It is the most precious of resources.
We can not replace, add to or seek out more of it.
We can only watch it count away, or we can race it to the same conclusion.
At some point we will run out.
Time.
I have a watch sitting on my counter. It's my favorite watch for wearing outdoors, a military style Timex that well, "takes a licking and keeps on ticking". But it's not ticking at the moment. It's in pieces, needing someone who has more knowledge of it's insides than myself to put it back together. I miss having it when I'm out there. I don't care for the new watch/leashes that we've started to wear to keep us even more 'connected'. Keep it simple.
My watch is broken. It needs repair, maybe even replaced. The second hand has stopped (that's the longest, thin moving part for those unfamiliar with such relics). In the mind of the watch, time has stopped. And in my spirit I've seen the same halting of time. No, I haven't found a way to reverse aging or to stop the clock. I know that the world still moves on. That Time stands still for no one.
But my heart stopped. It stopped beating a while back. Just like that watch. While the world around me has been moving on, I've been stuck. Unable to feel the rhythm of a steady heartbeat. While I have still gone through the motions, my insides weren't working properly. I couldn't get past a certain point without shutting down, realizing that something wasn't quite right. I've felt empty and hollow in some ways. While still feeling so full of life, I couldn't quite get my ticker right.
The heart wants what he heart wants. It's a phrase I wish I had made up, but it's been used often in poetry, prose and film. And the heart also won't find it's beat again until repaired by the caring hands of a craftsman. It's taken a while. I tried to get there myself, but my attempts to mend it always came up short. Not that all of those were in vain. I met amazing people and have stories of opening up and starting to breathe, to feel a slight pulse again. But limping has never been my way. I leap a lot, I fail a lot, and I live.... a lot!
Thing is, I had to realize something that I've struggled with my entire life. I am beautiful. I am passionate. I am alive and I am WORTHY! Not of prosperity, or success or any of the trappings of the world. No, I am good enough to be fully loved... by me. No one can take that away from me. And no one can take that away from you. Once we find that truth, that our hearts can beat for so much more, and we take them to a source, a creator, a spirit that allows us to see what the world is like when we're truly ready...
...we can beat again,
in time.
And as I stood over the gravesite of my grandparents yesterday, I looked down and saw the reality. One day we will meet our end, and no matter what form of afterlife you believe in, if any, there will be an end here in this life. But what I saw beyond the grim reality of death was love. They loved each other. They lived a life together loving, growing, creating a family and in the end my Grandfather could never replace his bride even after living for 20 years without her here in this world.
My heart still feels their love. They taught me so much and still do.
Maybe it’s time.
“and that my friend is a win!”
“what were your wins and losses from the week?”
“to win at all cost…”
What the flying F*$k??
When did we relate life, business, accomplishments this way? I mean, I’m all for NOT giving every kid a trophy or participation award. And I also think things such as sporting events, political races, pinewood derbies should absolutely have a winner. But when did it become so entrenched in our society, and on the reverse, when did we decide to award everyone? I really don’t know. But let’s look at wins and losses.
I fail. I’ve been open on my blog and social media about this. But what I may not have said clearly enough is that I fully embrace failing. I am ok when it all just goes to shit. I don’t look for it, but I know that there is so much to be gleaned from those moments when there’s nowhere to look but up. I’m carnal, I’m flesh. I’m idiocracy and higher reasoning so precariously held together it amazes me I can remember to brush my teeth every morning and operate heavy machinery driving incredibly fast down life’s highway without crashing at every turn. I am hope and hopelessness walking the tightrope of existence.
So, I told a friend this week that I was happy they were suffering. Yes, it sounds callous and harsh, but it was truth. Addicts know it. Pro Athletes know it. Why can’t we figure it out without having to be in some extreme social or professional group? We were built to fail. But what alcoholics and basketball stars know that we tend to gloss is that you have to lose to win. I’m a huge baseball fan. Never played the game (unless you count writing poetry in my head while playing outfield in the church’s softball league as a child!). Do you know what the measure of success is in baseball? 300. If a batter gets up and hits a ball, which he’s been trained at doing since almost infancy, has spent hundreds of thousands of dollars refining and perfecting his swing, and hits the ball 30% of the time, he’s ‘crushing’ it! Maybe baseball truly is a metaphor for life. We all get up and take our turn. We get chance after chance. We face our demons, our inadequacies, our tendency to run or to fail. We swing, and if we hit that darn ball just three out of every ten times and get on base, we’ve accomplished something. Doesn’t sound like a win. But maybe it truly is.
Every loss I have ever faced is a win. Tell that to corporate sales guys or the sabermetrics guys who try to number everything to death. I have won every time. I’m still batting 1000. Because I don’t give up. That’s what makes us winners. Knowing that however low we get, there is the chance to learn and to grow, even from the worst mistakes. I’ve worn a lot of mud on my face. Sometimes taken days to get to a place where I could even get up and wipe the crap from my eyes. And though I’m not at the place I thought I would be at 47 years old, I’m batting 1000. I’m succeeding. It’s one simple act. Getting up.
With mud on your face. Do you get up? I’m about to announce something very important to me. Something that will make some of you scratch your head, “How does he think he can do that?” Others will scoff and look at the many flaws that I STILL have and reject this altogether. Maybe a few will ask me personally the how’s and why’s of it all (LOVE<LOVE>this group). And some will just understand. But if I ask you to tell me your wins, it means I want to know everything. Tell me you hurt, your hard, your beautiful, your passion, your muddy faced stories of wanting more. None of us is perfect, well, maybe there was one.
What if there was one man who was perfect? What if he came and saw all of our failings, our humanity (the bad type), our thick-skinned stubbornness, our evil? Our ugly? Would we get the lecture about hitting our goals, or how we just keep losing? Would he yell and scream at us like I’ve seen coach K from Duke do so many times? What were your wins this week? What goals do you need to work on? No, I don’t believe that’s the way the scriptures lay it out. It is the single, hardest thing I have ever tried to wrap my head around. The Why? Why would anyone willingly, without a fight, do such a stupid, crazy thing? Why would a supposed god allow himself to face the ultimate loss because of us? Why, why why?
Because it wasn’t a loss. Christianity hinges on this. Not on a cross or an empty tomb. But on a choice. If I am to believe that the man Christ was real, then I have to understand that the ultimate “win” would be to lay down his life for the people he loved. And being a dad, I get that. He chose. I would put myself in harms way to save my kids. I love them. Maybe this ‘king’ might just have loved us enough.
How do I wrap my thoughts around all that? Because I still struggle with god-as-flesh. Hell, I live here, you live here. We all know just how bad it seems at times. But I also know the heart. We’re such a resilient mess. We’re pretty cool once you get to the core of us, but to think that God would want to walk these streets is INSANE! But the thought still lingers… just what if? What if it was all real? Isn’t it worth it to give the guy a chance? Oh, I daily fight with God. I call him “Dude” most of the time. But I remember a day in 2010 when if it wasn’t for something, someone beyond this world I wouldn’t be here. I’ve seen the birth of three children. Life born. And for these reasons, the years of doubt that I’ve fought and the beautiful moments when I can hear that voice on the wind, I realize that it’s not always simple for all of us. I love my family (someone tell them that when I can’t), but they often seem to believe without the doubt that plagues my mind. I don’t know, but I also am glad I’ve found my way here through the trials. My trials led me to the trails, which led me to God. And even in my losses…
…I win every day. I believe.
Why do the Lone Ranger, Zorro, Batman and so many others wear a mask? They seek to do good, but they also want to hide who they really are. Something deep inside.
Lone Ranger - running from his past
Zorro - hiding the fact that he’s actually a rich land owner
Batman - well, that’s one ‘ducked’ up dude inside
I want to do good. But I also want to hide.
Please understand, I don’t hide how I feel. I don’t hide when I’m upset and I’m pretty blunt about where I’m at with most things. But Batman has his cave, Iron Man has his workshop, the Lone Ranger has the wide open prairies.
Maybe I’m running. If I am, it’s not away from anything, except possibly true, deeper connection with others (outside of my immediate circle). It’s good to try and help others. I earnestly want that. But it’s also a way of keeping a distance. And quite honestly I’m most like the man-bat. Driven to do good, while sometimes being eaten alive by my sense of aloneness. Instead of opening up, I’ll use that fear, anger to help others. Or maybe just try and gain back some of my own humanity. Lost a long time ago.
So...
In the end...
“I’m Batman.”
(Just without all the really cool toys!)
