Life’s Too Short For Rush Limbaugh

The Universe is sending a broadband message—the clock is ticking. Impermanence is the only permanent thing in this plane. Today, it has me thinking about life in terms of more and less. What do I want more of in my life? Music, songs about summer, long conversations with friends, Nature--walks on the beach, visits north in the summer. Oh, and I suppose regular exercise, breathing deeply; there's more in my head, but that's a good start. Less is where old Rush fits in. Don't get me wrong, I have listened to him on and off for years. More often than not, I found him persuasive, and, on occasion, amusing. But, to some extent, this is a zero-sum game. Something has to go, to make room, no? More music… No more Rush! For some, any old reason is good enough, I'm afraid.

Now, the same goes for those long conversations with dear friends. More of those requires less TV, surely. Not even HGTV (just kidding, I only mention it as it is like background noise at my house). But that's not all, most important of these is Nature. What has to move out to make room for Nature? I'll need more room, somehow, metaphorically speaking. Can the world expand?

Like my closet, if I want everything to fit in the space allotted to me, I really ought to give away a shirt or a pair of slacks whenever I buy new. A good friend of mine tells me I have to create a more expansive view of the world I live in to take in what life hands me. Maybe those shirts and slacks wind up in the hands of someone who needs them and my world is expanding this way. You know me, the pragmatic side.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Transitions

Step one happened this year, on the last full day of spring, I finally noticed everything coming apart. I only admitted my reaction to one friend. Step two I took on the first day of summer, it meant asking for help (oh, how we men hate that!). But I managed it. Steps 3, 4 and 5 today—I went public and probably burned a bridge behind me. And I'm in a free falling, full-blown transition. I spent years trying to plan this, but now it's out of control. It happened only because I acted and forgot all about planning. Tonight I resisted the master procrastinator's (oops, I meant planner's) usual move. It goes like this—"Jim, pick up a book and read about it and then we'll put a plan together." I don't think transitions ever happen that way. They get put off, that's all.

I can't really define it, but all the transitions in my life started with an action, not a plan. Where will it take me and what will I make of it? I spoke to a friend of 40 years about this quietly over the weekend before going public and tonight I remembered he was around for another one of those moments. We both jumped into something no one really expected of either of us, and off we went—joining a group of two dozen—it was totally out of character, unplanned and magnificent. We never dreamed we'd wind up here in a sort of paradise, but I think that transition had a hand in getting us here.

Another transition or two happened in between, mostly done without a plan in mind, and on short notice. I married a young woman after perhaps a half dozen dates (we lived about 300 miles apart at the time of the first Arab oil embargo. Gas was being rationed to gas stations, so they shortened their hours, and I was nearly stranded a couple of times). Anyway, we had limited opportunities to spend time together. With that forced compression weighing on us, we decided we loved each other, not exactly sure why, but we were convinced we could make a go of it—so we jumped in and started swimming. We moved to the Southeast, on my impulse, and over her objections, but it worked out and landed us here. Now, I've jumped into the next phase. But it wasn't logical or planned—I just did it. Look out.

Introverts and Introspection

A friend of mine recently told me that solitude (not loneliness) gave "freer rein to her introversion." Humph, I thought, she must mean introspection. Now she has a far better vocabulary and writes far better than I, but I thought maybe I had her on this one. So I went looking at Merriam-Webster and learned to my chagrin that both words mean a reflective turn inward or to turn inward upon oneself. I shrugged it off, and thought no more about it. I know a little about the subject as I regard myself as an introvert, but all the same, the two words hardly differ at all. I had some thoughts about the value of introspection and intended to write some about it, but there was something that needed saying about the value of seeking out the occasional opportunity to cultivate introversion and I couldn't put my finger on it.
I am revisiting the question now, as I read a research report from 23andMe, a California-based genetic research organization, that people like me who have Parkinson's tend to share certain personality characteristics—they are more agreeable, more neurotic and anxious and less extraverted (or more introverted). Agreeable sort that I am, I can see some of that in me. I don't believe that introversion is a weakness. It may not equip me for certain occupations and I may have had to work harder to accomplish certain tasks. However, I have always valued the inner life I found in others, and especially enjoy hearing them share it. Is that simply because these are kindred spirits? I think I have found that something that was missing. Buddhists believe we must look within to find the end to suffering, to awaken. I get that, but I have never been confused about how challenging that path is.
There is really something more straightforward. I think Emerson said it best. "What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us. And when we bring what is within us out into the world, miracles happen." There is something that lies within that is worth pursuing, not to the exclusion of all else, but certainly not to be ignored. So grab some solitude if that works or find an opportunity to talk about what you learn, think, and feel. Look for the miracle.

Rabbit’s Foot, Horseshoes, and Other Amulets

Today I walked up a parking lot driveway on my way out of a hotel, and had to detour around a small animal's carcass, killed on the road, probably during the night. I was already a few steps past when I realized it had been a rabbit. I retraced my steps and confirmed its left hind foot was still intact. I didn't have to work too hard to resist the urge to recover it (gross!). But its value as an amulet is questionable in so many ways. What's lucky about getting run over in the road? For that matter, what's lucky about getting shot in a cemetery in the dark of the moon (that's the true necessity for a lucky rabbit's foot)? It made me wonder about other amulets—like horseshoes, for example. Is there some sort of foot thing going on in the world of amulets? As it turns out, much of the good luck attributed to the horseshoe comes from the blacksmith--the maker of the horseshoe—and the fact the shoes are always mounted with seven nails.

Blacksmiths work with elemental fire and magical iron, and they work with horses. Hence they have power and prestige. It is said that getting married by a blacksmith will increase the likelihood of a long and happy marriage—that's having the ceremony performed by a blacksmith, not marrying one. In any event, no rationale is provided as to why either a rabbit's foot or a horseshoe is lucky. Using any form of the word "rational" in discussing luck makes no sense anyway. True rationalists would point to the logical fallacy of "post hoc ergo propter hoc," meaning just because events occur sequentially, they are connected causally as well is not rational at all. Another way of expressing it is by referring to perspective is the gambler's fallacy—I haven't rolled a 7 all week, so today's my lucky day. I like his definition the best—luck is the name we give to events after they occur which we find to be fortuitous and perhaps improbable. Like, it was a good thing I wasn't chasing that rabbit when the car ran over him. Maybe I need that foot after all….

Becoming An Answer

Life, I am sure, provides challenges and questions for all. No matter what it is, each of us has a struggle, and those struggles continue, regardless of their name. I know there are only a handful who read these musings, and that is not likely to change. But readers and non-readers alike, we are united by a bond I've come to know. Challenge, whether it arises from divorce, disease, death or some other disaster, is just around the corner. It's part of the human condition. Those challenges may come and go, but I have found one that Michael J. Fox likens to watching a bus bear down on you, while you stand stock still. It is coming and you know it. You can choose your means of preparing for it, or choose not to prepare at all. You can imagine it will only graze you or you can imagine it will lay you flat. In the mean time, it marches toward you at a pace and with weapons you can't necessarily predict. The certainty is only that it's coming.
But in the face of it you have a decision to make. Will you be a question, an example of the difficulty it provides, or will you be an answer. I have spent time on both sides now—studying the downstream effects of my own crisis, and looking for ways out. I have decided the likelihood of a cure or an escape for my own particular challenge is remote, and that doesn't set me apart from most humans with challenges. Many of them are dealing with things that simply can't be undone—they have happened, and they cannot be changed.
Dealing with these events can seem a passive pursuit. "It's over. It happened. Deal with it." Just react and get it behind you. My view has changed, after yet another sobering television show on Frontline—Dave Iverson's "My Father, My Brother and Me." I know now that I won't question my challenge. I will become an answer. Who I am, what I do, where I go—my life will be an answer.

Seizing The Fish At The Zoo

Now, I'm sure you know that fish are normally found in an aquarium. So, why am I going to the zoo to seize the fish? I ask you, do you remember when the zoo was really a blast? How old were you? If it was too long ago for you to remember, how about your children? How old were they? My guess, somewhere around the age of six or seven was the peak time. After that, they are on sports teams that have interminable seasons and playoffs. Or they get more interested in their friends than in going to the zoo with their (choose one: parents, grandparents, aunts or uncles). Maybe they also get tired of the animals. Gorillas, lions and pandas might be exciting to see in the flesh the first few times, but they are so used to animated movies and cartoons, I think they are disappointed when they (the animals) can't talk. What would you and a gorilla talk about anyway?

• (me to gorilla) Wow, I really like your coat! Or,
  
• (Gorilla to me) where did all your hair go? How do you climb trees with those shoes on?
  
• (Me to gorilla) do you have to handle your excrement all the time?
  

I'm sure the gorilla conversation all goes downhill from there. He'd be offended, and I would be frightened. If a 400-pound gorilla gets mad at you, I guess I'd rather be able to try to talk it over before it comes to blows, of course. As long as he stays in the cage, I guess I'd just walk away and then I'd be trying to talk to a zebra.

• (Me to zebra) My wife won't let me wear stripes. She says they make me look fat.
  

That conversation starter would probably be a non-starter… (Sorry, I couldn't resist it). So, where was I? Oh yeah, going to the zoo. So, our five and six-year old grandchildren have never been to the zoo, and, while they are at the right age to be thrilled by going to the zoo, we are going to the zoo in Jacksonville. "Carpe diem" (seize the fish for all those of you who never took Latin in school).

Synthesize Anew

I am an analytical sort, really. Show me a problem and I'll start picking away at it a piece at a time. I'll ask questions—who what, where, when—and pile up the answers somewhere. Show me something too big to take in and I'll try taking it apart. What does this piece do? What happens if you take it off? My son caught a little of that from me. He took the first bike we bought for him completely apart. He also inherited my mechanical skills, since that bike was never the same. But show me something broken in pieces and I'll try putting it back together. Think about the "I can fix that" urge that men seem to have, irrespective of how much or how little talent we possess in that department. Is that synthesis? I'm thinking it only becomes synthesis when there is something new added to the mix. So just trying to put it back together is just a transitional stage, maybe even a subtle form of re-analyzing something. It becomes synthesis only with the addition, the newness.
I was comparing notes with a friend of mine about some things in life that had really come apart (secretly focusing on my own stuff, I guess). It has made me think about how something new must enter the equation to make a change. And change is necessary—what has come apart has come apart for a reason. If you simply put it back together just the same, it can be expected to come apart again, right? So, yes, change is needed. Besides that, things usually don't come apart unless some new event or information comes into play.
That doesn't mean we don't need to know how things (our lives, our relationships, our vision of ourselves) went together in the first place. We won't know how it has changed if we don't understand how it worked before. But another piece of synthesis involves taking diverse elements and putting them together in a new way. Logically, that synthesis has to be new, or the "diverse elements" would not have really been diverse in the first place.
So now, I see this response to something coming apart has to be about dealing with change (that would be the new element that made things come apart). Self-examination is a beginning step, and necessary one. But as we struggle to synthesize anew, more "new' is needed. It can be a change in places, people or things. The first "new" you pick up may not be the answer, but it is the necessary beginning.

Wine A Bit, You’ll Feel Better

This little note will have little or nothing to do with wine and the fact that this is Friday. I just like the phrase. I found it at a party store—surprise. But feeling better is up to you, isn't it? I understand some maladies don't disappear just because you decide to feel better. However, most physical conditions are that way—they can't be wished away. So our choices are to deny the issue or accept it, right? If you deny it, reality will catch up with you. It will still be present, and will continue to make itseIf known. If you accept it, the outcome will be the same, but without the catching up.

Whatever is coming about from this malady is likely to continue. So, the next decision is whether to feel bad, neutral or good about it. If I choose to feel bad about it, then that is too bad, or two bad—I will feel bad from the malady, and feel bad about having the malady. If I choose to feel neutral about this case, I will feel only the badness that arises from the malady. If I feel good about having the malady, people are likely to talk. What kind of a nut feels good about having a malady? But how does that hurt? It is only what they think or say, right?

But, it doesn't hurt you, does it? So, score one for accepting and then feeling good about having the malady.

So, let's move on to non-physical conditions, things that are only "in the mind." What happens if I face the same choices on a non-physical condition or mood? Well, I can compound the problem by feeling bad about it, let it happen or exist by being neutral, or say it ain't so and struggle with it. So score one for letting it happen, because struggling with it creates its own anxiety. Hmm.

So the one thing in common is that neither case supports feeling bad about it, right? Just wallowing in it isn't desirable, is it? But denying it or ignoring it doesn't make it go away. So what about good old "poor me?" It sounds like an option we might explore, if we wine a bit.

Pop, Sears, and Artificial Limbs

Usually, I'm not given to allowing the greeting card holidays to influence the direction of my thoughts, so I was a little surprised to find myself thinking of my father while shaving this morning.

I'm sure it will surprise no one that my father had a corny (and highly repetitive) sense of humor. Go ahead, take your tape measure out to the apple tree, see if I care.

By the time I was five, my father's primary objective when I or my younger sister came to him searching for a little sympathy over a bump, a bruise or a scrape was to make us laugh. One of his favorite moves was to call out, "Dor (my mother's name was Dorothy), where's the Sears catalog? We're going to need to order a new (pick one: leg, arm, shoulder, finger, etc,) for this boy."

Sears catalog was yesterday's internet shopping session. Us kids used to make up our Christmas list from the toy catalog. Unfortunately, my mother also used the Sears catalog to make up the all-important shopping list, but she used the big catalog with the pants, socks and other practical stuff and not the toy catalog. (Oh, and I know spell-check will frown on "us kids" back there, but, as I told a friend recently, don't let spell-check take over your vocabulary, your new words belong to you).

I guess he is up there wondering about the karmic effect of all those times, as my older (oldest, really, but we try to humor him on that score) brother contemplates a knee replacement once his golf league concludes its season. He joins my sister who has 2 store-bought knees, and my younger older brother with his new hip (oh, don't let him fool you with that partial stuff—a hip replacement it is, just the same). By the way, Pop had a knee replaced in his 70's. Don't say it—and I'm showing signs of needing a brain replacement. Sears should have listened to him all those years ago. They would be doing a land office business in medical devices today.

Not to be beating anything with a dead horse,* but I think I have decided, just for today, that life's hurts could use a little more laughing off. Thanks, Pop.

*my new favorite malapropism

Busy Days Require Slow Ones

OK, I get it, I get it. Happiness contains the seeds of sadness. Life implies eventual death. Cold and hot cannot exist without each other. If the world were tepid all the time, we would not have hot and cold and that first chill that catches your breath on a crisp fall morning would never occur. It's the yin and yang repeated over and over, but people still deny, deny, deny. The important thing to understand is that it is all in the tension between the interdependent forces in the world and their interplay. We are given life and occasional happiness, what comes along for the ride? Well, it does. It just does and denying it doesn't change the fact. My good friend has told me we must expand our hearts in the face of this tension. That is true courage. But the fear remains, shrinking the heart. But I can stop that. Or can I?

Oh my—is this where you use OMG? I know this one! It's the endless knot—you've probably seen it before.

It has many interpretations, officially it's "the interplay and interaction of the opposing forces in the dualistic world of manifestation, leading to their union, and ultimately to harmony in the universe." Another interpretation is that it symbolizes samsara-- the endless cycle of suffering or birth, death and rebirth within Tibetan Buddhism. But I like two others—love and friendship is one. I continue to know those throughout my life at all kinds of intersections. Another is wisdom and compassion, still a work in progress there. But I'll keep working this endless knot, with a little help from my friends. On some busy days, I lose track and forget it all, trusting life and happiness are not that fragile. Oops.

At some point in my life, this made more sense, but now I know what we're in for. Now, when I have busy days, I know slow ones will be coming. It's a requirement. Those slow days will come with time to come back and think it through again.

Courage, Fear and Freedom

At the risk of beating a dead horse, there is another element that keeps popping up for me—courage. People say I have courage because I face my reality. I am not sure where the courage is in that. It's not life or death courage, it's just inevitable erosion. Aristotle, in the Western tradition, defined the virtue of courage as a mean between fear and confidence, pointing out that too much confidence can be mistaken for courage in the foolhardy or those rendered overconfident by a string of successes. As far as I know he did not offer any indication that someone displaying fear could be mistaken for one having courage. In fact, the way he expressed it was that avoiding fear was more important than avoiding overconfidence. The extreme that one normally seeks to avoid that true courage moves toward and faces. When it comes to courage, it heads people towards pain in some circumstances, and therefore away from what they would otherwise desire. Huh? So far, it leaves me wondering how anybody recognizes courage when they see it, except maybe facing what you fear the most.

The Tao Te Ching, on the Eastern side is less specific, but still engaging in its way. There are four characters associated with courage—"loving," "causes," "ability" and "brave.' It goes on to distinguish two forms of courage this way, "One of courage, with audacity, will die. One of courage, but gentle, spares death. From these two kinds of courage arise harm and benefit."
Now, we can add gentleness to facing fear, at least for some.

There is also a distinction between momentary courage that a soldier must have to face his fear of death in just that instant and that which must be sustained in the face of what is slowly advancing, like a rising flood, a leaking boat or a chronic condition. Both must face what they fear, but the soldier must have audacity, more so than gentleness. There is also physical courage and moral courage. Physical courage is held in the face of pain, hardship, death or fear of death. Moral courage is to persist in doing the right thing in the face of public opposition or shame. But neither addresses that momentary aspect, and we are still left with that "gentleness" issue to contemplate.

You told me once that freedom sometimes evoked fear, just an undefined fear, similar in some ways to the realization that death is an inevitable fact of the human condition. Our reaction to that fear can and must only be to make certain the way we are living is enough. Are we now living as if we know we don't have unlimited days yet to live. Whether our fear has been narrowed to a specific threat or arises simply from a sense of our own mortality, doing enough for the others in our lives, being enough for those others, loving them enough all show up at once. We have freedom to thank for that. We can choose to be and do enough or not. The daily measure of this "enoughness" (your term) is a measure of a kind of courage, too. Everyone's courage in the face of impermanence is a measure of his or her virtue. I think gentleness can fit there, too.