New Year's Resolution - Be A Turnstone

Last December I set some 2012 Goals. I don't like resolutions or promises, I like goals. I especially like goals in writing. I don't work from written goals nearly often enough (maybe that could be a 2013 goal), but when I do - it is amazing how well it works.

Last year, about this time, I set these goals:

1. Celebrate today - everything we do, each moment we live is too precious to be treated as a passing fancy. I will better live in the now.

2. Laugh harder - there are too many minutes between belly laughs so intense that they make me cry.

3. Pray deeper - it is time to embrace an ancient and powerful oracle once again.

 All in all, I met these goals more often than not in 2012. #2 was especially helpful and challenging. Life on life's terms can suck the joy right out of you, unless you tenaciously keep perspective. Part of my #2 was completing my book, Wishful Preaching: Things I Wish I'd Said From The Pulpit. Writing it and sharing it with others has kept me laughing.

I'm still working on my specific set of goals for this year, but I have one piece of it nailed down. I want to live like a bird in 2013 - a particular kind of bird, the Turnstone.

Turnstone at work

Living along the seashore, the Turnstone feeds on insect and animal life near the water line. Like the sea gull, sandpiper and countless other shore birds, it is dependent on the food it can find. Shore birds search the surf's edge and beach sand for the unsuspecting bug, crab or minnow   However, the Turnstone has developed a habit of doing more than hunting on the surface of things. The Turnstone, as it's name suggest, will use it's hardy beak and strong neck to flip over shells, rocks and seaweed to uncover a meal that other shore birds will miss entirely. I feel a life-lesson analogy coming on...

It seems that I need a bit of Turnstone in the days ahead. I don't want to just react to what appears in front of me, or crawls across my path in the months ahead. I want to look into the crevices of life, search for the nourishment that hides beneath the surface of each day, flip over apparent failures and see what can be uncovered. Too often we give up. Frequently we accept less. NO! I say. Let's enter this new year with the determination to uncover the richness of our particular lives and the strength to crack it open and feast on the victory!

Will you join me in a Turnstone New Year?

James Kavanaugh - Too Gentle to Live Among Wolves

THERE ARE MEN TOO GENTLE TO LIVE AMONG WOLVES
A Poem by James Kavanaugh

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who prey upon them with IBM eyes
And sell their hearts and guts for martinis at noon.
There are men too gentle for a savage world
Who dream instead of snow and children and Halloween
And wonder if the leaves will change their color soon.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who anoint them for burial with greedy claws
And murder then for a merchant's profit and gain.
There are men too gentle for a corporate world
Who dream instead of candied apples and ferris wheels
And pause to hear the distant whistle of a train.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves.
Who devour them with eager appetite and search
For other men to prey upon and suck their childhood dry.
There are men too gentle for an accountant's world
Who dream instead of Easter eggs and fragrant grass
And search for beauty in the mystery of the sky.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who toss them like a lost and wounded dove.
Such gentle men are lonely in a merchant's world.
Unless they have a gentle one to love.

My Tim Tebow Problem

With Denver’s loss in the playoffs, the dust is settling somewhat on the Tim Tebow news hype, and it is time for me to vent a bit at the media frenzy that has made this an event.  I have some thoughts about this public praying, football slinging, media promoted, and public adored Tebow event.

First, the good stuff. What I like about the high level of attention in the media and in the public includes the following:

1. The media is talking about something in the religious realm other than political issues.
2. It is nice that the news about a professional athlete is about personal faith and not guns, crime, and dog fighting.
3. That a conversation about prayer and its impact on a person’s life is in the news.
4. It is good to see that people, youth in particular, are finding some hope in faith and prayer.

Then, the stuff that drives me crazy:
1. Do we really believe the somehow Tim Tebow has been chosen by God to demonstrate God’s power through football victories? Does God invest in the outcome of the NFL games?
2. Since when did a nationally televised dramatic display of prayer posture become the symbol of spirituality? I’ve always had a problem with drama around public prayer. Tebow is too much of an exhibitionist for me. Tebowing isn’t praying - it’s parading.

The amazing thing is that apparently the US population, fueled by the media, still has interest in the David and Goliath paradigm.  You know the story: small undersized boy, undergirded by God and a simple faith, sleighs the giant warrior of the evil empire. It is an enduring story and one that has been popular for centuries. David, Luke Skywalker, Tim Tebow… ? The problem is that the storyline needs to deal with something that really matters – on a universal and spiritual scale to make sense. I just don’t get how Tebow’s situation is anything more than a passing sentimental David and Goliath story. Is there really anything of godly significance here? This is football we are dealing with – not global military domination or genocide.

When a professional athlete, parading around in prayer and Jesus language becomes the poster child for faith in action we have a real problem. One glance at the lives of some real spiritual warriors - Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King, Jr., George Fox, Desmond Tutu, Mata Amritanandamayi – reveals lives lived in self sacrifice and service of others for causes that were not self promoting.  While I have reasons to believe Tim Tebow is a caring person, it appears he has, unfortunately been led to (and willingly followed) a position of a plastic and shallow public display under the guise of spirituality.  All the while, we have run screaming to adore the latest rock star of American Christianity (Tim Tebow has over 1.5 million subscribers to his Facebook page).

Forgive me if I wish him well, kick dust on the media and walk the other way while trying to remember something of more substance.

The Loss of the Virtual Self

Sometimes, I miss the days when who I was online wasn't so intimately connected to who I am in real life. I once kept a blog under a pseudonym and as a result felt a liberating permission to voice there anything at anytime about any subject. It was a wonderful forum for processing thoughts and feelings.

Today, Social Media and the sophistication of Search makes it easy to see who is behind the posts, updates and mentions.

Do you ever miss the days of virtual anonymity?

2012 Goals

I think I'll pick these...

1. Celebrate today - everything we do, each moment we live is too precious to be treated as a passing fancy. I will better live in the now.

2. Laugh harder - there are too many minutes between belly laughs so intense that they make me cry.

3. Pray deeper - it is time to embrace an ancient and powerful oracle once again.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Born May 2, 1958 to William Earl and Claudia Elizabeth Williams. Youngest of three children. Pamela Earl (1952) and Jan Everette (1957). Still as cute as ever!

Back Yard Burger Discounts...Revealed

Over the last month, I've eaten at the local Back Yard Burger 3-4 times. I've been waited on by the same, polite young man, and each time I've notice that he ended my transaction by swiping a card through the reader. He would then hit a few keys and a 10% discount would be applied. I kept thinking he had made a mistake or they were running some kind of special - then last night it hit me.

He's giving me a senior citizen's discount.

Maybe I'll shave the beard...or just claim proudly Old Guys Rule!

Out of Gas

The sputter can surprise us

Running wide ass open

Taking no prisoners

Casting laughter like caution

To the wind

Blowing up a storm of passionate dreams

And friends cheering us on

The road turns, twisting

Thought and perceptions

Into unrecognizable shards

Broken, poured out, spilled

Across memories of tomorrow’s

Dreamers awake

When the fuel of creation

Runs dry

Thus fools rush in

Where angels fear to tread

And shout

"Fill’er UP!"

A Step Changes Everything

It changes when you move...

Hanging on the wall in my office, there is a picture of a tree that changes color and definition to reflect the four seasons. As you walk by the angle of the print causes the tree to shift from a winter scene of bare branches and snow, through sprouting spring foliage, the full greening of summer and then the autumn leaves of fall. From my desk seat, it always looks like autumn. 

I like seeing the different images of the picture. The variety, changing colors and images offers a nice change from what is often the static unchanging art of an office space. There are times when I will just move to a different place in my office to see and enjoy the picture differently. It isn’t that I don’t like seeing the fall tree, I do. I like seeing the other images, too.

Here’s my thought: My living is often the same way. It is easy to settle into the same routine, the same patterns of moving through life and soon – everything seems to look stagnant. In the same way I have to get up and move to a different place in my office to see the variety of the tree picture,  I can move to a different place in my living to see life with new colors.

From a simple move, like visiting a different coffee shop, to a more dramatic change, like ending or starting a new relationship, we can experience the very different seasons of our living. I’m not advocating change for change sake, but I am encouraging myself to remember that sometimes I need to move a little and change my perspective in order to appreciate the rich variety of life.

I sat in a meeting yesterday with a successful local entrepreneur – a very rich man. He was clearly tired, almost exhausted throughout the meeting. After we had finished our business discussions, the conversation shifted as he explained his fatigue. He had spent the previous evening volunteering at a local homeless shelter. As he begin to tell the tale of his time helping others that night his energy lifted, his spirit soared and the conversation moved me to a different place. The business of life glowed more brightly than the drab hues of the previous conversation about his business.

Get up. Move. See. Enjoy.

Wanted: MORE BUMS

As I strive for self actualization

Demanding more of my mind, spirit and body each day

Determined to succeed, to claim yesterday’s distant horizon

As today’s dawn

It occurs to me that I might have it all wrong

What if these images of status and position

That haunt my mind each evening are self contrived

And the resistance that pushes me backward

Each hard fought day is prophetic

What if my truth is that

This world simply needs another bum?

Do You Know the US Postal Service Motto?

Since we are having some inclement weather, my brain was triggered to recall that there seemed to be (in the ancient recesses of my mind) a time when the Postal Service was a beacon of determination and perseverance. The mail WOULD be delivered. Wasn't there a motto to that effect???

The Answer:

Contrary to popular belief, the U.S. Postal Service has no "official motto."

The familiar sentence you are thinking of is this: “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”

This is commonly misidentified as the creed of our mail carriers, but actually it is just the inscription found on the General Post Office in New York City at 8th Avenue and 33rd Street.

Here's how the official Web site of the U.S. Postal Service describes the origin of the inscription.

This inscription was supplied by William Mitchell Kendall of the firm of McKim, Mead & White, the architects who designed the New York General Post Office. Kendall said the sentence appears in the works of Herodotus and describes the expedition of the Greeks against the Persians under Cyrus, about 500 B.C. The Persians operated a system of mounted postal couriers, and the sentence describes the fidelity with which their work was done. Professor George H. Palmer of Harvard University supplied the translation, which he considered the most poetical of about seven translations from the Greek.

Thank you InfoPlease for this wonderful information.

Still Learning.

She said proudly, "I'm 58 years old and still figuring shit out."

I've said it. You've said it. "You learn something new every day." Today was the day my wife learned the meaning of Frigidaire. For those of you that don't know, Frigidaire is a brand of appliances that started in 1913 with the introduction of one of the first 'modern' electric refrigerators. By the 1960's Frigidaire became synonymous with refrigerator in much the same way Band-Aid is known for adhesive bandages. You would ask someone to bring you a coke from the Frigidaire. Most of us spoke of it as Frig-a-dare. The company grew to offer much more than refrigerators and the brand is known - then and now- as a manufacturer of electrical appliances. There is Kenmore, Maytag and Frigidaire.

Today awareness happened simply. My wife was letting the dogs out to do their evening doggie things and said playfully, "Out you go boys. Enjoy the frigid air." Then it hit her. The company was aptly named, for what else does one want from a refrigerator other than frigid air.

She said proudly, "I'm 58 years old and still figuring shit out."  

Yes she is.

Disconnected Communication

Recumbent desires and cumbersome guilt affords us little in the way of meaning. You shouldn't look at me that way, if you don't want my delicate demands. I can't say what ferment swells and requisitions our future from clasped hands. Nor do I dare impart a wish to want more than fanciful moments, minuscule ticks off our kindness. Your seemly essence troubles us.

Is that enough?

Hello?

Why won't you listen to me this morning?

If I May Speak Frankly - The 4 Demands of Joy

Dear Readers:

I hope I'm not imposing.. I'd like your awareness of a new project. 

The 4 Demands of Joy marks the culmination of 30+ years of work and thought in the area of life, love and spirituality.

My bio will give you some of the details of my life journey and explain some of the education and work experiences that have brought me to a new and helpful way to embrace more Joy in your life.

Please visit the temporary website (http://the4demands.blogspot.com) and the Facebook page (give us a 'like' won't you?)

Also, if you would care to promote this via your own Social and Blog world - well, so much the better.

If you are personally interested in the January class, let me know and I can answer any questions that you might have.

I now return you to the regularly scheduled Kim's Korner...

Thanksgiving Awareness

At our best, this day we shun petty and albeit deeply rooted personal limitations and gaze subjectively on our lives. In that moment, we risk seeing the bare truth that our life is in fact an abundant gift to which we are not entitled nor unworthy of - it is a gift, nonetheless.

We are blessed with this miracle of life and the people around us. I wish for you a Happy and Joyful day.


"At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us." 
-Albert Schweitzer

Can You Do That?

It seems to me that I'm wired with a certain set of boundaries, a defined parameter that sets the limits between what I will and will not do. Don't get me wrong, I am capable of doing (and in fact have done) things that are wrong, destructive and thoughtless. It really isn't these extreme actions I'm thinking about here, but more those subtle actions that sap my strength and wear on me.

I don't do math very well - at least not for long periods. I am more right brain creative and living in thoughts and decisions that require deep and prolonged analytical processes affects me in a way that I can best describe as - well - pain.

I don't do tension and conflict. I can endure only so much of that stuff before I'm compelled to change it - or run from it. Yep. Give me a fight or flight situation and I'm more likely to fly...far...away.

I can do analytics and conflict and chaos even for a short time, but don't ask me to live in it...not for long.

So, this has me wondering... do we have some internal design that makes each of us more able to function in these and other areas? I think we all know this to be true - some are gifted in some areas. Some not, but in other areas. We each have a design, a value structure to our living and living too long or too intensely out side of that framework isn't good for us.

What is on your "I don't do that" list?

Garrison Keillor - Winston Salem, NC

Last evening I took advantage of a rare opportunity to enjoy one of the best story tellers of our generation, Garrison Keillor. The master of A Prairie Home Companion and troubadour of Lake Woebegone, Garrison Keillor knows how to weave a tale.

The Steven's Center was a delightful venue for the event. The stage front was set with a simple table, stool and microphone stand. Denise Franklin of our local public radio station, WFDD, offered a simple and respectful introduction of Mr. Keillor that set the stage complete with understated anticipation.

What followed was a well measured unleashing of humor, poignancy and inspiration as the baritone voice of Garrison sung and spoke story into our hearts. His humor was masterfully crafted right down to the black suit and white shirt that playfully gave way to a red tie, socks and sneakers: classic Keillor - refined and established tradition with a splattering of irreverence.

I had two take a ways this night: 1. Garrison's description of marriage as "A life time sentence to a relationship with your best informed critic." You have to love this. My wife and I looked at each other with instant agreement and bursting laughter. 2. The art of story is a dying art and if we lose this wonderful form of communication, if the digital snippets of media that bounce in and out of our awareness each day manage to capture so much of our attention that we no longer have the time or craving for the well turned phrase and a rambling illustration...then life will be diminished beyond reclamation.

If you have not had the pleasure of basking in the mastery of story as it is delivered - no, performed - by Garrison Keillor then reach out into this digital, instant gratification world and GET YOU SOME well paced, long rambling, heart stroking, laughter generating, life adoring STORY.

The Games We Play - Spouse Torture 101

About a year ago, my wife innocently invited me to do some 'shopping' with her. Being the supportive and mischievous sort, I agreed. Among a number of places we went was Idlewild House. It is an amazing place and if you are ever in the area, do drop by.

As we were getting ready to leave I spotted a small 'stuffed' bird on a shelf and something about it attracted me - powerfully. It was for sale and priced for only a few dollars, so I picked it up and walked with my wife to check out.

Wife - "What are you doing with that?"

Me- "Buying it?"

Wife - "I figured that, but why?"

Me - "It called my name."

Wife - "Oh. I guess you had better get it then"

Me - "That's what I thought. It's cute. I like it."

Wife - "You taking it to your office."

Me - "Maybe. I was thinking about where to put it."

Wife - "I think the office is a good place."

We drove home and the conversation about the bird continued and it was very clear to me that my wife did not want the bird at our home. I decided that our home was exactly where it needed to be.

So, once I got home I found a convenient place on a shelf in the kitchen for it. A day or so later, I noticed it was gone - but just moved to another place in the house. I moved it to yet another place - without saying a word - and thus began a game for us. For nearly a year now the bird has been moved from place to place, alternately by us. We don't say much about it. Sometimes it takes a day for it to be found - sometimes weeks. That little 'stuffed' bird has become an endearing and playful part of our relationship.

It is a good thing I bought it.

Here is where it resides today.

Look closer - yep, there it is.

Singularly Tattooed

 In the world of body art, I stand among the minority.  I am told that there are fewer people on this planet with 1 tattoo than there are people with none and multiples.

I have just the one, and one day - if you are really lucky - I'll tell you my "the day I got my tattoo" story... maybe.

Do you have a tattoo? Tattoos?

Question Everything - Always

Seek simplicity, and distrust it.  - Alfred North Whitehead