fear and love

Recently I've been learning a lot from my clients about fear and love.

What has struck me is how very easy it is to make decisions in life based on fear. Taking a job because of a sense that you will be respected, rather than because there's something you love about doing that job. Going somewhere with a group of friends (when you don't want to) because of a fear of social rejection. Losing weight because of a fear of losing social approval. Avoiding one's partner or spouse because of a fear they might discover your secret.

Life can so easily become overwhelmed by fear. And then life becomes empty because all we find is a sense of relief from avoiding some dread consequence.

It is interesting to me, too, to think about what it means to substitute love for fear. To find ways of doing a job because you find something about it that makes you feel happy and alive. To find ways of relating to a spouse or partner openly, genuinely, lovingly -- to support, encourage, and cheer for each other in profound ways despite our flaws. To make brave choices based on our sense of ourselves and what is right (out of a provound love of ourselves).

Fear is easy in part because the rules of avoidance are simple: you just don't bring up the truth. Love is often far more complex and difficult because it involves relationship and courage, vulnerability even. But there is no joy in fear, no life, no freedom. These can only be found in love.

Challenge

In this work we do to remediate our sons' autism, there's this concept of providing them with "Regulation-Challenge-Regulation" (RCR) experiences. Basically, the idea is to establish some sort of a regulated pattern (say, a basic activity wherein we take turns pulling each other back and forth), then you add a challenge (e.g., maybe I don't pull when its my turn, or instead of pulling I get closer to them), and then they absorb what's changed, make some sort of modification, and re-establish a new regulatory pattern.

This is all terribly common in everyday situations, it's just that with autistic kids you need to break it down, slow the process down, etc.

Anyway, so with Patrick today he was on this table in our "breakfast nook" area. And he loves his TV, even though there was no video and the thing wasn't receiving any television signal. He would just turn it on. And I decided I would make a noise and turn the TV off. Patrick laughed at that, one of those simple joyous laughs of childhood that makes everything seem worthwhile. And in the spirit of this RCR activity, I began adding variations. Different noises when he got close to the TV, different noises when I'd pull him away.

And then I upped the challenge, running away rather than being right there when it was my "turn," making him turn to engage me in some way in order to keep the activity going. He did and he seemed to love it the whole time.

It was such a positive experience for us both, really. And yet there's this part of me that looks back on things with anxiety. Wondering if I did it right, wondering if I did enough, wondering if all of this effort will really make any difference, wondering...

If this RCR stuff is as universal to true relationships as the developmental psychology folks would claim that it is, perhaps in a sense these doubts or worries are my own form of "challenge." Whether that's emerging out of my relationship with my son...or perhaps even out of my relationship with God, I don't know.

But something about this idea of "challenge" fits for me, as I look back on my relationship with God, with faith, with church. And I like the idea of "challenge" as a doorway to new insights, new depths of relationship. I also like their idea that in good mentoring relationships, there is no such thing as a devastating failure. There is only feedback, support, and guidance without the kind of overt "do this, this way, and at this time" kind of response. "Failures" are moments to learn, we need only keep trying. Development really only gets stuck when we feel so incompetent that we stop trying, when we begin to avoid opportunities for growth and challenge.

Back to that topic of anxiety or worry again. Interesting. Perhaps the lesson in all of this is to persevere, to tolerate the anxiety of not being sure if you're doing it perfectly, and to just simply continue -- to trust in the process, to grow, to be confident enough in my son's potential to know that progress is possible. Perhaps even to model the ability to face anxiety and persevere because that is precisely what I am asking him to do.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is rapidly approaching, and every year I try to put together my thoughts about gratefulness. Usually this has taken the form of an e-mail to good friends of mine. This year, I thought I would try putting it on my blog.

I should note that part of my doing so today, right now, is because I have been inspired by some lovely posts by fellow bloggers, including Magdalene's Musings and More Cows Than People. I could hardly hope to approach their eloquence. Still, the act of giving thanks, of acknowledging gratitude, seems fundamentally important to me. It acknowledges and affirms our connections with people, recognizes the role they play and have played in our lives, in who we are and have become.

So, this year I find myself particularly grateful to:

1. My wife, whose ability to tolerate me, support me, and love me humbles me every day.

2. My two boys, Patrick and Jacob. Having two sons on the autism spectrum teaches me so much about life, about parenthood, about development, about relationships. I am grateful more fundamentally, however, because they are such great kids, who bring such such energy, vitality, love and joy into my life.

3. God, who seems to tolerate me despite all my faults, including my stubborn questions about Catholicism and church attendance. Oh, yeah, and there's the whole "basic source of my existence and the existence of all that is" thing. But I'm sure You get that one all the time.

4. All of my dear friends and family, far and near. I have learned so much, grown so much, from having known you.

5. My new friends I've developed on this strange thing known as the blososphere. I look forward to reading your blogs, getting your comments, and sharing thoughts. I've been inspired, uplifted, and at times saddened by this process. Thank you.

6. My clients, whom I learn so much from every time I meet with them, and whose courage is often remarkable.

7. Developmental psychology. You can read some of my other recent posts if you really want to know more about that one.

Thank you.

Of dynamic systems and walking

OK, so this is just one of those thoughts that keeps sticking in my head and I just can't seem to get past it. I find myself enamored by this notion of self as not some distinct "thing," but as process, as something that is actively constructed and constantly in flux.

It makes me think of Buddhism, actually, and discussions of things like breathing meditation or walking meditation. They have this notion that mindfulness to such simple actions brings peace, nurtures compassion, and deepens our insight into how all things are inter-dependent.

Which somehow fits, I think, with this notion of self as actively constructed, as emerging out of relationships with other people and our world. If we walk slowly and mindfully, peacefully, then perhaps we are relating to the world in a way that builds peace within us. If we are mindful of our interconnectedness, perhaps we grow in our awareness and appreciation for this fact.

If, on the other hand, we walk hastily, impatiently, demandingly...what then are the ways we are shaping ourselves to become?

It is a small thing to walk. But perhaps it is in doing these small things with regularity, purpose, and mindfulness that we grow most meaningfully.

Of Developmental Psychology and being "Born Again"

The respected developmental psychologist, Alan Fogel, wrote in his book Developing Through Relationships that, "Upon close examination, one finds that the workings of the mind and the ways in which we perceive and understand ourselves is remarkably like the form of our personal relationships. The life of the mind is a dialogue, most typically a verbal dialogue, between imagined pointes of view...To continue treating the mind as a disembodied relationless computational machine, as an objective thing inside the head, is to be blind to the evidence of one's own cognitive experience." He also writes, "Human cognition and the sense of self are fundamentally and originally relational."

I know. All of this probably sounds rather academic, perhaps even dull. But if you think about it, the implications are rather striking. What he is saying, in part, is that our sense of self is not a "thing" in and of itself, cut off from the outside world. Rather, our sense of self is deeply affected by our relationships, both present and past. In a profound sense, we co-create our sense of "self" out of our important relationships.

Which fits with experience, I think. I mean, I can think of relationships I've ended because I didn't like the person I was becoming.

Part of my reflections about this has been on the subject of just how important it is that we choose good people to be part of our lives, people who are kind, people who are loving and respectful. Because it is truly our "self" that can be affected. Surrounding ourselves with callous individuals, we risk becoming callous ourselves. On the other hand, being around those who are compassionate and caring nurtures those qualities in us.

The other thing I was thinking about is the notion that a relationship with God must mean that we open ourselves to "co-creating" our sense of ourself out of that relationship. We do more than worship, than praise, as important as these things may be. Our relationship pulls us to understand ourselves and our world in profoundly different ways, in ways that open us up more and more to be loving, compassionate, and kind.

Perhaps to "co-create" our sense of ourself through a relationship with God is part of what Jesus was getting at when he spoke of our being "born again." I like that idea, if for no other reason than I had previously written off the idea (it has just come to sound far too fundamentalistic for my tastes).

A trip to Houston

Airplane flights are one of those eerily unpredictable things in life. I got to the airport two hourse before my scheduled flight time, what with the security and the lines and such. And the weather in Omaha was beautiful. Sadly, the weather in Houston at that point was not so much beautiful as, say, downpourish. Like major thunderstorms of such severity that they grounded most of their flights. I ended up leaving about three hours later than I expected.

So I was sitting there with all these other travellers, sharing various grumblings about the delay, about connecting flights, about whether luggage would make it on said connecting flights. And there were the various attempts to get information, schedule different connecting flights, etc. The airline employee was this young guy, probably in his 20s, and you could just see his stress level rise over the course of the three hours.

I couldn't help but feel for the guy. This whole situation was entirely out of his control. Stressed, impatient clients were on his back, growing steadly more irritable with every new flight delay. Towards the end, he almost seemed at the end of his rope.

As I contemplated this, my perspective on the situation changed. It didn't matter so much that I might miss some of my favorite TV shows tonight, or that I might not get a dinner meal until later than I would like. Being "forced" to sit there with an incredibly dense book on Cognition and Social Context (I think that was the title) no longer seemed so much like a decade in purgatory.

As I boarded the plane, I turned to him and said simply "thank you for being so patient with us." I think my response bewildered him, although he said "oh yeah, no problem." You could see in his face that it wasn't what he was expecting.

I hope that my comment helped decrease his stress. But what really struck my attention was how this newfound empathy for him also decreased my own stress level. Something about gettint outside of my narrow view of these events, of this newfound compassion for him, brought a sense of peace.

May we all have more such experiences of peace. I daresay the world would be better for it.

On why I posted tonight

So I came to my computer tonight because I was thinking that I was "getting behind" on my blog, that I should really write something. And as I sat down, I became aware of this strange sense of pressure to write something interesting or funny or meaningful. I even noticed myself tempted to just log off without posting anything when nothing that seemed "good enough" popped up in my head.

Which is interesting, really, that tendency to not communicate. I mean, I suppose to some extent there is a necessary degree of self-censorship we engage in on a daily basis. We hold back expressing certain reactions. Not to do so could invite relationship conflicts on the level of "Desparate Housewives." And yet...how many of us hold back in our lives, in our relationships, out of some sort of nameless or vaguely defined fear? How many feel somehow that they have to do so, that what is inside couldn't possibly be good enough, might even drive people away?

I understand and even encourage holding back certain thoughts for the sake of politeness, for a consideration of others' feelings. But I wonder whether more often the mistake is witholding so much of ourselves that we sacrifice genuineness in our relationships with spouses, friends, and perhaps even with God.

Perhaps we do so because it is that at our deepest levels we feel childlike, vulnerable, afraid, or weak. Perhaps we worry that we are alone in feeling this way or that others would judge us if they knew. Yet Jesus is said to have told his apostles that none can enter the Kingdom of Heaven without approaching it as a child.

Maybe Jesus was saying more than just something about how to get into heaven with that comment. Maybe he was pointing to the necessity to "be real" in this way with those closest to us, as well as with God. Perhaps in admitting weakness we become strong, in admitting ignorance we start to learn, in admitting our need for support we become capable of accepting it.

Popcorn

So today one of the gifts I received was the gift of a couple of hours alone with my six year old son, Patrick. I met him just after school, and (as usual) he was hungry for a snack. So we made microwave popcorn together. He helped open the bag, put it in the microwave, and waited patiently for it to finish.

Eating together, I was struck by the opportunities for togetherness. Little games would develop where we'd put popcorn in our mouths at the same time, pretend to eat it "like monsters," or drop it in our mouths. Just to be silly, we'd do unexpected things with the popcorn like putting it on our heads.

What was great for me was to be able to see how his mind was thinking. Like how he'd notice when something was different or silly, how he'd get in close to share a belly laugh, the care he took when we were trying to take a bite at the same time. Or how he'd respond to my comments of "that was fun" with a pause and then a "yeah!"

I don't yet really know what the future will bring for Patrick. I don't know whether the cognitive delays his teachers keep seeing will improve as we treat his autism, or if he will always struggle with them. I don't know how well he'll be able to read, or write, or think using abstractions. But today I looked at his beautiful face, eating popcorn with me, sharing this simple enjoyment. And somehow none of that mattered. Because if he could really be there with me, enjoying that moment, I knew he was making progress in the areas you need to be able to make friends.

My prayers today are full of gratitude.

Politics and non-attachment

One of my favorite teachings from the Buddhist tradition is that of "non-attachment." As I understand it, part of this teaching is that we should never cling to any idea or belief so strongly that it prevents us from having compassion for someone.

In this season of political attack ads and polarization, this notion strikes me as both radical and profoundly human. It is so easy to demonize those with whom we disagree, to write off their beliefs and ideas, to hold onto our worldview as if it were the best or only way to approach truth, goodness, or beauty.

Yet God did not command us to develop a coherent system of thought that is correct above all others. God commanded us to love, to show compassion, to have mercy, to work for justice. To realize, perhaps that God's truth is beyond any and all truths we might imagine, that we best approach God's plan by being open to new ideas, new perspectives. Or perhaps that ideas themselves are not so important as the capacity for simple kindness and respect.

I pray that our political leaders may strive for such an approach. I pray that I will as well, however much I may complain about the Republicans. =)

Halloween

In yesterday's local paper here there was this article about a woman who follows Wiccan practices. Not too surprising, right? It's Halloween coming up, after all. But then there was a side article, interviewing a local Catholic priest. Mind you, this is man I have personally met with and have a great deal of respect for. Which was why it really bothered me when, during the course of the interview, following the Wiccan faith was referred to as being in a state of "mortal sin" as some great, dangerous temptation away from Christianity.

I just have to ask, have we Christians really learned so little from our own history? Have we remained so ignorant, so small, so petty? Must we continue to defend the uniqueness and specialness of our own faith tradition by denigrating those of others? Must we pretend we have all the answers about God, that no other approach to the divine has validity?

I am, to choose a word carefully, frustrated.

Here's how I see it. God, we are told, is the source of all that is good in the world. We are also told that "by their fruits you shall know them": that is, you can know whether an idea or tradition is good by the effect that it has on its adherents. As such, it follows that all traditions which create compassion, goodness, or holiness come from the Divine Mystery which we refer to as God. Doctrine, I would argue, is often pointless, even counterproductive. Look instead to see if the tradition promotes compassion, mercy, justice, love.

From the kind of articles I've been reading, I am forced to wonder about Catholicism sometimes. Which both angers and saddens me, as I still think of it as my faith tradition.

Empathy Magnifiers

I went to a conference a few years ago on the use of psychological testing. And part of what I found so interesting about the speaker was his discussion of using psychological testing results as empathy magnifiers, as ways to deepen and expand our understanding and compassion for the client. It was really just a significant shift in perspective. Much of my training in psychological testing had been about dry (abeit important) stuff like reliability, validity, diagnostic implications, etc.

But empathy magnifiers? That was new. I've never thought about or approached the process of psychological testing the same way since.

I had a discussion with someone not so long ago about all of the darkness in the world. About how easy it is to fall into cynicism about it. About how easy it can be to see when things are petty, selfish, or "stupid."

Such an outlook can even have some truth to it (I once heard someone say that cynicism "...is the fine art of accurate perception"). Yet it comes at such a cost. To view the world in such a way is to allow ourselves to become cynical, to put blinders on or disregard much of what is true, good, and beautiful.

And then we spoke about how different it can be if we use these moments of cynicism to look more deeply, to see the reasons why. Perhaps the individual we're judging is reacting out of their own pain or fear. Perhaps they lack the skill in some area. Perhaps we ourselves are somehow part of the problem.

Such an outlook, I think, creates its own "empathy magnifier" for us. It keeps us human and compassionate. And, I think, happy.

Strength (RDI & Spirituality, part II)

In RDI, we are told that autistic children often revert to static routines (singing songs over and over, twisting their fingers in the air, etc.) precisely because the complex real world is overwhelming to them. Or, better, they haven't yet achieved a sense of competence in dealing with the complex, dynamic environment that the "real world" of social relationships deals them. So they revert to doing the same, simple thing over and over and over. Our task in helping them becomes giving them slow gradations of complexity, helping them to attain a sense of mastery in facing change, complexity, etc.

What strikes me about this on an emotional and spiritual level is how it parallels various forms of unhealthy coping. Like those who pick a fight rather than dealing with emotional vulnerability -- because a fight is a known to them. They know what their role is, they know how to use the fight to avoid the real topic, etc. Or people who give in rather than face the possibility of conflict. Again, its an issue of doing what is known, what is comfortable, even if it's not fun, even if it happens to be painful as hell. It may be painful, but people will cling to the pattern because they at least feel like they know what they're doing, they feel competent in that role.

Which got me thinking about this topic of "strength." Strength, it seems to me, often involves allowing ourselves to be genuine and vulnerable -- to speak from those parts of ourselves that feel may feel weak, but reflect how we feel most deeply. On the other hand, strength is sometimes standing up for ourselves, facing conflict or difficulty rather than backing down all the time.

More broadly speaking, I think, strength is having to courage to go to those places where we feel most incompetent, to go to those places despite our fear and uncertainty and to learn from the experience. In asking this of my autistic sons day after day, I pray that I can also grow in my ability to ask it of myself.

A smart, funny "Opus"

Check out this link (Opus) for one of the smartest and funniest cartoons in a long time (in my humble opinion).

A very cool week

OK, so as the title of this little entry suggests, this promises to be a great week ahead. Why? Because at least two very good things are about to happen. First, this friday evening is the season premier of the new Battlestar Galactica season. I know, I know, those who have never seen the show are going to roll their eyes and write me off as some sort of pocket-protector wearing uber-nerd. But trust me, this show is the best thing on television right now. In fact, I believe it is one of the best television series ever, if not the best series ever. Check it out, if you haven't. You won't regret it.

The second very cool thing to happen soon is that Sting's new album is scheduled to be released this coming Tuesday. It's been too long, and I'm very much looking forward to hearing his new stuff. Which reminds me, I'm also hoping for a new Peter Gabriel album, though I have absolutely no idea when that might occur.

spirituality and RDI

I just returned a few days ago from a four day conference in Houston. It was on Relationship Development Intervention (RDI), an approach for helping remediate the effects of autism. Within the RDI model, there is a big emphasis on repairing something called the "intersubjective relationship" (IR) between the autistic child and their parents.

In essence, the IR is a relationship wherein the parent and child share subjective states with each other -- common points of reference, ways of understanding, etc. This state is fairly natural for typically developing children, but often breaks down with autistic children because the children don't provide the normal social feedback to parents.

Anyway, within RDI, there's this big emphasis on re-establishing the IR, and on creating a "Master-Apprentice" relationship with the child, where the child is willing to give up behaviors they use to stay in control -- in order to be an apprentice to the parents so they can learn mastery of some area.

So all of this got me thinking about spirituality, about what it means to have an authentic relationship with the divine. It is difficult, it seems to me, to sustain an "intersubjective relationship" with a being beyond all comprehension. For one thing, I don't think this kind of relationship can be established simply by reading the Bible. It requires something more experiential than that. The demands, then, become ones of real listening, of quiet contemplation, of seeking guidance. Trying to catch those moments of connection, of inspiration, that cause us to grow in love, compassion, and understanding.

I also began thinking about the importance of giving up the notion that we have all the answers (a sort of false competence) -- so that we can assume an "apprentice" role, a learning role. There's a certain humility that becomes involved, it seems to me. But in assuming an apprentice role, we gain the capacity to learn, to grow, to love more authentically and deeply.

I'd love to hear any thoughts.

autism, allergies, diet

So I have two sons (ages 4 and 6) who have both been diagnosed in the autism spectrum. And a couple of years ago, my wife and I started using a program called Relationship Development Intervention (RDI) to help them. Long story short, my four year old has done amazingly well on the program, while my six year old seems "stuck" in some of the earlier stages. Actually, we're going back now to make sure he has some of the really basic skills down before we try some of the more advanced stuff again, but that's a story for another post.

Anyway, my wife had been doing this research, looking into the role of toxins and allergies on autistic children. There seems to be a movement (I believe it's called Defeat Autism Now or "DAN") that believes that autism is entirely caused by this kind of stuff. So we take our sons to have them tested -- to see if they have any of these allergies or unusual toxins in their system. And it turns out that they do. In fact, they have a large number of reactions to a wide variety of foods -- including wheat (gluten), milk (casein), soy, corn, chicken, eggs, and a long list of other substances. Plus there are these vitamin supplements he wants us to give them (like 22 of them), some "probiotic" pill to create a healthier balance between healthy bacteria and yeast in their system, etc.

OK, so here's my struggle with all of this. First of all, I'm not sure I really believe there is any link between these "allergies" (none of which have ever caused any noticeable reaction in our children before) and their autistic symptoms. Second, the kinds of intervention being requested (particularly the dietary ones) would require drastic and expensive lifestyle changes. And third, how in the heck are we supposed to get 22 pills down the throats of young boys who won't swallow pills?

Or (to pose the more difficult questions), to what extent is my reluctance selfish? To what extent is my hesitance because I don't want to have to change my diet, or to put up with their tantrums when they can't have their favorite foods anymore? I'd be dishonest if I didn't admit these issues play some role in my thinking.

But of course what I ultimately want is just what is best for my kids. I worry, though, about making all of these changes for naught. I worry about falsely believing that the dietary stuff is causing them to get better, when in fact it could simply be from normal maturation (or the other interventions we're doing). I worry about the stress. I worry about the added financial burden. And I worry about constantly having to check, to be always thinking about whether some food at a restaurant has wheat, corn, chicken, or sugar. Or perhaps better, I worry about having to find foods that actually DON'T have any of these things.

And I worry that somehow not doing these things would make me a bad parent. And there's the brutal, terrible rub.

quandry

I was asked to complete one of those online surveys today. One of those with lengthy questions about whether you think the country is going in the "right direction," whether you shop at Wal Mart, whether you have a favorable opinion of Lindsay Lohan. You get the idea.

Anyway, one of the questions was about whether I felt religion played a "major role" in my life. Which stumped me a little. I mean, I've always thought of myself as Catholic. I was raised in the church, had my own version of a "religious experience" during a retreat my senior year of high school, went to a Catholic university, and even received a theology minor.

But now I very rarely go to church.

I guess mostly what I find so disturbing is that the things I learned to love about religion from my theological studies and earlier experiences are so foriegn to what I see from the institutional church now. In school, I learned about the church's teachings on issues of social justice, learned that the church actually REQUIRES you to disagree with formal doctrine if you've met the requirements of an "informed conscience," learned about how gratitude is one of the deepest forms of prayer, learned about a kind of ecumenism that was broad enough to grant validity to other religious traditions.

I loved learning that stuff.

What I see largely now is a church that is politically and institutionally "in bed" with the Republican party. One that is more interested in preventing condom use than stopping thousands of deaths in Africa from AIDS, one that viciously discriminates against homosexuals, one that continually degrades the value of women (while spouting doctinal nonsense about how it isn't), one that seeks to have moral certainty at the expense of compassion or understanding. Ah, but don't even get me started on issues like married priests, women priests, altar girls, or the desperate, rabid clinging to tradition that so pervades the more conservative elements of Catholicism.

In short, going to church has become nothing that I find nourishing, spiritually or emotionally. I do so wish it were different.

Faced with these issues, my wife chose not long ago to simply join another church tradition. I simply stopped going to church. Lacking any desire to go to church, yet unwilling to give up my sense of myself as somehow still being "Catholic." Who was right? Does it even matter?

Suffice it to say that, at this point, I find that I no longer believe in hell, no longer believe that God had such a vendetta against humanity that he prevented access into heaven until Jesus hung on a cross (I don't define "salvation" in those terms anymore), don't believe that some doctrinal litmus test is what is necessary to gain communion with God after death. I explained some of this to my wife not too long ago. I think she's not sure if I'm even "Christian" by her definition of the term. I found that comment funny.

Mortal

My wife had one of her favorite aunts (Susan) die just a couple of days ago from breast cancer. Vicious disease, really. My thoughts are prayers are with Susan's husband, children, family, and friends.

Sadly, I cannot claim to have known Susan that well. But I can see the pain in my wife's face, hear the sadness in her voice as she tells some of her favorite stories from family reunions, and know that the world is lessened without Susan's presence.

There's that helpless feeling that comes across when someone you love is in great pain. There's not much that can be said other than "I'm so sorry for your loss" or "just tell me if there's anything I can do." And in the case of my wife, I could simply hold her until the tears stopped.

I remember when my father died about a year and a half ago now that I was thinking how little there is to say in the face of death. And yet how much it meant to be able to reach out to all those I love, to just hear their voices, to know that they were with me amidst the loss. To know that I was not alone.

Reflecting on things now, we all seem so fragile. Some small thing can happen that ends our lives, and it all just seems so soon, so random and arbitrary. And yet in our fragile hold on life, we can be strengthened by our connections to each other. We were created to be social creatures, and in accepting that need we are strengthened. Which, paradoxically, requires the willingness to be vulnerable, to be genuine. Banding together with our shattered hearts, we find strength, compassion, and even hope.

How much better life would be, I think, if we could huddle together in our brokenness more often.

Filters

Alright. So the initial, welcoming post is out of the way. Now for that first attempt at a substantive post.

I was thinking it would be funny to do something off the wall. Some sort of Stephen Colbert homage, perhaps. But that will have to wait for another time. Because when you're someone who thinks too much (like me), the first instinct is to become philosophical.

Which, in a sense, is what this post is about. Thinking too much, that is. To some extent, our thoughts can interfere with simply living, being fully aware of life. Thinking (oddly enought) prohibits mindfulness, in its deepest sense. What's more, thinking tends to engage all of our mental filters -- ways that we process experience. Call 'em what you want -- cognitive distortions, negative/maladaptive schemas, etc. Basically they boil down to a way that we filter sensory input. And in my experience, these filters tend to be rather egocentric. I don't mean that in an entirely negative or critical sense.

Let me see if I can explain that better. Our filters tend to reflect our pains, whether from a sense of defectiveness, a painful mistrust of others, etc. And out of our pain, we become focused on ourselves -- whether we are being accepted or rejected, whether others are out to harm us, whether we are OK, etc. All of which leads me to wonder: to what extent is it possible to truly love when we are stuck in such patterns? At the very least, it seems to me that our ability to love is suppressed by such filters, such unresolved pains -- because inevitably we are focused on ourselves rather than those around us.

Welcome!

Greetings! This is my first attempt at creating my own blog, so I apologize if there are any errors early on. I hope to iron things out as I learn the format.

My thoughts for the direction of this blog are somewhat amorphous right now. I hope to discuss my thoughts on a number of topics -- politics, spirituality, psychology, buddhism, movies, music, parenthood, etc. But the "common thread" I hope to shoot for is to delve deeper into these topics, to go "beyond assumptions" as it were. If that intrigues you, I invite you to participate in the discussions.