and even to scripture. A hierarchical relationship, one filled with judgment, of strictly defined rights and wrongs, even a kind of coercion.

Jeez, no wonder I've been reluctant to get into this church thing.

What interests me, then, is the issue of authority. Participation in a church community simply won't work for me if it is about being told what to think, about simplistic discussions of right and wrong. I much prefer a model that strikes me as characterizing modern Judaism: of valuing scripture but struggling with it, even struggling against it. Give me a church that values doubt, values dialogue, values discussion. Give me a church that challenges the mind and soul, but is willing and eager to be challenged in return -- that sees discussion as a path to greater truth rather than as a threat to established truths.

Give me a church that is open to change. Give me a church that values compassion more than doctrine.

Hmm...that's an awful lot of standards, of "give me's."

I think it important to balance this with a recognition that I am looking to enter a human institution, one that will be imperfect, that will fail, that will disappoint. Such things are inevitable, perhaps even necessary...for in facing these disappointments, we learn about ourselves, we can grow in compassion.

Lord, help me to find a church that is human, an imperfect church that strives to follow You more closely, that challenges me, that humbles me. May I learn to grow closer to You through this church, both through it's wisdom and through it's struggles. May I learn from my struggles with my church to grow in peace, in love, in compassion for others. Amen.

Why believe?

2008-07-20T20:34:00.000-07:00

I wanted to begin this particular blog post by stressing that this is not intended as an attack on religion or on religious belief. Rather, it is a reflection of my current struggle with religion, the effects of religion, and the purpose of religion. At it's root, my reflections today stem from the fact that I found myself musing on the question of "what's the point?" [of religious belief] and didn't have a very satisfactory answer.

So here I hope to express my thoughts, my struggles. I hope for feedback, for insights, for the wisdom of those who do me the honor of reading my humble blog.

It occurs to me that there are those who would say that they believe in religion (in whatever form) simply because it is, in their mind, true. Sadly, though, I find this to be an empty response. The truth of a divine Being is ultimately unknowable, transcendent, goes beyond human ideas and concepts. And even if such an idea is accepted (that a religious belief contains truth, albeit limited), then what? To what point do we hold onto this truth? Sadly, I see many downfalls of those who insist that they know "the truth." What's more, I am moved much more profoundly by those who would hold their sense of what is true in humility, who would be much more concerned with compassion and openness and love than in the attainment of "truth." So while the discovery of answers, of "truth" may be meaningful for others, it simply doesn't speak to my heart.

Neither, I should say, does the argument that through belief or faith we attain eternal life. I have a very difficult time believing in a God who would grant entry into heaven based on a kind of theological ACT test. And the notion that belief or faith is primarily about attaining eternal life seems...somehow empty, really. Almost selfish. Again, without intending any offense, I can't find myself basing a decision such as whether to believe based on some idea of what it takes to gain entry into heaven. It simply doesn't speak to me.

Third, there is the argument of transformation. This one is the one that most intrigues me. To my understanding, the argument is that faith is a transformative journey, one that causes us to grow in love, hope, joy. Faith (or perhaps developing a relationship with God) should cause us to grow, to become more like Christ, in the Christian tradition. Here at last is a reason that speaks to my heart.

But still I am filled with doubt, at least insofar as the issue of the role of faith is concerned. It is possible, it seems to me, to grow in love and hope and joy without a particular religious belief system. Many religious belief systems may suffice for this purpose, as could no religious belief system. One can grow in love through an openness to friendship, to life, to experience. I suppose it can be argued that it some vital sense such openness is an experiential relationship with the divine -- but, if so, then why add religious belief structures to it? What additional benefit is gained?

Finally, and I say this with some degree of doubt and even shame, I personally have never had a direct experience of connection with God through prayer, reading scripture, etc. I have had powerful experiences of love and compassion through fellow human beings, and have written about this in the past. But one needn't add another, religious layer of explanation to understand why these were transformative and meaningful to me. And I have tried various forms of prayer: listening, meditative, etc. My experience has been one of silence, and usually I have viewed this as having not been good at it. Now, however, I am left to wonder if there simply isn't a God, or if such a Being has little interest in communicating with me.

So I am left with this question: why believe? If it is not a search for truth, if it is not meaningful to see it as a quest for heaven, if personal transformation is possible without it, if prayer has typically seemed empty....why believe?

Peace to all of you who have been good enough to put up with my ramblings this evening. I covet your thoughts, your experiences, your insights, your prayers.

Growth

2008-07-08T09:47:00.000-07:00

In the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, they have a name for that feeling of seizing up, of tightening, when we begin to react to something. They call is shenpa (I'm not sure if I'm spelling it right). It's that moment before thought, before even emotion, when we find ourselves reacting, getting stuck in something.

An example: while driving to a meeting yesterday, I pulled up behind a truck with a very unkind bumper sticker on it. I will not spread the harsh words it used, but essentially it was very demeaning towards women.

And there it was. Shenpa. I found myself thinking all manner of unkind things about the owner of that truck, making all manner of assumptions about his motives, his relationships, the likelihood of his acting in an abusive way to his wife or girlfriend.

And I think that, probably, there is some measure of truth in my assumptions about the guy. But the wisdom of the Buddhists here is that I must be careful not to become hooked, to be drawn into these reactions in ways that blind us from compassion, from awareness, from who we are.

I must admit I have similar shenpa reactions when I hear political ads that demonize undocumented immigrants, when I hear people degrade those of differing sexual orientations, even when I begin to think about the scare tactics used by the RNC in political campaigns.

The thing is, I believe that most of these groups (the reactionary ones, in particular) are simply reacting to their own shenpa -- their own fear, disgust, loathing. In so doing, I believe they are blinded. But if I fail to question myself, to find some way of lessening the shenpa's hold on me, then I am in some ways no different than they are. Perhaps my biases are more palatable to me, but they remain obstacles to compassion, love, growth, insight. They inhibit me from interacting with them in ways that promote true dialogue and understanding.

"Start Where You Are"

2008-05-29T06:40:00.000-07:00

I've just started reading Pema Chodron's book, "Start Where You Are: A Guide to Compassionate Living." She has some interesting things to say about how we approach our experiences, both good and bad. For starters, she writes that "we already have everything that we need. There is no need for self-improvement.... From this perspective we don't need to change: you can feel as wretched as you like, and you're still a good candidate for enlightenment. You can feel like the world's most hopeless basket case, but that feeling is your wealth, not something to be thrown out or improved upon."

The approach she describes is one of staying mindfully present in the moment, of fearlessly staying present with our pain rather than avoiding it, and even of moving towards our pain -- because by approaching our pain in this way we can allow our pain to "awaken your heart and let it soften you."

Profound stuff. And radically different from a western world that tends to avoid pain at all costs.

troubling...

2008-05-20T14:04:00.000-07:00

OK, so I just read this article, which I find troubling on a number of levels.

1. The entire notion of having to "hide" those with autism or other disabilities is troubling.

2. The apparent belief of the child's mother that her son has autism and nothing can be done about his behavior is troubling.

3. The idea that a church would file a restraining order against a child is troubling.

4. The mother's apparent refusal to find some sort of mutually acceptable way to worship is troubling.

5. The mother's disregard for the rights of fellow parishioners is troubling.

6. The idea that this is being turned into a battle, with simplistic labels thrown on people is troubling.

7. The way that autism can ravage a young life is troubling.

Peace to you all, my friends.

on the radio

2008-05-03T21:43:00.000-07:00

Saw the movie "Iron Man" tonight. Really enjoyed it, actually. I was impressed with how it had a kind of emotional depth -- and wasn't afraid to discuss complex ethical issues -- while still being a good action movie that doesn't take itself too seriously.

Anyway, on the way home, I was scanning through radio stations and happened to hear a snippet of a Catholic radio program. This one involved church doctrine on those who disagree with some church teachings (like capital punishment) may still receive communion, while those who disagree with other church teachings (such as on abortion or euthanasia) are prohibited from doing so. The argument (put forward by then Cardinal Ratzinger, now Pope Benedict) is that different moral issues carry different moral weights -- and that those with more serious moral weight must be treated more seriously.

Of course, this puts the church into a precarious position, both politically and morally. The assumption here is that the church has some great moral clarity that allows it to speak authoritatively about which moral issues are of greater significance than others -- as if they alone hold some sort of metric, some way of assigning comparable values to moral issues.

Such arrogance. Such condescension. And so deeply misplaced. They create conflict and estrangement at the very time that the church needs to create a positive identity for itself. Sigh.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that the church should not sometimes speak with conviction and clarity on matters of moral importance. But turning away from communion those members who hold principled disagreement on serious issues? That seems to me to run contrary to the essential meaning of communion -- of acceptance of our part in the body of Christ, of accepting our differences and seeing past them to a greater unity.

I'm afraid my church will continue to decline in numbers and significance so long as it places more value on speaking from a presumed authority than it does in speaking from compassion. I pray that it (that we, as church) may be awakened to this insight.

weakness

2008-05-01T18:21:00.000-07:00

I came home from lunch today and got to spend some mostly pleasant time with my kids because they had the day off from school (one of those "nobody really knows why we don't have school today" kind of days off from school). Anyway, I was having some sort of discussion with my son Jacob -- it may have even been a discussion where he was disagreeing or arguing with me. And at one point, Patrick gets frustrated, reaches over, and bites Jacob on the back.

This has been something of a recurrent struggle for Patrick. His autism leads him to have an oversensitivity to sound, and he seems to react to overly loud noises with either aggression or shutting down. Today, as you already know, he chose aggression.

My initial reaction was one of shock, and then of anger. Jacob had done nothing, really, and he didn't deserve to be attacked by his brother like that. So I yelled at Patrick "stop! You may NOT bite your brother!" And Patrick clamped on to Jacob's back for another minute or so before looking at me and I took him to his room for time-out.

A bit later, I worked on trying to induce some guilt in Patrick by showing him the bite marks he left on Jacob's back, and my wife and I talked to him about what he could have done differently.

Still, I find myself feeling a strong bit of guilt. Here's a kid who dislikes noise and I raised my voice pretty loud. I reacted out of anger when it would have been better if I had kept my cool. I reacted to my son's weakness by showing some of my own.

OK, I know this is hardly child abuse. And perhaps I'm being a bit hard on myself. Still, my hope is to model calm, reasoned problem solving in response to stress. Today, I'm afraid I fell short.

short game troubles

2008-04-30T19:51:00.000-07:00

Second week of golf league tonight. Strangely, it was another night of high winds (like 20-30 mph). I scored a 54. Not too bad, though I could easily have golfed better. My short game wasn't quite where it was last week. Still, I generally hit the ball pretty straight. I can't really complain about that.

Oh, and I met the guy who is going to be my regular golf partner for golf league. He's about 20 years older than me, I'd guess. He's a pretty good golfer and a nice guy who swears like a sailor when he doesn't hit the shot he wanted. Oh, and he has his own golf cart, so I won't have to worry about renting one each week (thank goodness! They cost like $15 each time). Should be a good time, and hopefully I'll golf better.

unexpected places

2008-04-28T10:37:00.000-07:00

Appointments to come see me professionally are sometimes occasions that people approach reluctantly, even fearfully. There are those sent to me because their children have been taken from their custody -- or because they're an adolescent whose behaviors have escalated to the point that they've been taken from their homes and put into state custody. And even some of those who come in voluntarily often have a bit of trepidation, I find -- a kind of fear of being exposed, rejected, blamed, or of being found deficient.

I've been thinking of this because several good blogs that I read have been reminding me lately that God is to be found in unexpected places -- among the poor, among the needy, among the disfavored. And I've been struck by this because it challenges me to find God amidst the often terrible chaos and dysfunction I work with -- but also because I think there is a challenge here to make grace present to people in their "unexpected places."

I am sometimes obligated to tell people that I do not believe they're ready to have their children return to their custody. I am sometimes obligated to inform people that they suffer from a mental illness that will likely impact them for the rest of their lives. I am sometimes obligated to give feedback that utterly contradicts the way they see themselves and their world.

And my challenge, it seems, is to find some sort of grace for them amidst these situations -- to join them in examining the darkest and most painful areas of their lives, and to leave them with some greater sense of being understood, of compassion, or insight on something that has always puzzled them.

Anyway, mostly I wanted to send this out as a way of saying thank you to my friends and fellow bloggers who've gotten me thinking about all this -- more cows, diane, katherine, mags, gannet girl. Thank you.

golf and parenthood

2008-04-26T14:52:00.000-07:00

This morning I took Jacob to the little golf course we joined. Mind you, he's five (well, almost six). So the time went something like this: we arrived, Jacob complained for 20 minutes about how we couldn't have a golf cart (the course refused to let us rent one because there was still patches of snow on the ground and they didn't want one getting stuck). So we spent 20 minutes processing, cajoling, soothing, and decision-making -- and at the end of this, he decided that walking (though greatly frustrating and to be avoided) was still preferable to the heinous evil called "going home."

So we walked three holes of golf. I played the holes, Jacob put his ball on the ground at times and made funny looking lunging motions at it with his little golf club. Jacob (who is up on the rules of golf after playing hours of golf on our Wii) gave me periodic reminders (e.g., that HIS ball was further from the hole and that by divine right HE should be the first to putt). I got to see his excitement in little things like chasing after the ball when I hit it, helping me to find the ball when I wasn't sure just where it had landed.

But mostly I was struck by our relationship, by his limited (though possibly age appropriate) frustration tolerance, his outbursts when things aren't going his way. And I was reminded that fatherhood (nay, parenthood) is -- if done correctly -- a kind of loaning of our frontal lobes to our children. In other words, we are (for this time in their life) their substitute voice of reason, the calm in their emotional storm. We guide, we direct, we give choices, we consider alternate perspectives.

The manner in which we respond will be imprinted on our children's brains -- creating sources of calm or fear, peace or pain. Our children have no choice but to take this loan, but only we can decide to loan something worth giving, worth copying.

Parenting can be hard. It can be hard because our minds and souls must contend not only with our own stresses, but with the intense stress that life can sometimes pose to children with little ability to handle it on their own.

But it is precisely this process that gives us the opportunity to give our children their most precious gift -- of minds and hearts formed on a foundation of peace, love, charity, and compassion.

golf league

2008-04-23T19:53:00.000-07:00

Tonight, I had my first ever experience of golf league. Some time ago, we decided to get a family membership at a little country club just outside of town. Mind you, there are a couple of country clubs IN our town, but their family memberships are like $2000/year. This one was more like $300.

So I decided to join the men's league at this little 9 hole course. Which, I have to say, made me a bit nervous at first. There's the fear that you will slow everyone down, that your golf game will compare pathetically to everyone else's, that you won't know anyone. But as it turns out, none of those things were true. I recognized a couple of the guys, and I didn't seem to slow the pace of play very much. And my score was respectable (a round of 49 over nine holes), within four strokes of the best player in our foursome, and one stroke better than the "worst" score in our foursome.

But more than the absolute score, I was just pleased that I played pretty well, overall. Mind you, we were playing with winds of about 30 mph gusting up beyond that at times. And my driving was initially pretty crummy. In fact, my overall score included four "penalty strokes" from balls that either went in the water -- or that, on one occasion, veered into the woods -- never to be found again. But despite all that, my shots were generally pretty straight.

I was also pleased that the guys I played with were friendly, had a good sense of humor, congratulated good shots, and were happy to talk strategy on the holes.

Ah, golf. I'm tempted to set some kind of goal for myself. Like maybe getting to a round of 45 or even 40 by the end of the year. But I'm also a bit leery of doing so -- the risk being that I might compare my round negatively to the "ideal" score rather than just enjoying the game. Hmm...I guess if I do decide to push myself that way, I'll have to find a way to view progress positively rather than in a negative light.

That's actually pretty good life advice, now that I think about it.

Peace to you all.

P.S. Just one other quick golf story to bore you with. On the eighth hole, I hit a rather poor drive, but kept it on the fairway. The eighth hole is a someone long (for me) par 4 -- meaning that an "average" score involves two strokes to get the ball on the green and two putts to actually get the ball in the hole. Anyway, my drive had me nervous, but I hit a really good 3 wood to get the ball within a few feet of the green. I think I ended up with bogey (one stroke over par), but I was pretty happy.

the Pope and me

2008-04-16T19:20:00.000-07:00

I've really only known two Popes in my life. Technically, there were more, but I was only really mature enough to understand the significance of the position with John Paul 2 and the current Pope, Benedict.

And I have to say that my view of these Popes has been ambivalent, at best. I admire their intelligence, I admire JP 2's life story, and I somewhat grudgingly will acknowledge that theirs is a difficult job.

But, mostly, my image of them is based on my profound disagreement with their positions -- on contraception, the role of women in the church, altar girls, divorce, the morality of homosexual relationships, the insistence that priests must be celibate and unmarried, etc. I see these teachings as profoundly unhelpful (at best) and as some of the most profoundly troubling obstacles to the Church achieving its mission at worst. (Well, at my worst, I might call them a variety of vulgar names, but you get the idea...)

I think that part of what I find so troubling about their Papacies has been this rigid clinging on to a particular view of tradition, a tendency to claim that certain traditions "cannot" be changed (when such traditions reinforce their pre-existing prejudices, IMHO), and an insistence that "modernity" must listen to (and dialogue with) tradition -- without any hint of mutuality in that discussion.

Which ends up closing the church from a full awareness of how God speaks to people today, in my view. Without this kind of awareness, tradition ultimately becomes dry and lifeless.

And then they decry the declining church attendance figures. Yeesh....

what the *&(%?!!!

2008-04-15T18:16:00.001-07:00

I met not long ago with a woman who had been a member of an extremely conservative Christian church. She had the great misfortune of being married to an extremely abusive and controlling man. Mind you, I do not use the word "extremely" lightly here. We're talking about a man showing significant physical abuse, developing severe and inflexible rules about what clothes women and girls in the family were allowed to wear, and a general pattern of emotional/psychological control that rivals any I've come across.

For many, many years, this woman put up with that treatment -- believing that God called on her to do so. And when she met with me, she easily quoted a handful of scripture verses that (she had been taught) were God's word that she must do so.

Eventually she gathered up the courage and decided to leave the guy. And for the first time, she starts to feel some measure of hope, though she's no longer sure she believes in God. The children beg her regularly not to go back to her husband.

And the response of her "Christian" community? Many church members, people she considered friends, have told her that divorce is against God's will. That she should go back to her husband. That her desire to leave that situation is bad, shameful, sinful.

This, my friends, is what drives me absolutely batty about that particular form of religious belief.

petty vindications on the reimbursement side of my job...

2008-04-09T20:16:00.000-07:00

OK, so this might be a bit arcane, but...

The managed care company that in charge of medicaid reimbursement in our area has this chart. Precisely who made this chart is not known, nor is the criterion by which they arrived at this decision. But, for example, they decided in this chart that psychological test A is worth 1/2 hour of reimbursement, while test B is only worth 15 minutes worth of reimbursement.

To understand why this is nonsensical, you have to understand that tests A & B are virtually identical in their complexity, cost to order, administration time, interpretation time, and in most other ways. The only difference is that test B is primarily used in the assessment of ADHD, whereas test A is used to screen for a broad assortment of emotional/behavioral problems.

So I'm guessing, a little, but the only thing I can figure out is that they looked at this from a financial perspective, freaked out about how common it is to screen for ADHD nowadays, and decided to cut the reimbursement rate for test B.

And now for that "petty vindications" bit. Recently, test B came up with a new version. And in this new version, there are forms for the teacher, parent, and child to fill out (the last version only had parent & teacher forms). So whereas in the past, I could only get reimbursed for 1/2 hour if I gave both forms, now I can claim a full hour's worth of reimbursement if I administer all 3 forms (because they the minimum unit of reimbursement is a half-hour, so they have to round it up if you can claim 45 minutes worth).

And don't even get me started on the logic behind reimbursing psychological testing at a lower rate than therapy services. Yeesh...

I have to say, after years of feeling nickeled and dimed on this particular managed care inanity, this feels pretty good.

of experience and DNA

2008-04-08T15:54:00.000-07:00

Just another fascinating tidbit of information gleaned from that conference I attended: did you know that our DNA actually loops over itself? And that this "looping" prevents certain genes from being expressed at any given time? I certainly did not. And it turns out that interactions with the environment (i.e., our experiences) can affect the process of what part of the DNA is being "covered" and what is not.

So, for instance, it is now known that whenever a neuron in the brain forms a new connection, it is because an interaction with the environment caused the DNA to temporarily uncover a particular gene that allows for the new connection to be formed.

The implications here are actually pretty staggering when you think about how our experience affects us on such a basic, genetic level.

For whatever reason, it makes me think about the necessity of good self-care. I like to think that by nurturing peace within us, we are actually bringing to life a new capacity within ourselves -- for compassion, for understanding, for love, for life.

Enlightenment, perhaps. Or a kind of salvation.

Peace to you all.

"This is SO fun!"

2008-04-06T19:17:00.000-07:00

Patrick's ability to really express himself has been quite limited in a lot of ways. It wasn't that he didn't know a lot of words, exactly, but he didn't use his words to express how he was feeling. So he would respond to requests by saying "no, go sleep." Or he'd sing songs over and over. Or he'd respond to questions with a simple "yeah" or "no."

But for whatever reason, lately ability to express himself has been really taking off. Just the other day, I was playing a game where I toss him onto the bed. And he was laughing and squealing, and then he turns to me and says "this is SO fun!"

Which, really, is how I've been feeling -- watching him do all this communication. Watching him comment about his favorites, watching him TELL us that he doesn't want to do something (rather than simply throwing a fit or walking away), watching him express how much he loves his brother.

I could bore you all with comments about what this means about his cognitive development -- like how it indicates his growth in understanding that others have "minds" all of their own, and that the purpose of communication is sharing his "mind" with that of another person.

But for now I think his comment expresses where I'm at better than such a discussion ever could: "...this is SO fun!"

genius

2008-04-03T10:53:00.000-07:00

OK, so I just had to follow up my last post with an example of the kind of genius I had the chance to observe at the SPA conference. Part of the training involved the chance to watch videos of assessment work.

In one video, the psychologist was assessing a woman who hadn't been progressing as she'd hoped in her therapy. So he did a number of tests with her, and found a number of results suggesting a tendency to keep others at a distance, a belief that she has to be "tough" and handle things on her own, and a kind of self-centeredness.

So he's meeting with her and when he gets to the finding about narcissism/ self-centeredness, he approaches it by saying "...this is a finding that often happens when people grew up in homes where they often felt alone." And after she agreed and processed how often she felt alone, he said "...this also comes up in homes where parents had a difficult time keeping their kids' needs in mind." All of this led to a discussion of how often she felt neglected, how selfish they were, how they insulted her and even kicked her out of their home. And then they discussed how she learned to be "tough," how she had to fend for herself, etc.

But notice where he started -- not with a label, not with "this finding suggests that you become preoccupied with your own needs." No, he begins on a level more in tune with her experience -- of being so alone.

Pure, utter genius.

Conference

2008-04-02T09:15:00.000-07:00

Meg and I got back on Monday from the Society for Personality Assessment conference in New Orleans. We left last Tuesday, and had five enjoyable days spent learning (at the various presentations, seminars, lectures, etc.), eating, and touring.

I greatly enjoy seminars put on by SPA. They take psychological assessment seriously, in a way that many others do not. SPA fought to make testing reimbursable at the same level as, say, therapy. They have been a voice of reason against unfair critics of psychological testing. And they demonstrate that, if done properly, the process of psychological assessment can have a profound therapeutic impact.

Just some examples from the conference. One study found that a two hour collaborative assessment had a greater therapeutic impact on clients than five hours of traditional "cognitive behavioral" therapy done weekly. Another study examined individuals with pain disorders that had a very high frequency of ER visits. After a comprehensive psychological assessment and group therapy, these individuals cut back on their use of medical services by over 60% in the next year. This wasn't for mental health issues, but for their actual pain -- from migraines, fibromyalgia, irritable bowel, etc.

I was also profoundly struck by the intelligence and compassion of the presenters -- how well they know their stuff, how compassionately they gave feedback to difficult clients, how powerful a combination this made in terms of therapeutic impact.

a decidedly mixed reaction...

2008-03-21T11:06:00.000-07:00

Meg and I have joked lately that we need to write a book of stories about toilet training boys in the autism spectrum. Here's a recent example:

To really understand this story, you have to know that we are working on several different goals with Patrick at the same time. Sure, we want him to learn to use the toilet on a more consistent basis for any substances that are ready to leave his system at the end of the digestive process. But, of course, we're also wanting him to work on things like pretend play -- where you treat an object "as if" it is something else. So we pretend that a banana is a phone, for example.

OK, so the other day Meg notices that he smells, and after cleaning him asks where the poop is. Patrick is reluctant to provide this information, but Meg eventually learns from our other son that the offending material is downstairs. So she takes Patrick downstairs to help clean this up, and he grabs this little rubbery/plastic rabbit that he's been sleeping with at night. When they get downstairs and Meg removes the little towel Jacob had put over the poop, Patrick looks at the poop, looks at Meg, throws the rabbit into the pile of poop and declares excitedly "the bunny jumped in the mud!"

Which can only evict a mixed reaction under the circumstances. Excitement about his developing pretend play skills, horror at the thought that he might try to recreate this little scenario, and laughter at the utter absurdity of it all.

Ah, the life of a parent...

holy week

2008-03-20T19:38:00.000-07:00

I met with a young man this week who struggles with anger. Not aggression directed at people, really, but he yells, screams, slams doors, throws things. His bewildered mother brought him to me wondering what on earth is wrong with her child.

I was struck, as I often am in these cases, by the sheer vulnerability of this child. How tears burst forward the minute he mentioned his father or his grades. How he tells me all about his anger, but how all I see in him is his pain.

I meet a bit later with his mother, and she is frustrated, overwhelmed by his daily outbursts. She worries that he is just like his abusive father, genetically doomed (in her view) to be selfish, demanding, mean, and petty. So she responds to his outbursts by telling him how wrong he is, by arguing with him, by punishing. And his therapist (who asked for the evaluation) works endlessly on "anger management" and sees little change in his behavior despite years of work together.

Sigh.

When I read the gospel story today, where Jesus washes Peter's feet, I thought of just how different that approach really is. The situation I described above is really one of parental avoidance, in a sense: avoidance of their child's anger, avoidance of emotional messiness, avoidance out of a fear that they will somehow be at fault. But the gospel today is a message of openness, of acceptance -- of facing the mess and dealing with it, of nurturing someone in their most private, most shameful, most difficult areas.

It is all well and good, I think, to understand that this is how God deals with us. But my hope is to take this lesson and recall that we are called to do the same. I think we are often trapped in a sense by our desire for calm, for order, for all the good things that make us feel like life is OK and we're doing our jobs as parents, partners, or spouses correctly. But the gospel calls us to look past this to see the person in front of us, hurting or ashamed or confused, and offer something more than a reminder of what they should be doing.

If we follow Christ's example, we welcome the messiness, welcome the fear, welcome the possibility that we have been in error -- because by doing so with compassion for ourselves and whomever we are dealing with, we bring about the potential for grace.

brain damage?

2008-03-19T11:22:00.000-07:00

One of the interesting quirks about the place where I work is that we "contract" with R, one of my fellow psychologist's wives, to do our billing, to follow up with insurance companies, and to pick up the mail. R is, coincidentally, the only truly irreplaceable member of our group. We often joked when we were asked to create our "emergency plan" (a HIPAA required plan for how we would respond as an agency if there were an emergency) that we would all join together to make a protective circle around R.

So anyway, K (the fellow psychologist I mentioned) and R went on a nice vacation this week. And because I am one of the only full time workers here, R asked if I would be interested in picking up the mail. Which I've done before and was fine with.

So today, even though I fully knew of all of the above, I walked into the office and checked to see what mail had come in. "Hmm," I said. "No mail yet. That's strange." And again, later, I checked the mailboxes. "Gee, R still hasn't picked up the mail. That's not like her..."

And then it hit me.

Now aside from some humorous musings about whether I injured more than my arm in my fall 7 weeks ago (or whether I might be suffering from an early-onset form of Alzheimer's), what strikes me about this experience is the process of going through the motions, of getting into routine, of failing to notice something that should have struck my attention.

Routines, it seems to me, simplify our lives, make them manageable. They are useful, even necessary. But they are not, it seems to me, sources of life, of joy, of insight -- at least not when they are done without mindfulness. It humbles me to think of how often I might lapse into such mindless routines, how much I may fail to notice, how many opportunities I might miss.

I pray to do so less.

Peace to you all.

thoughts on a Monday

2008-03-17T16:53:00.000-07:00

Today did not start particularly well. That is, today started with fairly long bouts of vomiting and diarrhea, which kept me fairly miserable and in bed most of the morning. But by around noon, my stomach had calmed down enough that I thought it safe to try liquids. And a couple of short hours after finding that I could tolerate Pepto Bismol and some water, I was able to start eating from the BRAT diet (Bananas, Apple sauce, Rice, and Toast -- all of which seem to resist diarrhea).

In short, I've been feeling rather better this afternoon, thank you very much. And I had the great gift of a wonderful talk by phone with my dear friend, more cows. We touched base on our goals for this year, mine being the discovery of a Christian community.

I confided about my mistrust of doctrine, of tradition, of religious authorities -- about how this has made my journey problematic in some ways. She helped me to realize the degree to which I have been discarding the entirety of a religious tradition based on my concerns.

It is a very good thing to have friends who are wise.

Wyld has asked how things are with my arm. Since getting the External Fixator off last Wednesday, my hand has gained a little bit of strength and range of motion. I was supposed to start PT today, but what with the being sick...not so much. I'm looking forward to starting because I really want to get more strength and range of motion back -- though I've heard the actual process of stretching ligaments is not so fun.

Anyway, that's my day. Peace to you all.

...and it's off!

2008-03-12T16:22:00.000-07:00

OK, so I had the doctor's visit earlier today. They did a set of x-rays, and the verdict was that the bones are about 85% healed. Which, apparently, is sufficient for them to remove the external fixator.

So they removed the various outside pieces that kept the pins in the correct position, and while he was doing so the good doctor filled me with some interesting pieces of trivia. Did I know that the military gives two of these to every Marine -- so that if their limb is broken in combat the field medic can "shoot" the pins into the bone and establish a temporary external fixator? (Answer: no, this I did not know). Did I know that they did so after figuring out that casts [the old method, apparently] just didn't work well in wet environments like Vietnam? (Again, this piece of trivia had somehow eluded me). Had I been aware that the soldiers having this particular practice performed on them likely didn't care because at that point they're probably pumped full of morphine? (I didn't know this one, but I would most certainly hope so!)

Then came the actual unscrewing of the pins. This is not performed very rapidly. There's no electric drill type of instrument. It's very hands-on with a metal tool that has a warning label that says "do NOT strike!" I'm not sure exactly why they felt it necessary to put that label on there, but I guess it's comforting in a way. Basically, it's just like a fancy screwdriver designed to provide enough torque so as to unscrew these bolts out of your bones.

I'm not exactly sure just how to describe how this feels. The first turn is mildly to moderately painful and there's an odd sensation that traveled down my arm towards my fingers. After that, it just feels kinda weird until the very end where they're pulling it out through the final layer of skin. At that point, it's coming into contact with more heavy concentrations of nerve cells, and it's briefly painful.

Breathe, they tell you at this point. Then they start work on the other three.

I was curious if there was any special treatment I needed to do once the pins were removed. Not really, they informed me. Keep cleaning it like you have been (with hydrogen peroxide once per day) so that it will heal from the inside out. Keep it clean and dry until it's all healed over in a couple of days or so.

Oh, and do about three weeks of physical therapy, about three times per week.

Anyway, I'm glad to be rid of the thing. I'm looking forward to getting some PT, getting more strength and range of motion back in my left wrist. I very much hope to golf yet this year.

Peace to you all.

yikes!

2008-03-12T06:07:00.000-07:00

OK, so today marks 6 weeks and one day since I broke/fractured my left arm. So long as the newest x-ray looks good, they're going to unscrew the four pins from my left arm and wrist later this morning.

While I'm awake.

My doctor assures me that it actually isn't that painful. But I've heard from some others that the process of removing the pins was their least favorite part of the whole process of having a broken arm.

I must admit to some trepidation here.

If y'all hear loud screams emanating vaguely from the direction of Nebraska this morning, that could very well be me.

Peace to you.

I've been tagged!

2008-02-29T18:51:00.000-08:00

Katherine tagged me for this meme. Here are the rules:

1. You have to post the rules before you give your answers.

2. You must list one fact about yourself beginning with each letter of your middle name. (If you don't have a middle name, use your maiden name or your mother's maiden name).

3. At the end of your blog post, you need to tag one person for each letter of your middle name. (Be sure to leave them a comment telling them they've been tagged.)

OK, lessee...

A: Artistic. This one may be a bit of a stretch, in the sense that I am not very adept at the visual arts (though I would love to learn more). But I simply adore good music and literature. And I fancy myself something of a writer. So I guess I think of myself as having an artistic soul.

N: "Nice." I'm not entirely certain to what extent this is good or bad. Wise people have repeatedly pointed out that "nice is overrated." But for good or ill, I was raised to value being "nice." It is a part of me. It fits in with my belief in kindness, in consideration for the feelings of others -- but it has it's negative side in the sense that I may not always speak my mind, that I hold too much in at times.

D: Hmmm...I'll choose "Daring." Not the perfect word to describe it, perhaps, but "daring" in the sense of taking more chances, not always giving in to the negative side of "nice." So it's a side of me I'm working to develop.

R: "Religious Questioner." Those who have kept track of my blog postings over any period of time will know what I mean. It's not that I am critical of religious belief, per-se, but I'm not entirely certain just what I believe. And I think that the process of questioning is vital in arriving at any type of deep faith.

E: "Entertainer." Another side of my personality. I love to tell jokes, to be a story teller. A woman whose wedding I attended many years ago told me that I was probably "the entertainer" in my family. (Actually, I was the quiet one). Sadly, this woman became troubled by profound depression in later years and committed suicide.

W: "Wonder." Following Heschel's lead, I believe that only so much knowledge can be obtained by examining the world through the lens of power (of understanding how things affect or control other things). There is knowledge and wisdom to be gained through seeing the world through the lenses of beauty, mystery, wonder, awe. Faith, I think, only begins when logic shares the stage with the other lenses -- when the entirety of our being perceives the world.

OK...that was a bit challenging, but fun! Now I'm supposed to "tag" six people. I will tag: Mags, More Cows, Gannet Girl, Beso Mami, Diane, and Wyld.

broken

2008-02-19T09:22:00.000-08:00

Roughly 3 weeks ago, I slipped on the ice while taking my two boys to school. My left foot slipped out from underneath me, and I automatically put my left hand back to break my fall. As I understand it, this resulted in a fracture in my left arm and wrist, with a total of about four break sites. After several hours in the ER, pins were screwed into the bones in my left hand and left arm, and a medieval looking contraption holds everything in place above the skin.

I say this in part as way of explanation and perhaps poor excuse for my absence from the blog world recently. My apologies to those of you who might have been wondering about me.

Part of what strikes me about this experience is that my mind has spent an unusual amount of time thinking about how lame a story all of this is, how much cooler it would be if I had a more exciting or interesting story to offer as to how I broke my arm. My ego would surely be assuaged if all of this had occurred by fighting off a mugger, protecting my family in some heroic way, or even something as mundane as a bar fight.

But no, sadly, I slipped on some ice.

All of this makes me think about the notion of brokenness, of how uncomfortable it makes me (and I daresay most of us) to acknowledge this simple fact. We hide it, we make excuses for it, we act as if it is not there. But the simple, undeniable truth is as plain as the fractures displayed on my x-ray: We are broken, we are humbled, we cannot do everything for ourselves.

Over the years, I have heard many sermons and read many stories about healing, about transformation, about divine acts that cure our brokenness. But at some fundamental level, I'm not certain that this brokenness ever entirely goes away. Perhaps we need it, need to acknowledge our interdependence, need to recognize our limitations. Perhaps growth stems not so much from transcending our humanity at times as it does in accepting it.

Peace to you all.

inspiring

2008-02-05T07:07:00.000-08:00

deep talk. sort of.

2008-01-26T19:47:00.000-08:00

So today I had one of those conversations you always hear about having when you have kids.

Jacob: Dad, where is your Dad?

Me: Well, Jacob, he's in heaven.

Jacob: In heaven?

Me: Yes.

Jacob: Is aunt Carolyn your Dad?

Me: No, my Dad died a few years ago now, and now he's in heaven. I could show him to you on a video we have, if you want.

Jacob: (thinks for a minute) He's sad. He wants to come home and be with his family.

Me: You may be right. But people are usually happy in heaven.

Jacob: Oh. But he wants to come home.

Mind you, I don't think Jacob yet grasps the concept of "death," so he probably thinks that "heaven" is another city, some sort of school, or some such physical location.

utter lunacy

2008-01-09T09:57:00.000-08:00

My wife showed me a book today. Apparently, a client of hers had gone to a seminar by the author, and she asked my wife to look the book over.

Basically, the author argues that all medical problems and disorders are based on sin, or more specifically, based on having invited Satan into your soul. Yes, the author argues, illnesses have physical causes -- but even these biological abnormalities are due to Satan's influence on you and your body.

So basically this book lists various illnesses and discusses the ways in which people must have invited Satan into their souls to suffer from, say, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, diabetes, cancer, etc.

And out of curiosity, we checked, and yep, his grand theory even includes autism. Which, he says, strikes even very young children (and thus he isn't sure precisely how the invitation to Satan may occur), but he feels it must happen through an acceptance of rebelliousness.

OK, so to state the obvious: this guy is an idiot. He has absolutely no idea of what he's talking about and (of course) offers no shred of proof for his claims. But I must say how deeply offensive I find the notion that either of my autistic sons somehow "invited" Satan into his life -- that they somehow took a conscious act to "choose" this disorder.

This author's work is dangerous stuff, really. Some people will believe this man, will spend time and money on "spiritual" solutions with no hope of affecting change. They will blame themselves for being ill. They may stop taking medications and feel that all their problems will go away if they can just be spiritually "right with God."

Argh.

Guys like this give religion, spirituality, and Christianity in particular such a bad name.

I can only pray that his heart and mind may be opened.

Peace to you all.

anxiety

2008-01-08T06:34:00.001-08:00

OK, so a headline from this morning proclaims "study links chronic anxiety with an increased risk of heart attack."

On behalf of anxious people everywhere, let me just say: oh, great, so we're gonna DIE now?! =)

But on a more serious note, this study serves as a great reminder of the links between our mind and our health, and that taking care of ourselves emotionally is about more than simply feeling better emotionally.

something more than fear

2008-01-03T20:50:00.000-08:00

I recently met with someone who hides their pain by the tactic of never trusting anyone. Believing that all good things end, will eventually cause them pain and loss and abandonment, they choose to not let anybody know what they really feel inside.

Sitting with the second individual not long ago, I offered up the observation that their approach never let them test out who was potentially trustworthy and who was not. And they looked at me with this haunting gaze, staring at me silently for what seemed like an eternity, as if they possessed some eternal truth that transcends language.

In my mind, I wondered if she was screaming, "don't you get it? This will end. You won't be here for me. Nobody will. I'll be lost and alone and hurting. Again."

But in response to her silence, all I had to offer was my presence...and my inner prayer that somehow in sitting with me, she could begin to experience some measure of stability, of healthy beginnings and endings, and choices about relationship based on something more than fear.

Blessings

2007-12-27T17:13:00.000-08:00

Much to my honor and surprise, I discovered today that I have been "blessed" by the wise and eloquent Diane. As I understand it, the idea is explained here:

The idea… it’s a game of tag with a difference, rather than looking inwardly, we look outside ourselves and bless, praise and pray for one blog friend. By participating in this endeavour we not only make the recipient of the blessing feel valued and appreciated, but we are having some fun too. We’re going to see how far the bloggin’ blessings can travel around the world and how many people can be blessed! Recipients of a bloggin’ blessing may upload the above image to their sidebar if they choose to. If you recieve a bloggin’ blessin’ please leave a comment on this thread here so that we can rejoice in just how many blessings have been sent around the world!

So I gather that the idea is to "bless" three people in the blogosphere, and to tell them why I have chosen to bless them. But first let me say to Diane how honored I am to have received your "blessing," particularly since I very much admire your writing and wisdom.

Second, let me say as clearly as I can that limiting this to only three people is hard because there are so many blogs and people I admire for so many reasons. I am blessed to have had the chance to get to know all of you.

And since I can procrastinate no longer, I bless more cows for her friendship, wisdom, intelligence and generosity of spirit. Second, I bless Gannet Girl, for her honesty, willingness to challenge me, and courage (I hope that if ever I find myself called to another vocation, I will have some portion of the courage she is showing in pursuing hers). Finally, I bless Wyld, for reminding me that holiness and wisdom come in many forms, for the courage he shows in serving our country, and for his dedication to honesty and integrity.

Though I am limited to only three "blessings" as part of this game, I also wanted to send virtual shout-outs to Mags (who constantly amazes and inspires me with her wisdom, eloquence, and wit) and Katherine (who has been so generous in sharing her thoughts, reflections, and wisdom with me. Katherine, your willingness to pursue a better working situation when it might have been "safer" to stay at an old one impresses me a lot).

Christmas

2007-12-25T06:03:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas to all my friends in the blogosphere! It has been a joy to share this year with all of you, to share stories, and to benefit from your wisdom. Prayers and best wishes for a Christmas full of light, joy, life, and hope.

of Advent and focus

2007-12-21T19:24:00.000-08:00

Our focus can become our reality.

This little thought has been percolating around my head today. I've heard it many times in various forms throughout the years. In graduate school they taught us that people with depression, for instance, tend to focus on failures and signs of rejection -- ignoring or minimizing any positive evidence about themselves or their worlds. Similarly, those with anxiety often focus on signs of threat, etc.

But for reasons I cannot go into here, today I found myself thinking about affection and emotional intimacy. About how our choice of focus can cause us to hug without feeling hugged, to touch without feeling touched, to love without feeling loved in return. Our focus can cause us to go through the motions of life without opening our heart and letting life touch us back.

Which got me thinking about Advent. This time of preparation for this immense Gift we are to receive. I think it is easy to consider this in terms of setting our lives "on the right road," or correcting unhealthy patterns. And all of this may be true. But I think on a deeper level, Advent may be about opening our hearts, letting this upcoming Moment touch us, affect us, change us.

Loving God, yes, but also letting God love us, letting ourselves feel loved by God.

A Christmas story...sort of...

2007-12-19T19:34:00.000-08:00

And so it came to pass in the year of our current era 2007, that there was great demand for this device known as “Wii” – demand so great as to dwarf the supply sent out by the renowned company Nintendo.

Many were the glories of this Wii, for though the graphics and sound were of small comparison to others, yet it did have sensors and pieces capable of mimicking actions of real sport. And so powerful was this idea as to fill those seduced by its advertisements with notions of fun at parties and improved golf swings.

And, lo, in defiance of the small odds of success, did the man go in search of the Wii. Yea, even to the point of uncovering the likely time of arrival of the UPS truck at local stores with dubious health care policies for their workers did he go, and stood in lines, and followed up with phone calls.

And the Lord God looked down upon this, and spoke thus: “you shall have no Wii.”

Hearing thus, the man did redouble his efforts, following up on hints and advertisements. Yea, even did he participate in things called “lotteries” and other promotions of dubious moral character to obtain this great Wii.

And God repeated: “you shall have no Wii.”

Hearing this again, the man did mutter curses under his breath and considered the many virtues of the Wii, yea even so that the Wii seemed to become golden and shaped like a cow of few years in his mind.

And God spoke: “you shall DEFINITELY have no Wii.”

The man sulked home at this, and gradually paused to consider the time and energy spent in pursuit of this Wii, this thing that may be easier to purchase in the coming months. And, lo, did his strivings seem to him of vanity and ego and consumerism. And he was ashamed.

So the man did choose to think instead of gifts of more lasting value, of peace and joy and compassion. Yes, he even resolved to seek these gifts with at least as much devotion as he had spent on the Wii.

Yet even as he pursued these things, still he was occasionally discovered muttering under his breath, “great, now how exactly is THIS going to help me break 90?”

fear, lies, and consequences

2007-12-14T10:01:00.000-08:00

I think I was in the third or fourth grade when I first recall witnessing cruelty (or at least identifying it as such). That is, this is when I first recall seeing kids act as bullies towards other kids. And I don't even recall being an object of bullying, though I suppose I might have been and don't remember the specific incident. I just remember sensing that such a thing was now possible.

So I came up with what I believed at the time was a perfect solution. That is, I began spreading word that I was being trained in karate. Now, was this true? No. But in my mind, it inured me from the the threat of attack. And, honestly, it seemed to work, at least for a time. I was afraid, and this little white lie, this idea that I might be learning to defend myself, worked.

Mind you, I didn't flaunt this knowledge. I never pretended to attack anyone to prove myself. I just started a rumor, a lie.

As time went on, people started asking me about this professed knowledge, and I demured. In fact, I made a point of saying that I was just beginning to learn, that I really didn't have anything to show them. Yet still the questions continued, and my lack of answers for them only seemed to frustrate them further.

I remember about a year or so after I started this rumor, having three of the bigger, more athletic kids corner me on the playground. One was a wrestler, one was a boxer, and one was in football. And each of them took turns taking me to the ground, maybe because they wanted to test my ability to defend myself, though I don't really recall whether they mentioned anything about that or not.

And so this lie, this little thing (in my mind at the time) that came from fear, resulted in a series of events which created even more fear. And so it was that I gradually became a wallflower, one of those painfully shy social outcasts.

I tell this story not so much because it serves as a morality play about deception (though I like to think it does that), but because memories of this have been surfacing in me as I take steps towards this whole Christian community thing. And I think it is useful to name those feelings, to be honest about their source. And to think deeply about what they say about me, about what I'm looking for from community, about what my fears and biases might be.

But on some strange, juvenile level, I also think I tell this story because there is within me a need to tell the truth. I don't know karate. I'm perhaps even shamefully unable to defend myself, if the situation called for it.

morning thoughts

2007-12-13T06:05:00.000-08:00

This morning did not start particularly well. My sleep had been restless, and the difficulty I had keeping enough blankets over my body left me with the impression of cold, of striving, of longing.

So when my five year old jumped up on our bed at 6:30 yelling "good morning!" at the top of his lungs, I knew the day was not starting on a particularly good note. So we played the DVR copy of one of his favorite shows, and I crept off into his room to try and catch a few extra minutes of rest.

Scant moments after lying down again, however, the regular morning onslaught of requests began: "MOM! DAD! I want Honey Nut Cheerios!", "Bring me juice!", "I want 'the three little pigs' one instead!"

So although it was with some sense of relief when I could finally escape into the shower, I was aware of a general tension, anxiety, and stress inside of myself. Or, perhaps better, I was not aware of it at first. I was going through the motions, getting ready for the day, repeating a litany of things that had to get done to myself. It was only when I noticed the soreness in my shoulder (a lingering golf injury) that I really noticed these things.

And in noticing this discomfort, physical and mental, I paused simply to relax, to breathe, to nurture peace in that moment. It was remarkable how differently I felt after that. I hope to get better at incorporating such moments throughout my day.

I was thinking of this because of my current search for "Christian community" and perhaps because of my interest in my relationship with Christianity more generally. Those who have read me now for some time know of my uneasy relationship with doctrine, and how I prefer instead to focus on holiness (which I believe is another term for developing love, compassion, happiness, and joy within ourselves and within our world).

In its own very small way, I believe that moments such as I experienced this morning are holy, are ways of encountering God whether or not we choose to put that label upon them. In my own experience, I don't know that Christianity always does such a good job of recognizing these as such. Holiness tends to be reserved for moments in church, moments of prayer, moments of sacrament. And don't get me wrong, I believe that these can be very powerful experiences of the divine, if we are open to them.

But I think that more important than what I believe, per se, is whether I am living a life filled with the kinds of qualities noted above. Without them, beliefs are empty. With them, beliefs can be fulfilled.

present with me

2007-12-08T13:48:00.000-08:00

Not so long ago, I was giving a speech to a group of educators about autism. I was explaining that individuals with this disorder tend to lack something called "experience sharing" -- i.e., the understanding that we have our own inner reality of thoughts and experiences, that others have separate inner realities, and that the purpose of most human communication is sharing those realities with each other. So you'll see kids with autism do a lot of asking for things or repeating certain phrases over and over, but their ability to just comment on something (or to build a conversation by responding to someone else's comment) is limited. This is the primary reason why they tend to be delayed in speech, actually.

So we've been working on this ability with our son Patrick (Jacob mastered it long ago), and recently we've seen these big strides. He'll point out things that interest him and say "wow!" or "cool!" He'll point to his brother when he is in distress and say things like "Jacob is sad" with this look of concern on his face. In the last few weeks in particular, he is making it a point when we're cuddling with him to say things like "I love you, Daddy."

Now I know, I know that such moments are meaningful for all parents. The sense of one's heart melting in response to these words from your child is by no means unique. But I think this moment has been particularly meaningful for my wife and I this season because it has meanings on so many levels -- hearing his love for us, seeing his sweet personality emerge, seeing his progress on this thing we call autism, knowing that he is present with us in ways more complex and sophisticated than he has experienced in the past.

It is difficult to describe the joy, gratitude, and love I experience in such moments. And I am reminded at those times when I curse my inability to find a Nintendo Wii for our family this Christmas what it truly means to be given a present.

How cool is this?!

2007-12-07T16:08:00.001-08:00

"famous"

2007-12-06T15:06:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I believe it was, a sad and angry nineteen year old man walked into a mall in Omaha (about two hours from here), pulled out an assault rifle, and killed eight people before ending his own life. Several more were injured, some seriously.

As details of this young man's life trickle out, we have learned that he left a suicide note, proclaiming to those he cared for that he no longer wished to live and that now he would be "famous."

Our society's sad fascination with the sensationalism has proved him right.

As you might imagine, stories of this are pretty much constant in Nebraska right now. Stories of those who were murdered, of those who survived, stories of the young man and how he'd just lost his girlfriend and his job at McDonald's. Stories of the friends who never thought he'd be capable of something like this.

I'm deeply saddened by all of this. Sad for the victims and their families. Sad for the family of this young man. Sad for the fact that this young man saw this as a way of becoming "famous." Sad that he was right.

It reminds me of a group home I worked at not so terribly long ago now. Two older adolescents who were residing there decided one night that they didn't wish to be there any longer. And even though the doors were unlocked, they feared that the night staff would call the police and prevent their escape. So they grabbed two wooden dowels they had in their closets for hanging their clothes, and beat up the old man who was keeping watch over them that night. Beat him to within inches of taking his life.

I think what saddens (even horrifies) me the most in both stories is the utter, callous disregard for human life. The utter self-preoccupation that allowed them to justify such actions, even if only for the brief period of time it took to commit such acts.

I know not whether our society is becoming more callous. I tend to think that claims that it is lose sight of just what society was capable of in times past. But assuredly we can no longer believe that such callousness is a relic of our past. It is here. It is now. It is fed and nurtured by poverty, hatred, ignorance, and loss.

I'm reading a book right now that discusses the idea of the "antichrist." In that book, the author writes that the "antichrist" is us, any time we hear the gospel and fail to respond.

May God forgive us. And may we grow as a society so that acting in the spirit of Christ is more likely to make us "famous" than what happened in Omaha yesterday.

An early start

2007-12-04T15:26:00.000-08:00

I decided to try and make an early start on my quest for a spiritual home. In other words, I went with Meg to the local ELCA church she joined a year ago or so. Which was interesting in the sense that I had been there with her before, but mostly just to help watch the children. My sense had been that we were going to church as a family, rather than that we were going to join a community in worship.

So on Sunday I tried to focus on the latter (the joining a community in worship bit). And such was not always easy. OK, more accurately, it was nearly impossible much of the time with our 5 and 7 year old, autistic sons making frequent demands for our attention. But in those moments when I could focus on feeling part of a community, it was...fulfilling, is the word I think I'm looking for.

I do not know if this is the church that I will join. I'm not sure how even to pose the questions that would lead to such an answer.

But I do know that something felt right about having a spiritual home, about the sense of togetherness that I felt.

Thoughts on Annapolis...

2007-11-27T18:00:00.001-08:00

Found this link over at Velveteen Rabbi's blog: here.

I couldn't agree more.

Hmm...

2007-11-27T17:58:00.001-08:00

Your Brain is Green

Of all the brain types, yours has the most balance.
You are able to see all sides to most problems and are a good problem solver.
You need time to work out your thoughts, but you don't get stuck in bad thinking patterns.

You tend to spend a lot of time thinking about the future, philosophy, and relationships (both personal and intellectual).

What Color Is Your Brain?

Well, as that great philosopher Kermit the Frog once said, "it ain't easy being green!" =)

2008

2007-11-27T12:42:00.000-08:00

My friend more cows has challenged me to think of 2008 as a year of finding Christian community.

I hope this doesn't sound utterly silly, but the idea fills me with a bit of trepidation. After having been raised Catholic, becoming excited about religion through my Catholic education in college, and then feeling a bit burned by the whole thing as I entered adulthood...I guess I'm a bit gun-shy of investing myself in a tradition, in a community once again.

Part of this experience of being "burned" comes from my work as a counselor, actually. In the past, there were aspects of Catholicism (e.g., the refusal to ordinate women, teachings on sexual morality, etc.) that I strongly disagreed with -- but it was something of an intellectual matter. When I actually started working as a counselor, I was put face to face with brave people whose lives were actually HARMED by some of these teachings (particularly some of my gay and lesbian clients). The issue was no longer one of intellectual disagreement -- it became one of whether I could support an institution whose teachings HARMED people I cared for.

Complicating matters further, the clients were not exclusively Catholic, but from a variety of Christian backgrounds.

So I am wary. And I find myself wondering what standard to use when considering these matters? Do I consider primarily the official church doctrine? The attitudes of the religious leaders? The extent to which there is a strong "opposition movement" (if the church's official doctrine still holds that homosexuality is sinful)? All of the above (and if so, which factors should weigh most heavily)?

On top of this is the matter of my natural introversion...and, well, a sense from the work I do of how pervasive unhealthiness is. I pray that this does not sound conceited, but after awhile of doing this job...

How to explain it? I think I am confronted so often by dysfunction, by the limitations of others and by my own, it is easy to forget that there is also healthiness. Perhaps that is because health tends to be quieter.

Part of me yearns to discover and trust in that health, to have the faith to invest myself in a community and see past the idiosyncrasies to the more foundational goodness. It is tempting to say that the goodness in such communities is God, but I know I need more than that. I need to feel that the community is fundamentally, albeit in ways limited and human and flawed, good -- about promoting love and charity and justice and compassion.

Hope those thoughts aren't too rambling. Thanks to you all again for your thoughts.

on spirituality and relationality

2007-11-19T20:06:00.000-08:00

It is an interesting phenomenon that in my questioning and skepticism of traditional forms of religion, I am met through this strange medium we call "blogosphere" by such kind, probing, and honest religious minds.

All of which is simply an overly wordy preamble to that which I truly intended to say -- namely, thank you all once again for your thoughts and insights.

What intrigues me the most at this point, I think, is the relationship between spirituality and relationality. Because on one basic level, I agree that our spirituality should not separate us from the world, should not focus our energies inward. It should, if it is genuine, connect us in ways ever deeper and more profound -- to our world, to ourselves, to our loved ones, to our communities. A spirituality that fails to do so is either tainted or incomplete, it seems to me.

And yet...

People find depth, meaning, and spiritual growth all the time through various forms of retreat and isolation, it seems to me. People attend retreats, go on long walks, sit in awe of a sunrise, meditate, pray, etc. And while an experience of prayer or of God might be somewhat different in groups or by oneself -- the inescapable truth is that the experience still occurs on the level of the individual (i.e., there is no such thing as a group consciousness). Attuning oneself to God can be shaped by a community, but it remains a process that occurs within each of us as individuals.

So it would seem that the issue of spirituality and relationality is not so much one of whether the spiritual formation occurs within a group setting (although there are advantages to this, noted in my last post) -- but rather one of outcome. That is, that spirituality should enhance our sense of relationship, of interdependence, of connectedness.

So those are my thoughts on the topic for now. I'd love to hear yours, if you would honor me with them.

"If we look deeply enough...we see that our heart is the sun." Thich Nhat Hanh

what I miss (a critical self-reflection?)

2007-11-13T11:10:00.000-08:00

OK, so having set out my reasoning for why I am increasingly seeing myself as "spiritual but not religious" (though I agree with natalie's concern about how the word "spiritual" has come to be misused), I think it important for me to think somewhat critically about such a choice.

For there is clearly a downside. Perhaps several of them.

One downside, it seems to me, is the loss of a sense of community, a sense of togetherness in worship. One of my favorite parts of college was attending mass with friends, holding hands together during the "Our Father" and feeling that sense of community. I miss that. And certainly a choice to be "spiritual but not religious" is, in some sense, a choice not to pursue such experiences.

Somewhat tangentially, I also worry that a choice to be "spiritual but not religious" is simply going along with my natural inclination towards introversion, even isolation to some degree. Would it not be better to challenge myself? To experience God as part of a community as well as within the depths of my own experience?

Third, there is the risk mentioned of self-deception -- and the role of community in clarifying what insights might be "from God" and which are the result a kind of narrowness of vision, of my own sinfulness, etc. Would not a community allow for a kind of feedback? A kind of challenge? A potential for growth? (Parenthetically, I was musing about how communities themselves are not perfect in this regard. Community wide beliefs can endorse sexism, racism, and bigotry in various forms.) Still...

All this is to say that, as usual, I have no easy answers to such conundrums. (Actually, I don't think that this is a situation where there is a "right" or "wrong" answer, but rather one in which our hearts might validly choose between several paths.) But I do believe in questioning, in looking at things from various perspectives.

Thanks to you all for the generosity of your time and insights in responding to my previous post.

on spirituality and religion

2007-11-09T07:27:00.000-08:00

I recently stumbled across a blog that raised the question of what people mean when they say they are "spiritual but not religious." And the various folk who commented on the topic suggested that such an orientation is generally a negative thing -- e.g., that such individuals want some connection with God (or however they would name their higher power), but are trying trying to avoid having their faith place any demands upon them.

As someone who is increasingly starting to think of myself along those lines, I feel a need to state why it is that I do so. And how I believe that such criticisms are misguided.

At the outset, let me make it clear that I have nothing but the deepest respect for those who take religion seriously, for those who find deep meaning within their religious traditions, and strive to incorporate values from their faith into their lives. My ramblings here are meant solely as a description of my own journey, not as a comment or criticism upon anyone else's journey.

I would begin by noting that faith has its roots in experience. History, theology, and tradition would all be largely meaningless if people did not continue to have some sort of experience of God in their lives. By this I suppose I mean the experiences of awe, wonder, grandeur, love, and gratitude -- or, perhaps better, glimpses of the transcendent reality that such experiences point to. This experience, I believe, is what people speak of when they describe themselves as "spiritual." At least, it is my meaning for that term.

Religion (or, perhaps better, religious philosophy, tradition, and certain forms of theology) attempt to comprehend and systematize such experience. And there is some value, I think, in doing so. We should engage our intellect around such experiences, contemplate the meaning of them, and allow them to challenge us.

Yet I would argue that the fundamental danger of dogma (which seems to be the inevitable outcome of religious tradition) is in the easy assumption that such attempts to systematize and understand such experiences are in some way equal to the experience (or to the reality beyond experience). By so doing, we commit the egregious error of assuming that we can "know" the will of God. And surely all would acknowledge the tremendous evils that have come into the world based upon such assumptions.

For me, choosing to be "spiritual but not religious" is mostly an effort to focus myself primarily on the kind of experiences described above. I strive to grow in compassion, love, understanding, and justice. I hope to be pushed outside of my comfort zone by these experiences, to grow and develop as a human being.

Yet I strive to avoid a sense of certainty that I am "right" in any absolute sense, that my conclusions and understandings of my experience are complete or allow me to judge others. Indeed, I believe that I should never hold onto any belief so strongly that I lose the capacity for compassion towards others. Because in doing so, I would allow my belief to interfere with the more fundamental goals of spirituality -- to grow in love, compassion, peace, justice, and understanding.

My own experience is that there has been much evil from people believing what their religious tradition tells them to believe -- that homosexuality is evil, that women should be subservient to men, etc. I believe that this process can lead people to believe things that they don't want to believe, to insist that they only believe something because they must obey "God's will." In so doing, they trust that God's will is more readily known in the pages of a book than from the experience of their soul.

I also believe that Christian religious traditions grow more true to Christ when they reject or ignore such teachings in the name of adherence to core Christian principles of love, compassion, and justice.

So at least for now, I think I shall remain "spiritual but not religious." I shall choose to keep my focus on the experience itself rather than on efforts to make sense of such experiences. I trust fully neither my own judgments in this regard nor the judgments of others. I trust only that God continues to communicate with the world, that God's call of love for us challenges us to grow in love ourselves.

on hammers and feelings

2007-11-06T09:38:00.000-08:00

There's an old saying (I think it may have been by Maslow) that goes that when your only tool is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail.

I've been thinking about that saying on a couple of fronts lately. The first thing that reminded me of that saying is a book I'm reading on mindfulness and depression. The basic gist of the book is that depression is generated (or at least exacerbated) when our analytical mind tries to "fix" an inner, distressing feeling. Since the feeling might not have an external cause, the analytical mind might say things like "I shouldn't feel this way" or "I should be over this." This line of reasoning fails to soothe the emotion, and the continued presence of the emotion exacerbates the analytical mind's sense that something is "wrong" and has to be "solved." Thus is created the kind of rumination which often plays a key role in perpetuating depression.

The book's proposed solution is to use mindfulness, to accept the presence of a distressing emotion rather than trying to "fix" the emotion. But what it got me thinking about is how our society trains us to be so analytical, so problem/solution focused. And in so doing, we end up with a tool (and a useful one) -- but one that can lead to counter-productive approaches to some problems. Interesting.

The other area that has had me thinking about Maslow's quote has to do with discipline. Day after day in my practice, I see parents who come to me with "out of control" children, who have been using increasingly severe forms of discipline in response to their child's outbursts. And I talk to them about how discipline is great for setting clear limits and providing a motivation to improve a child's behavior. But so often that isn't the problem. The child knows what's expected, what's "right" and "wrong." And they wish they could stop getting into trouble. The problem lies in that their mind becomes rigid and inflexible -- unable to think of others' perspectives or alternative ways to get their needs met. The child's inflexibility is met by their parent's inflexibility and produces...an outburst.

So I work with them on what Ross Greene calls "Plan B" (which is just a fancy term for using collaborative problem solving). And we talk about how to make it work so that it isn't simply "giving in" or "having to have their way," but actually siding with their child and working together to solve the problem.

I'm always struck by the frequency with which parents are resistant to trying this approach. They have so much fear of "losing" in some supposed contest with their child. They seem not to realize that they are already "losing" in the only areas that matter -- in terms of outcome, trust, communication, and relationship. But, again, this way of thinking stems from the fact that they feel they only have this one tool (of discipline) with which to address the child's poor behaviors.

I'm reminded that I, too, surely have my own limitations in this regard, times when I fail to realize, recognize, or use alternative ways of thinking, feeling, and behaving. I pray that I may learn to be open to more and more such tools.

Peace.

Halloween

2007-10-31T19:05:00.000-07:00

Just thought I'd share a picture of my two boys in their Halloween finest. Patrick is the intrepid firefighter, while Jacob was originally planning to go as "Diego" (from the popular kid's show) -- but ultimately refused to don the costume, and instead chose to go as Elmo.

covenant

2007-10-30T19:56:00.001-07:00

I just finished reading the book "Fatal Revenant" by Stephen R. Donaldson yesterday. It's really, really good.

Reading Donaldson's books always feels like something of a time warp for me, actually. I read the first book in the series of adventures involving Thomas Covenant when I was maybe in the sixth or seventh grade. I remember sitting in a tent at Boy Scout camp, pulling out my flashlight at night to read another chapter.

Which, you'd think, would mean that these were adventurous but fairly simple books, filled with reasonably straight-forward characters and conflicts. Not so. Actually, I think one of the reasons the books drew my attention was that they confused me. Thomas Covenant was my first real exposure to an anti-hero. He is, at least in the beginning, a deeply flawed man, pulled into another universe and hailed as it's savior. The good people of this fictitious "Land" refuse to judge him, even though he acts abominably at times, refuses to acknowledge that the Land is even real, and repeatedly refuses to be of any real help to them despite their peril. In an effort to maintain his sanity, he even refers to himself as "the unbeliever."

And yet...this flawed man comes to love the Land and its people. And in the end he saves the world, facing and overcoming perhaps the most vivid literary description of evil incarnate I have ever come across.

The stories are vividly imagined, complex, and increasingly sophisticated. The characters struggle with self-doubt, with the threat that their choices are unwittingly serving evil, with despair and hope and redemption. I enjoy them much more than, say, Tolkien's works (though I really enjoy Tolkien) -- because in some fundamental sense the characters seem more real.

They're a good real. Highly recommended.

heresy

2007-10-16T15:47:00.000-07:00

Things have not been well in the hearts and souls of Nebraskans lately. A beloved coach was fired several years ago because the new Athletic director, Steve Pederson, said that he would not stand to see Nebraska football "...gravitate towards mediocrity." Mind you, the team's record that year was 9-3.

We haven't had a year with that many wins since.

And to add insult to injury, Nebraska has suffered devastating losses already this year, most recently at a home game to Missouri. If I recall right, it was Nebraska's worst home loss in nearly fifty years.

So yesterday the athletic director was fired.

Today the legendary Nebraska football coach, Tom Osborne, was hired to replace him -- at least on an interim basis.

Understand that for Nebraska football fans, this is basically like saying that Jesus has returned to earth solely for the purpose of reviving your troubled and beloved football program. Such has been the level of excitement in our state.

It might be tempting to use this as a moment of reflection, to ask about our state's (even our nation's) priorities. To wonder why we react this way to a new athletic director, but hardly even notice if a new academic director is put in place.

But at least for now, I look at the faces in the stores and gas stations beaming with hope and pride, and I think that today has been a good day.

strength

2007-10-15T21:06:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking today about this metaphor for therapy with some people, people who tend to stuff their feelings. The metaphor goes that feelings are like water pipes in a home. If the home goes a long time without being used, the water that comes out of the pipes when the water is first turned on is...well, let's just say, unpleasant. And it stays that way for awhile. But the only way to clear up the problem is to let the water run.

Feelings, in this metaphor, are like that water system in the old house. If we stuff them, if we don't let ourselves have them, then what emerges when they bubble to the surface is pain or anger. And we have to let that feeling continue, to face them and keep feeling, in order to eventually get to the point where more positive feelings can emerge.

I found myself thinking about this metaphor not long ago as I sat with someone struggling with this kind of issue. And I thought about the strange position I was in -- asking them to feel pain, asking them to face the thing they'd been avoiding for years.

But as I saw them do so, tears streaming down their face, being fully real in some important sense for the first time in a long time...I was simply awe struck by their courage, by their strength. It reminded me of that Biblical phrase my friend more cows has shared with me -- about strength being perfected in weakness.

Indeed it is.

on miracles

2007-10-10T19:03:00.001-07:00

"The miracle is not walking on thin air or walking on water. The miracle is walking on the earth." Thich Nhat Hanh

So around 8:30 tonight, I noticed that it was strangely quiet downstairs. This is usually a sign that Patrick is either already asleep or tired out enough that he is ready for sleep, so I went downstairs to find him curled up on the couch. His eyes were drowsy. He had his collection of favorite kid show DVD's in a pile near his feet, as if it were his particular kind of unleavened bread -- ready just in case of the need for quick flight.

When I recommended that we go upstairs to go to sleep, he shrugged off my offer to carry him upstairs -- instead saying simply "here" and placing his prized pile of DVD's in my arms. So I traveled the distance to his bedroom with my son and his prized videos, and when we got there he said simply "lay down with me."

Laying down next to him and holding his hand, I could feel the tension in his muscles relax and his breathing slow. And I was struck at how I often marvel at his moments of growth, of development. And perhaps it is right that I do so. But the true miracle is not his growth or his progress. It is his simple presence next to me, breathing, drifting slowly to sleep.

sick day

2007-09-20T20:55:00.000-07:00

So my seven-year-old, Patrick, got up at 3:00 last night, and didn't go back to sleep. He complained of stomach pain, and later that morning, developed diarrhea. His school has a policy that he has to be free of such symptoms for 24 hours before returning to school -- so his ongoing bouts with this throughout today make it apparent that he will not be going to school tomorrow, either.

Sigh.

The unfortunate timing here is that I was supposed to have a bit of free time (or possibly paperwork time) tomorrow morning. Now (unless things change) I'll be either monitoring him to make sure he makes it to the toilet on time -- or changing a great many clothes throughout the morning.

Upon reflection, however, I think that my reaction to this minor setback speaks more about my sense of falling behind a bit at work rather than any major difficulty monitoring him. Heck, I seem to get so little time with him now that he's back in school. I think I will even enjoy it (the parts that don't involve cleaning fecal material, anyway). I may have to come up with a plan for getting more caught up with evaluation paperwork. Hmm....

Peace to you all.

8 random things

2007-08-02T19:31:00.000-07:00

My friend earthbound spirit tagged me for this meme. I have been shamefully late in responding. My apologies.

For those who might be interested, here's 8 random things about me.

1. My golf game has much improved this summer. My wife and I played "best ball" (where each of us hits the ball from one location and we play the better of the two shots), and we golfed a 38. This may have little meaning to a non-golfer, but par is 36. We shot a double bogey on the first hole (two over par), a bogey on the second (one over part), and then six straight pars before finishing with a birdie (one under par). Never in my life did I think I'd shoot a round under 40, playing best ball or not. This makes me happy.

2. The only thing that is missing from my golf happiness right now is that my older brother (who is living in Japan with his family) isn't coming home this summer. We have something of a golf rivalry going.

3. I'm definitely a "work to live" kind of guy, although I generally enjoy my job.

4. I'm regularly flooded by requests for money from all kinds of liberal causes nowadays. I think it started when I decided to make regular donations to the DNC. Ah, learning experiences from the Department of Unintended Consequences....

5. I'm currently planning a winter trip to Las Vegas with my wife, my wife's twin sister, my sister (and her husband), and two of my very good friends from college. We plan to golf, see a show, and hang out. Spending time with such good people (and getting away from the cold of the Midwest in January) seems much like heaven.

6. I think I learn as much from my patients as they learn from me. Perhaps more.

7. I believe I've learned as much about God from Eastern writings and philosophies as I have from Western ones.

8. I'm really very excited about the upcoming release of Stephen R. Donaldson's new book in the "Thomas Covenant" saga. I read the first book when I was like in the sixth grade. At Boy Scout Camp (don't get me started on my feelings towards that particular organization...). He's a genius, though for a variety of reasons I don't think those particular books will ever be translated into movies, etc.

"the big picture"

2007-08-02T19:16:00.000-07:00

For whatever reason, I found myself giving a lot of "big picture" comments at work recently. To a mother who feels that her entire family mistreats her, I pointed out that she spends her entire time at home either avoiding her family or in conflict with them (i.e., so that in the "big picture" their behavior might be a reaction to the fact that they only see a critical side of her). By focusing solely on the injustices of each particular situation, she was missing that bigger picture, was failing to see how her actions contributed to the difficulties at home.

I hope that this kind of advice is helpful. But I must admit that I find such reflections to also be a bit humbling. It forces me to reflect on how I must sometimes miss that "big picture" as well, be it with my kids, my wife, my clients. Which I know is partly just being human.

Still, I find myself thinking about how easy it is to set aside feedback we receive, perhaps especially negative or critical feedback. It's message is difficult to hear, and certainly such feedback is not always entirely true (occasionally not true at all). Still, I wonder how often we disregard truths about ourselves out of convenience, out of fear, or out of some effort to protect our ego. How often I do that.

Such clues are perhaps often our earliest and best warning signs that we're missing the big picture in some important sense. I pray that I might become more aware of such signals, more willing to contemplate them, more willing to listen to whatever call to change might stem from them. That, I think, is strength. And wisdom.