Winter Sun

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The Way is Mysterious

In a world of shouting, God whispers. If we sit in silence long enough, if we still all of the external and internal voices, there is God, whispering. When I woke up this morning I ran over a pair of speed bumps that threatened to take the day off course rather quickly. I have found that if the day starts good and goes bad, it still has the possibility of ending as a good day.

But, if the day starts bad, too often there is nothing I seem to be able to do except ride it out and start the next day.

So, this morning, when I bounced over those two speed bumps, I decided to immediately reset the day. I told myself what became my mantra for the day, that I am carrying with me even now, here in the afternoon, as the day winds toward its end. “Slow. Slow. Slow.” I have spent the entire day consciously and deliberately slowing down every time I felt myself speeding up.

Just stopping.

Taking a deep breath.

And going “slow, slow, slow”.

Now it is close to three PM and all in all, it has been both a good and productive day. I’ve weaved my way through a series of meetings. I’ve resolved some sticky issues. I’ve handled some customer requests. I had a nice lunch.

I am sliding into the evening with a brief plan. I want to stop and get a fresh salad for dinner and I need to stop at the accountant and sign some papers. Since I am going to be next to a Coin Star location I am going to run my bowl of spare change through the machine and then crackle with glee as I count my riches.

Well, okay, I made the cackle with glee part up. Odds are that won’t happen.

I have been thinking today, pretty much all day, about the mysterious nature of the universe. It was the thought that was on my mind when I woke this morning (well, immediately after the thoughts that involved nakedness).

My friend Tony is in a transitional stage right now. He is at a fork in the road and over the next couple of days will be choosing a path or not making a choice and letting the choice be made for him. Either way, there is a path that diverges and he is at the fork.

As human beings our path is always forward, down the inexorable arrow of time. We can’t do anything about that, we can’t turn around and go back, we can’t reverse that particular journey. We can wiggle around a bit. We can make choices that are basic and simple, choices about a little more of this, choices about a little less of that. The more complex choices are largely made by what I like to refer to as the process of incidents and accidents. Things happen. Other things happen. Some of them we are active participants in. Others we are passive participants in. Either way the journey continues.

The great mystery closes one door.

The great mystery opens another door.

We strive, imperfectly, to follow the Way.

Four Boxes

A short while ago, when there was a break between soft sheets of rain, I ran four boxes of "stuff" out to the dumpsters. Three of the boxes of stuff ended up in the recycle bin (most paper) and one in waste bin (mostly plastics that could not be recycled). These were the four boxes that I hung up over on the weekend for no apparent reason.

Again, I am amazed at the level of attachment to "stuff" that I had neither seen nor used in over one year, all do to the perception of potential value. It took T.R.'s pep talk and encouragement, but I was able to do it - simply throw the stuff away. Then, I added another box and a bag of trash into the mix just because I was moving along nicely.

Now, I have one more box sitting out here beside my chair and my plan is to go through the box and see what is all in it and then get rid of it. The box is labeled "personal papers" and mostly contains old notebooks of a variety of sizes. Most of them, I suspect, are training or education related, but I do want to carefully flip through them, since I suspect there will be some hidden gems of creative writing nestled down inside of them - and that creative writing I do not particularly want to lose.

Though, again, since I haven't read the material in the boxes in over a year (or much longer), who knows what the heck is in them. All I know is that at one time I thought they were important enough to keep, but then, I often held onto things for no other reason than I had the space and I always promised myself that I would look at them later. Well, for this box next, that later has arrived.

Being so close to the one year anniversary of the "Great Purge" of 2010, I am confident in my review that the things in the boxes (and in the other boxes that remain in the spare bedroom closet) can go if there isn't a specific reason I am hanging onto them. My plan with the creative writing is that I am going to separate it out and then either transcribe it into the computer (I've done that with a couple of notebooks I've already sorted through) or scan it in (if I think there is some reason I want to hang onto it as a physical representation of an idea). Depending on the creative density there is also the possibility that some of the notebooks will have actual sentimental value attached to the physical notebook. In that case, I will keep them as mementos.

With each item I discard I manage to feel lighter...an effect T.R. had mentioned and that I can certainly attest to. So, wish me luck and I am off into the contents of the box.

On Junk and Charitable Donations

I was re-reading the previous entry and realized I have asterisked a comment with the intention to add a footnote, then I forgot to add the footnote. I wanted to comment on the types of things that we donate to charity. Most charities will either turn around and sell the items (so they can apply the cash where they need to apply it) or allow people to take the donated items for free.

Having worked with charitable donations before one of the things I always recommend is the simple question “If the item was free, would you take it” and “how much would you pay for the item”. The reason I recommend this is charities often get a volume of stuff that they simply cannot move on – they can’t sell it and they can’t give it away. In those cases, where you don’t really see any value in the item, I would recommend you throw the item away, even though it may be in good shape – it may simply have no value. Often, when a charity receives donations, the first step of the donation process is sorting and evaluating the items – and sometimes they go straight from the donation bin to the dumpster.

The footnote I wanted to leave was simple – just use a little discretion and don’t use charities to get rid of your junk. If it is junk, just throw it away.

The Things That Anchor Us In Place

I woke this morning from inside of a dream about moving into an empty house and having no possessions. The first thing I intended to get was a pot and pan set and groceries. Yesterday, for the first time in quite a while I made a set of strides in my move toward minimalist possessions. I managed to throw out two bags of stuff - mostly old software and software manuals. I also managed to get rid of a box of books, freeing up a shelf on my bookcase.

I love reading so I have a tendency to acquire books, both in regular book form and on my Kindle. I am trying to move more and more of my library over to the Kindle, both for convenience and for space. I've resolved to try and keep my book collection down to a single bookcase (with five shelves) and it keep threatening to spill over.

I am generally keeping books that fall into a handful of categories - poetry collections, books on writing, philosophy/religion, reference books, and art books. Most of the other books, fiction and non-fiction, I tend to read once and than just hang onto. There is really no need to hang onto them since most of them I am never going to re-read.

When I went through my great purge a year ago, I ended up with about a dozen boxes in the spare bedroom closet. Now I am working my way through them and unfortunately, they had been proving more difficult to sort through and more difficult to actually dispose of. I pulled out four of the boxes to look at them yesterday - they contained mostly miscellaneous "stuff". Two of the boxes contained unused office and academic products - binders, folders, tablets, noteboks, etc. Two of the boxes contained older reference manuals. The stuff is basically worthless - of no particular value. Most of it is old. It is not in particular good shape - but my brain keeps telling me it is potentially valuable and I shouldn't through it away - even though I know it is of little to no value, even to a charity.*

But, I could not part with those boxes yesterday. I went back and forth inside that part of my mind where these items remained attached. I managed to move them out into the living room - and then one at a time I moved them back into the closet. Then, I stopped myself and pulled them out into the living room. They are sitting over against the wall, waiting for the recycle bin to be emptied Monday morning, so I can cart them out and drop them off.

The resolve to finally do it, to finally dispose of them, came in large part from T.R., my frequent touchstone on the road to a simplified lifestyle. In conversation I mentioned my struggle and she responded that such things become anchors that hold us in place, I liked that analogy - in the case of the stuff in these four boxes, it is very true. This stuff has no value. It's just stuff. I am not using it. It's been sitting in boxes for over a year. And yet, like an anchor, I could not bring myself to throw it over the side of the boat, simply because I thought at some point I might need it. The reality is, if I need it, I can replace it. But I am not going to need it.

Simple Choices

I was feeling a little harried today and I decided to do something about it. As I slipped into the weekend, I have a half a dozen or more rather complex errands that I need to resolve. There is no pressing need on them, nothing urgent, nothing life altering, but I would like to get them done. Since I work full time, on a normal weekend, the weekend is generally split half and half between things I want to do and things I have to do. Errands like these, which I would call errands of middle importance, tend to get shuffled to the side - over and over. Some of them have been riding along in my "to do" list for a couple of months. So, rather then let myself feel a little harried because of the things I needed to do - I just opted out of some of the things I could. I simplified by letting them go.

Thoughts on Death

I’ve had cause over the last year or so to think on questions of our mortality, questions of life and death. I don’t have any answers, certainly no magic answers. Pretty much all I have are a lot of questions, a few observations, and the abiding power of my faith. Ultimately such answers are very intimate and may not be relevant to other people at all. But, perhaps, they can serve as a point of inspiration or a moment of reflection or a spark for contemplation, so I thought I would write them down today.

Many of my friends (myself included) are dealing with questions of mortality as they relate to aging parents. My father died 26 years ago and his death remains, for me, one of the defining sources of my experiences with natural death, regardless of how short the span of his life might have been. (He was only a few years older than I am now when he died, meaning he was, relatively, a young man.)

Recently, someone very dear to me experienced that journey, the journey that ends in the death of a beloved parent. My heart is filled with love and concern, with hoped for grace and faith and all those other things that are the brighter side of death, the whole scope of the natural journey that begins with birth and proceeds, inexorably, to the end of this life. That journey and the lives that populated that journey is not my story to tell, so I only mention it in the barest of details.

My prayers, my thoughts, my meditations, my contemplations – they’ve all been turned in that direction. It is a journey we all take, or have taken, in one form or another. Contemplating such things is not a negative in anyway. I would go so far as to say, in general, as a society, we here in America don’t give death it’s due. Too often both the death and the process of dying get shunted aside and removed from view.

We, as a society, are very much a society of life. Death is a feared and ignored specter we prefer to relegate to the horror movie genre, or popcorn films where it is always dramatic. Death is, in itself, a very simple thing – it is a step on an eternal journey. For me, as a matter of faith, death is a great reunion with our true family, with God, with the great Mystery that is. In that manner, it is not something to be dreaded or feared or shunted aside. It is simply a step on this glorious journey of life.

So, for my beloved and for her loss, I would simply like to write down a quote from St. Paul that I always think of when it comes to death and dying and what lies beyond and to express my sincerest and deepest condolences.

“For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but I shall know, even as I am also known.” (1 Corinthians 12)

We dream, we imagine, we hope for and we pray for the Grace of God. For those we loved who have died, they know. It is a small comfort in the night of our grieving, but a vast comfort in the lives in we live.

Thoughts on Happiness

I’ve spent the better part of the last year in a period of extended observation, carefully and deliberately examining the world around me. I’ve noticed one thing that I thought I would share today. Society, through the media, is hell-bent on convincing you that you are not happy and that you can find happiness if only you take these steps, which, inevitably, involve purchasing and using some sort of product. It is pretty astounding.

This observation speaks to the value and importance of turning off the influences of mass media, or, if you are not up to turning them off, carefully and deliberately choose which influences you allow in your life. Today, as I took a brief break and read the latest issue of a magazine (which magazine doesn’t really matter), I noticed how many of the articles were “selling products disguised as happiness”. It’s pretty impressive.

Happiness, depending on how you define it, is rarely available for purchase. Yes, you can purchase things that shape the environment you are moving through, but those things rarely, in themselves, bring you happiness. There might be some exceptions to that – for example, a quality bed can definitely lead to a good night’s sleep, which can be a major component of happiness. (I definitely worship at the temple of sleep.) Many of the things that society urges you to purchase or acquire though are rarely associated with happiness, which is, primarily, an inner feeling, a sense of contentment and meaning.

The bit of wisdom I would pull from this is something that T.R. frequently reminds me of…be careful of what you let into your mind, because it all takes root there, in one form or another.

Wednesday's Lunch

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The Tale of the Flu

Today, my analyst B. called off sick with the flu. Every single person who works for me has gotten the flu now and lost multiple work days, largely because one worker who had the flu kept coming to work and wouldn't take the time off because they'd been informally counseled by upper management not to take to many sick days. Dumb and irritating. For want of one or two sick days, it cost the department over twenty sick days. "Excuse me, was the our foot we just shot because of bureaucratic stupidity? Yes, but it was only a flesh wound."
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