Strike the Same Iron

Posted in Uncategorized on September 22, 2016 by thecrossingchicago

the-blacksmith-and-the-kingThere seems to be a lot of tedium in my life.  The same repetitious stuff that brings on ennui and an unsettling feeling that every day is Groundhog’s Day.  I can kind of imagine how Bill Murray must have felt.  I’m not trying to sound melodramatic or come across as though all is bleak and dreary, but there is definitely an ever-present feeling of “here we go again.”  Another way that was eloquently put by Stephen King in his book, Dreamcatchers, is SSDD: Same Shit, Different Day.

For some reason, rather than breaking that cycle and doing something different (because I felt like I didn’t have the energy or had some excuse not to act with intentionality), I continued to endure.  I just went through the steps and rode the waves of highs and  lows until the end of the day would come and it was finally time to sleep and take my opportunity to get off the roller coaster at least for a few hours.

There is something to be said about “waiting until things get better” and having patience.  There is also a danger of failing to act when the power is there to affect change.  Ultimately, nobody has the ability to change my life except for myself.  The (perceived) lack of inspiration to write, the uncanny loss of desire to read, the feeling of complete loss of creativity and motivation in general.  All of these things seemed to stem from being caught up in this endless cycle of repetition and routine.

I finally did force myself to read.  I grabbed Paulo Coelho’s Aleph and began to devour it.  Once I started reading, I couldn’t put it down.  This reminded me of the age-old truth that nothing will ever get done without taking the first step.  All I had to do was force myself to pick up the book and open it.  All that was needed was to sit down to this computer and start writing.  No matter what feelings I had about the process or the endeavor, doing it, was the only thing required to get me back on track.

We can’t control our feelings.  We can’t change our emotions on a dime and “cheer up” as many tell us to do.  What we can do, however, is decide how we react to those feelings.  If past experience tells me that I have enjoyed and succeeded at something in the past, then I have to remember that and get to it despite what the emotions tell me.  This is all a part of learning from the routine, which I realized from reading Coelho, isn’t the same as repetition.

In this enlightening book, Aleph, the main character tells a story to teach that:

Routine has nothing to do with repetition. To become really good at anything, you have to practice and repeat, practice and repeat, until the technique becomes intuitive.  I learned this when I was a child, in a small own in Brazil’s interior where my family used to spend the summer holidays.  I was fascinated by the work of a blacksmith who lived nearby.  I would sit for what seemed like an eternity watching his hammer rise and fall on the red-hot steel, scattering sparks all around, like fireworks.  Once he said, “You probably think I’m doing the same thing over and over again, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, you’re wrong.  Each time I bring the hammer down, the intensity of the blow is different; sometimes it’s harder, sometimes it’s softer.  But I learned that only after I’d been repeating the same gesture for many years, until the moment when I didn’t have to think – I simply let my hand guide my work.”

There is a beautiful lesson in here about mastery of skills and practice.  But I also see an even more important lesson about mindfulness and awareness.  Although each strike of the hammer looks like the same thing done over and over again, each blow is unique.  And so is each day for me.  Although my days are filled with a lot of the same activities and characteristics, each day is unique.  I am in control of how mindful I am about noticing those different and special opportunities that each day affords me.  This is a great  lesson about breaking habits and cycles.  Ultimately, though, viewing each facet of the day with new awareness is just as important as escaping the cycle itself.  It takes just such an awakening to lead to new beginnings and first steps.

First Step Exercise

Posted in Uncategorized on September 21, 2016 by thecrossingchicago

Here is a spiritual centering exercise that I created for our last council meeting that I thought might be helpful:

Sit with your back straight, yet relaxed.  Be comfortable with your feet flat on the ground and your hands resting lightly on your lap.  Feel your head getting lighter on your shoulders as you take deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth.  As you become aware of thoughts coming into your mind, do not try to push them out.  Merely be aware that they are there and let them pass by.

As you continue breathing, be aware of that feeling in your heart that often goes ignored.  This is God tugging on your soul to bring your attention to your calling.  Open yourself to that calling, because it contains your True Self.

Picture your ideal self a year from now.  As you continue breathing, what does that you look like were you to accept your calling and be true to who you really are?

What’s prevented you from becoming that true version of yourself?  There have likely been barriers that may have served you well in the past, but have merely becoming a stumbling block to becoming your True Self.

How are you going to overcome these barriers?

What’s going to be your first step toward the new and true you?  Imagine a concrete and measurable action item that will set you on the right trajectory and get you one step closer to who you are called to be.

How will you keep yourself accountable to make sure it happens?  It is ok to seek accountability from others around you at times, but this can sometimes lead to codependency and a lack of ownership on your part.  Ultimately, it is you that you must be accountable to in this process.  You have to be able to trust yourself to take that first step and the following steps that will be needed to get you to where you know you need to be.

The journey is yours.  You have the strength, the power, and the tools necessary to do this.  God has always been with you and always will be.  You’ve got this.  Now get ready.

On your mark.

Get set.

GO!

Blessings on the Journey,

Brandyn

http://www.fslifeservices.com

The Ballad of Dixie Lee

Posted in Uncategorized on September 16, 2016 by thecrossingchicago

This poem is one that was previously posted and removed for publication:

Your hair was short and done up perfectly the way it always was.

Not the way it would soon become, pressed flat against the side of your head

from too many hours on the floor or on the couch.

You wouldnt dare be seen by others any other way.

The rouge was just right, high on your cheekbones and your lipstick was

something between pink and red that I dont know the name of.

Your voice was starting to become unsteady with the first glimpse that the confidence

was slowly being sucked out of you as you asked me

Hon, do you think Im beautiful?

Of course I did.  And always will.

Your breath smelled of mint tic-tacs with a faint tinge of vodka that

supposedly wasnt there.

Your skin was stretched tightly against your gaunt face and felt like latex as

my cheek brushed against yours when I hugged you goodbye. 

It wasnt the same goodbye that I would soon be coming to say

as you lay there on the floor with your sister kneeling by your side.

Where are you going?you asked.

No.  Where are you going.  Thats what I wanted to know.  That day you went.

Happy Mothers Day.

I could taste the scent of White Diamonds as I inhaled and it rested on my tongue

like fog on a pond at morning time.

You gave a faint groan as you turned to walk away back into a life

that was never meant for you or perhaps that you were fated for from the beginning.

 

Cryin’ Time

Posted in Encouragement with tags , , , , on June 16, 2016 by thecrossingchicago

ab2e6aae7569767e3cebea551eb71fb3The kid would not shut up.  The whole way back to Chicago from Newark he was screaming incessantly from his seat two rows in front of me.  It was bad enough to be stuck in a flying tin can, but to have a child crying like that was almost unbearable.  I didn’t have earphones, so the best I could do was to close my eyes and tune him out by recollecting the events that happened at the Writer’s Conference.

There was the time when we were all gathered in the chapel for midday worship as the rain came down in sheets outside.  The run from the event hall to the chapel was rather unpleasant, but there were no unhappy faces as we sat in our soggy state singing praises to God.  Just as we came to the line in the hymn proclaiming God’s majesty like the power of thunder, a deafening peal shook the chapel exactly was we were singing the word “thunder.”  We all glanced around at one another and just smiled.  Coincidence?  God showing off?  A not so subtle reminder?  Perhaps God was looking down and nudged an angel with an elbow saying, “Check this out.  Humans love it when I do this.”
Then there was the reading.  People who signed up had the opportunity to read samples of their writings for five minutes.  Some were mediocre, some were profound, some were just like the rest of us.  There were the occasional few that really hit home, though – such as when Em read his poem for his daughter that he had just sent off to college.  The precious moments he had with her when she was a child.  The periods of joy and sadness that they shared as she grew into a young woman.  And then finally the moment where they said goodbye at the riverbank while she went off to start the next chapter of her life.
Although my daughter is only three, it made me think of the things I will share with her and the things I will miss with her.  Since I no longer have the opportunity to see her every day, I imagine there will be many moments that I won’t get to have, although I’ll always do my best to play a pivotal role in her life.  It reminded me of the importance of parent-child relationships and how we have to choose peace and kindness toward those we love rather than grief.  As Father’s Day approaches, it’s especially important to consider these dynamics.
Suddenly, the voice of the crying child on the plane sounded less like a headache-inducing wail and more like the sweet music of an innocent child.  I became aware that such cries are to be embraced right along with the laughter because we won’t always have the opportunity to hear either one.

Stop Wishing!

Posted in Encouragement with tags , , , , , , , on May 13, 2016 by thecrossingchicago
man_climbingWhat a wimp.  I had three 45 lb plates and a 25 on each side of the bar and I was doing sets on the bench press like nobody’s business.  He only had two 10s on either side of his bar.  He might as well just stay home and lift pop cans.  It would save him the money on the gym membership.  In reality, though, he was lifting a lot more than I was.  It wasn’t just the 85 lbs that he was pressing off of his chest, it was also all of the comments telling him that he couldn’t do it because he only had one hand.
Amir lost most of his right hand in Afghanistan to a roadside bomb and is now living in Chicago as a refugee.  I often see him with his brother spotting him on the bench as he grabs the bar with his left hand and rests it between the stump and what he has left of a forefinger on his right hand.
Another at the gym – Ahmed – has nothing left but rounded stumps where both arms were blown off up to the elbows in Syria.  But that doesn’t stop him from doing what many people say they will do when they get around to it as they sit in their chairs dreaming and speaking of “someday.”
I was listening to a motivational speech recently, and the speaker said something that struck me: The richest place in the world is not Shanghai and it’s not Dubai or Singapore or Riyadh – it’s the cemetery.  So many people have gone to their graves with “someday” on their lips and unrealized dreams in their hearts.  Too many of us are making excuses as to why we can’t do something, even though it torments us every day that we don’t.  We wish we could plug the ears of our soul as our personal legend cries out to us from within: “This is why you’re here!  This is who you were meant to be!”
Perhaps today we can begin to do something different.  Try stopping and listening to that voice within and see what it has to say.  Even better, start acting on it and see what happens.  Don’t go through life like “those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat” (TR).  Don’t spend your days saying “I wish,” when you have everything you need to make it happen!  And when you need encouragement, just come and watch Amir and Ahmed lift their complacency and excuses off their chest along with their weights.
Here’s to doing,
Brandyn

Straights and Loops

Posted in Uncategorized on May 3, 2016 by thecrossingchicago

IMG_0638The hike wasn’t a particularly arduous one.  There were changes in elevation totaling 680 feet as we worked our way up and down the hills, but few were very steep on the North Kettle Moraine Trail in Wisconsin.  Westyn and I decided that we would take a short trip for spring break and do some backpacking and get some R&R.  I use the term “backpacking” very loosely as we only hiked about eight miles.  But, I was wearing a trail-rated backpack, so I’m technically not exaggerating when I use the term.

The first part of the hike started with a 2.5 mile loop that began at the lookout tower giving views all the way to Lake Michigan.  Once we completed the loop, we took the Ice Age Trail that ran adjacent to it and started heading north on a straight trail that went for some 32 miles.  Our intention was to walk about six miles of it before turning around. 

It occurred to me as we were walking just how much more difficult it was to walk a straight trail than a loop.  While there isn’t the great sense of anticipation that you get with a straight trail as you wonder what you may encounter ahead, the loop gives a certain feeling of comfort knowing that you will eventually come upon familiar ground and know you have completed your journey.  When you are walking a straight trail, you really have no sense of how much farther you have to go and there is the constant desire to turn around due to the nagging reality that the farther you go, the farther you have to return.

I was telling myself to keep going and resisting that lazy instigator in my head that gave me every reason to turn around: It was supposed to rain later.  We might get hungry.  A herd of deer might rush out of the woods and run us over.  We could get attacked by wild rabid rabbits and the nearest hospital was miles away.  You know, all of those perfectly rational grounds for giving up.  Ok, so I may be a little facetious here.  As we made our way past a bog and heard the distressed cry of a heron, the muses broke through the chatter and spoke to me showing me what a great metaphor this trail was for life.  I pointed out to Wes that I had just a momentary stroke of genius – he wasn’t impressed.

Genius or not, the sentiment is true.  We are much more comfortable taking a route in life that will lead us back to where we started.  It might not be a healthy place or one that is in our best interest, but at least it is familiar.  If we dare to take the straight trail and foray into new territory, challenging ourselves, and taking risks that lead to unknown possibilities, there is the disconcerting possibility that we may fail.

But so what?  What if we do fail?  We get up, dust ourselves off, and try a different way.  What’s the worst that can happen?  What are we afraid of?  Some may worry that not enough people will support our endeavors.  If we do what we know we should be with conviction, the right people will follow. 

If God has made us for a certain purpose, aren’t we going to succeed in fulfilling that purpose?  Too many of us are living in fear and timidity because we are uncomfortable with the unknown.  Well, take a chance anyway and see what happens.  See that trail there running alongside the loop?  Take it.  Go as far as you can, and should you stumble, get back up, laugh it off, and keep walking.  Because that trail was made for you and only you can walk it.

The wet touch of a cool, light rain on my head brought me back from my epiphany.  Wes and I looked at each other and nodded as if to say, “Yep.  Better head back just to be safe.”  After all, everyone knows that a sprinkle is just God’s gentle warning to turn around and get back before the Noahic deluge begins.  In the end, I wasn’t really tired at all.  By the time we got back to the campground, the rain had stopped and we played a couple of one-on-one basketball games.  I had all this energy, not even being fatigued and all.  So when he suggested we play a full court game and called me a lazy old man for protesting, I gently reminded him that it would be a long walk back to Chicago.

The Zahir

Posted in Uncategorized on May 1, 2016 by thecrossingchicago
zahir“Zahir, in Arabic, means visible, present, incapable of going unnoticed.  It is someone or something which, once we have come into contact with them or it, gradually occupies our every thought, until we can think of nothing else.  This can be considered either a state of holiness or of madness.”
– Faubourg Saint-Peres – Encyclopaedia of the Fantastic
This idea of the Zahir is one that Paulo Coelho explores deeply in his novel of the same name.  In this tale of journeys and obsession, the main character’s wife, Esther, suddenly disappears one day leaving him wondering why or where to.  For him, she becomes the Zahir that he cannot get out of his mind.  She occupies his thoughts constantly and drives him to a point where he must decide whether she will become holiness or madness for him.
Who or what is our Zahir?  Is it something or someone that is real and tangible or is it an ideal that we have assigned?  As we are all in search of some deeper meaning in our lives, we can easily become attached to that which appears to manifest what we thought we have been seeking.  But does it really?  Is it merely a temporarily satisfactory substitute for what we are really longing for?
These are questions that we have to ask ourselves on a regular basis.  It is our human propensity to become attached to things that fill a provisional need, but as we get older and wiser, we come to realize that we have settled for less than what was meant for us.  Upon this awakening, we are faced with the task of continuing to settle or starting the intentional work of detaching.  Neither is easy, but holding on to a false reality is ultimately more tasking and saps meaning from our lives.
As Coelho says in The Zahir:

“That is why it is so important to let certain things go. To release them. To cut loose. People need to understand that no one is playing with marked cards; sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. Don’t expect to get anything back, don’t expect recognition for your efforts, don’t expect your genius to be discovered or your love to be understood. Complete the circle. Not out of pride, inability or arrogance, but simply because whatever it is no longer fits in your life. Close the door, change the record, clean the house, get rid of the dust. Stop being who you were and become who you are.”

            – Paulo Coelho – The Zahir

 

Chances are, there is something or someone who “no longer fits in your life.”  Do you have the strength and courage to let go?  I know you do, but do you know it?  As Coelho says, you don’t have to do it out of pride or arrogance, but for your own well-being – and likely theirs.  You can hold on to the representation of the ideal until it drives you to madness, or you can embrace the ideal itself until it leads you to holiness.  It’s your choice.
In the end, our only job is to stop being who we were and become who we are.

Savor the Pain

Posted in Encouragement with tags , , , on April 21, 2016 by thecrossingchicago

Paul was the penultimate masochist.  His writings are laden with calls to suffer as Christ suffered.  Perhaps in a particularly bleak bout with acedia, Paul even goes as far as to say that “to live is Christ, but to die is gain” (Phil. 1:21).  Numerous other verses make it seem as though we are lesser Christians if we do not endure some form of suffering in our lives.  I doubt Paul was ever accused of being the life of the party.

I’m not a fan of suffering.  I don’t know of anyone who is sane that does either.  We try to avoid it at all costs, and for good reason – it royally sucks.  As much as we loath the idea of having to endure an unbearable experience, we all share the same reality that at least some bitterness in life is inevitable.  None of us is exempt from heartbreak and loss.  Such adversity is merely a part of our membership dues in the club we call the human race.

Any contemplative will tell you that suffering is a choice.  I agree.  Though we are subjected to tribulations, allowing them to break us is a decision that only we can make.  Nobody can make us despair.  It takes our cognizant intentional surrender to the situation and/or the persecutor to classify us as defeated.  Some choose this path and embrace the resulting acrimony and complacent indolence that is reserved only for those who have given up.

But there is something else about suffering beyond the mere survival of hardship: it’s one hell of a teacher.  Each experience – both bitter and sweet – forms us into the people we are today.  How these incidents form us is entirely up to us.  They may teach us that life is cruel and meaningless and that perpetual ennui is the true flavor of life.  Or they may teach us that we can, in fact, overcome even the worst of trials and that we are being formatively prepared for a brighter future.

I cannot honestly say that I have suffered in life.  Sure, I have had hardships and trying circumstances that took an emotional toll in their courses, but nothing that seemed insurmountable.  Or maybe the situation did seem hopeless at the time, but I have difficulty recalling that feeling because I’m now on the other side of the tunnel.  What I do know, though, is that each and every experience that I have had in life has prepared me for who and where I am now. 

“And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us”  (Romans 5:3-5).  Yeah, Paul.  Right on.

The Resurrection of the Christ Within

Posted in Encouragement, true self, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on April 11, 2016 by thecrossingchicago

red-cross-jung-resurrectionIn his later years, Carl Jung became a genuine mystic and contemplative.  His theories of psychology eventually superseded the purely cognitive and reached in to the existential.  In his metaphysical journal that would come to be called The Red Book, Jung explored beyond the depths of the human psyche and into the eternal self, seeking the potential of individual humans and the interconnected humanity.

What is important and meaningful to my life is that I shall live as fully as possible to fulfill the divine will within me. This task gives me so much to do that I have no time for any other. Let me point out that if we were all to live in that way we would need no armies, no police, no diplomacy, no politics, no banks. We would have a meaningful life and not what we have now—madness. What nature asks of the apple-tree is that it shall bring forth apples, and of the pear-tree that it shall bring forth pears. Nature wants me to be simply man. But a man conscious of what I am, and of what I am doing. God seeks consciousness in man.

This is the truth of the birth and the resurrection of Christ within. As more and more thinking men come to it, this is the spiritual rebirth of the world. Christ, the Logos—that is to say, the mind, the understanding, shining into the darkness. Christ was a new truth about man. Mankind has no existence. I exist, you exist. But mankind is only a word. Be what God means you to be; don’t worry about mankind which doesn’t exist, you are avoiding looking at what does exist—the self.

In his transcendental thoughts, Jung points out that each of us has a divine potential that is at the core of our being.  The autonomy of the individual is merely an illusion – we are in actuality manifestations of the cosmic Christ and any individualistic tendency comes from a fissiparous human propensity.  Were we to awaken to the cosmic Christ and our own “divine will within,” peace and harmony would become the norm both in society and within our own souls.

While some are obsequious in their literal interpretation of scripture, I have an occasional tendency toward brash skepticism at most, or an intentional awareness of its metaphorical and allegoric nature at the least.  This is not to say that I do not “believe” in scripture, but I believe the way it has been interpreted and handed down over the years by mostly caucasian males has, in many ways, marred it’s true beauty and the divine imprint upon it.

Having said that, Paul’s statement in Philippians 4:13 that “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” has, in the past, elicited equal doses of hope and doubt.  If Christ strengthens us, then why do we sometimes feel so worn down and beat up?  Why does Christ choose arbitrarily whom and when to gird and support when needed?  When I look at Paul’s adulation of Christ as something that originates externally with no interaction on our part, I find cynicism bubbling up from within.  However, when I consider Christ to be the logos, the divine manifestation, the source of all being that exists within all of us that calls us to a conversion into our true self, then I do not merely find myself able to nod in intellectual assent, but I am comforted in some place and at some level that I cannot describe.  To know that such strength exists within to draw upon not because it’s occasionally available but because it’s the very nature of our existence creates in me that “peace that surpasses all understanding.”

The Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, spoke of the human conditioned inclination to ignore our true self and choose to make excuses rather than become who we were meant to be.  Many times, we even sabotage ourself and make ourselves into victims who are somehow prevented by ill-intentioned people that prevent us from attaining our true potential.  In reality, we fear what we do not understand and would rather not know who we are supposed to be, let alone live into that reality.

Perhaps I am stronger than I think.  Perhaps I am even afraid of my strength, and turn it against myself, thus making myself weak.  Making myself secure.  Making myself guilty.  Perhaps I am most afraid of the strength of God in me.  Perhaps I would rather be guilty and weak in myself than strong in Him whom I cannot understand.

The only way that we can discover our true selves and experience the resurrection of Christ within is to sit with ourselves in the silent stillness and ask ourselves the powerful questions that we are afraid to answer.  Who am I?  What is my deepest passion?  What gives me joy?  If my life were ideal, what would it look like?  What is preventing me from becoming who God wants me to be?  What am I afraid of?  Ask these questions and you will find that the answers were there all along.  Live those answers and you will finally become who you were meant to be.  When the path seems daunting and fear wracks your mind, just tell yourself that “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” because indeed, it is the potential that has existed within you since before you were born.  Claim it for your time for resurrection is now.

In The Presence of God

Posted in Uncategorized on April 7, 2016 by thecrossingchicago

presence of God richard rohrI often say that I find God in the wilderness.  Especially on a ledge overlooking mountain peaks, I can vouch that I find the presence of God there amidst the wind rustling the leaves like a subtle voice whispering my name.  The sound of the waves lapping the shore or the way snow falls softly upon bare branches without a soul in sight except my own basking in the luminescence of the divine.

While I’m not necessarily wrong about going to these places that I find sacred to find God, I realized that I wasn’t completely right either.  Instead of going there because that was the only place that God resided, it is instead that the environment gives me the serenity to be aware of the presence of God that was always there.  This is somehow comforting to me to know that God is there even when the background noise is too loud for me to notice.

Thomas Merton knew plenty of silence in his life at Gethsemani Abbey in the Kentucky wilderness.  That solace must have awoken his soul to a presence within that brought great comfort even amidst the background noise he experienced on his trips.  He noted also, however, that the silence was also disturbing:

There is a silent self within us whose presence is disturbing precisely because it is so silent: it can’t be spoken.  It has to remain silent.  To articulate it, to verbalize it, is to tamper with it, and in some way to destroy it.

Within that disturbing silence is God.  It is as Elijah experienced in 1 Kings 19 after he went up Mt. Horeb looking for God.  He experienced every natural disaster and still didn’t find God in the power of nature’s forces even in a large earthquake until, “after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was still not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.”  There it was in the sheer sound of nothingness that he encountered the presence of God – not on the mountaintop, but already there within his own soul.

Silence is something that we don’t get enough of.  We feel obligated to constantly be doing something.  We judge ourselves to be ineffective if we aren’t keeping ourselves busy with work or helping others.  We seek out books and go on pilgrimages to find God and get discouraged when we “still haven’t found what [we’re] looking for.”  There is a glimpse of something beyond our comprehension that dwells within the realm of mystery, but we can’t quite put our finger on it.  And then finally, if we are lucky enough to stumble upon it or make sense of the mystery while not making any sense of it, we find out that we were trying to do the impossible.  We were never “able to attain the presence of God because we’re already totally in the presence of God.”  All we were missing was the awareness.