Seven Facts Meme

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.

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?

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

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"

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...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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 *&(%?!!!

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...

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

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!"

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

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

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...

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

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?

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

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!

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!

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!

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

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

deep talk. sort of.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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...

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

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

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

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?!

"famous"

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

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...

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

I couldn't agree more.

Hmm...

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

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

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?)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"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

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

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"

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.