Sentinel in the skyway

An old man is sitting ahead of me in Starbucks, and dressed in mismatched plaids and stripes. He casually watches as the employed wander by him with places to go. He gets up to get another cup of coffee and sits back down. He crosses his legs and watches the flow of foot traffic as it wanders past the window like a waterless aquarium. A woman, who appears to have interacted with him in the past, knocks on the pane and waves at him. He smiles mildly, revealing pink gums, then turns and stares again in another direction without a word.

How did he get this way? He is obviously not competing with the people on the other side of the glass. There is no rhyme or reason as to what captures his interest. He stares at random times. I think of other older people I know. I think of my work at a nursing home. They all stare, as if the world has moved off tilt.

Chasing feathers

My pup, Coco and I walked the streets of Duluth. Traffic whizzed by and Coco seemed oblivious to the cars moving past. She was straining at the end of her leash, literally choking on the tension.

On a road with less traffic, there was a white seagull feather tumbling along in the breeze. Coco went like a shot, attempting to apprehend the piece of fluff. Of course she was constrained by her leash. She hacked, and wheezed. I held the cord firmly for her protection.

Rounding the corner, it was out of sight, and out of mind. She went back to sniffing out all the seagull poo.

As I look at my life and the stuff I have pulled at my tether to acquire, I would have to say most weren’t too different than that feather. I have been grateful (usually later) for the tug of the leash that denied me those obsessions. For me there are many things better than a mouth full of fluff.

Into the water

Two girls were playing by the water’s edge of Lake Superior. Their pant legs were rolled up and they were pushing the limits of what they could do and still remain dry. They monitored the waves and moved accordingly.

One of the girls appeared to slip and hang precariously over the water. Balance was rediscovered and she righted herself. The other one must have found the rock with algae on it and she showed the first girl how to fall in the water.

She came up sputtering and clamored on the dry rocks, sitting there shivering.

Life is generous. We are free to make choices. You can walk close to the edge if that is where you want to be. And sometimes when you walk close to the edge, you can fall over, or in this case, you fall in.

You don't know what you've got till it's gone

I went through the last few days feeling pretty sick. I was lightheaded, feverish, and achy. What struck me is how bad I felt and how hard it was to do everyday life.

I forget so quickly how much my life depends on complicated processes that go on in my body. Each system plays into the whole and the whole is indebted to the system. When systems break down, life becomes so much more complicated.

When I feel good I so easily forget those systems, and expect life to continue forever. The sad reality is that it doesn’t. But that doesn’t seem to stop my fantasy about my own invincibility.

The disheveled businessman

A person walked ahead of me into Caribou Coffee. He sported an expensive suit and italian leather shoes. His hair was combed straight back and held solidly in place. The thing that was striking about him was his billowy white shirt was hanging out of his pants, only tucked in random places. As he walked through the door ahead of me, I could see the tail of his shirt peeking out of the bottom of his suit coat.

Here is a man who appears to have spent a lot of money developing an image. I think it a bad investment. Maybe when he navigates the hallways of his domain, he retains the persona of success and power. Walking ahead of me he looked like a walking inconsistency, an image of unfinished business, an entity that does not wear power well.

Contentment

I was told that I appear content. I took it as a complement. I am. I don’t have a lot of things that I am longing for. I’m grateful for all that I have.

As I thought more about it, I began to wonder if contentment is a good thing. Don’t get me wrong. I think it is. But I don’t know that content people change the world. Isn’t discontentment the motivation to improve? Doesn’t the desire for more, more money, recognition, and status create opportunities?

Bill Gates wasn’t satisfied. Gandhi wasn’t satisfied. And their dissatisfaction changed the world. On the flip-side, Discontent has created great ugliness in the world as well.

As a teacher, I have been content with what I do. Now the rules are changing and it is revealed that I have no power, wondering what to do next.

I have been provided for in the past, and I am not forgotten now. I can rest in that knowledge. I am unaware of all the changes I have made in the world, but I am excited for the changes that face me. I am learning daily what it means to trust, and in that I am content.

My worth

Within the last week, I have had to consider what I am worth. What am I willing to get paid to do? What are the benefits and what are the responsibilities. I look at what it costs me to fuel my passion.

I teach. I took a hit in pay when I started, and figured out how to make ends meet. And I am passionate about teaching. I love the look of understanding streak across students’ faces as they connect the dots to something in their lives.

However, I think Maslow was on to something. Once lower needs go unmet, the upper needs start to crumble. Reconsidering your worth is a chance to pay attention to the foundation. Asking what is important is a chance to prioritize anew.

The bottom line is, there is no one out there who could afford what I am really worth. So we settle on an amount I am willing to accept.

Pissing on my candle

My friend talked about how unhappy he was. He talked about how there is no joy in his life. The candle flame of his life is dwindling down.

I talked about things that he could do to change that feeling. He didn’t want to go there. He was content being unhappy. I jokingly stated that he was “pissing on his own candle”, to make damn sure it wouldn’t flare up.

The things I am most unhappy about are things I have the power to change, and I don’t. I’m as happy as I want to be. Or maybe I can get downright “pissy”.

Pop machine choreography

Fast food is a do-it-yourself world. In getting a drink you have to assemble it. If the drink counter is orderly I can move from one spot to another and not backtrack. Unless someone’s idea of order is different than mine.

A lady and I were getting an ice tea with lemon and sugar. This required that we cross each other’s paths to get what was required for a satisfying beverage. We both moved back and forth locating items to put in our cup. I picked out my lemon and sweetener while she filled her cup with ice. We then switched places as I got the ice and beverage. I then stepped out of the way for her to get a lid and straw. We didn’t know each other, but we moved in harmony to the other person’s movements. We did a strange choreographic dance in front of the counter.

Afterwards it occurred to me that we are all dancing together in this world. I have been frustrated when one person’s dance in front of the pop machine is to block everything until they are completely done. It is a selfish dance, that refuses to dance with others. Our dance at the machine was utilitarian and mutually respectful. And it got the job done.

Spiraling out of control

I signed up for an on-line class to incorporate blackboard into my residential classes. I made this commitment with the end of the quarter moving closer.

To make a tedious story short, between attempting to figure out where I needed too navigate next and watching out of the corner of my eye, the reports growing, I started to feel overwhelmed.

Life makes a great teacher. I remember three years ago, sitting in my car, in a parking , attempting to catch my breath. My world was truly spiraling out of control and I was keeping up, but barely. I had many commitments that I thought I couldn’t break.

The situation changed with a life-threatening diagnosis. It is amazing how priorities snap into place at times like that. I dropped certain responsibilities that I thought I would not be able to. It was amazingly simple! It allowed me to focus on what mattered. I found my breath.

As my world started to teeter on the edge of control again, I was simply able to prioritize. I dropped the class, stating I would try again at a later time. No guilt, no regret. Just peace, and the ability to breathe.

A selfish choice

We met our new neighbors while on a walk. They invited us to join them for a beer. This would have been a good chance to spend more time with them, to get to listen to their lives, but I had a lot to do. I chose to stay at home and work. The rest of the family went.

Sometimes the most important decisions are embedded in seemingly unimportant choices. I made a selfish choice and one that I regret. How else do we get involved in other people’s lives and get the opportunity to love another person, unless we spend time with people? Noble ideas don’t work outside of relationships. If you won’t spend time with people, you can’t say you love them.

Slippery forgiveness

Abu Musab al-Zarqawi is reported to have been killed. The mastermind of the Iraqi beheadings may be no more. On this momentous occasion, I listened to the father of one of his victims in a radio interview, talking about his feelings over the announcement.

Michael Berg talked about the death of his son, and his pain over having to endure such a horrible experience. He claimed to have forgiven Zarqawi for his inhumane act.

I was intrigued. Here was a man who did not claim a religion, who claimed to forgive and hold no grudges. He sounded sincere and I was impressed. He was then asked about policies and the war in Iraq. Michael’s voice morphed from gentle, soothing and calm, to acidic, and harsh. He stated that he holds George Bush personally responsible for the death of his son. The tone held through the rest of the interview.

Forgiveness is like a slippery eel. We can convince ourselves that we have forgiven, that we are moving on with our lives. The sad reality is that like a person forgetting to zip their pants before going out in public, others see and are embarrassed to point out the neglect. We may say we are forgiving, but we may be more transparent that we realize.

The things we do for love

“I HATE YOU MOMMY!” A child’s shrill shout blasted down the isle at Target. “Yes, but mommy loves you” came the soft gentle response. The cart glided off to another isle and the last thing I heard was the child saying softer this time, “I’m mad at you, mommy.”

As parents, we absorb all that our children try on. Emotions, thinking, and behaviors all are thrown at us to see how they work. As parents we soak up the feelings and mold them into digestible units to be fed back to the child, much like regurgitated food from a nesting bird. It’s demanding and its no wonder that as parents we don’t always do it well. Hopefully we don't get the “I HATE YOU” salvo, when we are having a bad day.

Parenting for me has been the single greatest thing for wrenching me away from my ubiquitous self-centeredness. One of the first warnings come as an infant, when they throw up all over you. You clean up and keep loving, even if it is through your anger. (This is observed by a dad. Moms seem supernaturally unruffled when they get thown up on.) We watch our children try roles on, we give them feedback and then we let them go to make sense of all the lessons they have been taught. This is the work of love.

Diamonds are forever

In church a couple sat ahead of us. They looked pretty trendy. He sported a hairdo that combed over in front and fluffed in back. The woman he was with was wearing a “wifebeater” tee-shirt and jeans. On one of her shoulders she sported a tribal tattoo running down towards her elbow. They struck me as children of this present age.

What caught my attention was the engagement ring. There was a noteworthy diamond sitting in a setting of ornate gold on the third finger of her left hand. At times she was distracted from the sermon and stared at it.

No matter how trendy we become there are some things that keep us grounded in the past. Like rocks in the river that waters flows around, there are some things that have such deep meaning, and are so symbolic that they can’t be dispensed of easily.

Do I really know you?

The woman in class had a mound of tissue piled in front of her on her desk. Her sniffling could be heard through the darkened room. She continued her display of emotion, apparently unconcerned about what others were thinking of her. In the class I have found her emotional and sensitive, but never unreasonably so.

We were watching a movie with themes of unfulfilled childhoods, lack of connection between family members and an untimely death. I have cried at this movie in the past, so I found no inconsistency with someone else crying because of the movie.

After class I was talking to another teacher. For some reason, this woman’s name came up, and the teacher called this person a "wacko". She told a story of being called in to administration and read the riot act by this person. I found it fascinating that that is so far from my experience of her. This other teacher wanted to stay as far away as possible from her.

It occurred to me how little we know of others. We see facets of another person. We can see different people within the shell of the same person. It felt sad to hear the judgments heaped down on this woman that I found so sensitive and engaging in my class.

I was reminded of what C.S. Lewis wrote in his book “Mere Christianity”. He said about humans: “God judges them by their moral choices…when a person who has a pathological horror of cats forces himself to pick up a cat for some good reason, it is quite possible that in God’s eyes he has shown more courage than a healthy man…Some of us who seem quite nice people, may in fact, have made so little use of a good heredity and a good upbringing that we’re really worse than those we regard as fiends. That is why Christians are told not to judge. We see only the results, which a man’s choices make out of his raw material. But God does not judge him on the raw material at all, but on what he has done with it.”

I think this is frighteningly true. I am reading “Unholy Messenger” which tells the story of the BTK killer. What I am finding so remarkable is how a person who had such an evil side could fit so well into a small town society. It is a testament to how little we truly know about another person.

I look at the woman crying in class. I have judged her to be sensitive and caring. Another has labeled her crazy. Who is right? Can we really say we know?

Unwritten etiquette

There is fashion etiquette going on here that is not listed in Glamour magazine, about what parts of us should be visible to others in public. For example, what undergarments are appropriate to be seen in public? It'’s not unusual to see a woman reach back performing tactile surveillance of her waistband to make sure that underwear is not displayed. Especially thong.

I'’m at a Panera restaurant right now, sitting with a woman in my line of sight that has felt the waistband of her pants so much that my eyes are no longer distracted by her exaggerated movement. In fact, I looked over just now to verify that she was still sitting there, and there was her hand, feeling the waistband of the back of her pants, again! I'’m not sure what she is so concerned about; there isn't even a gap in her clothes for underwear to show through. And yet she keeps tugging at the bottom of her cami to overlap the top of her jeans.

The woman she is eating lunch with is wearing a tube top with elastic to hold it up, and she is wearing a bra. How can I tell? I can see the straps! In fact when she sits down, the entire back of her bra is seen because the top she is wearing is pulled way down her back. And she isn'’t even attempting to check to see how much of her bra is showing. That doesn't seem to matter. But woman number one just checked her waistband AGAIN!

Now for the men. It is considered bad form for a man to display butt crack. A personal confession: "I have sinned!" However, it is allowable to see the OUTLINE of butt crack, and A LOT of it as long as it is covered by underwear, either boxers or boxer briefs. Sagging pants off the male derriere is presentable and sometimes even desirable, as long as butt crack is covered by underwear, even though I have come to understand, in prison it is an invitation for someone else to push back your stool.

How about how much chest should be exposed? If a man leaves his shirt unbuttoned, he looks like a "player-loser"; something left over from disco days. But good lord, cleavage has become a fashion statement for women these days. I know it'’s not polite to stare, but some days it seems that my eyes have minds of their own, and it is difficult to spank them and make them behave!

Women can display bits of tummy out of the bottom of a blouse as long as it doesn't hang over the belt while standing. It is always bad form for a man to have his belly peek out of a shirt. If he is endowed with an ample belly it is in even worse form for a t-shirt to be short enough for the belly to play peek-a-boo from the bottom of the shirt.

As for older people, the less shown, the better. There is no "shirts and skins" with older people, there is only shirts and different color shirts. Shorts are still okay. I am checking to make sure my shirt is tucked in to my pants and not my underwear...hold on...nope, I'm good!

Reality check

We moved out of the neighborhood we lived in for 15 years. We sold it to the only person to give us an offer. He wanted to use it for a rental. There were a lot of people moving out of our neighborhood, many because of the different ethnic populations that were moving in. We were told by some of the people moving out, that as other ethnic groups came in, the neighborhoods would go downhill.

The house next to us was sold to an hispanic couple. They seemed to be the nicest people.

The irony is that our former hispanic neighbor kept his house and yard better groomed than the white people who bought our old house. The grass at our old house had not been cut since last year and it was knee high. I think they were made to get it cut by the city. The hispanic couple, on the other hand, does the neighborhood proud.

We can be so narrow minded and see what we want to see. Sometimes we need a reality check to help us see what is really going on.

Moving on

When do you decide to move on? In a relationship, in a job, with a vehicle, when do you make the choice that you are done sinking energy and resources into it?

A number of years ago we had an Aerostar van. It was such a comfortable vehicle to drive. It just kept breaking down. It was $400 to this place, $1,000 to another shop. Finally it was $475 in car repairs and the cost of a motel room because I couldn't get home. We had to make the decision that we were done with the repairs. The cost was moving past the benefits we were receiving from the vehicle.

I remember when my therapy job was winding down. I drove the streets where over 10 years I had worked with clients. I wondered about the impact that I had and how it could so easily go away when the funding ran out. I felt so empty, and used. It took me a while to realize the good that I had done, and the impact I had had in so many families. That couldn't be taken away, even if they took the job away. I started feeling better about what had happened. I was able to move on.

I keep wondering if I am meant to stay put where I am or anticipate change. Should I play the game of positioning myself so I don't get caught. Looking seems to take so much energy. It is more comfortable to remain with the status quo.

I had a friend who played that game with girlfriends and jobs. He always had irons in the fire, so if one dropped, he could grab another. He was one of the more guarded people I have known.

One thing that I do know for sure, He leads me beside the still waters and the green pastures. I don't have to fear as He is with me. It is so good to know that someone else is leading, and can see much further than me. If changes come, I can simply look up and ask where I step next.