As a child, did you ever look up into the sky on a clear summer night? When the sun has burned off any haze and set, leaving the night with a perfect picture of a thousand stars. It’s almost like you could reach out and touch them. Sitting alone under such a canopy of twinkling brilliance, it’s easy to feel totally alone and so small in comparison. Alone, on the same night a thousand miles away, another curious child looks up pondering the same thoughts as the first constellation comes clearly into view.
Are we ever truly alone? Not getting spiritual or philosophical, but are we?
I’ve dreamt under those stars. I still do at times. And when I’m out there, my world drifts away into a cosmos that reminds me of my stature, of being just one single organism in a universe that might be teeming with others. Sentient, carnal, sludge. Who knows? But what I have realized, just like that child across the world from me, is that there are others out there. We just have to find ways to connect like connecting the dots of stars in a constellation.
It is in our isolation that we find solace at times, but often we can find that place where being alone becomes a sense of overwhelming loneliness. It is easy to feel connected with the likes of Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and others, but are we really so connected when trolling yet another site or app? Where did human contact, a hug, a close whisper, a smile not shared over a screen get lost? Our help often comes first from a google search, then checking with our “Friends” online and then posting our victories and trials out there for others to see. I’m not in any way trying to bash the world that we have now with social media. I use it myself to stay abreast of happenings, births, life events that may be across the country or just not part of the hectic schedule I sometimes have. But is it true connection?
What would it be like to go back to small communities with a central gathering place? Real hands to pat you on the back or open ears to sit by a fire and listen intently and offer up words of encouragement or just to say, “I hear you”. I still struggle with being real. I want my work, my friendships, my family to be real to me. And I am the FIRST to admit that close proximity to large amounts of people can truly give me anxiety and unneeded stress. But I also need time with those I care about. In the work that I do, both teaching and my new venture I need to see your face. To absorb some of your energy. To breathe you in and allow you to do the same of me. We were built for communion with others.
And on those nights when I’m alone under the stars, I remember that song from the animated movie “An American Tail”, Somewhere Out There.
“And even though I know how very far apart we are
It helps to think we might be wishin' on the same bright star
And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby
It helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky”
Do you feel alone? Amidst the hustle and bustle of your life, do you feel more alone than connected? See, the stars are there every night, whether we can see them or not. They shine just as bright whether covered by clouds or lost in the thunder and rain. And when you stand alone under one of those perfect nights, realize that somewhere, no matter how far apart, there is someone thinking about you and hoping that you are thinking about them.
Find connection in others who seek the same things in life. In hopeful people who dive in and want to experience more than just a world on a screen. Find peace in knowing that we never have to be alone.
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!)
He...
Stands waiting at the gate
Days, months have passed, but he is not dismayed
It is his son, his child
The heir to all he owns
But not of riches made of silver, platinum or gold
He...
Chases after our soul
Just for the hope that we will want to be made whole
Stays up, waiting late into the night
For the hope that we just might…
Come home
While we walk among the zombies,
while we waiver and hesitate
Each day a new struggle,
Filled with so much anger, so much hate
or just meandering on a course of our own
What is it that we truly long (for)?
He...
is desperate in his desire
To reach the loneliness we hold
a little too closely
As we keep fighting, won’t let go
But he resides in a place that our hearts truly seem
to gravitate towards if we would just let go and believe
He...
Longs for the day he’ll see us
Still waiting at the gate
He’ll cast aside our burdens
He’ll never hesitate
to welcome us home
I have always been hurt by the fact that my (heavenly) father never came for me. That I’ve had to feel so alone and so desperately seeking something that would never happen. And while there is reality in those hurts, there comes a point where we have to stop and go home. He’s waiting there with his arms wide open. Always standing at the gate. He is aware of our wanderings and allows us to fall, to get up, to find our footing, to lose hope, and to ultimately succumb… but yet he is there. He’s always there. And it’s not such a distant journey, it’s a breath (uttered) on the wind, a step in his direction. It’s just going home.
Inspired by Luke 15:11-32
3/17/19
clc
What if we built a few more picket fences
to replace those faded stained-glass walls?
Took those weathered church pews, made them park benches
Hung up a sign that said, “Come In” and welcomed all?
And in that garden we’ll plant together
Replace the hate with a melody
that comes as the choir digs and toils together
Grow seeds of love to meet a deeper need
And in those gates, we’ll really listen
to the voices of all who enter in
Not shun, mock or secretly hope to keep this place
all to ourselves, while greeting as if we really gave a damn
Take that money for all those missionaries
Spend it on those in front of us really in need
I’m not saying forget all the people we sang about
But open our hearts to that family right down the street
Take turns mending fences instead of trying to rebuild walls
Leave the gate wide open, cause ‘anyone can believe’
Remember that guy, so often talked about
Did more talking to the prostitutes,
the lepers,
the workers,
the mothers,
the elders,
the rich,
the poor,
the ‘sinners’.
People like you and me.
3/12/19
clc
What’s really important to you?
Those are the things that we give our money, our attention, our time to. No matter what you SAY is important, it’s where your actions, your passion, your late nights working on that project, that show what you really care about.
For me. For you. Period.
There may be some exceptions. The single mom with no family or support who dotes on her kids, giving more than she really has physically and emotionally to make sure they are provided for. The husband watching the love of his live wither and fail. Not caring about anything but her last needs and breaths. The socially awkward physicist that forgets everything because his brain is just wired differently and can’t fathom the realities of time management and relational directives.
But how many of us are Physicists?
I seek margin. Space to give, to allow something into my life. I’ve allowed myself to be so absorbed in the past that I didn’t truly have the room to invite another person, another hobby, another activity in. But I’m not talking about building trains or playing rec league soccer. I’m talking about people. Who I have in my life that’s important, and where I have or don’t have room to add?
If I look back relationally, I’ve done this all wrong. Find someone. Throw my already crazy schedule and activities, family life component at them and see if it sticks. Result? Often failure. Definitely anxiety and stress from trying to manage more than would realistically fit into my world at the moment.
Done with that. If I invite you in to my world, on any level, you’re coming along at a very cool time. I’ve spent a lot of time digging in to who I am and what I need for me. Where I can bend, where I need to stand firm and not sacrifice myself. I know where I have room to grow with someone and allow them to hopefully grow with me. Find a place in a much more contented structure of Chad than any time in my past.
You may already know your place. My dearest friends know that I try to be present with them. To be available, though I do still struggle with this. If you’re someone new to my circle, I don’t invite you in without knowing that there is a place for you. Whether you are there for a season or a lifetime. Though I hope to never lose any of you, I realize that some people weave in and out of our lives like a tapestry. Creating many hues in a beautiful rainbow of relationships. There are some I feel may never leave. Ones that I sometimes want to ‘push off mountains’ or arrange birthday shenanigans for. My blood, who always have my heart, whether the older two believe it or not.
Life without margin may seem full, but you never know the blessings that come from reaching out to someone and knowing that you can be there (and hope they feel the same). It allows those easy transitions into learning about another, and it gives you space to be present, emotionally and physically when the Sh*t hits the Fan! If you read my blog from a few months ago, I wrote about the special relationships who know when to “Just Show Up”. Can’t really do that without some space to give.
Clear some of the clutter. And yes, I mean those who hog you, wrap you up around only their small little worlds. Take heed of voices that scream at you to remove, or at least reorganize your priorities with those who may seem fun and full of energy but may also be toxic if there isn’t any depth to them. Look for those who you can build on their gifts of spirit, mind, body.
Find your health and continue to grow and those around you will grow too, if they so choose. I’ve found that pruning relationships (as well as habits, negativity, etc.) that refuse to move forward allows you to blossom into your next season. And in turn there are times when I need to better help others around me. Damn, I wish I did better at that. Working on it!
Keep space for you. For your own self discovery. For personal development and to write more of your story. Travel, sing, dance, breathe deep and dream. There’s tons I could write on my own inner journey, but that’s another blog for another day.
For now.
Keep Margin.
