Limbo

It’s weird that I have time to fix the kitchen sink drain, and all the other broken shit in my house.

It’s painful that I rarely see my friends, and when I do, it’s at a distance.

It’s disquieting that I’ve worked two days in the last four weeks.

It’s alarming that my bank account is in free fall.

It’s a strange gift that I must somehow learn to embrace this limbo.

#besafe

#besmart

#bewell

#weareinthistogether

The Era of Social Distancing

It was bound to happen. History shows us that it is inevitable. Thankfully we are further along now than the poor souls who faced the Spanish Flu or the Bubonic Plague. We know what to do, what must be done. Self-imposed isolation is the selfless choice, whether we like it or not.

Social distancing is no stranger to this house. In fact, it is our de facto natural state. Anyone who follows my social feeds sees picture after picture of solitary moments captured in the wilderness. My sons occasionally join me on these ventures into humanlessness. However, left to their own devices, they tend to interact with their world virtually. This is not always my favorite, but for now, I am grateful for that proclivity.

Except for the complete lack of income that accompanies a worldwide economic shutdown, not much has changed here. Well, not much except that I am pinching pennies like a leprechaun pinching the greenless on St. Patty’s day. That and the fact that I suddenly find myself qualmless about gratefully consuming slightly expired foodstuffs. The house is cleaner than it has been in a decade. Oh, and I’m torturing Netflix incessantly with my indecisiveness about best viewing options.

Thanks to the tireless work of our healthcare, transportation, and food supply communities, most of us will survive this, bearing away little more than a story to tell our grandchildren. The silver lining will be that despite the best efforts of those who would wish us divided, we may finally come to see ourselves as part of an indivisible, global community. 

Please be smart, be safe, be well. Please think of others before you act. We who carry on will have much to be thankful for, much to have learned, and much to share from our time here in the era of social distancing.

A Moment

The past is just that.

The future is a mystery.

The present is you, and me and all the rest, fleeting, precious, open to being embraced.

We carry the sum of our experiences in the vessel of memory.

We imagine the future in the vessel of hope.

We honor the present by knowing it fully, in becoming the vessel itself each and every moment. We become the witness, and if so inclined, the fountainhead of gratitude for all we could easily if accidentally take for granted.

 

#formyfirstbornonturning20

 

Tranquility

Tranquility. A state of consciousness defined not by a lack of drama but by the lack of attachment to it. We cannot control that which surrounds and infuses our living story. We can, however, decide how it affect us. In most cases, we can choose whether to allow monsters under the bed or show them the door. Also, in most cases, we are unaware that this choice is ours.

Bad things happen. Good things happen. Again and again, the wave rises and falls. We may be in the habit of riding to the crest then plummeting to the depth holding on for dear life. Or we may decide to let the wave roll through and past us. Holding and taking breaths in due time. Choosing stillness in the knowledge that all highs and lows eventually pass to leave there spent energy on the shores of our lifetimes.

Sitting quietly, hearing each inhale, each exhale, knowing them with the full focus of mind, shows chaos the door. This simple practice can calm thoughts that would otherwise grow into tsunami waves turning what could be a storm into gentle lapping of harmless water on the shore.

When a real storm comes no amount of mental stillness will quell its fury. However, presence of mind may allow for minimal damage in its wake. Equanimity is an elusive treasure. It is also oddly a choice, a fact that makes its rarity comical in a dark sort of way. In this big beautiful, terrible world of love and chaos, we decide, if so inclined to seek, find, and nurture the gift of personal tranquility.

Greed

Of the seven deadly sins, Greed is perhaps king. In the world of men and women, it may one day be recognized as the ultimate societal cancer. That day will likely come too late for some. In particular, those who’ve starved for wanting of basic sustenance, and others who’ll be caught off guard while paying the price for arrogant excess at the hand of the less fortunate. Greed is not a welcome topic of discussion at cocktail parties. It is not a friend to those with, or without. How much is enough? How long is a piece of rope?

Students of history will remember the disparity of wealth that fueled the French Revolution. “Let them eat cake,” she said, but was there indeed enough fucking cake to go around? No, and yes. Conscious, humanitarian reapportionment of recourses may have rendered the guillotine motionless. However, as a result of resource allocation imbalance, Marie Antoinette ultimately lost her cake and her head. Money must not be everything then. Greed builds a fortified castle to protect its excess, but no fortress has yet been built that cannot be overcome. So it is that in wanting more that one needs a trap is laid by the prey itself.

Mazlow’s hierarchy of needs features five levels of basic human necessities. The first level features physiological needs, such as food, water, shelter, etc. The second tier lists basic safety needs, personal security, employment, resources, health, etc. The top three levels in ascending order are love and belonging, esteem, and self-actualization. Without the first two levels, the top three are out of reach. Society needs these two lowest levels met for the sake of stability, calm, and peace. Without a relative security and safety equilibrium, unrest and division will flourish. Common sense, no?

Greed is a difficult topic because all people view it from their unique perspectives informed by their place on the hierarchy. It is good to be paid well for work well done. It is also wise to think socially, particularly for those who stand at the top of the hierarchy. Handouts are not the answer. However, equitable distribution of wealth in the form of lower disparity in wages, benefits, and so on, would go a long way toward inching all of humanity up the ladder of basic needs. It will likely be climbed one way or another as we saw in 18th century France. Conscience and kindness can build a bridge to societal equanimity. Wall building, hoarding, and thoughtlessness form the province of Greed.

Identity

Who we are is a concept. We are an idea forged in a cauldron into which we’ve poured our experiences, our reactions to those experiences, and spiced with a pinch independent action born of will (if we are so lucky). We make rules, set boundaries, claim ideals and call the outcome “self.”

Self-definition gives us strength, purpose, and focus. It may also give us rigidity, blindspots, fear of the unknown and ultimately weakness in the face of the ever-changing landscape of life marching on around us. Taking a stand is highly regarded in our culture. Flexibility, agility, and open-mindedness make for what some may call “indecision.” However, if my many years on a surfboard is any indication, taking a firm stand while riding a wave may well lead to drowning. This is not to say that abandoning principle is the goal. Rather it is to say that allowing for principle to be fluid and open to new information creates an opportunity for growth within the realm of that we at each moment believe to be right. Being trampled by one’s own dogma is not uncommon; nor is it a glamorous way to go.

Understanding of an everchanging world requires an elasticity of one’s point of view. Static mindsets limit the opportunity for personal evolution and so endanger relevance. “Knowing who we are,” is a healthy survival tool. It both differentiates and bonds us to portions of the spectrum of the world views that confront us. That said, knowing who we are, if not a work in progress, agile and open to at least reviewing information that runs counter to our present beliefs may well catch us unaware in the grip of a storm and take us to the depths chained to the anchor of identity.

 

We All Dig Tunnels, and Call Them Lives

We all dig tunnels and call them lives. Our perspectives are defined by the scenes on the walls of the paths we burrow. These tunnels we dig may lead to a vein of metaphorical gold that runs deep through the terra firma of our lives. Striking such gold is a wonderful if rare outcome and cause for much gratitude. Other tunnels may lead to silver, copper, coal or stone, etc.. Each discovery a direct, if unforeseen result of the direction in which one chooses to place their effort. In misfortunate circumstances, our digging may lead to flooding or cave in, and there the story ends.

Why tunnels? Many feel trapped by life, and here the metaphor is clear. Others see double rainbows, climb the world’s tallest peaks, or hurtle themselves from aircraft at 14,000 feet. These souls feel free. Indeed, “freedom” is a familiar battle cry, and an excellent alternative to feeling trapped, but it is still freedom within a confined mental space. It is only an experience of the concept of “freedom” based on a singular perspective. It is a mindset defined by the path they’ve selected to carve a life out of this endless universe of possibility. Have you ever met someone who “knows” they are “right,” perhaps in the mirror even? Case in point.

One can be “free” anywhere; on a mountain top, in a tunnel, even in shackles if strong enough of mind. The point is not freedom from bondage; rather, it is to recognize and acknowledge the limits of the human capacity for perspective. Each person’s path is unique. Therefore, even in the presence of the most compassionate, empathic soul on earth, our stories, while perhaps listened to by many, will be experienced by us alone. Empathizing is the act of stopping for a moment as we delve, turn to the wall, and swing the pickax with the goal of opening a window to a world that has not as yet entered our passageway. It is a way of honoring the fact that our’s is but one of a countless set of perspectives to consider.

No two lives are alike. No law of balance exists between the worlds of choice and fate, good or bad fortune, or life and death. With the infinite experiences occurring simultaneously and continuously on this planet alone, it is perhaps prudent to consider this reality before we level judgment on others. We may think we know how existence works, and overlay that template onto the world around us, or we may feel lost, alone in the dark. In either case, compassion suggests remembering this simple, empathy-based truth; we all dig tunnels and call them lives.

Unraveling

Morning dew drops hang glistening on the vine leaves. The summer sunrise sparkles in them like prismatic starlight. Skyward has grown the vine in its natural way. Clinging, climbing, and encircling the trunk and limbs of the old oak tree. It is natural for the tree to grow, to reach for the sky. The vine, too, follows its calling to ascend, chasing the sunlight on the wings of the tree. The relationship is beneficial indeed for the vine initially but will inevitably bring calamity to both as the tree is constricted, ultimately to the point of collapse.

The vines of thought and action grow similarly in our lives, and may ultimately choke both mind and body to the point of decrepitude. Unconscious behavior patterns, habits, and beliefs take hold and left unchecked can control or cripple their host. These vines of thought, conscious or not, take on a life of their own. At one point, they may have served us well, may have been too pretty to cut, glistening in the morning dew. But as they deepen their grip, they are capable of distorting or debilitating the heart and soul of a being.

Finding our concept of self in the mirror is one thing. Seeing the inner, ever creeping patterns that twist and shape within us, forming the person only we do not see, is quite another. Left untended, we like the trees in the wild woods, run the risk of becoming misshapen over time, even broken, by that which once seemed harmless and small.

Sensing imbalance, a pull to the unhealthy, chronic discomfort in mind or body are all clues to the presence of these binds within. The human body and mind ache for freedom from pain, constriction, and servitude. All vines have a beginning. They have roots. These can be found (if we dare to face the less flattering interpretation of ourselves). There, at the source, the cutting and digging up of that which does not serve us may begin. As the loss of sustenance suffuses the severed unhealthy physical and ideological tendrils, they lose their power and eventually fall away. We see freedom glistening in the summer morning dew as the binds of a lifetime begin their unraveling.