Thought

a new February

2012-02-01T06:23:00.000-08:00

It was an early morning rise with my mind racing at 4:00 AM. I found an audio copy of As a Man Thinketh, and took it in as I hit the pavement. James Allen's voice patiently tracked the rising the of the sun. I am always struck by the similarity of the voices which I am drawn to.

What is it that distinguishes the really great sages from new age and pop-psychology hucksters?

It seems that it is a sincere and complete resignation to divine order. In the absence of this, we are convinced that we have our hands on the tiller and can unilaterally control our destination. Experience has shown that in reality, we can only suit up, show up - and attempt to apply with consistency, the principles which are set forth for us by our God. I think these principles lie ready to be awakened within the core of the human soul. Though we may consciously turn from them, they beckon persistently, quietly, and will wait for our return.

It occurred to me recently in thinking about the Christ - how His demonstration of love was inextricably intertwined with His forgiveness of each of us. Love and forgiveness are essential and enmeshed. You really cannot have one without the other. Love which is not bootstrapped to forgiveness will be temporary because all mortals will fail. If we cannot forgive and cannot in turn, love - we are destined for a life of misery.

Excerpt from: A Principle Centered Practice, forthcoming by Ryan M. Barnett

2012-01-26T06:46:00.000-08:00

In 2011, I spent several quiet days with the Jesuits at Manresa, in Convent, Louisiana. I am a recovering Southern Baptist and apracticing Methodist. Thus, I admittedlyfound myself wondering why I was so drawn to the Jesuits and the idea of silenceand reflection. In addition to consumingentirely too much food – I learned a great deal by simply watching the elderlyblack woman who served our table, Ciola. Each day, she would placethe dishes of bread, cereal, and eggs on the table in a curiously intentionalway. She would smile. She didn’t necessarily look at the mensitting at the table or even acknowledge them with a nod. But she was present in a way that made clear she was present. She was there and was engaged in the workthat she was doing because she believed it was worthwhile at her core. This had very little to do with how muchmoney she was being paid. Any lawyer (ormanager) will tell you that you cannot pay a discontent employee enough to keepthem on a job they don’t find meaning in. It simply won’t work. It is aproblem that money in the form of higher wages won’t solve.

This is the simpletruth which is scoffed at by legions of empirical jurists. Thespiritual life is where meaning, peace, and contentment is to be found. Case closed. And by spiritual I don’t mean dogmatically religious. True spirituality seems to most often lead toa connection with the divine which has little to do with dogmatism. Yet, the utilization of dogma as a “track”upon which to help keep the spiritual train is not to be entirely dismissed.And the inquiry as to whether one can only necessarily lead to the other(spirituality as the predecessor of dogma, or vice versa) may miss thepoint. The fact is that the spirituallife requires, largely, a commitment to the unseen and a reorientation as tothe seen. Those tied to the professionof law often reflexively cling to empiricism because of the rigors thataccompany practice. Lawyers frequentlyobligate their persuasions to only what they can see. And it is therefore not surprising that manyof those disenchanted souls, mired in the trenches of law, are often lookingfor tools by which to connect tosomething greater. To anythinggreater than themselves.

Spill coffee on yourself and becometh a millionaire?

2012-01-16T07:36:00.000-08:00

I have been party to more than one conversation where I witnessed literal outrage arise at the mention of the "McDonald's" coffee case. The apt culmination of masterful propaganda. Big business has done a remarkable job at convincing the public that infamous cases, such as "McDonald's coffee," are gross examples of why the public needs to stay out of the courtroom and let big business police itself! We have seen numerous examples of success along these lines, haven't we: predatory mortgage lending, failed product safety, apocalyptic environmental protection disasters (we are especially sensitive to that here in the Gulf Coast region post-BP), and the list goes on. The entrepreneurial spirit of our great nation is remarkable and commendable. But let's not forget that the framers built a nation upon the rights of the individual, aligned with the interests of the public, in the pursuit of a better way of living. One wonders if the rights of corporate and business communities, aligned with the interests of bottom lines, in pursuit of public exploitation and submissiveness, are now carrying the day.

The election of President Obama was a powerful example of the continued influence of the people. Occupy movements are reflective also of the voice of many who are frustrated with being dominated by the comparatively few in positions of economic and political power. And thus, there is hope that the masses will fight back against efforts to close the doors of courthouses across the country.

The lawyers representing injured workers' in Florida have seen firsthand the power of the closed courthouse door. Sure, you can still get to the courthouse but the deck is stacked against you, the insurance companies get to pick your doctors, and your lawyer might be paid less than minimum wage if he takes your case. It doesn't take long to figure out the outcome in that scenario - not only is the injured worker a proverbial David in a fight against corporate Goliath, but now both of his arms are tied behind his back and he is blindfolded.

What do you really know about the McDonald's coffee case? Susan Saladoff's new documentary, "Hot Coffee," (http://www.docurama.com/docurama/hot-coffee/) does a remarkable job of peeling through complicated layers of history and illuminating a dark corner of our current political climate. Her film shows, with real and heart wrenching examples, how the deck is being stacked against citizen litigants across our country. Nobody wants frivolous lawsuits. Big business wants no lawsuits, period. And they make no secret of it. For more information, please go to www.whibbsandstone.com, where a unique and dedicated team of legal professionals is fighting to keep the courthouse doors open and accessible to real people.

"I'm not leaving this podium." Nathan Monk, December 15, 2011

2011-12-22T10:14:00.000-08:00

Small town Pensacola, Florida, became the battleground for an intriguing showdown between Father Nathan Monk and City Council President Sam Hall on December 15, 2011. In a remarkable verbal exchange, Monk refused to be silenced when told he was "out of order" by Sam Hall. By all appearances, out of order means saying something Sam Hall's government doesn't like.

Monk has become somewhat well known in the local community for advocating for the homeless and other disadvantaged community members - a role which does not come with the more comfortable accouterments of being a voice for the rich and powerful.

I commend Monk for not cowering to government and for refusing to shut up. His critique was direct and aggressive and within his constitutional rights. All too often there is little tolerance or appetite for the people to speak out in a politically meaningful way. More and more the citizenry seem disinclined to follow traditional political channels to voice their opposition and are clearly seeking alternative vehicles of speech. The Occupy movement is an apt example of a growing and emerging new and potentially collectively immature political voice. Disjointed and disorganized. Thus, probably completely ineffective but nonetheless disturbing to the establishment.

I also commend Council members Myers and Jerralds for having the gumption to walk out. It is nice to see a politician show some spine. We can all be grateful for the accountability that comes along with technology (despite some of its concurrent challenges). I wonder what might have happened in this City Council chamber had there not been cameras to record the happenings? I suspect that Monk may have asked himself that same question when it was all over and the dust had settled.

three gifts .....

2011-11-20T10:15:00.001-08:00

We just sat down and had "the talk" with the kids. There was a lot of squirming and angst. The kids (at least some of them) were totally disturbed.

We are doing three gifts each this year for Christmas - consistent with the story of the three wise men.

Gracie didn't take it so well. She is wailing from her room right now.

We'll see how it goes!

tuesday night thoughts ...

2011-11-15T18:41:00.001-08:00

Our return from New York was safe and sound. My initial hopes for a quiet weekend were dashed by a generous offer of great seats at the Florida State vs. Miami football game. Tayler and I made the drive over on Saturday and were home by bedtime. Sunday presented the opportunity to help out Running Wild with the water stops for the Pensacola Marathon and see most of my training partners finish their run. Jessica ran the last few miles of the course and finished up with several of them and I am told that Daniel Ewert (who in addition to being a phenomenal photographer, www.ewertnaturephotography.com, is a great runner) was good enough to run (in jeans and boots) when Jessica told him to bring in the last stretch with one of the crew. Like myself, he is a well trained man. Aside from throwing off the early morning (and tight) schedule by dropping the first water stop a block off - all went well. Picked a jury on Monday morning and was supposed to proceed to trial today - but the case settled in the first ever "court house steps" settlement that I have participated in.

Kids are now down for bed, and I am moved by the spirit to pick up the pen.

I've had several conversations today with good friends about the challenges of interacting with persons we'd like to see "change." I am grateful for my own growing understanding in recent times that I have little power over others and for the knowledge that it is wise to set boundaries to protect ourselves and to liberally and intentionally care for our minds, bodies, and souls. It is liberating to know that I alone am responsible for what I think, feel, and do. That is more than enough to keep me occupied. I heard it said recently that we must be careful about what we think. It affects what we feel. And what we feel drives what we do. And when what we do is affected by feelings which are driven by thoughts of fear, insecurity, and selfcenteredness - the results are bound to be disastrous. Why did it take me so long to discover that causal chain?

I am also feeling grateful for many remarkable friends.

Thanksgiving is rapidly closing on us and I am taking stock of the year which is coming to a close. It has been a good year and there is so much to be thankful for.

New York, oh New York ...

2011-11-04T19:20:00.000-07:00

So, we made it alive! I cannot believe that several months of training have culminated in us actually being here. Lots of honking cars and very serious looking people. But surprisingly friendly folks everywhere. I have had a little anxiety as the last couple weeks of my training were thrown off by a sinus infection and some (welcome) diversions from my otherwise fairly regimented diet. But I have decided I will make it.

Thus far, our trip has been fantastic. Jessica and I just had dinner at a wonderful little restaurant around the corner from our studio and made a quick stop into the expo to pick up our packets. Lots of energy (and lots of stuff to buy)!

Only notable snafu worth mentioning was being diverted by what we thought was a taxi driver upon arrival at the airport, to find he was a car service, driving a new full size black Yukon, that looked like something an FBI assault team would drive. Paid way too much, but have to admit it was fun being driven around in NYC like rock stars and being dropped off at our front door on Madison Avenue. Did a little grocery shopping trip and already scoping out some fun places to hit while we are here.

Jessica is rolling around on the Trigger Point rollers in our tiny hallway. I asked for her quote, her response "Right now, I am focusing on Trigger Point." She is so devoted!

Having a great time hanging out with my best friend. Start together, finish together ... so they say. Life is grand.

thought ... October morning run

2011-10-21T07:23:00.000-07:00

I am spending a long weekend in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, which is the town where I finished my first year of law school. My good friends, Robert and Monika, now call it home. I am counting down to the marathon, so I went for a nice run this morning and ran past the old law school (which is unrecognizable now after a complete gutting and renovation). I found myself wishing that it was the same as it had been in my memories. Perhaps it is simply the human condition to prefer to remember things the way that they were - even when they were not spectacular. I have good memories of my year here, but it was also a relatively dark spiritual time for me. But the journey requires time on the path. Literally and figuratively. I am grateful that I got the time here that I did more than 10 years ago - and am more grateful for growth!

I've had two interesting conversations this week about what exactly it is that the "occupy" protesters are against and what they hope to accomplish. I don't think their gripes are anything new. Watching them has me thinking a lot of about Lewis Yablonsky's exploratory book, The Hippie Trip. I think there is the ever present sense (and growing reality) that the way that governments and corporations govern is simply wrong minded. Never mind being able to articulate wonk-like explanations of what that means. Quite often feelings are more powerful than facts. Things to think about.

I'll be on the lookout for those gifts that men bring home from trips which make kids and wives happy.

on nature

2011-09-13T19:07:00.000-07:00

There is a beautiful, full, yellow moon out tonight. It is something to behold (this isn't a picture from this evening, but it captures the color).

The tension between modern day evangelical western Christianity and the observance of the natural world as a reflection of the divine has been on my mind.

I was able to sit in on a fifth grade Sunday school class recently, whereat the passages in Genesis relating to man's dominion over the natural world were read to fifth grade students. Interestingly, their stated understanding of dominion was that which I believe is perhaps most common among men. A sense that people are in the executive role over nature. I think I have always liked the stars and the moon because even the most arrogant of men have not yet pretended that we have dominion over them. They seem to be yet left to the divine.

I recently discussed with a friend the sometimes dismissive view of some that deep appreciation of nature as divine work comes too close to the worship of nature itself. My first thought was to reject this as an illegitimate concern. Unlikely as the threat of the engagement in contemplative thought as the precursor to the worship of thought itself. But the more I reflected upon this - it occurred to me that this is perhaps what a philosopher often comes to, no? I suppose especially so if one intentionally begins with the purpose of thought divorced of divine color. Thus, the more important consideration is probably simply the frame of reference from which the observer or the thinker takes. I like Thoreau's observation that we often grossly complicate what should be quite simple.

It is remarkable that children in most semi-rural environments (such as many nearby where I live) have become quite urban in their relationship to nature. Even kids in rural settings seem to be more interested in the draw of technology than other competitor activities. In a recent conversation with an Eagle Scout, he commented at the evolving role of scouting among kids as being more nature-centric, rather than true to the value-centric roots from which the tradition sprang. There is still a great deal of focus on values, but almost as an accessory to the more hands on activities. At least this is the observation of some. Perhaps indicative of a desire to connect with the natural world as a medium universally understood. I think much is the same experience with ephemeral music. One might have little interest in written theology - yet a child can ingest the theology of Bach and Mozart. My rambling musings for tonight.

In other events, we are approaching the halfway point to training. This week has been a much needed and appreciated recovery schedule. I am fortunate to be running with a dedicated, fun, and talented group of people. Life is good.

33 for a moment ....

2011-08-30T11:28:00.000-07:00

I will celebrate my 33rd birthday tomorrow! Man. I don't know why, but those numbers are starting to sound real. Time is going by unbelievably quickly. As a youngster, I was dismissive of admonitions that time would go by more and more quickly as I grew up. They were right. It was perhaps more than mere happenstance that I noticed the lyrics to the Five for Fighting song, 100 years, yesterday:

I'm 15 for a moment
Caught in between 10 and 20
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are

I'm 22 for a moment
She feels better than ever
And we're on fire
Making our way back from Mars
15 there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to lose
15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live

I'm 33 for a moment
Still the man, but you see I'm a they
A kid on the way
A family on my mind

And for a brief moment it is. But a remarkable, irreplaceable, grace filled moment. I remember in my early (20s) reading the book, Tuesdays with Morrie. He spoke compellingly of accepting that there is a time to be in your (20s), a time to be in your (30s), so on and so forth. I passively fought that reality for about a solid decade and missed out on a lot of good days. Only recently have I really been just fine being where I am. And while there is sometimes this sense that I need to tackle another big project, I am doing better at living in the safe bubble that is the (24) hours of each day. There will surely be more big projects. But I will do my best not to be defined by them.

My wife reminded me this morning that I was (24) when we met. I am so thankful for the experiences that I have had over the nearly (10) years since that time. I don't think that I am the same person that I was then. And that is a good thing. I am thankful today for the gifts in my life and I'm doing my best to keep God at the center of everything I do. Here is to the 33rd year.

Are Barnetts explorers?

2011-08-12T07:44:00.000-07:00

I had the good fortune of my family accompanying me on business to Tallahassee this week. An otherwise drab trip was made colorful with them. The kids got a swim in on the evening of our arrival. Jessica and I made the mistake of ordering Mexican food from a pub and I had the pleasure of battling the hotel's leaky iron at a bleary eyed 6AM ironing session the morning of my meeting.

The kids walked around the capital while I was working and I am told that at some point, tired of walking, Gracie announced, "Barnetts are not explorers!"

The folks at Florida State University's Doak Campbell Stadium were kind enough to let us check out the football field, which was a treat. And my favorite quote of the trip was made by Jessica to our skin and bones six year old son, "Bryton, eat your chicken nuggets, immediately."

Life is grand.

A first time for everything ....

2011-08-09T19:26:00.000-07:00

I played my first game of chess with Bryton tonight. It is a pretty amazing feeling watching your six year old son move his knight and crack up laughing when he picks off one of your pawns. Thank you God for your many blessings for which I am undeserving.

Tetelestai!

2011-08-06T10:09:00.000-07:00

We finished week three of marathon training this morning. Ten nice miles in the Pensacola sauna that the outdoors is right now. It was hot. Very hot. Justified the five and half pancakes I ate upon getting home (and sausage) with the thousand or so calories Jessica informed me that we burned. More syrup, please!

My good friends Holly and Hazel (the principals of H2 Performance Consulting Corp.), moved into their new offices at the Pensacola City Hall yesterday. I stopped by and was able to say hello and see their new space. Their husbands were there helping with the move and Hazel playfully described them as "the men behind the women." For all that is wrong with our society, I think it a good thing that opportunity is out there for people other than just old white men, if they are willing to work for it.

On our run this morning, someone mentioned "it is done." In my half awake state, it took a moment to recall those words were originally uttered by the Christ. As we were trecking along, I thought about how that statement was uttered at the death of the Christ to his physical body. And how for so many of us, if there is a spiritual awakening, it occurs when we are also willing to die to ourselves. There is birth in death to the self. Tetelestai!

Training Week 2: cool weather anytime soon?

2011-07-29T14:44:00.000-07:00

Week two of training will draw to a close after tomorrow morning. Ran by myself for the first time in a while today. What's more, couldn't listen to a podcast as my phone has been missing for about (24) hours now. Tragic. Who knew that a missing piece of electronics would affect me at some emotional level.

New shoes have equated to hot spots. Hopefully they'll be broken in by next week.

26.2 seems like a really, really long way to run.

Reflections on Retreat and Montserrat revisisted

2011-07-25T20:00:00.000-07:00

I spent the past weekend at the Jesuit retreat house, Manresa, in Convent, Louisiana. It was an amazing experience and was my first exposure to formally guided contemplative thinking. The retreat is based upon the Spiritual Exercises, written by St. Ignatius Loyola. It seemed serendipitous that Ignatius held a close place for the Benedictine monastery at Montserrat, Spain. In my visit to Montserrat several years ago (before I'd even heard of Ignatius), I'd felt connected enough to the Spanish mountain to bring a piece of it home (something I've not done before or since). I cannot speak enough for the atmosphere of reflection and spiritual salving which occured for me at Manresa. My best friend was also able to secure a spot at the last minute and it was wonderful to spend time with him on the ride there and back.

Thoreau wrote, "Look at the teamster on the highway, wending to market by day or night; does any divinity stir within him? ... The mass of men live lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation." Any man or woman who has turned to, or is drawn to the contemplative life, will connect deeply with that observation.

In his Meditations, Marcus Aurelius wrote, "On the occasion of every act ask thyself, How is this with respect to me? Shall I repent of it? A little time and I am dead, and all is gone, What more do I seek, if what I am doing now is the work of an intelligent being, and a social being, and one who is under the same law with God."

There was a time when I existed in a painful and quiet desperation. I'd become convinced, even in the midst of a spiritual hell, that (as was attempted by Marcus Aurelius) I could achieve tranquility with the effective well ordering of my mind.

But in the quiet hours of this past weekend, it became exceedingly clear to me that the things of the spirit vastly overshadow the mind's ability to otherwise quiet itself under the auspices of ordering, discipline, or other mechanisms. While I have also grown very aware of the role of inventory in my life (advocated by Aurelius and also advocated as part of Ignatius' exercises), I am fully convinced that without a deep and abiding divine discourse, there will be no relief for that quiet desperation which nags at many.

Thoreau also wrote, "A stereotyped but unconscious despair is [often] concealed under what are called the games and amusements of mankind." This may perhaps explain some of the perplexed looks one gets when you tell people you are headed to hang out with the Jesuits for a long weekend. Whether or not Thoreau or Aurelius knew the solution to the problems they so adeptly identified may only be known by them, as it is known (or concealed) by me - depending on what day you might ask.

Marathon Training: Day 2

2011-07-19T10:08:00.000-07:00

My good friend Clifford and I stepped off for a sprightly six miles at 6 AM. Somebody forgot to turn off the humidity this morning. In attempting to catch up to the large herd that left from Running Wild, I did manage to put too much speed on early. For which I paid later in the run. I am headed to the Jesuit retreat house, Manresa, this weekend for several days of quiet contemplation. It will be a good time to recharge the batteries and make a couple of solo runs, including my first "long" weekend run. I'll miss my running crew.

Marathon Training: Day 1

2011-07-18T07:07:00.000-07:00

The long awaited marathon training begins! Which means that I must now stop eating like the absolute pig that I have been. And run a lot. This will be my first marathon. I ran the Gulf Coast half marathon in March and it was fun, but I will admit that the first thought that came to mind when I finished was, "My God, I am never going to run a full marathon." And yet, here I find myself!

For me, physical benefits aside, running is a metaphor for life. One foot in front of the other. Stay in the moment. Keep going even when it absolutely sucks. These are lessons that lead perhaps to some semblance of sanity.

So, stay tuned and I'll keep you posted on how the training is coming. Today was an easy 4, in nice 70ish degree weather. The fresh smell of rain from the weekend showers was a welcome treat.

This and that ...

2011-06-22T05:26:00.000-07:00

It has been a circle of life kind of week. A good friend just lost his mother. And another very close person in my life and his wife are pregnant. Another close family member has had some health challenges which are likely to be resolved, but stressful nonetheless. Another family member hospitalized. When it rains it pours.

Last night, I sat with my two youngest and watched the tail end of Dennis the Menace. To borrow the phrase - it was chicken soup for the soul to watch them laugh. I was invited by a good friend last week to attend a Vistage meeting, which included a talk by Dr. Tom Hill. Interesting guy- picked up and left a steady teaching career at (50) and bought a Remax franchise and became quite wealthy. And by all appearances has been able to stay spiritually grounded. He now coaches CEOs - not on business, but on life. Got me thinking about a few things:

1. One idea can change everything.
2. Read or be irrelevant.
3. Written goal setting is critical.

Marathon training starts in a few short weeks! My plan is to start a posting series on the experience from day one to the culmination of the run in New York. Ciao

Mr. Walker

2011-05-06T07:51:00.000-07:00

Mr. Walker is a remarkable man. He is a (90) year old WWII veteran, married only days before he departed for the Pacific in 1941. He was gone for three years and returned home to his wife when his duties had concluded. The couple raised three children.

He came to see me because a scam real estate fund had bilked him out of most of his life savings. We have been working now for several years to recover the money. We've had breakfast a few times since we first met. He likes a couple eggs and potatoes - but gets charmingly flustered at all the options that come with ordering breakfast, wheat vs. white, fried vs scrambled, etc. It has been a pleasure getting to know Mr. Walker. Today at breakfast he told me a little about the Honor Flight trip that he recently took to Washington DC, and of one of the other men on the trip who died the day after the flight. It was as if that man had one more thing to do before his business here was concluded. Walker is one of the last of a generation that is slowly going on home.

We discussed his living situation today and he told me that his home is up for sale. I asked why he didn't just move to a retirement home and let the house go. He smiled ever so gently - almost looking around to see if anyone saw him. "I thought about that," he said in hushed whispers, "but something just won't let me do it." I felt embarrassed for even suggesting something that was beneath his moral code. It got me thinking about the character of this man, and how it seems that there is a wide gap between how we do things today and how things are done by some of the old guard - men like Mr. Walker. It was a reminder that I need to watch my conduct closely.

Walker still makes it to his house of worship each week.

Oswald Chambers reminds us for today, "Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free." Gal. v. 1. I wonder if Mr. Walker leads a life largely free because he has clung to his spiritual freedom. Doctrinal and differing faiths aside - do we as a nation often willingly submit to the slavery of spiritual deadness?

I have wondered whether and how war makes men and women more aware. Was there just a different social fabric in Walker's earlier years? Perhaps we are amongst a new great generation these days as well. This week was a big one for the American war with Al Qaeda. I was struck by a sense of gratitude for the bravery of men and women who helped carry out the mission we have heard so much about. Character is forged in the fire - national and personal. I hope that the backbone shown by guys like Mr. Walker will continue to be seen in the men and women of this nation. If so, I think we will be just fine.

Sailing and old houses.

2011-04-19T19:57:00.000-07:00

It was a glorious weekend. Got to join a friend out on a Saturday sail on Pensacola Bay. Great wind, sun, and my wife sitting on the stern looking like Jackie Kennedy Onassis, all made for a great day. Not to mention the best guacamole I have eaten and sandwich the Captain had waiting when we got back to the slip (having arrived there under sail no less, as the boat's diesel was temperamental). The look on two boys faces as we closed rapidly on their dock before tacking at the last minute down Bayou Chico, was also quite memorable.

The week got off to a busy start with my renter announcing that she was moving out unexpectedly. I signed a contract on the rental (lest you think I am some savvy investor, it is my first house) about two weeks before Hurricane Ivan slammed into the Gulf Coast in 2004. It has been a love hate relationship since. I had romantic notions of renovating the 1933 cottage and all the fun that would be. It was fun and affordable. For about five minutes.

But that little house was great in many ways. It was there when we needed to return to it. It rebuffed more than one hurricane and I have left more than a little bit of my blood and sweat in the attic. One of my many funny memories is watching my wife from the attic as she mixed insulation in a hopper with a golf club. With my skills on the course, that is probably the best use that golf club was ever put to.

Present day - we have decided to take a stab at selling it. And while my rational and business oriented right brain is chomping at the possibility of letting go of the vampire that is landlord-hood, my left brain clings desperately to the warm memories of the "little yellow house," as my son calls it.

In some respects I think I have always had wierd attachments to objects. When we traded my old Honda in a few years back, I literally had to sit in it and say goodbye before I handed over the keys. But I have been thinking tonight that this is nonsensical. It isn't the objects. It is the memories and the feelings that these objects are associated with. Those are the things which we cling to but don't always understand. So we cling to the objects.

The good news is that I will get, God willing, one last taste of renovations as I paint and scrape in the coming weeks in hopes of wooing someone else who likes old cottages and the romantic notion of renovations.

Paper Thoughts Photo

2011-04-14T15:05:00.000-07:00

Great camera work and you might recognize a few of the people!

www.paperthoughtsphoto.com

Why not today?

2011-04-07T08:45:00.000-07:00

I was flipping through the radio on my way to a zero-dark thirty run a couple of weeks ago when I ran across this piece by Steve Harvey. I don’t normally listen to him, but I thought it was great. I had a conversation today with a very nice client of mine which reminded me of it. We listened to it in my office and I was reminded of the truth in his words. And it made me smile. So I am sharing it with you.

Hope all is well your way.

Ryan

http://v1019.radio.com/2011/03/23/the-steve-harvey-opening-remarks-3/

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (But No Buses)

2011-04-01T21:43:00.000-07:00

It was a busy week. Spent two days in Tallahassee with the Pensacola LEAP group and got to do the government civics tour and meet Governor Scott. Kudos to the Chamber for putting together such a great program! I was telling one of my classmates that I have all but stopped watching the news in the past few months and that while I don't feel as informed - I feel much more peaceful! Fortunately, he did not look at me like I was too crazy. So, while it was fun to be near the seat of state power - I was perhaps less impressed with it than I might have been in recent years past. Of course, returning to Tallahassee, I was reminded that the architects of the new capital building assuredly graduated from the Phallic School of Design. But I'll let you judge for yourself (see above).

One of the more interesting quips over the two days was a comment at the Florida Bar office that if given the chance, public reprimands of lawyers are essentially really entertaining to watch. One needs not look far to understand the anthropological drive behind lynchings and public hangings. We are a voyeuristic and sadistic species for sure!

I also nearly threw up on one of my classmates after my stomach could tolerate no more of the stop and go bus ride with a heavy mixture of humidity and diesel fumes. I have vowed that I will never again ride a bus given a choice. Accept the things you cannot change, right? Among them - my low tolerance for much more than car rides. Got to tour the Florida Supreme Court and am curious to see how much tinkering with balance of powers the legislature will undertake this session. Two state Supreme Courts sure sounds like court packing to me! A free night out of town ended not with a few too many Jack Daniels, but with me rooting through the hotel room to find the Gideon's gift and my place in Matthew. My how times change.

In the angst over the Florida budget deficit, I had to wonder how much of our problems would be eliminated with the banishment of entitlements. Read: Medicaid, Medicare, Social Security, so on and so forth. And pretty much any program that involves the handing out of checks other than those involved with defense, infrastructure, and education. But perhaps it is too easy for me to make such bold suggestions from my comfortable reading room. Who knows.

I am glad to be home and under the same roof as my bride and babies. And focused on the important tasks this weekend of putting down fertilizer, going to the beach, and perhaps sketching out plans for my kids' soon to be tree house. Life is good and for this weekend, God willing, simple.

Stranger than fiction

2011-03-08T19:16:00.000-08:00

What a day. Busy as all get out, but busy is good and for that among many other reasons, I am blessed.

I haven't found myself writing much over the past few weeks. But I've decided to be alright with that - and wait for the authentic voice to return at its leisure.

One of the great things about my job is that I get to meet really interesting people. I had a fascinating conversation with a client today who told me about some of the challenges in his earlier life, including a drug case where he was arrested for transporting nearly fifty pounds of marijuana, and nine different children by several different mothers! He'd also served in the military and had done some interesting work during his service there. He was one of the most personable characters I've met in a long time. The opposing party in his case also proved to be interesting. He was a former professional rodeo rider, apparently successful enough to have been sponsored by Ford at some point. In talking a little about how the former rodeo rider got into the bar business, he shared that he had started out by buying the bar his cheating wife had taken her boyfriend to on a regular basis so that he could ban them from going to the sole watering hole in their small Mississippi hometown. I don't know that Mark Twain would have been able to conjure up a story that good had he tried.

Real life so often proves stranger than fiction. I have taken a break from some of the heavier reading I've been mired in over the past few months and just finished a great short novel titled Secret Life of Bees. Among the themes is letting go of the past and wrestling with the demons of insecurity and transference. I have read more books than I can count from notable authors which approach these topics from an ... academic perspective. Which is well and good and I seem to remember about three percent of what I read in those books for a durational period of two to three days. At best.

But in reading about the Bees, I was reminded about the value of great storytelling. The most interesting people that I meet are great storytellers. And I can listen to great stories more than once. Among my all time favorites, and one that I can listen to over and over again, is Robert Brown's tale of wooing his German bride in the 1960s in Berlin, while she worked as the translator at her father's British Motor Cars dealership. I am alas, a hopeless romantic. Listen to my StoryCorps interview of Robert Brown, http://www.ryanbarnett.com/search/label/Robert%20M.%20Brown.

Clearly the value of stories is greater than the highbrow brainy stuff - at least when it comes to the real important things like love, pain, and relational interplay. And it is amazing how a storyteller can cut to the quick of a deep historical wound, or draw out feelings and memories one has forgotten he had. The great storyteller, as an Occam's spiritual razor so to speak, draws out from each of us that which otherwise hides incessantly.

Thought

2011-02-14T05:27:00.000-08:00

Sometimes one must have seen ugliness to recognize beauty when it comes.

G. Ricci

Retirement, old ladies and e-readers ...

2011-02-02T19:13:00.000-08:00

I recently had the pleasure of traveling to Sacramento to see my Dad retire after an impressive (28) year career in the United States Air Force. Ever the planner, even before retirement he was well on his way to determining the next steps in what I suspect will be a second full career. I have many fond memories of growing up as the son of an Air Force officer. And I have assumed some of the habits that I picked up watching him.

Like the many flight suits and boots which I saw neatly set out before his early rise. I often times have my own "suit" prepared and set out in military order for the next day. Perhaps not quite as consistently as he did, but certainly on those occasions when I know I have to get up earlier than is even remotely natural.

The written ceremony program set out the details of an impressive career, including in residence attendance at the Air Command Staff College and Air War College, as well as two command positions. It was heart warming to hear his peers commend his fortitude and resourcefulness. It was an opportunity for me to reflect on my appreciation for the stability and example that was set out for me by my Dad. It was an opportunity to think about the differences between journeys and destinations in life.

During a lecture, I once heard Ethan Fishman describe the completion of undertakings as being anti-climactic. This has stuck with me for a long time. Graduation is only a ceremonial recognition of all of the blood and sweat that goes into getting a diploma. Celebrating a (50) year wedding anniversary, as did my good friends Robert and Monika Brown - is not so much about the milestone as it is acknowledging the sacrifices that go into making a marriage last half a century. Retirement is perhaps more about celebrating the dedication that goes into making solid careers. Sometimes when we are mired in the grind of meaningful undertakings - it can be a challenge to enjoy the beauty of the struggle. We sometimes miss out on a good vantage of our own growth.

The trip was also an opportunity to make some humorous observations, including seeing an elderly woman sitting nearby me on an airplane, using an electronic reader while I read from a paper book. I had to smile. The old embracing the new and the young embracing the old. Maybe there is hope for humanity after all. I also had the opportunity to return to Old Sacramento, which was the site of my most memorable elementary school field trip. As with many childhood memories, Old Sacramento was engaging, though not on the scale that I recalled. I have experienced this sensation a number of times upon the return to an old haunt, seeing an old photograph, or running into an acquaintance from the past. Perhaps only with time, maturity, and distance are we capable of seeing things for what they really are.

It was a good trip. Traveling is always fun, but coming home is the highlight.

Sequential Revelation

2011-01-04T19:27:00.000-08:00

I have been thinking about growth. Throughout the course of my life and my development, I have reached certain points and then simply come to a halt. A plateau, impediment, or wall. Sometimes the period before the next awakening is a matter of days, hours, and sometimes it is the cold expanse of years. On some occasions, the spectacle of picking up and beginning again is fraught with a nagging feeling that I am necessarily starting from spiritual scratch. That any progress I had made was completely obviated once I made a significant enough stumble or took a lengthy enough hiatus. Such a case I think would be overwhelming for most people and it certainly has been for me. I am not sure why this has been the view that I have taken other than I swear sometimes it seems that I prefer to torture myself. I will often walk along next to the "moving sidewalks" in the airport and watch the passengers riding along and find myself resentful. Never mind I could be riding also, but choose to walk - and walk for no redeeming reason, such as health, etc.

Karl Barth writes of revelation as being non-linear. It may come and go. There may be times at which revelation is manifest in your ability to discern the circumstances before you or the touch of the divine. At other times, this revelation is not present and we meander through experiences with our clumsy mortal fumbling. I have been thinking about growth and revelation in this context. I think that one's growth process must be quite similar to Barth's description of revelation - it is neither linear nor sequential.

That is just about the only way I can handle it. Which may be proof that it's nature is precisely the opposite.

Refugees and pajamas

2010-12-25T17:46:00.000-08:00

It has been a wonderful Christmas. My three year old announced today that "the rules are that you stay in your pajamas on Christmas." How right I think she is. It has been a gift to slow down and not worry about schedules and tasking.

Last night, after everyone was sleeping - I slipped off to catch the 11:00 service at our church. It is the first time that I have ever attended a midnight service, though I have wanted to do so for many years. Although I found myself near slumber a few times during the sermon (through not fault of the speaker), I also found myself with eyes closed but fully present. I experienced the sensation of "falling awake" for brief moments.

One of the gifts my wife gave me is Thomas Merton's classic, The Seven Storey Mountain. I began reading a bit of it today. His voice is familiar. I found the following compelling (writing of his childhood religious exposure, which was quite limited and perfunctory):

One came out the church with a kind of comfortable and satisfied feeling that something had been done that needed to be done, and that was all I knew about it. And now, as I consider if after many years, I see that it was very good that I should have got at least that much out of religion in my childhood. It is a law of man's nature, written into his very essence, and just as much a part of him as the desire to build houses and cultivate the land and marry and have children and read books and sing songs, that he should want to stand together with other men in order to acknowledge their common dependence on God, their Father and Creator. If fact, this desire is much more fundamental than any purely physical necessity.

I think Merton is right. I believe there are two primary drives which are at the root of humanity. The first is the desire to commune with the divine. The second is to understand and connect with one's fellow man. I know the feeling of leaving a spiritual house and feeling as though something dutiful had been accomplished. But I am trying to get to a place where I walk into the spiritual house feeling at peace and not like a refugee. To this end, I am embracing the obvious reality that spiritual awakening must be accompanied by rigorous practice.

I am so thankful for the gift of another year. I am grateful that God saw fit to redeem me.

snow

2010-12-16T07:16:00.000-08:00

liminal flittering
layered blankets of snow
embraced in the span of stars

vascillating vexation
inspired insidiously
guarded gregariously

thorough retreat
fingers of trees
reaching to the divine
outstreached gaze upon that so easily touched
but so violently resisted

crossing the palms of lost tomorrows
unremittiently
until
now

G. Ricci

Seasons and Gifts

2010-12-11T14:18:00.000-08:00

I am convinced that one of the most marvelous gifts of raising children is the ability to be present for fundamental lessons taught to them by, and often needed by myself as a parent.

As we walked through the parking lot of Target this morning, I asked Bryton if he knew why we celebrated Christmas. He flashed a snaggly toothed smile. He eagerly, and with proper grammar, informed me that it was to celebrate Santa Clause! No big surprise or need for panic. As far as I had been concerned as a child raised in a Southern Baptist home (I am still recovering) - the value of December was strictly utilitarian. I recognized it as the one time during the year that kids' greed is fed unabashedly. And perhaps it is just as well. I'll both spoil and brainwash my kid like everyone else. But hopefully, one day he'll remember that it was, if nothing else, the anthropological belief of his family that modern Christmas and its gifts are symbolic of that which is the most divine gift of all.

As I sit here writing - I am looking at one of the handful of colorful trees in Pensacola. The leaves on the tree in front of my house are magnificent, especially in this area where there is little leaf color change. I am thinking lately and often of seasons and the futility of fighting them. I can visualize my spiritual self running around my tree, picking up all of the leaves, and attempting to reattach them with tape or perhaps a stapler. Stapler most likely, as it presents the best opportunity for an injury (I did once unintentionally place a roofing staple into my hand, which necessitated a tetanus shot in the backside - a fond memory).

And so I am reminded of proper perspective and the futility of fighting seasons. Embrace them, view them for what they are, and live.

JRB 26.2

2010-11-15T05:54:00.000-08:00

Running at God awful hours of the morning for months. Baths in cold ice water. Blisters. Going through running shoes like they are nothing. 26.2 long miles in 80 degree Pensacola, Florida "winter weather," on November 14, 2010, and Jessica finished her first marathon! Couldn't be more proud.

I have a feeling we'll be headed to Boston or New York soon.

Have a great week.

Happy 235th Birthday to the United States Marine Corps!

2010-11-10T06:37:00.000-08:00

As published at NYDailyNews.com on November 10, 2010:

On Veterans Day, remember the Marines: Fabled corps has served nation for 235 years

As we celebrate the 235th birthday of the Marine Corps today, on the eve of Veterans Day, it is fascinating to explore why the smallest branch of the armed forces holds such a big place in American society.

To start, Marines historically have taken disproportionate casualties, a trend that has continued during the global war on terror. The Marine Corps makes up less than 11% of the U.S. military, but more than 23% of the Americans killed in action in Iraq and Afghanistan are Marines.

The corps' history of battlefield success against long odds is also a primary reason why the sight of a Marine in dress blues or a bagpiper belting out the Marine Corps hymn has an immediate, positive impact on a huge chunk of the American population.

Marines protected Washington from three major British assaults during the War of 1812 and stopped the German advance at the battle of Belleau Wood in World War I. Iwo Jima, Guadalcanal and Okinawa were bloodbaths, but the Marine Corps accomplished the mission and revolutionized amphibious warfare.

Even in less popular conflicts, the corps added to its reputation. Outnumbered 8 to 1, the Marines broke through Chinese lines and inflicted devastating casualties on the enemy during the bitter cold Chosin Reservoir campaign of the Korean War. Leathernecks also distinguished themselves by fighting house to house in Hue City, Vietnam, and crushing the insurgency in Fallujah, Iraq.

The corps' commitment to its own glorious history is remarkable, inspiring present and future generations of Marines. No Marine graduates boot camp without knowing about the battle for Tarawa, an island that was so heavily fortified during World War II that the Japanese commander charged with defending it bragged that it would take a million men attacking for 100 years to take it. Marines took Tarawa in less than four days.

Likewise, every Marine puts on the uniform knowing that he or she must live up to the standards set by Marine Corps giants like Lt. Gen. Chesty Puller (five Navy Crosses), Gunnery Sgt. John Basilone (Medal of Honor, Navy Cross) and Sgt. Maj. Dan Daly (two Medals of Honor). This creates an environment where every Marine wants to overachieve, perpetually propelling the corps to new heights.

The Marine Corps' legacy is even enhanced by its political incorrectness. Marines do what is best for country and corps, and care not what the elites in government, academia or the press think about their old-school ways. For example, the Marine Corps is the only branch that trains men and women separately. Single-gender training is anachronistic to some, but it's hard to argue with the Marine Corps' success.

Finally, no organization has more zealous alumni than the Marines. A few good men have established more than 600 national Marine Corps organizations with thousands of local chapters. The largest such group, the Marine Corps League, has more than 900 community-based detachments throughout the U.S.

Enhancing the impact that Marine Corps alumni have on its storied reputation, many former Marines have made huge impacts on the world. The first American to orbit the Earth and the last ballplayer to bat .400, John Glenn and Ted Williams respectively, were proud Marines who served together. Fredrick Smith, who founded Federal Express, and former Secretary of State and White House chief of staff James Baker also claimed the title Marine. Even radio legend Don Imus speaks proudly of his Marine Corps service.

Because of this rich heritage, the Marine Corps' entire recruiting philosophy is essentially this: We pay less and take more casualties. Despite the seemingly uninviting pitch, new recruits keep pouring in. Even a few years back, when the other branches struggled mightily to fill their ranks as the Iraq war declined in popularity, the Marine Corps routinely exceeded its goals.

President Ronald Reagan summed up perfectly why America loves the Marine Corps when he said, "Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world. But, the Marines don't have that problem."
Semper fidelis!

http://www.nydailynews.com/opinions/2010/11/10/2010-11-10_on_veterans_day_remember_the_marines_fabled_corps_has_served_nation_for_235_year.html

Open waters

2010-11-05T04:14:00.000-07:00

I was commiserating with a good friend yesterday morning. His advice, in part, was to "man up." It reminded me that to be honorable, one must do honorable things.

Of the several definitional options afforded by urbandictionary.com (which is really entertaining and of growing utility as I am forced to translate "teen-speak"), I liked the following:

To work through impediments and obstacles without whining

There is much comfort in accepting that there isn't anything that is unacceptable. I can respond rather than react. I can make my way through the challenges at hand like a man or like something less than. And the difference in those two possibilities is tremendous. The benefit of mindful living is the availability of options which were not present before. Self destructive tendencies, anger, avoidance, and the like need not determine one's path. I am the captain of my soul. Thank you friend for the reminder.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Earnest Henley

Thomas Jefferson on Moose

2010-11-01T19:07:00.000-07:00

Thomas Jefferson penned a colorful letter to Monsieur le Comte de Buffon from Paris, on October 3, 1787:

Sir, - I had the honor of informing you, some time ago, that I had written to some of my friends in America, desiring they would send me such of the spoils of the moose, caribou, elk, and deer, as might throw light on that class of animals; but more particularly, to send me the complete skeleton, skin and horns of the moose, in such condition as that the skin might be sewed up and stuffed, on its arrival here. I am happy to be able to present to you at this moment, the bones and skin of a moose, the horns of another individual of the same species, the horns of the caribou, the elk, the deer, the spiked horned buck, and the roebuck of America. They all come from New Hampshire and Massachusetts and were received by me yesterday. I give you their popular names, as it rests with yourself to decide their real names. The skin of the moose was dressed with the hair on, but a great deal of it has come off, and the rest is ready to drop off. The horns of the elk are remarkably small. I have certain seen some of them which would have weighed five or six times as much ... I must observe also, that the horns of the deer, which accompany these spoils, are not the fifth or sixth part of the weight of some that I have seen. This individual has been of three years of age, according to our method of judgment. I have taken measures, particularly, to be furnished with large horns of our elk and our deer, and therefore beg of you not to consider those now sent, as furnishing a specimen of their ordinary size. I really suspect you will find that the moose, the round-horned elk, and the American deer are species not existing in Europe. The moose is perhaps, a new class.

At first blush, the letter is most fascinating as one can hardly imagine "mailing" the remains of any large animal to an intercontinental pen pal for sporty comparison. And yet Jefferson did. One of the most amazing traits of the founding fathers is their remarkable breadth of interest and learning. I am astounded at the diverse base of Jefferson's discourse and his capacity to engage deeply in whatever subject fancied him at the moment. The ability to be comfortable in whatever academic question or matter of arts is before oneself is, I think, an accomplishment of high order.

But Jefferson's commentary to the Frenchman (and others) was not simply of a superficial nature. The Europeans and their American counterparts were engaged in a barb laden and fascinating battle over the accepted superiority in all things - governmental, political, and most tangential - natural specimens.

It occurs to me that in many respects, Jeffersonian nationalistic pride has all but faded to an unrecognizable condition. Whether pride is even a good thing remains a question which, at least to me, is not so obviously answered. C.S. Lewis considered pride perhaps the greatest of all sin. And yet we frequently appeal to pride for individual betterment. I think if pride is ill advised, there is no exception in matters national versus personal. Then again, perhaps there are distinctions to be made in matters of geopolitical pride and personal growth.

More importantly, Jefferson's letter helps illuminate the reality of change. There is little touting from the mountain tops the superiority of all things American these days. And perhaps it is just as well. Tennis shoe and jean clad tourists have left marks on foreign lands as indelible as those of our errant policy facilitators. And we recognize, at least linguistically, that humility is the absence of pride. Yet there is a certain sadness in this new American shyness, as there truly is something marvelous about this great land and her people that seemingly deserves something that might otherwise be called pride.

Ours has perhaps been an inability to separate bad policy from a good people. We Americans imbibe guilt - perhaps for deep sociological reasons which are beyond my purposes here. Guilt becomes inextricably intertwined in our nation's psyche and DNA. And guilt often manifests itself in the form of criticism. I think of the popular calls that all who questioned the Afghanistan and Iraq wars were non-patriotic. I can think of few things more brave and patriotic than standing up to a vocal majority hell bent on waging war. And in our stumbling (I think quite centrally) in Afgh-Iraq, the collective ego of this great nation has been bruised to the point that its ability to even recognize its own greatness has been replaced by a popular "geopolitical correctness" that frankly annoys the hell out of me even more than loud American tourists.

Forbes recently reported that there is a growing vacuum of leadership at American companies because my generation is increasingly cooperative and non-competitive. Capable leaders are not cutting their teeth in competition - which is (whether we like it or not) a realistic maneuverability needed in the "new" global economy. Leadership on some levels is not and cannot be an entirely cooperative process. It is difficult for me to know whether the new order of American pan-social and pan-global "cooperation" is evidence of progress - or laziness. Perhaps the real question is whether our national decline is related more to fear of the unknown than anything else. And if this is the case, where do we go from here?

As to fear, Kennedy said it better than I. But that essentially being my conclusion, I know of no better place than returning to the brilliant thoughts and writings of those men who shaped our country so many years ago.

free falling I

2010-10-21T06:12:00.000-07:00

He awoke abruptly. Had he heard something? He listened but there was nothing there. Wait. No, that was the air conditioner. His feet swung over the edge of his bed and he planted them firmly on the floor. The wide pine planks were neither warm nor cool.

He felt dizzy for a moment as he walked to the door. The long hallway to the kitchen was dark but he maneuvered it instinctively. It wasn't necessary to really even pay attention. Years of middle of the night feedings with his six children had made the path to the kitchen familiar.

He paused for a moment when he realized the light in the kitchen was on. That was odd. He always remembered to turn off the light before he retired for the evening. Before he rounded the corner he had the real awareness that someone was in the room. His senses were heightened but he was unafraid.

A boy was sitting at the table.

The boy looked familiar. Yet it took him a moment to realize who it was. His brow furrowed, he was puzzled. He looked over his shoulder and then back. When his gaze returned to the table, he was no longer in the kitchen. The room was white. He could see nothing with the exception of the boy. There was no distance. He might have been fifty miles in the sky, for he couldn't see the floor, only the slippers his youngest son James had given him two years earlier on Christmas day. The weather had been dreadful that day.

"Hello," said the boy.

There were now two chairs in the expanse of white. The silence was deafening. "Hi"

"Do you know who I am," the child asked. The man knew who the child was. He knew quite well. "Yes, of course." He shook his head. It couldn't be possible, it simply wasn't possible. Yet he remembered those pajamas quite well.

"Do you know why I am here," the child asked. He hadn't a clue. And for the first time in many years, he answered honestly. "I've no idea." Before the child could respond, the man walked forward and stretched out his hand. As he did, he swallowed salt water deeply into his chest. Panic. He was drowning. As his head broke through the waves, he was swamped again. His chest felt as if it were going to explode. He pushed hard for the surface and the light from the sun greeted his open mouth. He inhaled deeply and powerfully. Life.

Over the tops of the lulling waves now he saw the face of the boy. Smiling. The boy gestured for him to swim to shore. He did. As he approached the shore, modesty struck him. He realized that he was unclothed. He looked up again for the boy. The sun shone brightly and he was afraid to come out of the water. The boy was standing on driftwood now, waving enthusiastically. "Come on now, its alright!"

He stepped onto the sand. When he looked down, it took his eyes a moment to adjust. It was dark now. But instead of his skin, he saw a tuxedo. Perfectly appointed. He looked up. In the distance, he could see lights and hear music. He began walking toward the noise. "Hey, come here you," he called out to the boy, who he now realized was walking not far ahead of him.

Reflections: Unexpected personal deconstruction of destructive tendencies via simulated society exercise

2010-10-11T18:02:00.000-07:00

I am normally not the type of guy who enjoys shaking hands and hobnobbing with other folks. Despite an otherwise outgoing personality at first blush - I am quite introverted and my tendency is to isolate.

The Pensacola Chamber of Commerce has organized a program known as LEAP, which takes an annual class through an impressive series of leadership exercises and other community based education pieces. I was frankly not looking forward to going through the class and had mentally relegated it to yet another of the marketing participation exercises expected of a young professional.

What a pleasant surprise it has been! It has been a real pleasure getting to know many of the class members and I am excited about this year's recently selected project, which will involve planting gardens at several local elementary schools. This past weekend was spent at Pensacola Beach for a two day retreat, which included an impressive presentation by Studer Group speaker Craig Deao. Among the unexpected gems was a communication tool effective at derailing a five year old who is in full "I want to go home" mode while traveling in a car. Tested and proven effective this past Sunday morning on the way to church by yours truly.

What was most interesting to me was the SIMSOC evolution, which consists of a simulated societal interplay. It took most of the day on Saturday. Without spoiling the premise of the exercise, I will say that it essentially consists of simulated interaction between several varying socioeconomic groups. I will also say that at some point I got bored (and frustrated with one of the other groups) and our group shortly thereafter started a warlike conflict with another group. At the time, I viewed the sojourn into conflict as merely a semi comical diversion from boredom. But it struck me early on Sunday morning that perhaps this behavior on my part was reflective of my constitutionally destructive tendencies. Rather than continuing to play the game, I decided to play my hand at destroying it. There must be something beneath the surface worth exploring.

What are your natural tendencies? Are they destructive or constructive?

September 23, 2010, ruminations on a random Thursday morning ...

2010-09-23T06:08:00.000-07:00

The daily reading from the Dali Lama for September 21 was as follows:

Western brains work, they work a great deal, but always in the direction of efficiency. In that way the mind puts itself at the service of the result. Like all servants, it renounces independence. I am talking about another form of spiritual life, more detached and deeper, free from the obsession of a goal to be reached. In a way, the universal invasion of technology, everywhere it goes, lessens the life of the mind.

Medical research has clearly documented that Type A personalities are disproportionately riddled with cardiovascular disease and hypertension. Perhaps that is why my chest hurts all the time. But I find myself wondering sometimes whether I am really a Type A - or whether I just think I want to be a Type A, so I try to act like one. Something akin to a schizophrenic capital-spiritual bohemian. Been there? I've pondered what comes first - the Type A personality or the stress and anger that accompany the frenzied mental existence that seems requisite for modern day success. The answer is likely both varied and universal.

I am growing more comfortable with the simple desire that I grow as a spiritual man - and that if I can throw moderate success in there, great. If not, then at least perhaps I had my priorities in order. This has been challenging in some respects because relegating money to its important, but not "God-status," can feel a lot like resignation to inability, and therefore failure. But I have always been blessed and capable - and I have to remember that my energy can only return so much. In the context of recognizing my very important (and rewarding) role in providing financially for my family, where do I choose to personally invest and prioritize?

I recently completed Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University. I thought that I knew a little something about managing finances in years past. I didn't have it all wrong, but was pleasantly surprised (and humbled) by how much more was out there for me to learn. One of the things that was driven home for me was the manner in which so many of us are slaves to these "things" that we think we have to consume. Bigger houses and cars. We work ourselves to death to service debt so we can impress - who?

For many years, I had goals. Finish this degree, finishing that degree, achieving this professional benchmark. Buy a house, check. Get married, check. Things became so transactional. I remember watching the video of the reception at my first wedding and being taken aback by the fact that I didn't look happy! I was clearly in transaction mode. I think those "goals" and checking them while in a spiritual coma helped to to keep me numb. While focused on the goal target in the distance, I didn't have to look closely at the soul. It wasn't necessary because soul didn't fit into the equation of "goals."

I told someone recently that I felt like I had stopped setting goals. The reality is that I had run out of good reasons to feel unsatisfied.

But even knowing the truth, I mentioned that perhaps I needed to set another goal. Maybe a run for political office. Something. Talk about an inability to be rigorously honest with myself! It was politely suggested that perhaps I needed to set better goals. Normally I might have taken that as an insult to my industrious and productive nature. But I didn't get offended this time. I credit the divine for opening my ears and helping me keep my mouth shut in that moment. That conversation and observation have been lingering in my mind for months. I am working on defining and figuring out some better goals. Goals which don't necessarily have dollar signs and promissory notes attached to them. Goals which don't have deadlines and flowcharts associated with them. Goals which are simple but not easy. At the forefront has been an attempt at setting a daily goal to appreciate higher faith in the divine (not just cerebral faith).

fractured

2010-09-22T20:45:00.000-07:00

oh fractured soul

                    why do you torture me ?

          I believed we'd parted

impoverished soul

                   yet why do you steal from ye ?

           I communed with you and your pleas for peace

silly, spurious sojourner

                   will you ever find your way to thee ?

           know the path is

within and without

                     unsatisfied fruits of labor and reason

                           come to you

                                    oh sweet relief

G. Ricci

Reinvention & Redemption

2010-09-07T18:28:00.000-07:00

I remember hearing a lecture in graduate school from a gentleman who was preparing to leave his practice area. There were some practical reasons - among them being that the lawmakers had made it really difficult to get paid. But I was impressed with his fortitude. He stated that he intended to move to Colorado and "reinvent himself." He was of the opinion that one ought to do that at least every ten years (reinvent the self). I find this interesting. The concept of taking on different possibilities in a systemic and defined manner is both electrifying and terrifying at the same time.

How is this done in a non mid-life crisis manner? I was amused with - that is the best adjective I can come up with - Julia Roberts most recent film, Eat Pray Love. It seemed dangerously appealing and cheap to me. There is without question something to be said for one finding self (and perhaps reinventing self in the process), but the film promotes some nonsense: 1. copious alcohol consumption as somehow a right in and of itself on the discovery journey, and 2. glamorization of divorce as a requisite surgery in the process of self discovery. There are certainly times for divorce and maybe even copious alcohol consumption (for those who are not spiritually allergic). But I find it commercially convenient that these concepts are sold to the consumer as inextricably tied to a path to peace (a peace that Roberts' character was remiss to give up for a new relationship - until encouraged to do so by her personal Yoda!). We are pitched what sells - as is made evident by all of the Eat Pray Love crap that is being peddled in the wake of yet another round of death by "Americana spirituality-lite" (my own descriptor, you can't have it).

I have encountered much in recent months past. And I am more convinced of only a small number of things. That the divine is in control. That I am not in control. And I might as well stop worrying about why I cannot be in control. I suppose that the appointed time for complete acceptance of these simple facts will come in due course. I also think that in my own case the divine might not be encouraging me to reinvent myself - but to find myself in the first place. In peeling back the layers of the onion, a new self emerges. Reinvention, rebirth, and resultant redemption. In the hands of the divine, these are the things that give me hope and courage.

Mantra for year thirty three . . .

2010-08-31T14:36:00.000-07:00

You are the problem. Yes, you.
Don't trust whatever you are thinking right now, it will change in hours or days.
Whatever you are thinking about saying or doing, probably not a good idea.
That is why you are reading this note.
Stop. Be still. Pray. Relief will come.

Anonymous

Meditation

2010-08-26T19:42:00.000-07:00

Infidelity as addiction or manifestation of addiction?

2010-08-24T08:56:00.000-07:00

Tiger Woods recent divorce has been media fodder for many. However, there has been little real discussion about more substantive questions relating to infidelity and sex addiction (which are far more important than the salacious and scandalous details of Woods' sordid activities). Aside from the value of considering the moral failures of others as reminders to attempt objectified measures of our own conduct - what else can be learned here? Certainly, it is far too easy to be critical of others and yet quite hard to take a cold hard look at our own destructive behavior. See Sex Addicts or moral opportunity? Tiger Woods and John Edwards may be providing a public service if you look close enough. http://www.ryanbarnett.com/2010/01/sex-addicts-or-moral-opportunity-for.html.

In looking at the Woods case, one cannot help but wonder whether the claim of sexual addiction is legitimate or convenient. All too often, rehab of some sort is the standard public relations response to circumstances gone awry. Sex addiction itself remains unrecognized by mainstream psychiatry (though this may be of little value either way) and is not yet coded in the Bible of psychiatry, the soon to be released DSM-V (though it may arguably fall under general "compulsive behaviors").

But true addiction is much more than mere compulsive behavior. Many well versed in addiction urge that the compulsion to engage in addictive behaviors is one that the user is powerless over and that the only hope for sanity is to turn to a higher power with complete abandon. In looking to Woods' case, one can only wonder whether it is possible that anything but the insatiable desire of addiction could be responsible for a man destroying a beautiful family with the barbs of serial and bizarre sexual infidelity.

But often the turn to infidelity seems more mundane. Pattern behavior, boredom, lack of self control, with the consistent thread running through these driving forces being the human addiction to pleasure. Thus, while addiction to infidelity itself may not be a singularly recognized manifestation, it may simply be yet another flavor of the need for people to seek and satisfy their need for pleasure.

All too often, those most affected by infidelity are left to pick up the pieces. All too often, those close to addiction are also left to pick up the pieces. And it is a sought after realization that the family members of addicts are often just as sick as those engaged in active addiction. However, there must be a sense in the case of infidelity that "this is different." Whether your spouse chooses you or chooses to remain faithful to vows may be a more complex question than it first appears. Rather than a question of fidelity to a person, the breach of vows may in fact be a question of fidelity to fidelity itself, as well as a battle between submission to divine will and the unending desire for pleasure. In the context of marriage, this may, in fact, have little to do with the non-cheating marital partner, despite the common cry from cheaters that "things just don't feel right anymore," or "I'm not in love anymore." More often the reality is a spiritually bankrupt person looking for release by pursuit of the thrill that comes with new relationship(s). The spiritually immature insist on endlessly pursuing thrills.

Whether this is true or not would assuredly be of little consolation to Elin Nordegren. The horrible pain caused by her husband's cheating was made evident when she put a golf club through the window of his SUV (likely only because she could not get to his head or some other body part).

The challenges presented to marriage are increasingly complex and yet the same as they have always been. Pressures to perform financially and socially take more and more time which might otherwise be dedicated to the fostering of strong marriages and families. And much as is the case with teenagers - adults assume a false sense of anonymity with cell phones, text messaging, and various social networking sites. Even defining infidelity can be difficult. Is an affair defined by sex alone? And what to do when married persons refuse to recognize the danger of emotional affairs? See http://www.focusonthefamily.com/marriage/divorce_and_infidelity/affairs_and_adultery/emotional_affairs.aspx. As with other addiction, perhaps Elin Nordegren may find some consolation in the observation that the driving forces behind infidelity are cunning, baffling, and powerful. And as is the case with the the families of alcoholics and addicts - the only answers are acceptance and trust in the divine that no matter what happens - it is in the hands of the divine and it shall pass.

Trip from .... the odd.

2010-08-20T05:24:00.000-07:00

It has been an interesting couple of days! I flew into Alexandria, Louisiana and might have made my meeting on Wednesday had my rental car been ready, which it was not. So, I did my meeting from the airport lobby by phone (pay phone no less, because my cell phone died right before the meeting and I forgot my charger, of course). Then commenced to get back on a plane and fly to Atlanta, where I waited for two extra hours because my plane was broken.

Made it to Jacksonville at about one in the morning ... went to bed, and made it to swearing in ceremony at the Federal District court on time. Then had a near death experience in the cab on the way to airport (was literally thrown out of my seat due to driver who pulled onto the interstate and cut across three lanes of traffic and directly in front of my cab).

But somehow over the past two days, I managed to keep my orientation toward one of gratitude. And I made a point to meet and talk to lots of different people, which proved incredibly interesting. It is amazing how sometimes once you start talking to people you cannot get them to stop!

I am grateful to be home. Fighting kids who don't want to get dressed this morning and all is well with the world.

Meditation on Meditations

2010-08-19T17:46:00.000-07:00

Marcus Aurelius's meditations are pointed and relevant. But even regimented Marcus failed in his politically motivated persecution of Christians. A good historical reminder that even well ordered minds (his suggested course to peace) can make dubious decisions with correctly applied pressure. Another great philosopher, St. Augustine, reminds us that philosophy is good, but of man. Grace and true temperance are divine.

Story Corps Interview taken of Robert M. Brown by Ryan M. Barnett in Pensacola, Florida, March 13, 2010

2010-08-07T12:46:00.000-07:00

Press play here ..........

Peacocks and The Great Sin

2010-08-06T04:36:00.000-07:00

I read CS Lewis's chapter on "The Great Sin," in Mere Christianity yesterday. Can't help but love a guy that has the marbles to call each of us "little idiots:"

(3) We must not think Pride is something God forbids because He is offended at it, or that Humility is something He demands as due to His own dignity—as if God Himself was proud. He is not in the least worried about His dignity. The point is, He wants you to know Him: wants to give you Himself. And He and you are two things of such a kind that if you really get into any kind of touch with Him you will, in fact, be humble—delightedly humble, feeling the infinite relief of having for once got rid of all the silly nonsense about your own dignity which has made you restless and unhappy all your life. He is trying to make you humble in order to make this moment possible: trying to take off a lot of silly, ugly, fancy-dress in which we have all got ourselves up and are strutting about like the little idiots we are. I wish I had got a bit further with humility myself: if I had, I could probably tell you more about the relief, the comfort, of taking the fancy-dress off—getting rid of the false self, with all its 'Look at me' and 'Aren't I a good boy?' and all its posing and posturing. To get even near it, even for a moment, is like a drink of cold water to a man in a desert.

(4) Do not imagine that if you meet a really humble man he will be what most people call 'humble' nowadays: he will not be a sort of greasy, smarmy person, who is always telling you that, of course, he is nobody. Probably, all you will think about him is that he seemed a cheerful, intelligent chap who took a real interest in what you said to him. If you do dislike him it will be because you feel a little envious of anyone who seems to enjoy life so easily. He will not be thinking about humility: he will not be thinking about himself at all.

If anyone would like to acquire humility, I can, I think, tell him the first step. The first step is to realise that one is proud. And a biggish step, too. At least, nothing whatever can be done before it. If you think you are not conceited, it means you are very conceited indeed.

In Proverbs this morning, I read 8:13:

The fear of the Lord is to hate evil;
Pride and arrogance and the evil way.

The dictionary defines pride as:
–noun
1.
a high or inordinate opinion of one's own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority, whether as cherished in the mind or as displayed in bearing, conduct, etc.

So, I cannot help but conclude that pride is a topic upon which this man is meant to reflect. Of course I have a high and inordinate opinion of myself. Shouldn't I? I suppose that has been my general (and unsuccessful) approach to things for years and years. I am important, meritorious, and although I may not always be vocal in putting my pride out there - that doesn't mean that it has not rolled around in my head on a continual basis. There is a lot of proud "talking" going on between my ears.

I think of the peacock strutting around doing that goofy thing with its neck - bobbing back and forth. Foolish looking but impervious. Despite feeling more connected to God than I have perhaps in my lifetime (but still feeling unsure of my footing in faith) - I have struggled lately with whether I should post pieces of a religious nature. Will my friends and family think I am turning into a religious freak? What if I cannot sustain my attempted path of walking closer to the Divine. Will I appear as a hypocrite, failure, or bumbling fool (or some combination thereof)?

I have realized that if I am too proud to talk about God - I am too foolish to accept His grace. So I am taking Lewis's cue - and at least accept that I am proud. Now as with my other defects, I will ask Him to remove my pride.

No parking

2010-08-02T06:42:00.000-07:00

When I was a brand new lawyer, my office was situated in a nice five story bank building that sat across from the downtown courthouse. Attached to the office building is a three story parking garage. It is an incredibly convenient place to park when you are running late and in a hurry to get to court.

The maintenance supervisor for my old office building is a curious fellow. He sports a mangled beard and is always wearing one of those shirts with a name patch and a grease stain. If you stand close enough to him on the elevator, you smell alcohol. And this man is incredibly possessive about the visitor parking spaces, which are on the ground floor of the parking garage at my old office building.

When I left my first firm to move on to different things, I would still routinely squeeze my truck into one of the visitor parking spots at my old office building when I had to be at the courthouse across the street. I was convinced that the maintenance supervisor knew what I was doing. If I saw him while parking, I would sometimes go so far as to walk into the building and then make an exit into an alleyway! It was as close to covertness and the Bourne Identity as I am likely to ever get. But this whole process made me incredibly anxious. I was always worried that when I got back there was going to be a nasty note on my window, or perhaps a big orange boot on one of my wheels (fortunately, I am not sure that they make a boot big enough for my 4 x 4 truck, consequently enough - I have never used four wheel drive. But it is there in the event that there is an unexpected blizzard in Florida!).

Several weeks ago, I took to literally trying to do everything different than what I had been doing in weeks and years past. For instance, my wife and I routinely battle over the thermostat. She wants it at 70 degrees at night. I'd be fine if we left it on 74 all day. I am of course delusional and convinced that these few degrees make the difference between a $250 power bill and a $100 bill. So, I started turning the AC down to 70 at night before she had the chance (disclaimer: I have not consistently done this). I have tried to smile at my kids rather than have out of body experiences when they use the manners of Cretans. And I even decided to stop the covert parking operations at my old office building. It was an incredible relief! I now simply park down the road and I don't worry about dodging my nemesis.

It is often uncomfortable getting out of the habits that we are comfortable being uncomfortable in. Sometimes the behaviors are more serious than others. But sometimes starting with the little things is enough to prompt bigger change. And sometimes that is all that is needed.

Why walk when you can ride?

2010-07-27T13:47:00.000-07:00

One afternoon while at the U.S. Marine Corps School of Infantry many years ago (a great place for reflection about what is important in life), a grizzled old Instructor yelled at a bunch of us. Big surprise I know, a yelling Marine. While his delivery was not unexpected, his admonition was:

"Why are you standing around! You have time to rest, sit your dumb*** down. Be combat ready! Why be awake if you have a chance to rest? Why stand if you can sit? Why walk if you can ride? Why ride if you can fly?" This struck me. It was exactly the opposite of what I would have expected to hear: be hard on yourself, don't rest, always be on guard, never take your mind off the enemy ... " This old grunt also told us that it is easy to be hard, but it is hard to be smart.

I have often viewed my walk with the divine as a dialogue with that old Marine. The two of us riding around in the dessert. Me in battle gear, him riding along in a Humvee. Sun glaring down on me. Dehydrated and about to fall out.

"Hey, get in the Hummer! Why are you walking when you can ride?"

But often times I wave on and say no thanks. I'll do things my way even if it means killing myself. I am not sure that I will ever get out of that habit. But I am taking steps in the right direction. And I am riding in the Hummer - at least for the moment.

Humility

2010-07-13T06:00:00.000-07:00

The past few weeks for me have been something of a whirlwind. I am sure you can think back to events in your own history which shook you to your core. I've been there for a couple of weeks.

I participated in a discussion recently on the need for humility in life. All too often, the human ego drives us to the edge of the abyss of self imposed misery. I also tend to be impressed by the seeming successes of those who operate on high octane ego. I can't help but think of the numerous times in my life when humility was given to me - not of my own choosing. Like so many things in nature, humility is self regulating. You don't have to fear too much about being without it for too long. It will assuredly come to you at a time when you may be least expecting it but are most in need of it.

Humility is coming to me in the form of getting out of self. When tightfisted in my efforts to control my environment, largely as a result of my own dissatisfaction over my spiritual health - I choke the light out of things and those around me. Enough.

Guns, hats, and a crazy stock market.

2010-06-18T19:54:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed that when the stock market is down, the report goes like this:

"Among dismal reports of economic horrors throughout the world, the stock market sank an incredibly depressing and frightening 85 points. There are concerns that the economic world as we know it may come to a complete stop sometime in the next thirty seconds. Why are you still sitting there, go kiss your wife and kids goodbye."

And then if the stock market is up, it goes something like this:

"The stock market was up 50 points today."

Similarly, if you ever hear about the ACLU, the report usually goes like this:

"The ACLU is representing a seven time felon, child molesting crackhead who has sued the state for refusing to allow him to distribute literature on his own self created religion, which involves human sacrifice and hard drug use, to lovely young kids at a local day care center for the children of selfless missionaries who have been stricken ill while abroad."

I don't have any particular affinity for the ACLU, but I thought the following was great evidence that perhaps, they are equal opportunists when it comes to stupidity. Original AP stpry viewed on Yahoo at, http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100619/ap_on_re_us/us_army_hat_banned, on June 18, 2010:

EAST PROVIDENCE, R.I. – A Rhode Island boy whose school banned a hat he made because the toy soldiers on it carried tiny guns was awarded a medal on Friday for his patriotic efforts.
Lt. Gen. Reginald Centracchio, the retired head of the Rhode Island National Guard, gave 8-year-old David Morales a medal called a challenge coin during an appearance on WPRO-AM's John DePetro show.
Centracchio said the second-grader should be thanked for recognizing veterans and soldiers.
"You did nothing wrong, and you did an outstanding job," he said. "We can only hope that kids of your caliber will continue to defend this country."
Centracchio also gave David a certificate that allows him to call himself a brigadier general.
David was assigned to make a hat last week for a project at the Tiogue School in Coventry. He chose a patriotic and glued plastic Army figures to a camouflage baseball cap. But school officials said the hat ran afoul of their no-weapons policy because the Army men held tiny guns.
The school has said David was offered the chance to wear the hat if he replaced the toy soldiers holding weapons with ones that didn't have any. Centracchio said that didn't make sense because soldiers are armed, and met with school administrators Thursday to share his concerns.
David said he felt great and called it an honor.
"I think it's really special," he said. "I'm going to definitely enjoy this day for a long time."
Also Friday, the Rhode Island chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union said it sent a letter to Coventry Superintendent Kenneth DiPietro saying the school's policy was an unconstitutional violation of students' free speech. It called on the district to revise the policy.
DiPietro did not immediately return a message seeking comment.

Thoughts on Helen Thomas and Femi-Nazis

2010-06-09T06:19:00.000-07:00

When I served in the Marines, it was always entertaining to watch young men get angry about the perpetual disorganization of the military, misunderstood foreign policy evolutions, and just about anything else you could think of. But it was all for naught - nobody is worried about what the young instruments of policy think.

Even egg heads can get riled up. One of my undergraduate professors was an older lady, a graduate of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She was an interesting combination of feminist and southern belle all rolled into one. But beneath her projections of confidence, there was a detectable hint of insecurity. About what, I cannot be precise.

At some point in her course, there was a reference by one of my peers as to the concept of Femi-Nazis as non-literal feminist extremists. I was surprised to see her shut the discussion down entirely with a blanket prohibition as to the use of the descriptor. Disclaimer: the Nazi regime is one of the greatest blemishes upon humanity. Alongside our ability through nuclear weapons and environmental failures to destroy ourselves, I believe it is the ultimate indictment on the base human condition.

That said, opposing views must be met with information and discourse. If not, at least at higher levels, they become met at the business end of competing military machines. It was frustrating to see a professor appoint herself academic censor. Not willing to discuss the issue or the descriptor - just simply bar any further discussion. This type of self righteous stubbornness is expected of a student or simpleton - not so of an individual holding a terminal degree. While there are interesting constitutional issues as to whether "academic" free speech even exists as a matter of law - there is an underlying question of policy and direction when we bar the discussion of sensitive descriptors and uncomfortable issues at the University, press, or government level. Ironically, young people often have the courage to ask questions that their elders do not.

There has been strong reaction to Helen Thomas' recent comments re that Jews should get out of Palestine. The suggestion that Jews should return en masse to Germany simply flies in the face of good taste, decency, and is out of touch with reality. I am not Jewish, but I suspect that if I was, you probably wouldn't even find a German car in my garage. The unfortunate reality is that Thomas' comments will detract from the real questions as to whether Israeli policy is sustainable and in the interest of regional and global peace. Yet another red herring swims strong in the stream of already muddied Israeli-Palestinian discourse. Misstep aside, Thomas has been direct with her criticisms as to Middle East conflict, grilling spokesman Robert Gibbs as to the administration's posture on the Gaza blockade and Israeli-Palestinian policy in general. Many found the direct inquiry honest and refreshing. Even the Obama administration has demonstrated that it may be more egalitarian in the U.S.'s normally intractable approach to the Palestinian issue in recent months. See Et tu, Israel? http://rmbpcola.blogspot.com/2010/03/et-tu-israel.html.

But Helen Thomas's impromptu Freudian slip is a reminder that racism often lies just beneath the surface. Even a hawkish, intelligent, and fiery person can harbor grosser characteristics that will surface in the right conditions. The robes of authority, be they government, media, or the instruments thereof - often shield operatives who hold views that are very little different from those of the masses. I am hopeful that Thomas's statements about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict will not detract too much attention from the conflict itself. However, as I learned in college - sometimes it is easier to stop discussion. And if you cannot stop the discussion, focus on a foolish comment as to the discussion rather than the discussion itself.

Reflections on Forty Years

2010-06-02T07:19:00.000-07:00

We are coming off the heels of a great visit with a family member, his significant other, and their three year old son. Having them here reminded me (environmental catastrophes aside) how fortunate we are to live near the coast. We managed to send them home with a little sunburn and well fed.

While they were here, I innocently poked at him about them getting married. Without realizing it, he gave me a "what if" that basically constituted a recitation of his parents' failed marriage. He may not have even realized it. And, in fairness, I followed the same course after my first marriage failed. My wife and I waited until our son was a year and half old before we tied the knot. And I am thankful that the divine has smiled on us and helped keep us together through challenges - despite ourselves.

He and his better half seem to be compatible. She is a really nice girl and outgoing. Their son clearly thrives on being with them both. But I have learned not to stick my nose too deeply where it doesn't belong (aside from publishing blog posts to the entire world about personal matters). But hey, what secrets are there - really?

As I was thinking about the reasons that they might be putting off marriage (valid or not), I read in the news that Al and Tipper Gore were separating after much "careful deliberation and discussion." It seems that so few marriages withstand the test of time. The Gores spent forty years together, built a family and a home, and now they are going to start over. Maybe it is the right thing for them. Perhaps there is a long list of reasons which justify their parting ways. Ultimately, it is a very personal decision between two very public persons. It simply seems to me that most of the time when we run, we are really running from ourselves. Problem is that we come with us wherever we go, though it may take some time for our shadows to catch up. In the context of marriage, I can understand why it scares the hell out of young people. It can feel like charging a machine gun nest after having seen a lot of other people take it on the chin.

Perhaps we are living longer than we did years ago. Perhaps we have shifted from communal and familial mindedness to one of more individual focus. I am sure there are numerous psychological and sociological explanations for the evolving family dynamic.

I read somewhere that marriage is our last great chance. Anybody who has been married can attest to its challenges. But the return and supportive partnership that comes from a good marriage is without comparison. I don't know that it is the last great chance, but it surely must be one of them.

I leave you with Gibran:

You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

Camping Adventures! A modern American family fares well in the woods.

2010-05-24T07:11:00.000-07:00

My oldest daughter reminded me several months ago that we had never been on a camping trip. I immediately sprang into action and put a date on the calendar. My wife pretty much handled the rest. When we shipped off this past weekend, there had been a few minor changes in plans. First, the location which we had selected near Auburn, Alabama for its waterfalls - was experiencing torrential rain. So, Jessica found a place near Niceville, Florida - where the weather was to be more cooperative. Showed up there and encountered a gnarled old grump of a Ranger. I always assumed park rangers were in touch with nature and thereby happy, spiritually centered people. Proof that I am incorrect quite often.

Turns out the place in Niceville was full. So we headed to Torreya State Park, which is just west of Tallahassee. Jessica and I had been there several times in our early dating days and we knew it well. What should have been a one hour drive turned into a five hour expedition. We arrived in time to quickly set up camp and eat dinner. On the good side, Jessica had provisioned us well enough to support a company of Marines. The evening ended with a curious looking serpent slithering near my feet. Despite repeated calls by my troop to execute the beast with a swift and fatal blow (he was about the size of a spaghetti noodle), I encouraged him to go back in the woods. We finally got to bed to only then be awoken by a raccoon rummaging through the trash. My oldest daughter and her friend were quite amused by the raccoon. Jessica was not so amused and was not enjoying watching the critter climb up and down a tree not far from our tent. My exhaustion implored response to the raccoon had been, "who cares!" Half asleep, I finally dispatched one of the kids to run off the raccoon. My wife observed later that this might have ended not so well had the raccoon made a rabid attack. Such are the joys of camping. There were also general references to the fact that we could probably have been cast well for "National Lampoons Camping Adventures ... "

Jessica woke up somewhere between 3:00 and 4:00 a.m. and let it be known to me and anybody else awake at that hour that she could not sleep. I was eventually able to doze back off. We got up and ate a breakfast fit for kings and did a short hike along the Apalachicola River. Several hours later, we were back home and glad to be in the air conditioning. But the torture continued when I made Jessica sit with me for a partial viewing of Lawrence of Arabia. I suspect she might just prefer camping over old movies. It was great to be outside and with my family, mosquitoes, raccoons, and all.

On an African proverb.

2010-05-18T18:07:00.000-07:00

"I did not have sexual relations with that woman." One of my favorite quotes of all time. Everybody knew what Clinton was and what he'd done.

His political sin was lying about it.

There is an African proverb that tells us that people may doubt what you say, but they will believe what you do. Talk is cheaper than cheap, isn't it? I'd rather see someone put their actions where their mouth is.

There is no telling who first uttered this well known proverb. It has been packaged in many different ways by many different people. The proverb's power and truth lies partly in the fact that the power of the hypocrite is great. Unfortunately, the conduct of those who are most vocal on whatever issue it may be that allegedly drives them ("bombastic self righteous religiosity" vs. really walking with the divine, "conservative" vs. statesman, "charlatan" vs. advocate, "naive and thieving" vs. liberal) - in their extreme forms, these fringes are often dubious and self serving in the conduct. Additionally, they inevitably garner the unforgiving scorn of others when they stumble. As a good friend of mine says, "Save me from the saved." BP is learning this lesson. It is hard to corner the "green" image when you are cutting corners on safety measures which protect the livelihood of an entire coastal community.

But the hypocrite is not only damaging in that he is often the most polluted (literally and figuratively) in his closed door conduct. He is dangerous because, when discovered (as he inevitably will be) he takes away something that is so difficult to find as it is - faith. Faith in the human condition, faith in the ability of a walk with the divine to right mans' ever listing ethic at crucial times, faith in himself. And with a loss of faith, we tend to become little more than specimens in what can resultantly seem to be a giant intergalactic ant farm. Living out the lot we are given with little more faith in those around us than we have in the divinity of our existence. It is no coincidence that our collective ability to interact in socially meaningful ways - in faith - is declining precipitously.

Whether or not it is incumbent on any of us to redirect the hypocrite when we recognize him depends on the circumstances. I have done it directly and without reservation only once that I can recall (and as you may have already suspected, it was recently). We all stumble (myself especially included) and this is without question. But observing the hypocrite might ought to remind us that our own conduct should always be guarded lest we find ourselves sending a terrible message to others - unbeknownst, perhaps. The louder you sound your trumpet, the more responsibility you owe to those watching to live up to that standard and avoid even the appearance of impropriety or inconsistency. I suspect much as the adage might go, the bigger the mouth - the harder the fall. To this end, I am looking closely at myself.

Frame of Reference

2010-05-14T12:05:00.000-07:00

Frame of reference is such a difficult thing to impart. So often, the challenge in collaboration is conveying accurately the frame of reference from which you operate. It can be an exercise in the utmost skilled diplomacy to remove emotional reactivity from the lens of reference.

Likewise, appreciating another's frame of reference is often equally challenging.

Explosive reactivity is the unfortunate byproduct of the failure to accomplish symbiotic frame of reference. Defusing the impact of this failure can take time and is not always assured to be without scarring. In the light speed transition from thought to reactivity, much damage can be leveled. Grabbing reactivity at the outset is a skill that continues to avoid me. Often, the best that many of us can accomplish is a brokered (or de facto) emotional demilitarized zone and sterile efforts at uncomfortable reconciliation.

I find myself wrestling with the tension between the need to retreat, attack, and breath. Your soul can only be pulled in so many directions. At least, so it seems.

Authentic thought.

2010-04-23T08:59:00.000-07:00

There is a curious sense of guilt which may accompany inspiration. I encountered this recently in spending time with Emerson. In reading beautiful writing - be it metaphysical, artistic, academic, or otherwise - there is many times a recognition of our own original thought which has smoldered but was yet to be unearthed in an articulate fashion. There can be resultant frustration for the insecure thinker. Fear of the inability to have an original thought. Either this, or a blatant disregard in the form of creative plagiarism.

This arises from the deep, insatiable, and innate desire to be authentic, juxtaposed against the reality that nothing new exists beneath the sun. This is true whether we speak of art, writing, or virtually anything else. All great thought is merely reflective of archetypical themes which have and always will exist independent of our own vision. Where we seem to struggle is in our ability to speak clearly of our own observations or inspiration for fear that we will tread upon the existent musings of thinkers who came before us. It can be uncomfortable to accept that those before us have also merely reflected on great ideas which were even then universal and present, independent of the thinker.

Great courage is required to throw off the shackles of fear and face our own authentic thoughts with abandon, be they inspired or not. Easier said than done but required for true inner peace. Otherwise, we exist as mere shadows of our own fear and insecurity - avoiding authentic thought for the irrational fear that it is not original.

Pain and humility.

2010-04-14T08:59:00.000-07:00

I met up with a good friend yesterday for a run out on Pensacola Beach. Despite the fact that I do not carry excessive weight, eat decent, and don't smoke - I am not much of a runner. My wife, who recently completed a half-marathon, will attest to this. I am mindful of the fact that I did not complete the half marathon with her - despite my best intentions to do so.

On a recent early morning run - my daughter (riding her bike), commented that running with me was way easier than running with mom. Being humble in the midst of such observations is not optional.

But returning to yesterday afternoon - I was less in stride than usual. And in my discomfort, my mind wandered to a recent interpersonal conflict. It was interesting to me that in my physical discomfort, much of my self serving reasoning and justification was stripped away. I was simply thinking about how many of the things I had said were beneath dignity.

This is not a unique phenomenon I am sure. Certainly, much of our growth, if not the vast majority - rises from the ashes of emotional pain. But this very primal and basic concept was made crystal clear to me yesterday afternoon as the result of physical pain. I have resolved that in instances of future conflict, one means of weighing the truer totality of the circumstances is to do so while running (translation in my case, while physically uncomfortable). Somehow, at those times, I seem to be stripped of my ego. Which is an infinitely good thing.

Et tu, Israel?

2010-03-29T06:29:00.000-07:00

Israel is experiencing American resistance unlike any since its founding. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's recent solo dining experience while a guest of this nation, is about as close as heads of state get to holding up their pointer, middle, and ring fingers and announcing, "peel the banana."

Perhaps what is more interesting though is the manner in which both the U.S. and Israel, staunch allies, are incredibly similar in their unilateralist approaches. Rarely, at least for the (8) years preceding the present administration, has the American foreign policy machine been overly concerned with the multilateral concerns of its peers. Thus, it is somewhat surprising that the present administration would be so indignant when presented with similar disregard (and nose thumbing) as that related to expanding Israeli settlements. Touché!

One can only hope that the damage done during the Bush era can be remedied with sustained and prudent policy initiatives. And the U.S. is making much headway in that direction, I think. Cutting out a piece of land for the Palestinians is crucial to this process - even acknowledging that total peace may be institutionally untenable, whatever the compromise. But the U.S. should be careful to avoid ostracizing its only true ally in the region, and lean equally heavily on the adjoining states from which the flesh of a geographical Palestinian state should be cut. And at the same time, some credit is due to the President for calling for, and insisting upon being taken seriously with political weapons other than ones which literally explode.

21st Century sexual suffrage - the brainwashing of young Western women abounds.

2010-03-25T05:58:00.000-07:00

What a difference a daughter (or two) makes.

Mark Twain is well known for his observation that education is wasted on the young. One of the great things about raising kids is the opportunity to be educated (literally) once again. My oldest and I spent an hour or so last night talking about World War I, the Great Depression, and suffrage, in relation to her fourth grade social studies course.

One of the great challenges posed to modern day fathers is that of training our daughters that they are not merely sex objects. Though I know this is a challenge that is as old as time, I am convinced that it has evolved considerably and by all appearances, is somewhat unique in its present condition (at least in the Western setting). Perhaps never so blatantly and on such a wide scale, has sex become so accessible and mechanical for young people. Various technological mediums (computers, cell phone cameras, etc.), instill a false sense of anonymity and safety in the context of the otherwise normal sexual maturation process - often grossly distorting and amplifying what every teen since Adam and Eve has experienced.

It occurred to me as I talked with my daughter last night that we have moved in some ways from a different manifestation of gender based second class citizenship (pre-19th Amendment and the right to vote), to a more subtle form. Increasingly (and I acknowledge probable paranoia) apparent or more obvious is the manner in which much of entertainment and mass media reduces sex to a beastly and uninhibited, unrestrained, and untamed passion. It is deeply disturbing to hear a child recite the words of mainstream music which has little value greater than pornography set to a tune. This phenomenon is not unique to the present generation, but I think has evolved considerably over the past fifty years, at least in this country.

What is equally frustrating is that there is an obliviousness to this by those most affected (young women and men concurrently). This too, is a parallel experience observed in other settings. For instance, the poor are often unable to recognize the need to force their children to exhaustively take advantage of the opportunities afforded by public education. There are many suggested reasons that the poor are positioned as they are, including the nonsensical eugenic arguments made throughout history. Ultimately, we can only rationally conclude that the failure of the poor to know better is simply a failure to know better. Thus, perhaps the only real weapon against ignorance is sound relentless training by those who do know better. Whether in the parental, social, or political contexts.

Having experienced incredible advances in gender equality, it is most unfortunate that we accept such blatant perpetuation of sexism in mass media and permit the brainwashing of young women (and men alike) as to their value being little more than that of sex objects. In our advances in equality, in some respects, we have thrown the baby (virtue) out with the bathwater (overly oppressive social constructs).

Highs and lows - thoughts on investing in people.

2010-03-16T20:06:00.000-07:00

I found out last week that my Dad was diagnosed with a Gastrointestinal Stromal Tumor. It was discovered and removed surgically after a routine prostate examination. After biopsy, he is apparently going to be going back under the knife. I am nervous and it sits on my stomach right now like a heavy meal. As is the case with most children, I have always assumed him to be indestructible. And while I am concerned, something deep down tells me that he is going to be alright. Maybe that is just my way of coping. Maybe it is peace. Perhaps it is a little of both.

A good friend of mine also unexpectedly lost his finance and unborn child last week. I cannot imagine what his lost must feel like. In a serendipitous instance of divine grace, his mother happened to be traveling with him when he got the news and was able to be with him as he returned home and began the process of picking up the pieces. I can do little more than reach out and hope that he knows he has people who care for and love him.

In another instance of divine grace, one of my closest friends and mentors had weeks ago scheduled a visit up to stay with us over the past weekend. We had (I thought) booked a space, well in advance, at the mobile Story Corps booth which made a visit to Pensacola over the past month. When we showed up on Saturday morning at the appointed time, we were told that there had been a glitch with the online confirmation system and that we had not been booked. In the end, thanks largely to the excellent staffer with Story Corps (a New Yorker named Sara Culver), the issue was resolved. We sat down at about 11:30 to have a really good conversation that, along with tens of thousands of others, will be on record at the Library of Congress. It was a really memorable experience. Once I can figure out how to post the interview itself, I'll get it online.

It is easy in the darkness of some of the events that face us to become swamped. Like a boat. Waves crashing around us and putting more dark water in our vessel than we can bail out. I was grateful that in the midst of the dark news of last week, there was a ray of sunshine - the arrival of a good friend.

The collective events of last week serve as a reminder to me that the only meaningful investments we make on this earth are in people. Little will be remembered of our material possessions and yet we spend so much time accumulating property rights and "stuff." Our time is limited and not guaranteed.

I generally recognize these truths, but as it seems with all else - I forget. But reminders will always come, won't they?

Schizophrenic modern American individualism. Part I

2010-03-06T13:57:00.001-08:00

It has occurred to me as of late that modern American "individualism" is schizophrenic.

Historically, our nation has prided itself on being a collection of strong willed individuals. Don't tread on me (or on my right to unlimited cell phone minutes and text messages). Something has gone curiously off course.

One of the most comical recent developments has been the conservative backlash against universal health care. By way of disclaimer, I don't know what we should do about health care. Seems that the problem is one sporting many heads. Our entire view of health care as a path to riches, as opposed to a necessary evil - might be a good place to start. If we were smart about being stupid, we might select a better "ought to be public service" where we overpay professionals and drown endless precious capital, such as ... education? But this aside, I have found great humor in the fact that many of those who are staunchly against universal health care (read: old people) benefit from it! Get your hands off my Social Security, Medicare, and discount at McDonald's. But to hell with you young whipper snappers who want health care too! We earned it (by racking up huge debts and not saving enough to pay for our own health insurance!).

This schizophrenic phenomenon is perhaps akin to the insane (and virtually incomprehensible) success of the conservatives in hijacking Jesus Christ himself. How in the world did the movement behind the polestar for "feed the poor, turn the other cheek, and love one another" - become the muse for the American political right wing! It amazes me. If anything, Christians should be rallying behind traditionally liberal political notions.

Perhaps it is time to return to authentic American individualism. Would we even recognize it if we saw it?

A review: Book of Eli

2010-02-17T06:10:00.000-08:00

How limited we are if we rely only on our own understanding. Being evidence based in my thinking - this can be a difficult concept to keep at the forefront of my being. If I cannot see, touch, and understand something - I am apt to disregard or throw it away. I have at times found solace in the fact that years ago we would have rejected understandings that are now common in science and that our empirical abilities change. I accept that the divine is constant. Remembering that our minds are so limited in their capacity is dualistic. Clearly, people profess faith in ways that we do not understand. But the concern becomes framing our own faith in the context of self alone.

I have been wrestling lately with my own understanding of God in a more profound way than I have in my lifetime. I have become so disillusioned with the commercial nature of modern religion. As has been mentioned by one of the characters in O Brother Where Art Thou?, “there are vast amounts of money to be made in the service of God Almighty." I have danced with something resembling mysticism. Accepting that there is divinity about us but attracted to the rejection of man's interpretation of just about anything having to do with God.

On occasion, I'll take a mental health break and go see a movie and generally clear my head for a few hours. I took in Book of Eli last night. It was an excellent movie and one that - albeit fictional - got me thinking and reflecting on my own weakness and lack of faith. For those who can find any reason to reject the underlying message in the film (including the apparent conflict with turn the other cheek and slaughter the wolves when it is appropriate), I'll defer to others and simply say - consistent with my comments here - to focus on that narrow issue misses the point.

It is not enough to look at the weakness and failures of others and accept that mankind is so devoid of good that we might as well also live recklessly. It is not enough to look at the failure of so many church bodies to recognize that the essence of God does not dwell in structures and predictable financial interests, that there is so much more to true faith than tertiary adherence for social reasons.

Washington's character, in fiction, exhibits a level of faith that I think many of us wish we had. And his character reminds us that there will be wolves at the door. And perhaps even that sometimes we will be forced to defend ourselves and others.

I found myself thinking and praying that God would show me his path. It was no coincidence that I came home and did some reading before falling asleep in 2 Peter. In this text, Peter is speaking of false teachers and prophets. How they mesmerize the weak and feeble minded with their big words and attractive philosophies. I had to wonder if I have been weak and feeble minded. In my requirement of understanding everything that I adhere to, I have rejected much of faith. But something deeply buried within me, akin to a flame - flickers when I can surrender enough to turn my face to God. When I give up the stubborn requirement that I be able to understand everything.

It is unfortunate that so many are more concerned with aligning faith and political agendas. But alas, it is a tale as old as history. And a theme screaming in Eli. People will try to control people. And what better way than to appeal to their need to connect to the divine.

Ms. Divine

2010-02-11T06:05:00.000-08:00

I've had a rough couple of days. Rough trial. Half sick. And just plain tired.

I needed a pick me up. I returned to a great oral history that was taken from two cousins in Sarasota, Florida. It was enough to lift my spirits this morning. I encourage you to take a moment to make the acquaintance of Ms. Divine.

Follow this link:
http://www.npr.org/templates/player/mediaPlayer.html?action=1&t=1&islist=false&id=5298458&m=5298488

For more information on Story Corps, go to www.storycorps.net.

Jedi mind trick. Keeping the table turned the right way.

2010-01-29T10:51:00.000-08:00

Have you ever felt like someone has played a Jedi mind trick on you? There is a great scene from the movie Anger Management which accurately captures the phenomenon.

In this scene, a simple request gets turned around on Sandler's character. The "flight attendant" won't do her job, representing the slovenly work ethic that is perhaps at the root of airline inefficiency and recurrent Chapter 11 filings. Sandler's character politely tries to redirect her. Next thing you know, he is deemed the maniac in need of judicial intervention and anger management! Do you ever feel this way? Similar to when your kid sister sticks her tongue out at you and begs you to retaliate and whack her in the head. But as soon as you do ... her stupidity will be forgotten! And you will pay. Sometimes, this is how life can feel. Restraining oneself not because your response might not be perfectly reasonable in an objective manner - but out of cost benefit analysis (assuming arguendo, that she really did deserve to get whacked in the head, right?).

Much like detaching from the energy vampire, much of social interaction is a deep analysis of cost benefit. See http://rmbpcola.blogspot.com/2009/09/vampires-no-really.html.

I leave you with Sandler himself.

Sex addicts or moral opportunity for the masses? John Edwards and Tiger Woods may be providing a public service if you look closely enough.

2010-01-27T09:14:00.001-08:00

This past week, it was disclosed that former Senator John Edwards has now officially acknowledged that he fathered a daughter with his paramour. I was disappointed, as I think many were - only because I had the impression after reading his inspiring book, Four Trials, that he simply wouldn't do something like that. Sounds trite, but I simply had more faith in him than perhaps I should have. Although Tiger Woods, now in rehab for sex addiction, has had a more public splashing of his escapades (which appear, at least for now - more flagrant) - I don't relate to professional athletes. Probably because my athletic skills would be characterized as comical.

There exists the ever present debate as to whether public figures have an obligation to observe higher ethical standards. This question was most pointedly presented to my generation with the Clinton affair in the 1990s.

We are all weak and fail regularly. I am no different. John Edwards and Tiger Woods are no different. Religious and political leaders are no different. And ultimately, none of us really have much control over the conduct of others. Thus, while I think it is reasonable to look to one's fidelity to the most personal of contracts as an indicator of moral bearing - relationships are tricky, nuanced, and many different arrangements exist among committed persons that may not comport with our own perceptions of normalcy.

Thus, what is the practical application of observing the tumblings of those in high places? Perhaps if nothing else, they serve as reminders that it is one thing to talk the talk. The real challenge is when the rubber meets the road. When, as John Edwards, you are foisted into the limelight and presented with sexual opportunities. When, as one espousing to live in accordance with certain moral or religious codes - we stumble in manners which affect not only ourselves, but others. With regard to sexual infidelity, the most innocent victims are often children.

I posit that we should stand in a place of judgment when we see moral failures. But that our place of judgment should be in reference to self. Publicized (and non-publicized) morally offensive events serve as stark reminders that our own conduct, while perhaps not fodder for prime time television - may be equally offensive if we were to view it as having been undertaken by someone else.

Refinement is akin to dialysis. When at any point we become comfortable with our spiritual health, or justify our meanderings onto the slipper slope of questionable conduct - it is often because we are not being honest with ourselves. We have omitted honest and constructive self criticism. Instead, we keep secrets - we justify - we rationalize.

If there is any value in the salacious feeding on the mistakes of public persons - it can be the need for almost all of us, on different issues ranging from physical abuse, sexual indiscretion, financial failures, even mere lack of common courtesy in dealing with our fellow man - to frame our own conduct in an objectified fashion.

Best letter I have ever received.

2010-01-22T09:44:00.000-08:00

When I got home yesterday, my son handed me a letter. In an envelope (that had been used before, but had the addressed scratched out). He dictated the letter to one of the kind ladies at the University of West Florida Child Development Center (which I will shamelessly plug as a truly remarkable place for kids to learn and grow). He is four and the greatest little boy I know. To have a son is truly a gift that I am more grateful for than I can begin to express.

Text of the letter:

Dear Daddy,

I love you, I wanna tell you Papa. When my Mom liked me, when my Dad's son wanted a TSI [believe he is referring to "DSI," by Nintendo]. It's not Halloween, it's Halloween. Your my friend, I was for Halloween a cowboy. I wanna call you Papa. It's Christmas when it snows over, when the flower grows. Where my Dad loves me we ate spaghetti and it was good. Love,

She knows what she is doing with her philosophy degree.

2010-01-15T06:08:00.001-08:00

I like esoteric thought. I love shades of gray and the ability to examine things without the confines of preconceived absolutes. It is a universal characteristic of simpletons to reach stalwart conclusions with little reflective consideration.

And thus, having a wife studying philosophy makes for really interesting discussions. I am grateful beyond expression that I am not forced to endure much talk about the latest sales at the mall. Instead, I get to hear about her evolving theories on the role of ethics in environmental matters and such. Not many things are more of a turn on to a nerd (such as myself) than a smart woman (ok, it does help that she is stunningly beautiful).

Last night's was a great conversation on Plato's Allegory of the Cave. It is the recitation of the blindness of a group of persons and the frustration of the philosopher with eyes more open than not - unable to convince his peers of things beyond their limited empirical perspective. Lately, I have been reminded of how much I don't know. It is both frightening and exhilarating to consider that so much remains beyond the grasp of my limited comprehension.

John Meacham of Newsweek wrote an article this week on the value of liberal arts education. His observations are pointed. We have become such a technocratic culture. Many of us are losing the ability to think clearly and rationally. Worse, many are simply not trained in these areas. Our skills are increasingly focused on questions of earning more income, consuming more, and how to become more appealing to others in cerebral ways. If the continuing growth of technology represents the opportunity for revolutions in knowledge and wealth - it equally represents a challenge to our ability to interact socially. This struck me several weeks ago as we walked past a young family in a restaurant, each and every member of the family had their face buried in an I-Pod or smart phone.

Perhaps if we better fostered the discussions and eyes wide open approach that flows from philosophical discourse, we would embolden a generation of more spiritually healthy people. I happen to think that opened minds, en masse, eventually cannot help but turn to the divine in the most genuine of fashion. How is that for a controversial suggestion. The path of reason to the rejection of cerebral or nescient religiosity and the pursuit of a true relationship with the divine.

Recent Quotes from my four year old son.

2010-01-06T06:37:00.001-08:00

1. As an excuse to get out of bed and harass his older (9 year old) sister. With indignant expression on his face, standing in hallway, arms in the air,

"Your freaking boots are in my room, again!"

2. Apparently, an indicator that we need to get to church more often, holding a large cross that sits on our fireplace mantle,

"Dad, is this an anchor?"

3. To his mother, whom he adores:

"Mom, you make a good home for me."

4. To me, as he is stalling going to bed.

"Dad, dragons are not girls. They don't wear lipstick."

A desk plaque on co-dependency? What fun!

2009-12-29T07:39:00.001-08:00

I remember years ago seeing on the desk of a very gruff Marine officer, a plaque with the following inscribed on it:

A failure to plan on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part.

Marines have a way of being direct and painfully honest. Among other skills, of course. But I thought about that plaque this morning after a long conversation with someone close to me who continues to struggle with addiction and the insanity accompanying it. After the conversation ended, I replayed some of the interaction in my head. There is a disconnect with many alcoholics and addicts in believing that if they are not actively using - they are sober. Not under the influence at a particular moment is not tantamount to one necessarily displaying sober thinking. I know that much. And an ongoing lack of sober thinking will inevitably lead to active drinking or using.

In years past, co-dependency (being the residual patterns of behaviors learned in part from being raised by those with addiction, active use or not) often lead me to a number of unhealthy behaviors. 1. Engaging in unhealthy relationships, often with unhealthy people. 2. Participating in, directly or indirectly, the insanity that accompanies unhealthy people. 3. Failure to observe boundaries when others self destructed.

Really only in observing failing and challenged relationships, have I begun to closely and as objectively as possible, examine the role of co-dependency in my own relational framework.

Fast forward to today. In my phone call, I was able (for the most part) to keep a reasonable boundary up much better than I have in years past. And I was grateful for that. And so I wonder whether I might get a plaque made for my own desk, which might read something like this:

Your inability to be sober minded does not constitute a circumstance sufficient to lead to the loss of my own sober mindedness.

Complete humility in the face of complete injustice

2009-12-18T06:48:00.000-08:00

Mr. James Bain was set free in Florida this week after having served 35 years in prison for the rape and murder of a (9) year old boy that he didn't commit. DNA evidence not available at the time of trial, in the hands of the Innocence Project, was enough to finally set him free.

Mr. Bain's lack of contempt for the justice system is almost puzzling. His humble desires upon his release are almost difficult to grasp in context. Good food - a soft drink - time with his family.

I was struck by a number of things. First, Bain's release serves as a stark reminder as to the limits of the most developed system of jurisprudence that has ever existed. The innocent do sometimes get sent to prison. And the fact of the matter is that if innocents do get sent to prison - they also probably get put to death. Deep ethical question arise from the ignored ashes of this ever smoldering quandary. Given the proven infallibility of eye witness testimony and the like, should we require DNA evidence in all cases such as Bain's? Cases where the life of the Defendant can be taken by execution or imprisonment for decades? At what cost do we accept this type of justice in the aggregate. Many will simply respond that "most" cases are unlike Bain's. But it seems that we thus descend onto the terribly slippery slope of relativism. As long as "most" of the criminals are not being sent away wrongly, then it’s OK. Great! So long as you are not in Mr. Bain's shoes.

But perhaps more importantly, stories such as Bain's (and that of Nelson Mandela - who also served a lengthy illegal and immoral prison sentence) serve to teach us lessons outside the mere context of judicial limitations. Bain's freedom, even in his incarceration, stemmed from the renewing of his mind. He maintained an incredibly humble posture before the divine. There is little else that can help us understand his ability to walk away from such injustice with a smile on his face.

Bain, and others like him, serve as demonstrations of complete humility even in the face of complete injustice. Complete humility is often difficult to exhibit even in the face of justice. And I fail at it quite frequently. In my indignation at perceived affronts, there is often little thought of my small place in this universe and the humility with which all of my actions ought to be framed. We have become a world of narcissists and dangerous relativists - convinced of our own ill conceived moral superiority.

As one plodding his way in the halls of Court - I am humbled by Mr. Bain's story and reminded that I must strive to be a better jurist. As a human being, I am humbled by Mr. Bain's story and reminded that truth is not always to be accepted as merely existing in the eye of the beholder. It is universal. And that the politic should be exceedingly careful with our conception of what truth is - and how it is identified – and how justice is levied.

Conflation of individual obligations and expectations arising from the Tea Party

2009-12-10T10:13:00.000-08:00

It is not terribly difficult to understand the groundswell which constitutes the base of the "Tea Party" movement. Most recent estimates place the per capita national debt at over $10,000 for each man, woman, and child in the United States. This grave fiscal challenge appears to be the thrust of the Tea Party's mandate. Staggering American debt and our insistence on ill calculated foreign entanglements may well become unmanageable long before expected by policy makers and pundits alike. While American national debt is conservative in the face of the nearly $30,000 owed by each of our more deeply indebted Greek friends - as those of us who are parents often tell our children, "if all the other kids jumped off a bridge - would you do it too?"

But more fundamental to the core of the Tea Party movement seems to be a cohesive sense that Americans have grown accustomed to shirking their individual obligations. These obligations are as varied as fiscal responsibility, child rearing, and so forth.

What is likely to be quite challenging to those steering the Tea Party movement is the conflation of differing policy approaches to grand national tasks such as defense, education - and now perhaps health care. While the Tea Party movement may likely gain traction, it will be interesting to see whether fair health care becomes a victim of well intentioned pressure from the likes of Tea Party constituents to insist on individual accountability - in the face of demands for basic health care, which are really difficult to logically distinguish from our current public education efforts and national defense. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Does this require basic education and health?

The uncomfortable discussion which needs to be had is whether we are going to be consistent in our provision of "benefits" to both the old, poor, corporate - and the remainder of the politic. Inconsistency may well further drive wedges between classes which are increasingly recognizable and terse. The adage that one should be careful not to kill the goose that laid the golden egg comes to mind. I fear that the public is being so heavily weighed down with taxes and debt that the flame of American ingenuity and creativity may become increasingly endangered.

The Odd Couple: Tom Cruise's Eyes Wide Shut and Kirk Cameron's Fireproof

2009-11-28T08:30:00.001-08:00

It is interesting how you can watch a movie without much interest. Watch it several years later and it is a totally different experience. I find books to be the same way. I have been on a Stanley Kubrick kick lately. His range of films interests me. I credit my fascination as a boy with space largely to his epic film, 2001.

I ordered Eyes Wide Shut for a second viewing as part of my study of all things Kubrick. The film is full of fascinating subplots and symbolic imagery. Foremost is the interplay of sexual neurosis and a troubled marriage. We see Tom Cruise's character tempted at the opening of the film - his response, one of shaky and frothy fidelity (ironically, "Fidelio" being the codeword we see later at the party). We also see the interplay of happenstance (or not) in the call from his wife which timely interrupts filial interaction with the prostitute who we eventually learn is HIV positive. We are also faced with the beautiful young woman who "overdoses" after offering herself up in Cruise's place, and questions about whether her participation (literal and figurative) in a life of twisted sexual practices and drugs is voluntary or otherwise. It leaves the viewer with a lot to think about.

The following night - Jessica brought home "Fireproof" from Target. It is a fairly well known film starring Kirk Cameron. It is similar to Eyes Wide Shut in that it is also a story about a marriage on the brink. But it is not the type of movie that I would normally bring home. I am generally uninterested in much involving evangelical types such as Cameron. But the story is compelling, raw, and connective for anyone who has ever had a heated argument with a spouse of significant other.

I have been thinking over the past couple of weeks about the two movies. Their placement in my path was an opportunity to compare two very different portrayals of marriage. The first is captivating - bizarre - Kubrick. And admittedly, its purpose is to entertain, not better the viewer. The second film boasts of a much less impressive cast. Is trite by modern standards. And, ick, religious.

In the context of all this, I have been reading Confessions. St. Augustine spends a great deal of time talking about falling in love with philosophy. How ultimately, love of knowledge was not a substitute for the divine. He also spends time talking about great literature and poetry. I am not sure that I agree with his conclusions that these are largely a waste of time (literature and poetry). They give much color and frame of reference to our collective existence.

But I do think that Augustine is correct that the worldly will never serve as a substitute for the divine. That even with all of its apparent sophistication and ability to stimulate us intellectually - we have at our core a desire and a need to be deeply connected to the divine. As I reflected on these two films I thought about the conclusions that they leave us with. Cruise and his wife at a department store on the verge of a collapsed marriage. Concluding that it was not yet time to throw in the towel - and that they needed to get home and immediately do something very important ... . It was Kubrick. A bizarre ending.

Fireproof, and its message (albeit not as shiny and well acted) leaves us with the hope of a marriage anew. With two people submitting to something greater than themselves, humbled, and willing to serve. The messages could not be more different. Yet, the secular message seems to appeal to the masses more broadly (myself included). And thus, I came to my usual conclusion that the culture must be rejected. The earnest pursuit of the divine is really the only thing that is at the core of our being - worthwhile and meaningful.

Admittedly, I did wonder what Fireproof would have looked like if Kubrick had directed it.

Forget Separation of Church and State - what about Separation of Church and Business?

2009-11-17T06:02:00.000-08:00

I read yesterday, with interest, an article in the Atlantic which sets forth evidence that some churches may have been in bed with bankers in marketing sub-prime mortgages to parishioners - thereby at least contributing to the mortgage meltdown. See http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200912/rosin-prosperity-gospel. I suspect that in the aggregate this was not a widespread practice. But I was troubled that it occurred enough to make print. Especially when religious organizations and their money seem to be a collective untouchable political third rail - almost magically avoiding close and objective inspection.

I remember well the Biblical story of Solomon. He was blessed materially - but only when his priorities were right. His is a lesson we should look at closely. I fully believe that God wants me (and you) to prosper. However, the focus of modern prosperity gospel - and the sowing of financial "seeds" as a basis to show faith is one that makes me squirm. Especially when one considers that the leaders of some organizations feel they are entitled to live like rock stars on the offerings which are sent in by many, who frankly, should be saving their money. It is telling to me that several of the largest ministries have elected to thumb their noses at Congressional inquiries relating to their finances - instead, citing ostensible privacy rights under the First Amendment and separation of powers arguments. As reported by US News & World Report, http://www.usnews.com/articles/news/national/2008/02/15/investigating-televangelist-finances.html?PageNr=2. I often advise my own clients that the worst thing you can do in the face of allegations of financial impropriety is come up with reasons to not open the books for inspection. Although it may be an incorrect perception - most people will conclude that where there is smoke, there is usually fire.

As I recall - Jesus typically preached from a field or a house. He sent his disciples forth to grow the church. But somehow I doubt that he would be hitching a ride with Benny Hinn in his G3 or living in huge mansions. In fact, I'd bet you he would fly coach if he didn't take a Greyhound. What smacks of manipulation is the manner in which God has become business for some in the evangelical vocation. I think of the creepy high schooler telling his girlfriend that he loves her so that he can get what he wants. There is nothing more base and innocent than the desire of most of us to connect with the divine. I trust that there is a special place reserved for those who would manipulate spiritual "children" for their own financial benefit.

Some decry (or misunderstand) the efforts of the Framers to avoid the establishment of religion as a part of our political framework. Roger Williams, long forgotten by many - said upon arrival to our young country that forced worship stinks in the nostrils of God. Those words were burned into my consciousness by political philosopher Ethan Fishman. The interesting thing, and oft misunderstood fact - is that anti-establishment is designed to protect the fundamental integrity of the true spiritual message. I would urge that what believers may not realize is that there should be a self imposed separation between church and business. A two fold separation. One, that the church is not a marketplace in its own right (G3 flying pastors in fancy suits that cost more than the annual incomes of some parishioners). Second, that the Church should not flirt with impropriety such as that reported by the Atlantic article. Kickbacks and "church" should not be words written in the same sentence. I say this as I suspect that financial manipulation in the name of God may also stink in the nostrils of God. Probably not as notably as forced worship. But certainly requiring some type of divine Lysol.

A parsimonious silhouette, Etienne de Silhouette and the mirror.

2009-11-13T11:37:00.000-08:00

Imagine if etymology were as popular as Facebook! Though not nearly as kitch - the history of words is an interesting novelty. As sociological phenomenon, etymology is reflective of so much that emerges from culture. I have heard it said that the winner writes the history books. Perhaps the social architects and puppet masters write the dictionaries.

While ironing this week (dry cleaning is environmentally unsound, but more importantly - expensive), I heard a piece on NPR. It centered on the etymology of the word "silhouette." It sounds French, doesn't it? And it is. Interestingly, Messr Silhouette was a progressive French governmental type who played a significant role in the implementation of various social programs unpopular among the bourgeois. Much like another more modern historical figure. There is some speculation that Etienne de Silhouette's policies left the wealthy lighter in their pockets - and therefore, mere shadows of their former selves.

Another possible association is that his name was adopted as a less than complimentary gesture stemming from his affinity for thrifty "silhouette" type portraits.

Even those who achieve greatness seem to at some point fade to silhouette. I sometimes question what has happened to my drive. Is it a silhouette of the drive that I experienced in past years. And whether in order to avoid personal silhouette we must always be striving for something. But what and how much. It then occurs to me that much like each of us - the silhouette cast is governed by the direction of the sun and the direction we are facing. And that with growth our vantage point must necessarily change.

The first discussion is On Love

2009-11-03T06:13:00.000-08:00

I have told those close to me that I often feel like I am constantly learning the same things over and over again. I suppose that a good student only needs a particular lesson once or twice. I don't claim to be a good student. But I am stubborn. At both continuing to evince a need to learn particular lessons repeatedly. And also in not giving up because of this need for repeated instruction, which some might describe as a weakness.

As I get acquainted with different writers, thinkers, artists, spiritual giants - and the divine - I am constantly looking for consistent themes. They are not difficult to identify nor to forget. I am aware that I have rediscovered them when I get that all too familiar feeling - ah yes, here it is.

I packed my kids up this morning in the truck to head off to daycare with their mother. A copy of the The Prophet was in the backseat. I picked it up thinking I might have a few minutes to read this morning. When I opened it later - I looked at the Contents to figure out what was in order for the day. The first discussion is On Love. Those that follow are important but Love is the first discussion.

It was another of those moments. The greatest of these - of everything, is undeniable. We often seem to conclude for very seemingly serious and complex reasons that all problems cannot be solved with the subject of Gibran's first discussion. I avoid it when beckoned. I refuse to yield, usually because I am too afraid. But I am trying harder these days.

I'll leave you with Gibran himself this morning:

When love beckons to you, follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.

Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.

He kneads you until you are pliant;

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,

Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,

Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;

For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God."And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

Friday observations, "A peaceful life is a long life." So it is said.

2009-10-23T06:42:00.000-07:00

Gracian wrote:

To live, let live. Peacemakers not only live, they rule life. Hear, see, and be silent. A day without dispute brings sleep without dreams. Long life and a pleasant one is life enough for two - that is the fruit of peace. He has all that makes nothing of what is nothing to him. There is no greater perversity than to take everything to heart. There is equally folly in troubling our heart about what does not concern us and in not taking to heart what does.

I have always thought it ironic that Mahatma Gandhi was a lawyer (he must have been a transactional guy - not a litigator, right?!) I have been striving recently to think of my own sometimes contentious work as an opportunity to guide people through difficult situations, in a compassionate manner, rather than an opportunity to crush an opponent. Although, I must admit that I have told myself and others at times that it is our purpose in litigation to locate, close with, and destroy the enemy.

That happens to be the mission of a Marine Corps infantry squad.

I think it is impossible to internalize conflict (even other people's conflict) over an extended period of time, without it taking something from your soul.

The great lawyers, Presidents (Lincoln obviously comes to mind), and the great thinkers - all seem to place great emphasis on not taking any crap, but also striving to be peacemakers. And obviously, despite what Republicans and the likes of Rush - so obnoxious even the NFL doesn't want him - Limbaugh, would have you believe - even the true author of Christ based living had a lot more to say about love than gay marriage, prickly foreign policy, or anything else for that matter. No agenda with that observation other than reorienting to a simple question I must routinely pose to myself - what is my orientation?

So I will spend today trying to recognize (because they are there, I need only see them) opportunities to resolve conflict, seek the peace, and focusing on the relatively few things in this life that really matter.

What is your personal soundtrack?

2009-10-06T19:12:00.001-07:00

One of the most interesting interview questions I have ever heard was posed to yours truly by a stocky Cuban partner during an interview with a Miami law firm in 2000. The law firm thought it was a little fancier than it really was in my opinion. It wasn't a fit for either of us. But I digress. The Cuban seriously prepared his posture before asking this question. I was convinced I was going to get a geopolitical quandary, "You are holding a gun to the head of a terrorist who may have knowledge as to the location of a WMD which is about to .... "

Instead, he asked me who I would want to play me in an autobiographical movie. Mental deep breath and unloading of that .40 S & W I was going to need in the terrorist situation. Well, as a preliminary matter sir - that was not on my list of "be prepared for" interview questions. So I quickly maneuvered.

I told him confidently that busy schedule permitting, I would cast Ben Affleck. By way of disclaimer, this was before the nauseating Ben-ifer thing that happened a couple of years later. I reserve the right to change my actor post Ben-ifer. I didn't really know why I chose Ben at the time. He just seems to come across in interviews as a pretty normal, funny, real guy. So what he is mildly better looking than me. I think we get some license in that department when it comes to casting ourselves in hypothetical job interview movies. Had I been much more quick on the uptake, I could have really thrown the Cuban off and picked Ron Jeremy or the guy who played the Incredible Hulk. But I always get those great ideas later ... so frustrating.

One of the more interesting questions I have posed to others is what piece of music - singularly, could be presented as the soundtrack of their life. It is something I think of often and am always fascinated to hear other's responses.

I have often reflected on the following observation:

"The music a man holds closest to his heart may be the most accurate reflection of his soul."
Unknown

I have written previously (briefly) on the power of music. It possesses a raw power and is therefore always at risk of being used as a manipulative tool. But at its core music is good. I think music may even have a collective soul (not just the band)! If interested in further discussion, take a look at Ephemeral Music (largely a discussion of the role of music in modern religious marketing (marketing not being a pejorative reference here), July 13, 2009, at http://rmbpcola.blogspot.comsearch?updatedax=2009-07-27T07%3A21%3A00-07%3A00&max-results=7.

I was struck today by a piece of music that I came across while drafting. The track was played on Pandora - which I will shamelessly plug. If you would like to get mostly music you like and occasionally be surprised by something new that will wake you from soulful slumber - it may be the ticket for you, as it has been for me, www.pandora.com.

This piece by Ryan Farish took me away for a few minutes. And I was able to visualize on the big screen in my mind, all of the major pieces of Ryan history and events which have contributed to my current place. I was able to visually play those along to the auditory background of this evocative music. This unplanned process also seemed to help me objectify some of the experiences. Finding a medium which can in any measure assist in seeing things as objectively as possible is one of the great challenges. It might be right up there with thinking before opening one's mouth.

Learned objectivity is so scary because when effective, it can be a terrifyingly self deprecating experience. We are not always sure what the soundtrack and visual mental feed will evoke from the most important audience. You. The response may be one of pain or fear as much as it could be release or growth.

I have watched people cry at great music. Often music without any words. I didn't really understand this when I was younger. But compelling music has a way of touching us deeply within and bringing out buried feelings and memories that might remain otherwise dormant. I understand the real tears now.

I also felt grateful to be feeling a little inspired again. I feel like I am fighting an unending mental hangover lately. I have been sick and just generally in a place that is not productive for me. It is my black dog. At least Olmsted referred to it as that. The duration and violence of his visits are never known. But this piece of music felt like a lifeline to pull me back to the keys and dribble something out which may, just perhaps, speak to you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Swv0cXeVYjA&feature=related
Ryan Farish, as viewed October 6, 2009

Hopeful. Guarded. Smiling. Protected. Full of Potential. Reaching for the Divine. Patient. Calm but violently rocked by unseen waves. Hopefully not rushed in this life. Living. Wounded. Trying to be better. Humble when humbled. These are words that come to mind in my fantasy narrated trailer (by deep voiced guy who does Allstate commercials and PBS documentaries).

If you are feeling up to the challenge, do me one favor:

1. Pick your soundtrack. You only get one track. Sorry, I know that is really tough.
2. Listen to it and give me your imaginary narrated trailer.
3. If you know someone who might be interested, forward to them.

I would really like to post responses, so take a minute if you can. Whatever you are doing will be there when you get done. I promise.

Be well. Pray for yourself and others.

The Astronomer and the homeless gentleman.

2009-09-21T18:13:00.001-07:00

Jessica and I are enjoying a much needed break from the grind of everyday life.

As I was walking to move our car just a few minutes ago (I'll explain the paranoia in a moment), I thought about making a note to self. All of the static that seems like a big deal really isn't. It is overload. Over-stimulation. And I have often convinced myself that I am above it. That my stress and anger could not be the product of anything but worthy stimulation.

Even as I enjoy some quiet time over the last few days - I have not been able to completely disconnect. I spent 15 minutes on the phone with my assistant before dinner fussing over the filing of a witness list in a Federal case. But admittedly, it just doesn't seem real important from here. For that, distance is good.

Oh yeah, they will tow your car here. To the tune of $200. Just in case you were thinking of parking in a "bus" lane in Montreal - whatever the hell that is.

After a great Polish dinner, I took a seat at a bench in a park about a block from where we are staying. As I sat there, I saw a short older gentleman with a small telescope standing near the street. He was flagging down passersby and offering them a view. Gratis. My initial thought was that I would love to take a look, but assumed that he expected a dollar in return (we have learned that novelties on streets are not always expecting payment - such as the time when, in our drinking days, Jessica posed with an albino python in New Orleans - the day before Katrina made landfall, no less. The owner of the snake looked surprised when I gave him a few dollars, and I overheard him tell a friend as he walked away that he had found a great money making possibility). But as I watched the man with the telescope, a smile crept on my face. I realized he was not looking for payment - he was simply, and excitedly, sharing. After a few minutes, a homeless man approached. And the short gentleman was just as gracious in letting him look and giving very enthusiastic explanations in French as he had with the others. And the homeless man graciously expressed his thanks before walking away. Watching them somehow gave me a little bit of faith in humanity.

When Jessica caught up with me at the bench, I walked over and took a look at Jupiter and four moons and talked for a few minutes. He picked up a textbook from the ground and told us a little about Galileo and his first telescopes. It was a charming encounter. And I walked away from that man with a smile stretching from ear to ear.

It is wonderful to see kindness and excitement. Even more wonderful to see them simultaneously. I am grateful that the divine knew I was about to crack - and sent me on a trip with my wife to find a novice astronomer in a park. Au revoir.

Reprieve II

2009-09-17T06:30:00.000-07:00

There is often a struggle in measuring whether our default coping skills strengthen or weaken us. I came across the following this morning and thought it worthwhile to share:

IV, 3 Men seek retreats for themselves, houses in the country, sea-shores, and mountains; and thou too art wont to desire such things very much. But this is altogether a mark of the most common sort of men, for it is in thy power whenever thou shalt choose to retire into thyself. For nowhere, either with more quiet or more freedom from trouble, does a man retire into his own soul, particularly when he has within him such thoughts that by looking into them he is immediately in perfect tranquility ; and I affirm that tranquility is nothing else than the good ordering of the mind.

Meditations of Marcus Aurelius

I am common. Standing on the shore gives me a sense of perspective unparalleled by all other efforts to grasp my place. But more importantly, I am considering the difference between turning within for the purposes of retreat versus reprieve. Are they the same? Is one less productive than the other? I also wonder what you do when you seek either. I wonder what thoughts MA refers to as bringing immediate tranquility. I welcome your reflections on these questions.

President Obama's speech, rednecks, and the establishment

2009-09-11T07:56:00.000-07:00

The Escambia County Superintendent announced this week that President Obama's recent speech to school kids was to be previewed for "appropriateness" before it would be shown to local students. Mind you that I live a few miles from the county (Santa Rosa), where the ACLU has taken the recent opportunity to make north Floridians look a collective case of Deliverance. Despite being ordered not to incorporate prayer as part of the school day - administrators have elected to thumb their noses at the federal District Court. Mind you, I am a man of faith. But the legal question of religion as a compulsive part of the school day is well settled. The two aren't to mix. I almost wish that a Wiccan would start incorporating Satan worship (or whatever they do), or perhaps a Muslim teacher leading kneeling to the west (or east, or whatever direction it is). Or perhaps an Indian smoking some peyote with your third grader. Perhaps only then would the reason that we keep religion out of schools be clear to some of the God fearin' folks of this region. Break it down in what I like to call "Barney style."

But perhaps then, the public would have to accept that it isn't the job of the government to tend to the spiritual health of our children. Perhaps it is the job of government to tend to secular education, national defense - hell, maybe even basic healthcare. But not the spiritual health of our children.

Interestingly, even after sufficient time passed for my daughter's school to review the speech for appropriateness, it was still never shown. I am having trouble understanding why.

But the answer is painfully obvious. The establishment will always promote the status quo. Even when things are upside down. And people frequently don't like to hear the truth. And Obama's message was essentially that the schools (read establishment) are really quite limited in what they can do. You are ultimately responsible for your own success or failure.

What other reason could school administrators have for withholding a speech from the President of the United States that espouses the following:

1. Work really hard. As hard as you can.
2. Government and your parents can only do so much.
3. You are the future of our country.

Reprieve

2009-09-07T18:05:00.000-07:00

On occasion, I retreat.

It is often the result of an unpleasant encounter or overload.

I find solace in the confines of my soul. I remember as a child - retreat on a more literal level. When stressed, I would "bring all my things in." I would avoid the outside by making sure I had as few opportunities for contact as possible. My shoes in the closet. All toys stowed. It usually lasted a few hours. And then I came back out. Nowadays it seems to last for a few days at a minimum, sometimes longer.

No longer do I retire to a bedroom. But it does feel like a big wooden door shutting behind me - just in my mind. My hand hits the knob when I am rocked by waves and dark clouds. Usually the fear of failure or duplicative error is present. Often sweeping in powerfully and in an unexpected fashion. Confusion, like the first moments of waking, when all is unclear, foreign, and unfamiliar. Fear, all consuming, like the most powerful of our memories. Grasping for sanity like a fish out of water. My mind like drowning lungs. Filled with material which can only lead to demise. Choking out the light. And so I offer up my plea for reprieve. And it comes faithfully. But not always as fast as I would like.

Little Rascals, friends, and a discussion between heart and mind

2009-09-04T04:44:00.000-07:00

I remember quite well the characters in the 1994 remake of The Little Rascals, shaking their heads as Alfalfa (who I had sympathy for, partly because I share some of his goofy physical features) displayed his love for Darla. But they never foreclosed him. This is perhaps the beauty of a good friendship. Honest (even in error), but patient.

I consider myself fortunate to count among my friends a wide range of persons. It is a good thing not to be overly incestuous in developing your clan. I have encountered some who prefer to only run in one circle. Only others in the same socioeconomic group. Only other whites. Only other blacks. Only other church people. Only others in the same profession. How boring.

But I have puzzled with dealing with friendships where I either become concerned that distance reflects an affront to me, or where it becomes apparent that interaction is not healthy for whatever reason.

Jefferson made these observations in a dialogue between his "head" and his "heart," in a 1786 letter to Mrs. Cosway:

I shall never envy nor control your sublime delights (heart speaking to the head here). But leave me to decide, when and where friendships are to be contracted ... You say, I contract them at random. So you said the woman at Philadelphia was a drunkard (in this dialogue, he wrestled with whether he should exercise kindness and give to a drunk woman - his head ultimately reasoning and prevailing in that she would drink the money away). I receive none into my esteem, till I know they are worthy of it. Wealth, title, office, are no recommendations to my friendship. On the contrary, great good qualities are requisite to make amends for their having wealth, title, and office.

Jefferson was speaking of the tension between higher thinking (even if subconscious) to select friends and selection at "random." There is something to be said for choosing to intentionally interact with those who enrich our lives. But I also agree with his heart that random selection, being little more than intuition, is also appropriate in many cases.

At first, I read his comments on "contracting" as "contraction," or allowing a friendship to go through seasons, as opposed to the formation of a friendship "contract," a concept not common today, but still used to describe marriage. Contraction as the friendship blossoms at some points in time but exists dormant in others. Meaning not the death of the friendship in its winter, but cyclical vacillation being natural. Read this way, Jefferson's observations are both comforting and doubly pointed.

I am grateful this morning for my many good friends. Many of whom take the time to tolerate my random ruminations and bring color to my existence. If I have not told you lately - thank you.

Reflections on my 32nd year ...

2009-09-01T09:00:00.000-07:00

I celebrated my 31st birthday yesterday. My gift is a good life.

I have been trading letters with a young friend of mine. He is on vacation at Parris Island, South Carolina, all expenses covered and entertainment provided courtesy of the good people of the United States Marine Corps. He seems to be doing well. It has been somewhat reminiscent to hear his stories. They bring me back to my time there in 1996.

If I had to guess - he was anxious about going. I was. Most people are. In my life, any tendency to allow fear to drive my interaction with this world stems from a desire to be in control. I sent my friend a copy of one 1763 letter from Thomas Jefferson to his friend, Page. I thought the letter fitting and a good reminder of proper perspective. I will try to apply it better in my 32nd year in this life - and Cody would do well to remember it while a guest in South Carolina:

As you read this very moment, young Recruit Cody may be thinking to himself, "It is divine will that I am about to experience muscle failure and vomit all over myself. I feel better now."

Well, it works most of the time.

The most fortunate of us, in our journey through life, frequently meet with calamities and misfortunes which may greatly afflict us; and, to fortify our minds against the attacks of these calamities and misfortunes, should be one of the principal studies and endeavors of our lives. The only method of doing this is to assume a perfect resignation to the Divine will, to consider that whatever does happen, must happen; and that, by our uneasiness, we cannot prevent the blow before it does fall, but we may add to its force after it has fallen. These considerations, and others such as these, may enable us in some measure to surmount the difficulties thrown in our way; to bear up with a tolerable degree of patience under this burthen of life; and to proceed with a pious and unshaken resignation ... Thomas Jefferson

Summers in Maine

2009-08-30T14:08:00.000-07:00

I wrote this in 2006. I hope you enjoy it.

Summers in Maine had always been somewhat of a mystery. I never really remembered exactly what happened the following fall. And I never really remembered what had happened the spring before I got there. But all time was split and referenced by those summers on the coast.
My grandfather bought the cottage when I was a toddler. Many of my first memories are on the shallow bluffs overlooking the ocean. I remember the taste of sea salt.
The summer of 1945 was different. My cousin James returned from the war that summer. He spent three weeks at a hospital in New York nursing a wound and thereafter came to the beach at my aunt’s behest. The women of the family thought it would do Jimmy good to spend a month or two away from it all.
I remember when the cab dropped him off. He emerged slowly as if burdened by some force that I couldn’t see. As I looked down the line at my family, there was a collective sinking. Like the exhaling of a deep breath. He took his bags from the trunk and walked down the pathway toward the front of the cottage. My mother and aunt went running out. We hadn’t seen Jimmy in damn near three years. On that day, I remember my aunt’s apron quivering from the force of her sobbing. She cried that way only twice in my life. Jimmy was expressionless.
I was uncomfortable – and when Jimmy didn’t return any of the emotion exhibited by his mother, the sinking feeling turned to tension. It was subtle but there. We all went inside. Lunch was waiting on the patio. Jimmy sat down and though volunteering little – began to answer questions to which we already knew most of the answers. But we asked anyway. He tolerated our questions for half hour or so.
My aunt remarked after lunch that Jimmy must be exhausted from his travels. As a young boy that comment had always aggravated me, as much as a young boy can be aggravated. I had no idea how sitting on a bus, or a train, or a ship could be so exhausting. All you did was sit there. I was dying to ask Jimmy how many Japs he had killed and what it was like to carry a gun. Did he have his own rifle? Had he earned any medals? But I had been beat to the punch. There would be no questions until Jimmy got a chance to sleep.
I took off with our dog - Jackson. We ran up and down the rocky shore. At some point, I fell asleep beneath a large tree about half-mile from the cottage. I dreamt of the next quarter at my prep academy. Maybe the headmaster would ask me to play football. He hadn’t asked last year, but perhaps things would be different. I had grown an inch or two after all. The grass on the field was especially green in my dream.
I woke to Jackson stirring about me. I could hear my mother calling faintly over the rising tide. I stood up to shake the dirt from my hair. The air was just cool enough to prompt me to trot back to the cottage. When I walked in, the record player was stuck on a scratch. I would have tried to fix it, but had been sternly directed a few days earlier not to touch the record player under any circumstances. This most likely due to the fact that I had a tendency to drag the needle.
My aunt and mother were sitting at the table. My uncle was reclining in the living room with Jimmy and my father. Dad waved for me to come over. I hopped up in his lap and leaned my head back on his chest. They talked about the upcoming World Series until Mom called us to dinner. Dad picked me up like a rag doll and set me squarely on the ground before swatting me on the rear. I looked back to see him smiling at me.
My aunt cooked a hell of a roast beef. She said it was the only thing Jimmy would eat when he was a kid. He tried to act excited, but didn’t eat much. I figured he must have still been tired from all that sitting in boats and buses on his way back from the front. After a few nibbles on my mothers’ allegedly world famous lemon icebox pie, Jimmy excused himself and stepped out to smoke on the patio. All the adults at the table clammed up after he left, but I didn’t pay much attention.
My mom started to stop me when I excused myself and headed for the door too. But she stopped and waved me on. Jimmy was sitting on an old railroad tie and gave me a half smile.
“You smoking yet,” he asked.
I was thrilled that he thought I was old enough to have started, being the ripe age of eight and all. I would have said yes, but was afraid that I would be obligated to do it. I had seen my friend Randy try a drag of his old man’s cigarette a few days ago and knew that I would probably end up depositing my dinner into the ocean.
“Nah, you know how Mom is.”
He took a slow drag off the cigarette. We talked about my prep school. I told him all the same old teachers were there that had been when he went through. He shook his head and smiled. We sat there for a few minutes, not really saying much. Just listening to the ocean and occasionally looking back inside to see what the old folks were doing.
“Tell me what it was like,” I said.
“What do you mean,” he replied. “The war, what’s it like?”
Jimmy looked down at his cigarette. He stood up and tussled my hair and walked back inside. I hadn’t said anything else – mostly out of embarrassment. Who knew, maybe he was still tired.
The summer went on like that for a few weeks. Me probing Jimmy about the war and him never answering me. He was never ugly about it. Usually just ignored me the way a mother might ignore a child who asks over and over again for a piece of candy at the grocery. I finally gave up. Jimmy got a good tan that summer and met a girl who lived a few cottages down the way. They spent a lot of time together, to my disappointment. I had no use for girls.
I packed off and headed back to Connecticut in early August. Mom and I went through the usual pre-school rites. There would be the trip to Sears and Roebuck to get four pairs of khakis. She said I needed a new sweater but that it could wait until the weather cooled. And so life went on. School and summers in Maine.
I enlisted in the Army when I was seventeen. You would have thought I told my mother I had signed up to be a human cannonball. She wailed for days. Of the many things that took place over that year, I remember the trip to Korea. I was scared shitless – and so was everyone else. But most of the guys there hadn’t passed up Yale to come to Korea as a private.
It was a blur. I saw so many things. A dead man for the first time. A dead woman for the first time. I saw men break under the stress of the war – most cracking slowly under the isolation of our occupation. Men who learned of their wives’ weakness via letters from home. Births and death of family members – all occurring is some alternate, more sane universe that we thought still existed elsewhere. I took my wound in November, after seven months, losing my right leg at the knee.
When I arrived at Bethesda, Maryland, mother came to visit me. I remember being happy to see her but being numb. There was disappointment mixed with the relief in her face. She told me that the family would be at the beach house in a few weeks and that I should go there. I told her I would think about it.
After two months of therapy, I took her up on the offer. I was ready to get away from the smell of disinfectant and death. The bus ride to Maine was a full day. I sat next to a woman from Nashville who didn’t stop talking long enough to allow me to pretend to have fallen asleep. When I arrived at the cottage, the scene was familiar. Several of my family members were there to greet me. Their hugs had a ceremonial feel. Jimmy was there and was the last in line. But he didn’t hug me. He shook my hand and grabbed my bag.
Jackson was long gone – but I went for a walk after I unpacked. More houses had sprung up along the shore down the way from our place. Most were bigger and generally obnoxious. But other than the new houses, things were as they had been. I recognized the lay of the land, the trees where I had burrowed forts nearby, and the feel of the rocky shore under my shoes.
That night after dinner I sat out on the patio. Jimmy walked out not long after I did and sat down on the chair next to me. I offered him a cigarette. He told me he quit years ago. We watched the sun go down.
“So, tell me what it was like.”
And I wanted to tell him but the knot in my throat wouldn’t let me. I stood up and put my hand on his shoulder as I walked inside.

Review: Way more to "The Reader" than topless Kate Winslet

2009-08-29T20:18:00.000-07:00

Grandma to the rescue - giving Jessica and me a Friday night sans kids. After pondering why the local theatre had movies starting 7ish, but the next wave not until after 10 (PM), we ended up at Target to buy a DVD for home. We picked up "The Reader," starring Kate Winslet, Ralph Fiennes, and newcomer David Koss. "Erotic tale .... " was enough to prompt my suggestion, "hey, this looks good." We men remain fairly predictable, don't we.

It turned out the erotic threads were ... weird. If you haven't seen the movie, I won't ruin it for you, but lets just say that Winslet's character is an admirer of youth.

But the movie left me wrestling with what I felt for the characters and trying to understand what I should to be feeling. Some of the deleted scenes were even more evocative of this confusing ambiguity and are very much worth watching.

Among the many questions, the obvious role of social conditioning in categorizing appropriate and inappropriate sexual behavior. A topic that always fascinates me for its raw ability to convince most everyone that they know the answer. However, while sex is the commercial hook for many a sucker (count myself among them), it really is a very small piece of the story which eventually unfolds.

What was more fascinating to me was the exploration of Germany's Nazi experience. It is really incredible that in modern western civilization, a nation could be responsible for the atrocities that were carried out. Winslet's character shows us that collective, existential, cold logic without the difficult to quantify emotional ability which accompanys a healthy soul, precipitates en mass bizarre and terrifying moral relativism. The conversation in the truck ride to the death camp (incredibly a deleted scene) communicates this more effectively than any other scene in the film. It embodies the disconnect between understanding the chaos which would ensue after opening the doors of a burning church which contains prisoners in your charge, and the fundamental moral failure in not doing so.

But Winslet's character ultimately punishes herself more so that the tribunal would have had all the germane evidence been presented (foremost, her illiteracy). But like any good story we are served something smacking of redemption and are then forced to decide whether it can possibly be sufficient to recompense her moral shortcomings. It caused me pause and reflection unlike any film I have seen in quite some time. And I suspect that it may be that it is one of the rare films where the director intends (and succeeds) in making us extremely uncomfortable, angry, compassionate, but ultimately unsettled in what the collective experience represents.

Some have been critical of the film as attempting to gloss over the horrors of the Holocaust, even making claims of exploitative entertainment at the cost of a stern condemnation of Nazi crimes. I don't see it. It is a tasteful challenge to many preconceptions, artfully baiting us, but demanding its thoughtful viewers to look closer at a number of phenomena of varying degrees of weight. And of course, I can appreciate that.

Meeting the Mafia. An unusual morning in the life of a small town lawyer.

2009-08-27T08:59:00.000-07:00

It is easy for those of us with a little education and a steady socioeconomic base to judge. We are all guilty of it. Even without realizing it, we often view people in context and make snap judgments. That homeless person is lazy. That hypocritical religious blowhard is yet another reason why I shy from religion and spiritual development. That drug addict is a sorry excuse for a human being.

I have often wrestled with the balance between compassion and trying to remain emotionally detached from people (other than my immediate family). It is somewhat difficult for me to articulate why this is a personal challenge. Even as I am writing, I have trouble understanding why I feel this way. In some respects, when I am too compassionate, too open, it takes me to a dark place. It makes my outlook very negative and gloomy, affecting me deeply. As a result, I have increasingly tended to lean to the Stoic approach of really disregarding why others do what they do. Not in a cold way, but rather putting my energy toward a focus on my own spiritual development and attempts at honorable conduct at all times. I have not intentionally sought to reduce my level of compassion for others, but really have tried not to spend as much time trying to "figure out" or judge. That can be hard for a rational thinker - to look at someone engaged in behavior we don't relate to, and accept that there may be things going on that we don't understand. But even there - we have to maintain balance in thought. Obviously, of the numerous obese people running around in our nation, there are many who simply eat too much. Of those who use drugs and alcohol to a self-destructive level, there are some who simply prefer, for whatever reason, the insanity and lifestyle incipient to excess use. But many are simply searching for the divine that they feel inside themselves and in the air around them - but cannot understand or grasp.

I met recently with an individual who is experiencing a criminal legal situation. Throughout the course of his case, it has become very clear that he is an active heroin user, among other things. When asked about recovery, he responded that he "did it himself (recovery)," and that meetings, etc., were a waste of time. Having seen first hand the ravages of addiction in many of my clients, and a number of family members, I can say, authoritatively, that it is an infinitesimally small percentage of persons who are able to recover from any addiction on their own. It requires the recognition of the divine (higher power), conditioning, engagement, and a strong support network. As Frank told me of his self designed recovery plan (mind you, in my office for a drug charge), my thoughts were none other than, "Yes, that sure seems to be working for you."

And I was immediately drawn into my cynical thought pattern. What a waste of a guy who was otherwise relatively interesting to talk to, foreign accent and all. Through the course of our discussions, it was disclosed that someone at a local restaurant he frequented had learned of some of his history in a foreign city. But he was cryptic about it and seemed concerned that the authorities here would also learn of this history. So when he left I did a Google search for his name and the city. An article popped up which explained, in fascinating detail, the story surrounding this individual's past. He came from a Sicilian family - literally out of The Godfather. Frank had been involved in a cocaine distribution ring and was sentenced to six years in prison in his twenties.

When I next spoke with Frank, we discussed the article I had found. One of the events mentioned was the death of the patriarch's brother. Frank told me that man had been his father, and that he had been shot when he was eight years old. Still skeptical, he confirmed many of other facts mentioned in the article before I was fully convinced. And then the light came on. It didn't take Freud to figure out that knowing your father was shot at eight, and then being essentially mentored by an uncle patriarch with deep ties in organized crime, leads to an individual with some social issues. But we wouldn't ordinarily see the full story, and our measure of this person would be quite limited. I appreciate free will - but I also believe a lot in the power of environmental factors.

It was a reminder to me that our first impressions are not always fully informed and that there is a lot of hurt out in this big world. It doesn't excuse antisocial and criminal activity. But I think we should be sensitive, if nothing else, to those within our circle of influence who are struggling with demons. There is often something deep in their history. We should be willing to engage when the opportunity arises and help air out, bring to light, and deal with the events in our history which often rob us of peace. This will often require a very careful, delicate, but convincing appeal to the sovereignty of the divine. And that is something that most of us, even in the absence of addiction, are terrified of.

* For the protection of the anonymity and confidentiality of those who are discussed, names, places, times, and details of the story have been modified.

Extremists

2009-08-25T09:15:00.001-07:00

My theory on extremists?

Run from them. Really, run like you are running from a rabid drunk fat girl at a dive bar at 2:30 A.M.

One of the best short articles I have read in recent memory as to the dangers of political extremism. If only foresight were half as good as that 20/20 we get when all is said and done.

http://www.economist.com/world/unitedstates/displaystory.cfm?story_id=14258768

Have a great day.

P.S. For the record, the political cartoon is satirical. Please, please do not interpret my comments at all as suggesting that the reasonable discussion and examination of gun control, health care, or any other divisive issue is equivalent to war. I generally prefer that government stay the hell out of my business, but discourse is good. When people can't or don't want to talk - that is when you should .... well, see first lines above.

Diagnose what robs you of peace with a simple test.

2009-08-25T06:11:00.000-07:00

In my own self examination, I have developed a simple test. It is not my own, I don't hold a patent or copyright. I have simply discovered it for myself.

I have learned that it is the things that we keep tucked away neatly in the darkest corners of our mind which are most likely to rob us of our peace.

The manner in which these things can be identified is relatively easy. There is no requirement for extensive therapy or some psychological test.

Simply reflect on your secrets.

What do I hide? What happened in the past that I have been unable to forgive myself for. What am I doing now that gnaws at my calm. Our souls have been given the gift of regeneration by the divine. When we are willing to acknowledge our failures and turn from them and reorient to the divine, there is a chance at peace and contentment.

The refusal to orient to the divine invariably leads to neurotic behavior and unending restlessness. And a continued desire to find something - anything, to satiate that need for divine light in the otherwise empty and dark halls of our souls.

Be A Person of Observation and Judgment

2009-08-24T06:07:00.000-07:00

Gracian wrote of this maxim:

Such a person rules things, not they him. He quickly plumbs the most profound depths. He knows how to get at the anatomy of character. On seeing a person he understands him and judges his inmost nature. From a few observations he deciphers what is most hidden. Keen observation, subtle insight, judicious inference - with these he discovers, notices, grasps, and comprehends everything.

I have been reconciling this with reading from Marcus Aurelius, who follows the time tested rule of repetition, having communicated to me: 1. Don't waste your time thinking about other people, and why they do anything, 2. Constantly examine yourself, 3. Be honorable in everything. But even he failed to always follow this model. But that is a discussion for another day.

I have been wrestling with these two opposing views of understanding those around me. Frankly, I feel better when I take the Stoic approach. Don't care, nor do I wish to - as to the nature and root of why those around me do what they do. I can make myself crazy trying to unravel neurosis other than my own. This compared to Gracian's maxim here - which suggests that true wisdom comes with being able to observe deeply, and the ability to do it intuitively.

Probably yet another of the balances that must be struck. I think that Aurelius is right about 80% of the time. The remaining 20%, it is probably important to strive to look deeper. Of course, then arises the quandary of how one develops this ability (because it seems to me it must be learned) when it is done fairly rarely.

It should be an interesting week.

Fresh Cut Flowers. A Georgetown Livingroom Part II.

2009-08-20T11:08:00.000-07:00

One of the interesting and great things about discourse is having the unseen revealed to you. After posting Fresh Cut Flowers, A Georgetown Livingroom, I got an email from a good friend with further observations and comments on the real messages behind the Kennedy photo (see the original post below).

My friend's comments got me interested in looking more closely at not only the question of the photo's metaphysical implications as to the actors themselves, but also what the projection was meant to depict, and in turn program, with respect to the mass politic.

For me - what is the first and most obvious impression projected by the photograph? The subjects of the photo are clearly placed according to gender. Although we cannot tell, it appears that Jackie is perusing what is probably a coffee table art book, or something of the sort. JFK is reading the newspaper. Notice also that the couple is seated at a distance. Not close enough to suggest that messy overt sexual energy exists between then. Close enough to give the impression that this image is that of them engaged in a dignified class caste activity that while not being joint, is not entirely unilateral. This very clear gender portrayal was further expounded by much of the material in the Sotheby's guide, which chronicle's Jackie's role in updating the White House decor. Contrast this with the role of Hillary Clinton during the first Clinton administration and attempts at universal health care.

Hillary Clinton was "testosterone-ized" as a result of her aggressive position on real policy questions, rumored to be a masculine lesbian, and was generally questioned for her desire to break out of the traditional role of first lady.

When traditional projections of the idealized post 1950 American family, such as that seen in the Kennedy photo, are challenged - there exists an almost schizophrenic push back. This is curious when we consider that the traditional 1950ish mores are generally rejected today as being out of date and antiquated.

What exists is perhaps an evolution from a social construct in which women (and men) were forced into and expected to exhibit certain gender behavior. This meets today with a social condition wherein the roles of gender are not so clearly defined, but where we sometimes seem to have inate feelings on gender that continue to exist despite decreasing traditional social conditioning. This is then compounded by socially blurred views on what is gender appropriate and what is not. For instance, even now when a male is placed in the role of the caregiver in the domestic setting (thereby relieving a female of that obligation), he is criticized by known and unknown detractors who would describe his behavior and not being feminine, nor masculine. The aggressive woman is viewed as masculine (often "butch lesbianized" in a sexually repulsive manner, even if she is not a lesbian).

All too often when we find the behavior of an individual, or perceived group of individuals, as being offensive, we are quick to look for differences. Does their skin look different? Do they have the same reproductive organs? Do they have the same accent? For those who are not inclined to really critically examine real issues at play, it is much easier to tacitly identify and emotionally respond to these visceral differences, rather than engage in meaningful intellectual examination of whatever issue it is that really troubles us.

Perhaps in due course we will not be so obsessed with what roles are acceptably male and female. Perhaps we will socially recognize the importance of very intimate and engaged child rearing with children of young age - whether or not by a man or woman. But what may be more interesting is our social examination of the question in coming years as to whether there are certain roles for which the genders are naturally more inclined. And whether in all our advancement, equality, and grand thinking, we will be able to accept and embrace that.

To be continued.

Fresh cut flowers. A Georgetown Livingroom.

2009-08-16T13:15:00.000-07:00

In the past, I often felt compelled to read certain books, even when they were not interesting to me. It is a strange self imposed torture, perhaps an offering to the altar of self discipline.

I don't do it so much these days. I have come to something of an understanding that it is simply fine to read what interests me at the moment. And while an educational foundation in certain pieces of classical literature is perhaps important, if for nothing more than establishing a canvas upon which other reading will be painted, the reading gods - if they exist, are perfectly happy as long as you are reading something. And thus, like many others, there is usually a collection of varied books on my nightstand in different stages of consumption. Presently, the Bible, Nietzsche, a collection of essays by Twain, a collection of Jefferson's letters, a book of puzzles, Steinbeck's Red Pony (just finished, only because it is an easy 100 pages), and a few others. I have reached contentment in being something of a disorganized, but happy reader. I have also come to be comfortable with buying a book, with full knowledge that I may not read it for several years.

I recently picked up one of the books that I found in a Lubbock, Texas bookstore several years ago. It is a Sotheby's auction guide to the Jacqueline Kennedy-Onassis estate sale in 1996. It is fascinating. Like many others, I am drawn to anything Kennedy with a sense of intrigue and morbid curiosity. As I looked through the Sotheby's guide, I came across a photo of JFK and Jackie sitting in their Georgetown living room. It is evocative, like something out of a black and white Ralph Lauren ad. He is reading the Washington Post and she has her legs neatly positioned, book in hand. The living room is perfectly appointed and elegant beyond repose. Fresh flowers articulately positioned in a vase. Everything in perfect order. Even the black and white hues of the photo are intentional, as to hide any of the disorderliness that color itself might create.

How dubious. I wonder what was really on their minds. Was he contemplating his next extramarital indiscretion? Was she thinking about whether she really wanted to be married to power, or perhaps something genuine? I have often wondered if the calm that she demonstrated after the President's assassination, which has been such an integral part of her legacy, was at least in part the result of some kind of unspeakable relief. So often the images that we portray are faux. We work hard to keep up projections of success, order, and calm. While all the often many of us suffer from ongoing tumultuous internal hurricanes which are more frequently than not misunderstood and unaddressed. Facing the hurricane and looking into it allows us to better appreciate our own destructive capability, potential, and beauty. And perhaps facing the storm allows us some semblance of a chance of seeing the sun finally come out.

I suspect that neither JFK nor Jackie ever really faced their storms. I think they knew the storms were there, but distant, like rarely visited relatives. Were they deeply unsettled? Were his indiscretions a way to escape? Was her acceptance of his philandering something other than duty bound - perhaps a deeply ingrained programming to be properly socially placed?

Like Biblical David - JFK's indiscretion was begot at the cost of many horrible things which were brought to bear upon his family, despite his appointed time with history. What was really going on behind this picture of a rising couple? I see little more than self deception. I suppose there might have been a quiet, perhaps unrecognized desire to break out. A yearning for calm which was misled by a search for power and place. I didn't see it at first. Just look past the fresh cut flowers.

Collections

2009-08-12T06:59:00.001-07:00

There is a strata of encounters which I do just fine without.

Sometimes I take for granted that I am able to avoid them for the most part. For instance, two years ago we rented a larger home while we figured out if we were going to add on to the home we owned, or buy another. I hated answering to a landlord who dropped by several times unannounced. I didn't like the feeling of living somewhere that wasn't mine. I get that the bank owns my house right now - but it is mine. And as long as I can keep making the payments, nobody is dropping by to check in.

I got a message from a collections agency here in Pensacola on Monday. I immediately called back. The lady on the other end was difficult and unhappy that I wouldn't give her my other phone numbers and various pieces of personal information. We ended up straightening out the mix-up (my wife did rather, after I hung up on the charming lady at the collections office). I am sure she has a hard job and deals with a lot of deadbeats. Suffice it to say that it was not the manner in which I usually try to deal with people, but I couldn't take it. I find myself angry very quickly when I am shown disrespect. The only time I have ever threatened to sue anyone (personally) was in law school when a local collections outfit set their sights on me for allegedly not paying a bill that wasn't mine. We got it cleared up when I showed up at the office after they refused to meet with me. Upon arrival, I confirmed that the office was where I should have service of process made. The mix-up got quickly resolved.

In college, I worked for a low end eyeglass store. It seemed that the most difficult customers were from a very readily identifiable socioeconomic caste. Regardless of the level of professionalism exhibited by the employees, many of them were simply impossible to deal with. This was combined with low level corporate bureaucrats who were enamored with the word, "per ... ." My gag reflex is inconsolable when I hear the words, "Per so and so .... we need to do this or that." People who like the corporate model and its goofy vocabulary are usually pretty dull. You can think of the person you know who thinks their corporate employer is the greatest and most benevolent thing since Ben & Jerry's.

These are the experiences I don't miss. Dealing with landlords. Low level corporate bureaucrats. And the people that people who can't or don't pay their bills are forced to deal with.

Perhaps God was just reminding me on Monday to be patient. I wasn't very patient so he'll probably just keep teaching me the same lesson until I get it. But I sure was grateful that I seem to avoid most of these encounters which might otherwise drive me to drink. A lot.

4:00 AM, dogs, rope, and brown spots on the lawn.

2009-08-05T06:18:00.000-07:00

Once about every six months or so I wake up at an unGodly hour. Usually somewhere around the 4:00 AM mark. It is a bizarre occurrence. It is also very odd in that I can remember for years to follow exactly what I do on these bizarre early morning rousings. I usually get up and go running, come home and cook breakfast, and watch TV. Today it was an old movie about Pearl Harbor on AMC. Last time it was a documentary about the Queen of England's last state visit (president Bush gaffed and mentioned her last visit in the "1800s" as I recall).

And so my day began a little after 4:00 this morning. I tossed around and tried to go back to sleep without luck. So I got up and tried to wake my (9) year old up to see if she wanted to go running with me. She was gracious, but basically told me to buzz off. The dog (Simon) was willing, but we couldn't find the leash. So I tied him to a ten foot piece of rope that was in the back of my truck. He ran beside me unrestrained, rope in tow. We were a motley pair.

As I was getting started, I began to wonder why I didn't get up and do this more often. And I started to grumble, thinking to myself that I need to be more disciplined.

Some friends of ours recently had a discussion as to what the greater likelihood was - that the brown spots in their yard would overtake the green grass, or that the green grass, if cultivated, would overtake the brown spots.

I think that sometimes I worry that my defects will assuredly overtake the things that I do right (the few). I have been trying to keep in perspective that cultivating the good is often times more effective than focusing strenuously on shortcomings. It is easy to become obsessed with shortcomings. And this somehow almost seems to make them amplified. Tell me that I am weak for eating ice cream, and all I will want is a double scoop of mint chocolate in a deep fried waffle.

This is not to suggest that introspection is bad or that striving to grow should be avoided. But for me at least - the deep digging and self examination requires efforts to simply cultivate the good that already exists. Otherwise all I see is the brown spots in the lawn. And that just seems to be a waste of the green.

Children

2009-08-01T21:13:00.000-07:00

Gibran wrote that our children do not belong to us. They pass through us.

They are our last best opportunities.

I got to spend the morning with mine riding bikes. We rode past the office of another attorney in town. He is much more well known than I am. And has way more money than I do. And he drives a Bentley. And he was at work on Saturday morning (got there by Bentley, which was parked at his office).

The bike was way cooler than the Bentley.

Friday

2009-07-31T06:54:00.001-07:00

I am looking out the window of my office. The rain is peppering the parking lot pretty good.

I took a few minutes to read this morning. I am feeling incredibly grateful for all that I have been blessed with. Almost to the point that I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. Part of my insanity.

I came across the following:

emergent expectations
the grace of peace abounds
in my futile attempts to understand the greatness
that is at the tip of my perception
why I don't always see the beauty
and the opportunity of pain

but in this moment
there is little confusion
little unsatisfied nagging
only calm
and the warms rays of the divine
shining on my face

Ricci

Music

2009-07-30T10:57:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=niwRLcEApZE&feature=related

What do you think of?

Sex in the Church

2009-07-27T07:21:00.000-07:00

It was a a really nice weekend. I watched part of a sex documentary (very tame) on DVD Saturday night. Really fascinating to see in record form, the influence of the church on the institutions of marriage and sex. What better way to control the masses than to deeply program a belief that the church is the arbiter when it comes to such basic biological functions as reproduction and sex. So obvious, but I don't think I have ever really considered it before. If an institution can control the perception of the very core of one's biological existence (reproduction) - all other programming is pitifully ancillary.

No wonder that there is such a powerful emotionally evocative response when it comes to things such as abortion, etc. And no coincidence that the most powerful responses I think (anecdotal) come from the religious right. I may be an anomaly. I presently find most abortion offensive for reasons that are perhaps more moral than religious. Though my underlying views on this issue come from religious programming at a young age.

I am not suggesting that a lack of sexual temperance should be a default position. I think even great non-religious oriented minds have all agreed that this is not wise or productive. But more interesting to me lately, is the power of the deep programming that we receive coming up as children from both our parents, the culture, and religion.

I am more and more of the opinion lately that one is much better off than not to as deeply as possible, reject the culture. Some have spoken of creating your own culture. But I think many of these perspectives come from and are oriented as responses to rampant Western materialism. But perhaps other social constructs so blindly revered ought to also be rejected. For instance, the church and government's role in such matters as sex and marriage. Or perhaps, at least closely examined before blind adhesion. Marx spoke of religion as being the opiate of the masses. But perhaps the opiate is no less the government than the church. I think there is a powerfully overwhelming tendency for humans to want to be sheep-like. Even Christ speaks of this. Almost a constitutional composition to seek guidance, approval, and direction. Perhaps it is this drive which makes people so susceptible to both the benign and malevolent influences of both the church, government, and manipulative individuals.

Abraham Lincoln, 19th Century thoughts on Professionalism in the 21st Century

2009-07-23T12:46:00.000-07:00

Wisdom, perhaps like religion, commends to us a path which is not always universal in its roadmap. But hopefully in its destination. Like most things, some wisdom is more credible than others. The wisdom passed along by one of the great lawyer Presidents of this country can be fairly described as universal and much needed in today’s legal environment.

My introduction to Abraham Lincoln’s thoughts on the practice of law was early in my career and lasting. Sitting in my first semester criminal procedure course, the Professor (who’s name I have long since forgotten) commented upon a particular piece of wisdom ascribed to Lincoln. The gist of it was that you shouldn't put something off until tomorrow if it could be done today. Seizing upon this principle in practice can be an undertaking for sure. How many times have each of us pushed something back because we were simply too overwhelmed to know where to begin.

The call for “professionalism” is unquestionably en vogue. Hardly a legal publication can be found which doesn’t decry aggressive legal practices as cancerous to our profession. But I would suggest that the real problems with lacking professionalism amongst lawyers are base and systemic.

Lincoln was unequivocal in his recommendation that we strive to be peacemakers and discourage our clients from litigation. But the economic realities presented by the expense of obtaining a legal education and maintaining a comfortable existence cannot be ignored. A lawyer emerging with a shiny new J.D. today can expect to be starting off in their professional lives with close to $100,000 in student debt. There are only so many big city jobs with salaries commensurate to absorb such staggering loans. Most new lawyers can expect to walk into jobs from Birmingham to Tampa at an annual salary of anywhere from $40,000 to $50,000. Throw a family in there and you better hold on tight.

What does all this mean in the context of Lincoln’s legacy? Well, what about discouraging litigation? Have you yourself observed or commented to colleagues that many cases are litigated these days because the lawyers don’t have a choice? Although it borders on taboo, the reality is that lawyers don’t have a choice but to take cases and litigate minor issues if their production demands require it. Are personal injury lawyers taking cases that would not have made it past the front desk thirty years ago? Are defense and commercial litigation firms filing unnecessary motions simply to capture billing? In looking back at the amount of pressure built against your own bottom line, you might wonder how this can be possible. Surely, none of the work each of us do is unworthy of the legal system. Right? I think if we as lawyers are honest with ourselves, we cannot help but acknowledge there are problems. The fact of the matter is that those cases which should not be litigated might not see the light of a courtroom if the lawyers that end up working on them were doing something other than practicing to pay off oppressive student loans and chase a lifestyle many of them simply overestimated.

What might Lincoln say today about the Bar’s role in protecting the public and itself? I think in looking back at many of the reply letters Lincoln sent to prospective law students (wherein he simply wouldn’t take the students on) we could conclude that Lincoln wasn’t overly concerned with making entry into the profession too easy. Can we honestly say that the bar is not being lowered if there is a saturation of law schools which are forced to reach closer to the bottom of the applicant pool to survive? Much as Lincoln told those students who wrote to him, get the books and do the work. If you rise to the challenge and enter the profession after attending one of a limited number of law programs, fantastic. If you don’t (or can’t), best of luck in your other endeavors. This is something physicians and dentists seem to understand.

The ranks of American lawyers are projected to soon exceed 1,000,000. Have members of the Bar truly taken efforts to understand the implications of this staggering figure? It is not that lawyers in and of themselves are bad or dangerous people. But lawyers do have a dangerous power. Tying companies and people up in the pecuniary and emotional drain of litigation is often underestimated.

The lawyers’ role is a sacred one. One that should be sparingly granted. Traditional ideas of supply side economics cannot be easily or conveniently applied in the context of our profession. Having too many lawyers is a lot like having an unoccupied mercenary army in the wings. What is the effect of this? Increased litigiousness in the population. Decreased ability of the lawyer to be selective. Lower pay amongst rank and file lawyers. Ah, and perhaps we come full circle now. Eroded standards of professionalism stemming from low morale and lawyer saturated driven litigation, neither of which will be corrected by well intentioned periodicals.

This suggestion does not ignore the fact that access to legal counsel is a lofty goal and one that should be embraced by the Bar. But not every case belongs in a courtroom. This observation can be tested by asking for nominal hourly fees in questionable cases that might otherwise be taken on a contingency fee basis. You would be surprised at how many disputes suddenly aren’t worth the expense (by way of disclaimer, I think that contingency fees are appropriate in many cases, are here to stay, and I make this point only as an illustration). Certainly there are those cases where paying even a nominal hourly fee is not an economic possibility and contingency fees are not practical. But much as I heard it explained by one Florida Supreme Court Justice, pro bono is a choice. We can make the choice as lawyers to identify those cases where assisting a member of the public at little or no cost is appropriate. Access to lawyers by some may be a byproduct of having too many lawyers in practice, but is it a byproduct that comes at an overall socially acceptable cost?

I am not making a call for the closing of law schools or the elimination of lawyers. Nor do I make these observations to be critical of my profession. While there are difficult days, I enjoy being a lawyer, the opportunity to help clients, and the varied intellectual challenges. However, I do believe that Lincoln might encourage us to consider fostering a smaller Bar. We as lawyers should consider what it really means when new or existing law schools begin cranking out increasing numbers of graduates each year.

TV Marti

2009-07-20T12:39:00.001-07:00

For a facsinating discussion on American propaganda in the Cuban evolution, see:

http://lcbackerblog.blogspot.com/2009/07/how-not-to-engage-in-braodcast-warfare.html

Why we feel it is so necessary to attempt passive aggressive manipulation of other nation states remains beyond me. And even from a neo-conservative perspective - why can't we make better tactical decisions. Cuba? In 2009. Really? Can we be pointed to a single case where this ridiculous stuff works? I can only think of failures. Iran, Vietnam, Cuba ... the list goes on and continues to grow.

What is perhaps more amazing is the incredulous manner in which those who constitute the modern day conservative movement reproach those who would request a reasoned look at those actions we take domestically and abroad. Apparently, kindergarten for the privileged elite is different than it is for the rest of us:

1. Don't worry about the future, only live for today.
2. You are all that matters. Really, just you.
3. If you don't get your way, buy a new toy.
4. If you cannot afford to buy a new toy, borrow the money to buy a new toy.
5. If all else fails, beat the other kid up.

This general approach has been evolving throughout our nation's short history. Great minds, the likes of those ranging from Twain and Eisenhower have tried to warn us. But we will run our course. No better place on the planet as far as I am concerned. But that is scary as hell in more way than one.

Music

2009-07-17T15:47:00.000-07:00

Perhaps my new favorite song (this week). Its a good thing we aren't having more kids. This is the kind of music that used to get us pregnant.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_mIkoVvFDI