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Author: mhelbert

Words Are Important

I’ve written about this before.
In the movie, “Brother Sun; Sister Moon,” there is a line spoken by the character of St. Francis that goes something like, “Words. I used to believe in words.” The implied meaning being that words no longer have meaning to him.
While, in the context of that story I can see what that screenwriter was trying to do, elevate action above mere talk, I find that I can’t necessarily agree with the sentiment.

Words are important.
They convey meaning from speaker to hearer.
Words can start and end wars.
They can also sooth and calm those who are distressed.

So, I place a great deal of importance on words.
As a wannabe Wordsmith, I try to choose the appropriate words and fashion them in such a way that the idea I am trying to communicate is done with clarity and meaning.

I know that it’s hard in this day of Instant Messaging and e-mail to put much stock in clear communication. We want to hit that ‘Send’ button as quickly as possible. It’s our texting version of trying to get a word in “edge-wise.” We want to make sure that ours is the last word spoken. After all, our own opinion is the best and most important.

It concerns me, then, how those to whom we look for information and enlightenment are so bad at using Words. (Yeah, I’m looking at you @BetsyKling! “Nother” is NOT a word!)
We have become a semi-literate culture that emasculates the language. Then, we wonder why we are misunderstood.

I admit that I don’t always get words right. I may choose one that is not clear in meaning. I may string together sentences that don’t make sense.
That doesn’t mean that I don’t see the importance of clear communication.

That brings me to the actual topic of this post.
(Yeah, I know, you are all waiting for me to make a real point. Here it comes.)

Yesterday, I received the preliminary results of a CT Scan that I had done last week.
The docs wanted to see if the cancer in my colon had spread, or metastasized, to any other part of my body.
The report reads, ” NO DEFINITE METASTATIC DISEASE IN THE ABDOMEN OR PELVIS.”

At first blush, this is a beautiful statement. The cancer is still contained in the original location. Cool! Let’s go in there and pull that sucker out!
Let’s do it NOW!!!

But, our language is strange sometimes.
Look closely at the above statement from the report.

What, exactly, does “DEFINITE” mean?
To me, that’s a qualifier.
It tells me that there may, in fact, BE some kind of spreading that they simply are not able confirm definitively.

See how words work?

I really wish that they would have written, “No Metastatic Disease Present.”
Or, even, Yes, there is evidence of it.

Now, my mind is thrust back into the land of Not Knowing.

Maybe this is normal for people who are diagnosed with a disease like cancer.
Our minds may simply kick into gear and continually ask, “But, what if?”

I guess we’ll find out for sure soon.
I meet with a surgeon later this week to determine what next steps must be taken.

Until then, I guess there’s no definite resolution to this.

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It’s Monday, Only Different

Here we are. It’s Monday again. You know, that day that comes after a weekend.
It happens every week about this time.
Folks bemoan it, “Oh, man! I gotta get up and go to work! I wanna Sleep!”
Others are a tad more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, “Yay! A new week! Let’s Go!!!”

For most of us, it’s just another day in a long string of days that sort of blur together.

This Monday marks one week since I had that colonoscopy thing that revealed cancer.

And, I really don’t know how or what to feel about that.

The first couple of days my gut was tied up in knots. I couldn’t eat or sleep. My mind racing all over the place.
“What’s next?”
“How do I fight this?”
“Why me?”
I didn’t fall into that category of people who try to deny the reality of their illness.
I was ready to put up my fists and kick some ass.

But, I was in that Betwixt and Between place of knowing and not knowing.
I knew something was not right…but, not for sure.
The doc said that it was probably cancer.
Probably.
I waited four days in that place until I got the official word.
Yep, cancer.
Now, even though I now know kind of what I’m up against, I still must wait.
I had a CT Scan to see if the cancer has spread.
Waiting on results.
I have a date with a surgeon.
Waiting for that day.

Living in this Twilight World is hard.
My heart goes out to those of you who have already experienced this.
It’s no longer day.
It’s not quite night.
It’s something else.

So, no, I don’t know how I should feel right now.
After the initial shock I guess that I just feel numb.

Not denial. Just numb.
Not angry. Still numb.
Not really anxious. Numb again.

As an aside, this is really an interesting dive into what’s involved with being human.
I’ll post more thoughts on that later.
For now, I do appreciate your consideration during this time.
Those whom I trust I know will walk with me.
The rest? I hope that they will be moved to care for themselves and their loved ones.

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“Think” Is Not A Dirty Word

I’m not going to post every day about my health. I know, I know, you’re all waiting with bated breath to find out the next tidbit of information about my new war with cancer.
I will continue to update that regularly.
But, this is my blog and I get to decide what to write about.
And, today I want to spend a little time to talk about ‘Thinking.’

Specifically, thinking in the context of the Church.

I’ve shared some about my current journey with the community at St. Barnabas and the Episcopal Church.
I have been walking with them for almost a year and a half.
And, I am enjoying the journey a lot.

This morning I was talking with someone who has been a regular at the Sunday morning Bible Study that I help out with. She shared that she had never attended any kind of Sunday School before. For whatever reason, they never interested her. This study, though, seems to have piqued her curiosity. She stated that what I bring to the study is a desire to make people think.
As we continued to talk she mentioned that Thinking seemed to be what inspires me to lead this way. That I seem “at home” here because of that.

I thought for a second.
You know, she was right.
One of the things that I really appreciate about the Episcopal Church is that it is not afraid of ‘thinking’ people. It’s not afraid of questions. And, more importantly, it’s not afraid of Paradox or Ambiguity.

I think that lies at the heart of how the Church should truly be.

I have been in churches where the leadership tells parishioners how and what to think. Several years ago one pastor told us that, although he couldn’t tell us how to vote from the pulpit, if we wanted we could see him after the service and he would be happy to convey that information. The scariest part of that would have been if anyone actually took him up on it.
These church leaders try to make themselves out to be the chosen oracles of God on Earth. People are expected to hear their words as Gospel.
Yeah, I know, many of them pray before they speak that only the words that God would desire should come out of their mouths. At best, this is a false humility that anyone with a brain should see through. The pastor is going to say whatever was prepared, God’s words or not.
The biggest problem with that is that all of the words that are spoken after such a prayer are then regarded as God Ordained. After all, God allowed them to be spoken! Right?
Wrong.
On so many levels that’s wrong.
But, that’s a subject for another post.

What I want to emphasize here is that churches with authoritarian leadership want everyone to accept what they say as the Certain Words and Position of God.
No questions will be accepted.
No other opinions are welcome.
God said it, (through them); I believe it, (Cause they said so); That settles it, (got no choice!).

The Episcopal Church, however, is not like that at all. While there are boundaries, as there should be, anything within those bounds is up for discussion. I am welcome to think for myself and assert my own thoughts on any number of topics regarding God, Jesus, the Church, and anything else that presents an interest to me.
Perhaps more importantly, I am allowed to give others the same grace and latitude to think and believe as they are led by God’s Spirit.
After all, isn’t that what this is all about?
Being led by God’s Spirit?
Trusting that God speaks through the multitude and not simply the ordained?

“Think” is Not a dirty word.

“Think” is a Gift from God that we are obligated to do.

“Think” is how we emulate God whose Image we are.

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Engage!

LOS ANGELES – JANUARY 8: Patrick Stewart as Captain Jean-Luc Picard in the STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION episode, “The Hunted.” Season 3, episode 11. Original air date, January 8, 1990. (Photo by CBS via Getty Images)

First, I want to say Thank You for your gracious outpouring of support. I do appreciate it a lot.

The main reason that I want to share what’s happening with me with all of you is to emphasize the importance of screening and preventive measures. Colon cancer is extremely common. And, it’s one of the most treatable cancers. That is, if it’s caught early enough. (Hopefully, mine has. We’ll see next week.)
Yet, even though these facts are true, many, if not most, people will never get tested.
I don’t mean those mail-in poop-scoop tests that are advertised on T.V. While any action is good, the only truly accurate way to detect the illness is by colonoscopy.
You may say, “Ewww! They stick a camera up your butt!!!”
Well, yeah they do.
They also give you versed. That alone may be worth the test.

People complain about the costs involved.
Those without health insurance are afraid.
Right now, I believe that the basic test is considered a Wellness Visit. So, there’s no copay and whatever insurance you do have covers the entire cost.
Now, if there’s any kind of treatment that must be done, like pathology or any complications, you may be liable for that.

But, what are the consequences of NOT getting tested?

Actually, for a lot of folks there will be none.
They will never have any issues at all.
Good for you all!
You’ll also never know for sure, will you?

For the rest of us?
Colon cancer kills.
That’s the alternative of not getting tested.
By the time symptoms become too great to ignore, it’s likely too late to treat successfully.

So, the point of all of this?

If I am one of the fortunate who can be successfully treated and become cancer free, then I hope this story encourages you to see a doc soon. Especially, if you are high risk.
Ask your doc what that means or do a simple Google search on risk factors.
Then, we can celebrate my success together.

If, however, I find that things have turned sour and I’m not one of the successful ones, then I hope that what I share will: 1) Still encourage you to get screened. DO IT!!! 2) share with you the inevitable part of our human journey that none of us gets a pass on.

In any case, I really hope to be encouraging through all of this.
If my experience helps anyone else avoid this, then Yay!
And, I expect that sharing this will be therapeutic for me.
Processing the whirlwind of facts and feelings can be overwhelming. Sharing these, writing them down, helps me to sort through them and manage them more effectively.

So, if you would be so kind, Follow this blog for updates.
Feel free to comment your own thoughts and feelings. Particularly, if you’re impacted by something yourself.

So, now, let’s get started! In the words of Captain Jean-Luc Picard…

“Engage!”

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Surprise! Look What We Found!

I shared a few weeks ago that I will soon be joining the ranks of the Retired. After nearly 50 years working in commercial printing, I’m hanging up my computer. I will be spending more time with, well, this computer.
We have been working to prepare for this. Getting the finances squared away; signing up for medicare; gloating about it to my co-workers. You know, all of the important stuff.

And, things seem to be progressing nicely.

But, as with most things in life, the things that we don’t see are the ones that tend to impact us most.
We try our best to prepare for every contingency. What if the water heater blows up the day after I retire? Can we pay for a new one?
Check!
How about the car?
Check on that, too!

How about your health?
Well, I’ve got that dicey cardiac thing pretty much under control. So, yeah, Check!

What about your cancer?

Wha?!? Who?!?
What cancer?

The cancer that’s been growing in your colon, dummy!

But, I don’t have any cancer!!!
I eat right and exercise and don’t engage in high risk activities!
I even get regular colonoscopies to make sure that nothing’s happening!

Well, you did skip a year and a half.
Right?
You were supposed to have a scope in 2018. But, no, there was something else going on. And, the previous two scopes had been clear. Nothing to worry about. Right?

Wrong!

This past Monday I went in for my routine, but belated, colonoscopy. I wrote a bit about it here.
Afterwards, the Doc came in to give us the results.
There were a few polyps. No biggie. They snip them off and we’re good to go.
There was something else, though.
A mass in the ascending colon.
They took a biopsy and sent it to pathology.
The doc, however, was pretty sure what we were looking at.
Cancer.

Yesterday I received the results of the pathology.
Yep, suspicions confirmed.

Not how I had planned to begin my retirement.
Hell, not in any plans for anything at all!
But, there you go.
The things you don’t see are the ones that can derail you.

What now?

Today I go for a CT Scan to see if this bugger has spread.
Hopefully, no.
We have hopefully caught it early enough that it is self-contained.
If it has not spread, then next week I meet with a surgeon to go over how they will remove it.
The best case is that they will take it out and I will live happily ever after. The way things are going, though, I’m not overly confident.

Right now I am consumed by conflicting emotions. I don’t know what I feel. I don’t know how I SHOULD feel!
I know there are folks out there who have experienced exactly what I am. I don’t want to be a whiner and do the whole, “Woe is me!” thing. Especially when you are dealing with far worse.

But, we each process things in our own way.

My way is going to be to process it here.
I want to share this experience.
Well, not SHARE it. I can assure you that you do not want this!
I want to share my experience with you.
What’s happening physically?
The tests and the doc’s reports and surgery.
All the good stuff that cancer patients get to have.
What’s going on emotionally?
What thoughts and feelings are racing around in my head…my body.
It looks to be a roller coaster ride that rivals anything at Cedar Point.
What is this doing to form me Spiritually?
Where is Yahweh in all of this?
IS Yahweh in ANY of this?

So, for the next little while I’m going to write about these things.
Sure, I’ll still write the other stuff, too.
But, this is important right here; right now.

I invite you to come along with me on this journey!
Lord knows that I can’t walk it alone.
Your company is appreciated.
I also encourage you to share this and invite others to come along.
This is part of our shared human experience.
So, Please, share on your social media, at the dinner table, with co-workers…anyone and everyone.

Hopefully, in a little while I’ll be able to share with you OUR victory over this thing.

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Generations Lost

Yesterday I reflected a bit about how nature and nurture can conspire to bring about dysfunction. See here. There is no doubt that we all carry baggage that was put upon us by those who came before us. Nor is there any doubt that we will pass some kind of burden to those who follow.
What is important is that we recognize that for what it is and accept our own responsibility in the process.
And, I think for most people who, like me, belong to the dominant culture there can be a real possibility that we can have a pretty good and fulfilling life.

But, what if the damage was not within a couple generations?
What if those who were hurt were not damaged by their own human frailty?
What if that hurt was imposed on them by forces well beyond their own abilities to cope?

Imagine with me that you are out on an errand. Perhaps shopping for food to feed your family.
Suddenly, men with guns walk out of the shadows and force you into a van.
They take you to some private dock by the ocean where they chain your hands and feet and force you onto a small ship.
Onboard, you find several hundred others like you. They are chained and packed together like so much cargo.
For, that’s exactly what you all are.
Cargo.
After several weeks at sea, and after much sickness, hunger, thirst, and death, you finally make landfall.
Forced from the ship you are taken to a warehouse.
There, men who look nothing like you and who speak a strange language that you cannot understand are pointing and shouting.
Some of them come up to you and force your mouth open so they can inspect your teeth. They poke and prod you in places that are private.
Humiliated, sick, hungry, and without hope, you soon find yourself in another vehicle that takes you to a large factory where you are put to work.
Long hours and little food become your life.
After some time, you find a person with whom you begin a relationship.
Those with whom you work and live celebrate as you and your new-found partner begin a life together.
Soon, children are born.
There is Joy, albeit guarded. You are still held captive. Those who lord it over you make sure that you never forget that you have no rights…no life…outside of the work.
Then, one day, your partner and children are gone.
They have been sold in order to pay a debt.
Your heart is ripped from your chest as you wail and mourn this loss.

Now, multiply that for generations over more than 200 years.

How great is the damage that has been done to generation upon generation.

And, we dare say, “That’s all in the past! Get over it!”?

Or, say you and your people have lived in a certain place for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. You have culture with deep roots in the soil, in the lakes, in the trees, and in the other creatures who share the land.
One day a group of strange people with weapons enter your village.
They tell you that the land you are living on no longer belongs to you.
You must move or be destroyed.
They force you and all of your people to travel by foot for days upon days upon weeks.
Many of your friends and family fall by the wayside. Unable to keep up they are simply jettisoned by your captors as so much refuse.
Eventually, you are released into a new land that looks nothing like where you came from. Your life, your culture, your heart is gone.
After awhile, others come along and tell you that your God is no God. That you must accept their god or you will be destroyed.
More of your life ripped from you and trampled under foot.
Soon, others come and gather the children.
They take your sons and daughters, your lifeblood; your hope; your future and take them away to boarding schools.
These are places where the dominant culture says that they will, “kill the Indian and save the man.”
Your language and culture are systematically destroyed in front of your eyes.
And, there is not a thing that you can do about it.

We DARE say to these people, “Oopsie! Sorry! But, you’ll get over it. Just get a job and start earning a living. Then you can be happy! Just like us!”

How deep are the hurts for these Generations Lost?

Can we not have empathy?
Cultures and lives were destroyed because of greed and lust for power.
And, now we wonder why there is rampant drug and alcohol use within these communities? We seem utterly surprised when some of these people rise up with guns and harm themselves and others.
How blind must we be to think that after all that these Human Beings have been through that they can simply pull themselves up by their bootstraps and get on with life?

I have no answers. My people have created this mess. So, I actually have no rights to even suggest answers.
The healing can only begin when we stop talking and start listening.
Listen to those who are hurt by generation upon generation upon generation of abuse, mistreatment, death…genocide.
Let them guide us in how we should, or even IF we should, be part of the solution.

One thing that we can do, though, is to stop trying to tell these People how they should feel and act. It is Their pain, not ours. It was their lives and cultures that were ripped from them.
Not Ours.

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From Generation to Generation

It’s odd how certain thoughts and ideas pop into your head.
Churning and turning over and over and over….
See how the myriad facets of that thought present their varying colors and perspectives. Sewing themselves into the fabric of your mind.
Amazing!

What does that have to do with anything?
Well, this morning my mind wandered to how one generation’s life and experience influence those that follow.
I know that this is something that we in the West don’t often consider.
We think that each person is an individual who is capable of building her life on her own. Through hard work and grit people can slough off any and all encumbrances and create a successful life…for themselves.

But, is that an entirely accurate idea?

I’m not so sure.

My Dad’s mother died when he was very young. His father remarried.
Eventually, his father, an alcoholic, left them and moved away. So, he was raised by his step-mother.
It was late in his life when he told me anything about that time in his life.
His step-mother was truly a bitch. She abused him in passive-aggressive ways that left lasting scars.
As a result, he withdrew into himself.
He became known to others by his quietness. His high school yearbook noted that he didn’t say much, but what he said was profound.
He never experienced true intimacy with anyone.
Yeah, he had a special relationship with my mom. His love was as deep as the ocean. His devotion to her unwavering. But, even with her, he held his feelings close to himself. It seemed that only after his mind began to fail him toward the end of his life that he began to open that long-closed box that contained his heart.
Nature and Nurture.
Joined to create a New Thing.
Dysfunction.

As I wrote before, I was adopted.
I was torn from my mother and placed in an institution.
I was given to my adoptive parents while still and infant.
But, damage was done.
All of the experts agree that attachments are necessarily created, bonds of love and trust, at this early age.
Although my adoptive parents cared for me, gave me their name, and provided stability and security for me, they will always be at best High Level Foster Parents.
It seems that only those who do the adopting consider that their new child is truly theirs. No one who keeps these stats and stories ever really asks those who were adopted. No one seems to really consider our insight into our own lives.
I don’t want to take anything away from my mom and dad. They loved me and supported me in their way. I will always have deep gratitude for the life they provided and the sacrifices that they made.
But, the ability for me to make intimate links with anyone was diminished. If not totally destroyed.
I withdrew into myself.
I tried to emulate Mr. Spock. Suppressing my emotions, stuffing my feelings, became my ultimate goal.
We all know that’s an impossible task.
Rather, my emotions raged like a class 5 hurricane. They found no true or constructive outlet. So, as I worked to contain the storm within, damage was done.
Nature and Nurture.
Joined to create a new thing.
Dysfunction.

Those are two generations in which similar circumstances created similar narratives.

My brain goes to these places as I try to come to grips with dysfunction, not only in my own life, but in my family and among my friends.
There is something to the idea of generational influence. For good or ill; better or worse.
These are things that we have absolutely no control over. They have been handed to us by those who came first.

We can, however, make choices on how to engage these things.
I know that I will never be able to experience a truly intimate relationship with anyone. There are too many issues deeply embedded in my soul to allow that.
But, I can push myself to learn new ways to deal with that.
The first and perhaps most important way is to be honest with myself about these things.
Second, I can learn to forgive those who preceded me. Both the one who gave me away and the ones who took me in.
They are no more perfect than I am. I have to be able to extend them the grace to be human.
Third, and perhaps most important, I must learn to forgive myself.
Because I am acutely aware of my own shortcomings, my own “sin,” it’s easy to find myself swimming in an ocean of guilt and shame.
That’s hard.
The guilt and shame were truly earned.
But, I can’t…I mustn’t…live there.
That compounds hurt upon hurt.
That leads to death.
Spiritual; emotional; physical.

We give too little consideration for anything beyond the tiny sphere in which we live.
We think, mistakenly, that we are an individual who is a self-contained entity with no ties to anything outside of ourselves.

That’s a lie.

Don’t believe that for an instant.

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Up Periscope!!!

Sorry I didn’t get to post anything yesterday. I was a bit, er, well, indisposed.
You see, it was time for my quinquennial colonscopy.
YIPPEE!!!
What Fun!!!
What Joy!!!

Why quinquennial?
Well, about 15 years ago I had a routine, “You just turned 50. So, it’s time for a scope,” thing. The doc found and removed a couple of polyps. Apparently, that is an automatic advancement to the high-risk queue. So, instead of a routine once-a-decade check, I get to go every 5 years.
Lucky me.

Me being Me, however, I skipped my last one. After all, the 2 in between had shown no new polyps. No worries, then.
So, even though I was due in 2018, I waited til now.
We’ll see if that was a good thing some other time.
For now, it is what it is.

Anyway, (I always imagine Ellen crossing her black and white saddle shoes when I write that), Sunday I spent prepping for the procedure.
Now, I don’t know how many of you have had the pleasure of this experience. If not, well, you have something special to look forward to.
Basically, you get to take some kind of hellish liquid that flushes your system so that the Doc can get a nice, clean view of your colon.
I’ve done this a few times before. So, I wasn’t really expecting too much trouble. Expectations aren’t always realized.
I began the process about 6 P.M. Sunday. After about an hour things seemed to be progressing nicely. At least, according to plan.
Shortly after that optimistic assessment, the nausea kicked in.
I gotta tell ya…I don’t remember that last time I was that sick.
Both ends. Not fun.
And, in the midst of this I finally found out what time I was to report to the facility for the scope. I had planned on an early morning event because Cleveland Clinic’s MyChart told me that it was scheduled for 6 A.M.
Well, that was wrong.
The actual time was to show up at 11 A.M. for a Noon procedure.
Ok, I’m sick. I’m prepping for an early morning scope. I find out that it’s going to be much later.

I went to bed.

So what if Jaylo was on.
It was time to sleep.

Well, I got up yesterday feeling much better, thank you very much.
I started the last installment of the prep at 8.
Thankfully, I didn’t have a repeat of the night before.

We got to the facility on time and waited.
My doc was already 30 minutes behind schedule.

This just keeps getting better and better! Right?

Eventually, they took me back.

Versed. What can I say?
It’s the best medication ever invented.
It, alone, almost makes these trips worthwhile.

Once the Versed began it’s miraculous work, it was time.
I swear that every gastroenterologist should be required to say, “Up Periscope” when they begin a colonoscopy. It would be so appropriate.


After the doc finished violating me, I was wheeled back to post-op until I could stand up and the room wasn’t doing cartwheels.

How did things turn out?
Well, you’re just gonna have to wait on that.
After all, I’m gonna need a topic for another post!

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Friday Morning Musing: Letters to Julia

People keep saying that “Life is a Journey”! The object being that we should savor the moments as they come to us. “Stop and smell the roses,” they tell us. It’s all part of the “journey.”
To be sure, I really like that metaphor. It clears my head of any illusions that I have somehow made it to some terminus or completion. There is always another step to take; another rock to step over.
Along the way there are people, places, and events that affect us. Some for the good. Some for ill. In either case, our journey continues, helped or hindered, until we walk on from this world into the next.

Julia Cameron has been one of those people who has been a boon to me on my journey. Many years ago I came across on of her 40 odd books entitled, “The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity.” The book is like so many others the have been written to help creative people do what they are called to do…Create. Julia’s book arrived in my life at a time when I was struggling with my own creative direction.
I am a musician. Have been for nearly my entire life. I spent a lot of time in various bands playing all kinds of music. From garage parties to venues seating thousands and everywhere in between. However, at a particular point in my life, I noticed that the music had gone. Just up and disappeared. I don’t know where it went. Maybe someday I’ll find it again.
I did find something else, though.
When I was in seminary I found that I could put words to paper. Not just jotting random characters to fill page count requirements.I could mold and fashion them. I was what some people call an aspiring Wordsmith.
So, I wrote.
I wrote papers and essays.
I began this blog.
I journaled as part of my daily devotional practices.
But, I was also unskilled in the craft of writing. I wasn’t sure where the inspiration for consistent writing came from.


Enter Julia’s book!

It appeared at the right time.
Julia took me by the hand and led me forward until the weeds cleared a bit and I could begin to make out the path ahead.
So, first of all…
Thank You, Julia! Your words helped to prod me forward on this Artist’s Way.
I hope that I can continue treading on it until my feet grow too weary to carry me. Then, I will crawl until my hands and knees give out.

There are still times, though, when it seems that the words are gone. I look for that Creative Stream that courses through the Cosmos so that I can dip my toe into its living waters. Yet, it is nowhere to be seen.
Those are the days when I must press on anyway. Pull out the machete and hack at the brush and weeds to find my way forward.
One tool that I have developed to do that is called, “Letters to Julia.”
During my morning quiet time I purpose myself to write in my journal. My goal is to fill at least three pages with whatever comes to mind. Most mornings are filled with reflections and prayers. My deepest thoughts, fears, and joys find their way to these pages.
But, on those days when my brain is foggy or I am unable to put to cogent words together, I write a letter.


Dear Julia…
I begin.
Then, I tell her what’s going on in my life.
I share some of my thoughts and concerns.
I tell her about the weather in Northern Ohio.
Nothing is out of bounds.
And, the words begin to come.
First, a trickle.
Then, a small rivulet.
Eventually there is a stream flowing from my heart, my mind, to my pen, and then the page.

After I walk on from this world, whoever may read the journals that I have filled will find many letters to Julia.
She has been an ever present ally, mentor, inspiration, and friend on my life’s journey.

Thank you, Julia!!!

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The God I Don’t Believe In

Gary Larson, Farside.

Over the millennia people have tried to figure out what God is like.
They argue about this attribute or that word in order to prove that their personal idea of Divinity is the most correct in the Whole Wide World.
Systems have been contrived and erected for the sole purpose of explaining the inexplicable.
Perhaps the greatest error of all is to think that we can glean reality from ancient texts that have no foundation in our own reality. (I’m looking at you Fundagelicals!)
If God cannot be envisioned and understood within that context of our lived existence, then what good is it to even seek to know anything about this God?
It seems an exercise in self-aggrandizement.
Perhaps, it’s more appropriate to try to understand the Divine through a process of negation.
What is God NOT like?
What are NOT divine attributes?
At the end of that exercise we may have, instead of a God-In-The-Box of our own thinking, a God who has infinite possibilities to Be and Exist in an ever more complex Cosmos.

With that said…

God is NOT sitting in front of God’s computer with a finger hovering over the “Smite” key.
In other words, God does not kill. Period. God does not cause earthquakes, famines, droughts, hurricanes, tornadoes, or any other natural disaster. They’re called NATURAL disasters! They are not called SUPER-Natural disasters. What may have appeared as a divine intervention 2,500 years ago has been proven to be the result of conditions that appear in our natural world. Plate tectonics, weather systems interacting with oceans and heat from our Sun, and other phenomena are the cause. Not some kind of Divine anger.

God is NOT the cause of diseases and plagues that sicken and kill people. Again, something that our ancient forebears credited to God, or the gods, has been proven to be caused by natural agents. It is called “Evolution.” Viruses and bacteria have evolved over hundreds of millions of years to attach themselves to other living organisms in order to survive. The results are usually benign and symbiotic. Sometimes, however, they are not and illnesses result. Perfectly natural. God’s not sitting on some Cosmic throne saying, “Take that, you sinful humans!” No, if anything, God is Present to comfort and heal those afflicted by these diseases.

God is NOT a Cosmic Killjoy. God doesn’t get the Divine rocks off by decreeing that everything that could possibly be pleasurable is a Sin that God is only too happy to punish. People who find pleasure in being human, who enjoy life and love with one another, cause God to be pleased as well. For those who hold the position that God somehow cracked the code to become Incarnate, this should be no surprise. In the life of Jesus God experienced Being Human. Church people don’t discuss this too much. They’re usually too worried about maintaining control over people’s minds and bodies. But, it only makes sense that God learned about the human condition by Becoming Human. You know that fear that you experience? Jesus experienced fear. God gets it. The pleasure of human affection and touch is part of God’s own Felt Reality. Anger? Yep, God understands. Hurt, sickness, hunger and thirst are all things that God experienced through the life of Jesus from Nazareth. And, like the writer of Genesis recorded, “And, God saw that it was Very Good.”

God does NOT play favorites. This is really basic. God doesn’t care whether you are Buddhist, Hindu, Muslim, Jewish, Jain, or none of the above. All are loved and welcomed. This is the part that sectarian folks don’t want you to know, however. All are welcomed, JUST AS THEY ARE! There is no reason to change our basic selves or beliefs in order to be part of Team God. God seems to desire that we become more ‘divine’ in how we relate with one another and the Cosmos around us.

We all like to think that we are on the winning team. So, we erect boundaries to define who we are in opposition to those who are Not Us. It’s only natural, then, that we use this same idea of separation and exclusion to define God.
The problem with that is, God won’t play along with us.
God seems to be more interested in our relationships with each other, the planet, and ALL who we might consider “Other.”
Perhaps we are all part of God’s process of Creation in some way.
Perhaps we’ve got to be active in our pursuit of a World where we accept who and what we are.
We are Natural and we share in all things Natural.
In a way, we are also Divine. I think that God has somehow been wired into our DNA in such a way that we can truly be called Made in the Image of God, or Ikons of God.

Is there a new step in our evolution waiting at the door?
Are we destined to become something more like Homo Empathicus?

I don’t know.

But, I hope som

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