sensemaking in cincinnati

"Your bumper sticker religion is so adorable"

2010-09-03T21:18:00.000-07:00

A friend called me out recently: "Your bumper sticker religion is so adorable."

Said so in front of my closest e-friends on Facebook.

Deleted his post.

Sent a text saying: "Watch it, Jerk."

Wondering why I responded so harshly, quickly, angrily.

He does have a point, no? After all, many of the posts on my FB pages do sort of sing the song of "religion." Have written stuff about believing, of hoping, of aspiring to be, of doing, thinking, loving, acting.

It bothers me, the oars from the galley, particularly when the blows strike so squarely on the top of the head.

Perhaps I'm a phony. But if this is the case, I'm only a phony in so far as I've bought-into an incomplete and irrational story, hay and barrel.

And truth be told, I fall down most times in attempting to accomplish those things of believing, hoping, aspiring, doing, thinking, loving, and acting.

But I feel less like a hypocrite and more like a failure: Not saying one thing and doing the other, but rather saying THE thing and failing miserably, most times, trying to fulfill it.

But when falling down, that irrational story somehow rings true.

He came to love on those that were failures in the eyes of their peers, but he also came to love on those that were hypocrites.

So if my bumper sticker says "Love Wins," and my life is a failure and/or is a hypocritical mess when compared to such, please forgive.

Trying.

And know: those words on the bumper are real ... no matter what I do.

...

Hands and Feet Day 14: Queen City Calibration

2010-08-21T18:06:00.000-07:00

Today was the 14th day of an idea that will take me 30 days to complete. In a nutshell, my task is to perform at least one act of kindness for someone else at least one time a day, and the act must push me outside of my comfort zone.

Went cruising with Superman today. He needed help with his cape, and so we used a trusty paper clip to keep it from dragging on the ground. He was pleased, and I was happy to feel sort of like MacGyver ... in my own little way.

He looked at his cape in the mirror like 7 times.

My plan was to go to Newport on the Levy. Wanted to purchase a book with no words it in, thinking that I'd have other people fill-it-in later. Surprising, how much books with no words cost. Almost like the words are free when you compare the price of a book with "no words" to a book "with words."

On the way to Newport, I see two men fighting on Queen City Avenue. I'm on the phone at the time with someone who puts words in books, and I say, "There's two guys fighting!"

It bothered me. Not sure right now why it did. Turned around at the UDF close to Sunset Avenue. Really, the UDF is closer to another street, but Sunset is the only street coming to mind at the moment, and for the sake of story it doesn't really matter, does it?

After turning around, we drove past these two guys again. Screamed some stuff at them that must have smelled like "Stop!". The person I was talking to on the phone remarked how different I sounded.

Weird.

Superman's in the backseat and Riley (at twelve months old) is traumatized and calibrated, I'm sure, as I slow down to about 12 miles per hour to scream at these two grown men fighting on Queen City. Felt like my voice was a little high-pitched. Like I had a bell to ring at recess or something.

Drove back to a guy laying on the sidewalk. He was drunk. Taking a nap.

Two other people stopped too. We were comrades.

Called 911 and waited for way too long. Left when a really, really skinny cop showed.

Didn't touch the guy taking the nap. When on the phone with 911, they advised me not too. Felt really uncomfortable not touching him, and now in hindsight, it feels even worse.

He needed to be touched. Someone. He was alone. Hurt. Drunk. Untouched.

(Thinking now, if superman was not strapped in his car-seat in the back of the hand-me-down Camery, things would have been different.)

Next time.

Hands and Feet Day 1: Fishing at Fountain Square

2010-08-08T12:41:00.000-07:00

Today was the first day of an idea that will take me 30 days to complete. In a nutshell, my task is to perform at least on act of kindness for someone else at least one time a day, and the act must push me outside of my comfort zone.

Sunday, August 8th:

I piled the kids in the car, and we hit the road with no idea where to go. Thought about going to Newport on the Levy, and then to Kenwood Mall ... but finally decided to just keep driving. We drove through Price Hill, passing my first apartment, and ended up downtown, where we sort of just drove around some more. At some point I said barely loud enough to hear, "God, I'm yours. Tell me where to go."

I think we passed a prostitute at one point. Or else, an asian lady (I think "a lady") just made a strangely-serious effort to make and maintain really, really intense eye contact with me as I drove by. Oh, and she was dressed like a prostitute.

Sort of felt weird in that I was "fishing" for someone to serve. We drove around and around downtown, me looking for a bite. Someone to do something kind for. Must admit that this did make me look at people differently.

We ended up parking the car under Fountain Square, and my plan was to put Riley in the stroller, and she, Ethan (who was dressed like Spiderman) and I would walk around until I found someone that I could do something nice for.

Because I was fishing, meaning I was on a sort of a mission to find someone that needed something that I could provide, my experience of walking around downtown was different than normal. I talked to people I normally wouldn't. Made eye contact with lots, and lots of people. More than usual. Maybe I'm a prostitute.

Was fishing for an opportunity to be "Hands and Feet," so I felt a different rhythm to the walking around. Wasn't simply going from point A to point B ... or accomplishing task 4 on a list of 10 "to-dos." Because I was on this fishing mission without a real firm idea of where to look, we explored places that we normally wouldn't. Walked around some of the floors of the hotel. Sort of "got lost" while having fun playing on the elevators. Searched around what's left of the "Sky Walk."

At one point, I realized that I was exploring downtown with Spiderman, me with a pink and cream diaper bag over my shoulder.

Right before giving up and heading to another location, we decided to wander away from Fountain Square and toward the bus terminal, which is where we met *Colorado*.

A middle-aged (although it's hard to tell) woman was sitting on the ground, back against a building. We walked by, and I made the point to stop (which I normally wouldn't do) and say "Hi, how are you?" She looked up, smiled, and said "Oh, I'm doing OK I guess," but she said it while sort of looking around as if she knew her answer wasn't really true, or as if she was looking for someone else who was in worse shape than she was so it could be relatively true.

She was eating what looked like lasagna on a small, white, styrofoam plate.

To my question of "how are you," she finally responded with, "well, I'm trying to get back to Colorado, .... I really like your city, ... and I'm trying to panhandle enough to get back, ... but I only ever make enough money to last me the day."

This was her asking me for money. I wondered if her Lasagna was warm, and if it was, where she warmed it up.

I gave her some money. Five bucks. Noticed how tall and thin she was when she unfolded to grab the money from my hand.

She then said, "I'm looking for a church or an organization that can maybe help me get home."

I told her about "City Gospel Mission." She asked me if this is the church that I go to.

Not sure which: if the money or the pointing to the church was more valuable to her, but they were equally easy for me. Felt like it wasn't enough.

She remarked how pretty my little girl in the Spiderman costume was. I thanked her, and said that she's a boy. Colorado sort of apologized and said that people sometime mistake her for a man too.

She commented on my daughter in the stroller, saying how beautiful she was, adding "you must have a very pretty wife," to which I replied, "yes, I am blessed."

This made me feel uncomfortable. Here I am, money in my pocket, a job, cars, exploring the city with Spiderman, ... a house, family, etc. getting compliments from a homeless lady from Colorado. Wow. Don't think I've done anything to deserve my blessings, have I? Wonder if *Colorado* has done anything to deserve her seeming lack-of-blessings?

We said our goodbyes and headed to the parking garage.

Ethan wanted ice-cream, and I was thirsty, so we stopped at Graeters. Spent $6.40 on two scoops of chocolate and a diet coke. Threw one of the scoops away.

Makes me uncomfortable that I spent more on treats that I gave Colorado.

... one other thing that struck me was that she, Colorado, had the most beautifully sky-blue eyes that you could imagine. Reminded me of my son's eyes, ... Spiderman's eyes.

29 days to go.

Hands and Feet: Preview

2010-08-07T10:05:00.000-07:00

I attended the Global Leadership Summit at the Vineyard Community Church this Thursday and Friday, and while it was a mixed-bag of speakers (some better than others), I did come away feeling a little challenged.

I also came away with "pink eye," but that's a different story.

One of the things that impressed me the most is this idea of "leading where ever you are" and being the "hands and feet" of the church. These ideas really made me pause and take a look at (with my one good, non-pink eye) what I am doing with my time and opportunities to lead. So here is my plan:

Starting tomorrow (Sunday, August 8th), I will take time out of each day to do at least one act of kindness for someone else, but these acts of kindness must include things that push me outside of my normal comfort zone. So giving change to a homeless person will not do, as I'm pretty comfortable doing it. If the daily acts do not push me outside of my normal comfort zone, well, ... then they just aren't good enough. They key is feeling some sort of "sacrifice" (time, resource, comfort, ego, pride, etc.).

I will do this until September 8th, at which time I'll take some time to reflect. Leading up to that date, I plan to keep a daily web-log right here on my web-log.

30 days.

frogs

2010-06-11T19:56:00.000-07:00

My son caught his first frog today. Ethan and Jen were looking for lightening bugs, which are certainly cool, but they ended up with an amphibian, ... which is so much cooler, ... in so many more ways. Not to take anything away from bugs that light up, which is certainly cool too, but catching what you are patently not fishing for seems to loom heavy for this blurb.

I mean, you are searching for a being that lights up at night, which is remarkable, and you instead find a being that doesn't do anything of the sort; you find a being that lives in two different realms of being. The odds are certainly against you, which makes it more cool maybe. The novelty of it, maybe? That you stumble across what you aren't looking for, but find something that is better, ... isn't that something?

In this example of my son's search, he went looking for one thing but found a journey; something that he could hold in his hand, experience, never forget, love on, put back in the water, and then understand/experience why bugs (even lightening bugs) are important too!

So, my question is: What are you looking for, ... the thing that lights up?

power check

2010-06-07T19:22:00.000-07:00

Dear US Government:

The recent and ongoing tragedy in the Gulf of Mexico, and your reluctant and seemingly ineffective response on our behalf and in regards to such, has brought me to a reflective posture; one that is recalling the backbone of this democracy:

“We the People of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.” ~ Preamble to the US Constitution, 1787

The citizens of the US have given you the temporary luxury of leading. If you fail, your luxuries default to our rights. If you do not lead effectively, we will most surely and swiftly move in a different direction. While these decisions may be called “politically incorrect” at best, we rest assured in knowing that the decisions are indeed ours to make.

… we care little about party affiliations

… we care little about political careers and legacies

Our focus: Choice and the wellbeing of our families, our friends, and the future of this nation.

If you continue to make decisions that oblige the wellbeing of our focus for the sake of yours, we will revoke your power.

… We will take-back your opportunity to make ill-fated decisions for us, and we will again make decisions for ourselves; decisions more aligned with our focus.

… We will enact our rights as citizens of the Unites States of America.

Your power is temporary and loaned to you freely. Make a change, or find yourself hoping for one.

Yours truly,

Michael J. Sharp (father, husband, and citizen)

salsa in the spotlight

2010-05-28T17:58:00.000-07:00

Perhaps it's the rainy, rainy "sprummer" that we're in. Or maybe it's something else. Perhaps it's just simply that I'm finally paying attention. Don't know, but I'm growing fruit-producing plants better than ever, and I have no explanation for it.

As I write this, I'm looking forward to tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, parsley, basil, beans, dill, and cilantro. I walk outside, daily, ... and might I say even "proudly" (not quite like an expecting father, ... and I won't talk about, here, pacing the floor with cigars in my pocket), to check the progress of these plants.

At the very least, it could be that "expecting something to grow" may impact, in some way, these plants actually growing and producing fruit. I suppose that if I pay no attention to them (by instead doing something like reading a book, checking Facebook, watching TV, or post something on a blog, etc., ... when the plants want ... and really need something), one of two things will occur:

1. They'll grow and produce fruit anyway

2. They won't

...and by paying attention to these two possible outcomes while writing here, and with remembering my lack of success with producing fruit in the past (while watching "Survivor" et al.), I'm left with two possible reasons for growing unsuccessfully in the past:

1. I've not paid enough attention/given enough focus

2. It's not really up to me, and it never has been

These to possible reasons, however, bring with them such radically different ways of being, of thinking, and of believing:

1. If it's really not up to me, then this particular blog post is as mindless and useless as opining about the meaning of waves crashing on beaches

2. On the other hand, if it's really more to do with my attention/focus, .... well, then that's a whole different story

So, I'm left with a decision:

1. Pay attention

2. Or assume that things grow regardless of choice

... which leads to further questions about things unrelated to growing Western Hills Salsa:

Do I have a choice?

Does my choice matter?

How could it?

Why does parsley grow?

How can it?

Does it (parsley) care that I'm asking?

And what about tomatoes?

Do they care when they are being eaten alive?

Are they *upset* when the aren't?

What is "choice?"

Is it an illusion?

Are we predestined?

Are the cucumbers too, predestined?

And what about the beans?

Do the strawberries grow so the birds can eat them?

How does Ethan make sense of that?

How do I?

You?

Is "Choice" king?

Or queen?

... or sovereign somehow?

Is it Hobbes?

Or Martin Luther?

Is it Calvin?

Where does Jesus fit in here?

Are my choices simply "just illusions?"

... as much as they are constraints?

Can my constraints be eclipsed by my choices?

Or am I constrained: choice is reacting to it?

Does it matter?

Is it all determined?

Did the Universe wind like a clock, and now we are just ticks?

If I look back, what's delivered me here?

And what about writing about choice?

Do I have a choice in writing about choice?

If It's all predetermined, then this blog is like grass, right?

And what about love?

His love?

Just love, really?

I mean, isn't that ridiculous?

Isn't that whole story of "Love Wins" simply unbelievable?

Does it, Love, really win?

How?

If there is no choice, then how can it win?

Am I a just a dill?

Is "life as we know it" just a series of chemical dances?

Will the beans grow without me?

Do they give a flip about my attention?

Why do I have this connection the the "little-bean," Ethan, then?

Is that all just "biological determinism?"

If so, where does this notion of "Love" come in?

... and, again, how can it win?

Do we choose who we are?

Or, are we just "who we are?"

Do we make choices?

Are we lookers?

Maybe ants?

Growers?

Or do-ers?

Growing?

... Or are there people that write about the line in-between "choice" and

determinism"?

Do I have a spot-light that matters?

And if I do, where in the flip should I look?

On what and whom should that spot-light shine?

time

2010-05-15T19:13:00.000-07:00

My son plays soccer. Not my favorite of youth sports, ... but I look at his playing soccer like he's "conditioning" for baseball.

Oh, and ...

[set your intellectual time machines to last Saturday]

Today, ... earlier today ... I'm cutting grass. It's long. And while I do not live on anything that resembles an "estate," my grass takes about 75 minutes to cut, trim, and blow grass-clippings into my neighbor's yard.

It's 4:10, and I see Jen standing at the fence-gate. I turn the mower off so I can hear about why she's standing there. "What does she have to say," I'm thinking, standing there with my mower winding down.

She says/asks, "Honey, do you know we are leaving in 10 minutes?"

I ask the question back: "What time is it?"

She answers, "4:10," to which I respond with another question: "Isn't the game at 6:30?," to which she responds, "no, it's at 4:30."

I have budgeted my time as if the game was at 6:00.

I am wrong.

Thankfully, I'm on the tail-end of of the yard, and I say, "Well, I can't go like this ... I'll have to meet you there, ... I need to get a shower."

I finish the yard with no time to blow clippings into my neighbor's because I have my son's soccer game to attend, ... to which I will now be late.

While in the shower, ... living "lately," ... I'm thinking about how crazy my life is in terms of managing time. I'm wondering about why I have no "time" to do anything I really want to do. And I'm frustrated and anxious and angry because I will be late, which always makes me anxious and angry, ... which also forces me to always (almost always) be on time.

While in the shower, full of anxiety and anger and frustration, I literally compute (in a mathematical sense) how many hours/week/month/year I spend doing stuff, ... like watching television, ... this along with how many hours per day/week/month year I spend doing other, equally useless and ridiculous, time-chewing stuff.

As for TV, specifically, I calculated that I spend about 30 hours in front of it a week, ... an electronic IV dangling from my media-sucking jugular. As this thought crosses my mind, I shove the bar of Dial soap, ... no wait, ... I stick the bottle of Old Spice Body Wash down my throat and punch myself to death, naked in the shower.

The paramedics find me, ... not moving, lifeless, "sudsy" and dead. My son stands there, crying in his shin-guards. The "waterproofed" watch on my wrist is still ticking away, and full of life.

Okay, that's ridiculous, and it didn't really happen that way, ... "but what's shamefully ridiculous, really," ... I think about, while holding the bottle of off-brand body wash, "is all that I could be doing with those 30 hours spent in front of the tube."

After washing, drying, and driving, I find myself standing as just another fan at the baseball conditioning session for my son. He, Ethan, does as well with soccer as I do, which reminds me that soccer players aren't so popular in the US.

Then we get back home, post-game, ... and guess what?

The DIRECTV is not working! Now I'm more frustrated, ... FURIOUS, ... b/c I've managed my time so well all day, ... and now I deserve my reward, my dessert. But, ....it's been taking off the table!

I think to myself, "I've eaten everything, even the green beans! Where is the justice in the world if I can't now, ... after doing EVERYTHING I'm supposed to do, kick-back and watch others talk about all of the injustice in the world?"

... which leads me to these questions:

How do I spend my time?

How many hours-per-week do I really spend doing nothing but getting "dumber?"

Why am I not spending that time doing something else?

What is "time?"

Can I control it?

Does it control me?

Do I have any say-so in the matter?

What am I so busy with?

Is my "business in this time" fueling me , ... or anyone else for that matter?

Do I give Jen enough of my time?

How about Ethan and Riley: Do they have time for me, ... to give them my time?

Am I giving "me" enough time?

Can we borrow time?

Do we "give our time?"

Do people "save it?"

And if so, does it accrue interest?

Can I cash it in, ... when "our time is up?"

How could it ever be "up?"

Then what about "down-time?"

Or, is time just really over?

Am I out of time?

Or, is Time all I have?

Is it simply this: by the time we understand time, we can't do anything with it, ... because it's gone?

And how could it be gone?

Doesn't time exist independently of my life?

Why am I able to travel through time by sleeping?

Why can the "feel" of "passing the time" be "the best of times?"

... or the "worst of times?"

Can I "lend" you time?

Or "take" your time?

"Share" our/your time?

When they say that "time is money," what does that mean?

If I can spend time, then what is the best way to spend it?

If I can share time, what is the best way to do so?

Can I take the time?

When I "take the time" to do anything, from whom or what am I taking it from?

If I'm misusing my time, does God have the power to make my TV not work?

Is that how He comes through?

If not, how does He come through?

Does He come through?

Is He?

Who's He?

Why's He?

What's in it for Him ...

Does he wonder/Is He worried about how I spend my time?

Am I wasting time by asking about time and God's perspective on it?

Is there a beginning?

An end?

Do moments pass through my life in-between those book-ends of "begin" and "end?"

What could I do with 30 hours a week if I made the decision to abandon TV?

What would my life look like if I abandoned just 10 of those 30 hours?

How would I spend them?

Would I replace those 10 to 30 hours with another useless exercise?

Or, would I put those hours to good use?

And what would that look like?

Why would He pick TV to turn-off, ... make it unavailable, as a way to "make time?"

Why not some other "thing" that takes up my time?

Is time really finite, a socially constructed concept that has no bearing on what reality "really" is?

Is He trying to tell me something, ... in that short amount of time?

If so, .... why has it been such a long time coming?

I'd ask more questions, but guess what ....

love and marriage, ... and LOVE!

2010-05-14T17:11:00.000-07:00

I've been with my wife, Jennifer, for about twelve years, although we've only been married since October 9th, 2004 (@ right around 10:00 AM, Tucson, AZ time).

We eloped.

Before we jumped the broom, she forced me to live in sin. I twisted around in discomfort that whole time, me knowing how sinful our unholy union really was. She would force premarital *behaviors* on me that I knew were wrong. Clearly, and in hindsight (which is when clearly-sight most often occurs), she took advantage of my feeble mind, week and flabby carcass, and innate proclivity for watching Cottonwood trees seed. :-D

In all seriousness, I love Jennifer more now, ... today ... than I ever have before. I'm more in love ... now as I write this ... than I was when we married, and I'm much more in love than we she first forced me to watch Cottonwoods seed.

So, my question is: Why?

Why do I love her more today than when we first met? (You know, those first few moments of meeting ... ??)

What makes me miss her when she is away (after 12 years)?

Why am I more physically attracted to her now, ... after she's carried, birthed, and is now raising (I help) our two gorgeous children?

What created such a strange system of attraction?

And retention of attraction?

... and magnification of attraction ... ?

Is it a "Who" that created such?

What does that mean for the "nature of human?"

What are we built for?

Why does love grow like vines?

Why do we find ourselves at places and spaces, in love, that seem impossible?

What does that mean for "how" love grows, ... where it can take us?

Why do I love to watch Jen sleep?

How is she so beautiful?

What, ... or Who made her that way?

How did I find her?

Why did she find me?

Why did/does she put up with my bullsh*t?

Why did/do I put up with her's?

How is she my very-best friend in the world?

Why do I have her back?

What's it mean to be "in a relationship?"

Is a committed relationship different that being married?

Why can't two women marry, or two men, ... or one man and three women, ... or ...?

Is marriage "sacred?"

WTF does sacred mean?

Can their be non-sacred marriages?

What's that look like?

Do those cottonwoods seed?

Can we make sense of a marriage by "the fruit?"

What percentage of marriages end in divorce?

Why?

What percentages of marriages end up with gorgeous kids?

What makes a happy marriage?

Or, what makes a marriage happy?

Do marriages "have to" spawn kids?

Who says?

Aren't there happy marriages that don't?

Why get married?

Why get married if there is a good possibility that it ends bad?

Why do I love the smell of my wife?

Isn't that sort of creepy?

I wonder if she loves the smell of me ....

How does she even tolerate me, ... as I'm thinking about it?

Am I lucky?

Am I blessed?

What's the difference between having a "lucky" marriage and a "blessed" one?

How does "passing gas" play out in a lucky marriage?

Is it different in a marriage that's blessed?

Why are "dead puppies" like mink coats: they look good on someone else?

What makes a marriage work?

What breaks it?

Is God working in my life, my marriage?

What does that mean for my wife?

What does that mean for me "being husband?"

Does "being husband" have anything to do with "being a man?"

Does it have anything to do with "being alive in love?"

What does that mean?

When I am hanging with several people that I respect and truly like being around, ... why is it weird (to them, not me) that I'd rather be at home with my wife?

jerking off?

2010-05-08T19:12:00.000-07:00

This blog is dusty and full of cobwebs. It's been neglected. I should feel guilty, but I don't. The reason for feeling no guilt is simple: I've had nothing to write about. Looking back, most of my posts have focused on "how I've figured it all out." But that's bullsh*t.

I've been thinking that if I have nothing figured out,, ... then what is the point of posting anything at all? Posting other people's postings, or posting other people's videos, ... well, it's dumb, and ... it's like masturbating: nothing is accomplished but me getting my "intellectual rocks off," which is dumb and selfish ... and a futile exercise.

I've also posted things on your blog, ... although it's been a while. To stay honest, I must admit that the purpose of those posts was simply to get you to look at my posts. Again, dumb.

So, I'm done being dumb here. But it's not that I am done with "blogging" per se. Rather, I'm done with gratifying my ego for the sake of my ego. I'm done with pretending like I've figured something out that some audience "out there" is waiting to hear and read about, ... and by chance, comment on.

I've questions, not answers. I don't have it figured out. So this blog will, from now moving forward, be like an oil rig "drilling," ... or maybe more like a gold-panner "panning," ... or perhaps more like a telescope or microscope operator "looking," .... or like a cook "sniffing and tasting," or like some guy walking around the woods.

Here are the questions below, ... in no order of importance. Any answers are good answers, so long as they are honest.

How can we reconcile our intellectual and spiritual world-views?

Is evolution wrong?

Is creation wrong?

Is there some "magical middle-ground?"

How can we believe an impossible story?

Is He really jealous for me?

How can a man proclaim that He is The King and change the world?

How can we make sense of the Holy Spirit?

How can we experience the Holy Spirit in a world full of doubt?

If it is real, can we measure it?

Why do "good" people suffer?

Why do "bad" people seem to prosper?

How can I be "OK" with my mother dying?

What does it mean to "be saved?"

What and where is Heaven?

What is Hell?

What is the purpose of pain, ... and pleasure?

Are we biological entities with no ties to what believers call "the supernatural."

What is my purpose?

Do we have a purpose?

If it's not real, why is my life feel better by believing in a story greater than me?

Am I brainwashed?

To whom am I talking to when I talk with Jesus?

Am I talking to Jesus or God, or both, ... or the sky?

Is there "right" and "wrong?"

Or, is it all social construction?

Or, ... maybe postmodern sensemaking?

If God is real, then why can't we prove it empirically?

If god is not real, then why can't we prove it empirically?

Is my deceased Mother able to see me?

What does she think about me?

What is Love, and why do I believe that it Wins?

Where does that come from?

How should I worship?

How should I pray?

How should I give?

How should I live?

Why do I have so many questions?

What is guilt?

How do I deserve such a beautiful wife?

Where do my son's questions come from?

Why is my daughter the most beautiful creature that I've ever laid my eyes on?

Why would I move mountains for both Ethan and Riley?

Is the "thought" of Jesus a convenient lie?

Am I fooling myself?

Is this belief just a way to perpetuate "church?"

What are they really doing with my money?

Should I give less, ... or more.

Why?

Is God really good?

Or, is he really gone?

Has he ever been here?

And, why is he a Man?

Is it possible that God is a Woman?

Or, a is God a child?

How does time relate to space?

Why do people starve?

What's the purpose of weapons?

Why are we the only destructive string of life (when compared to ALL OTHER LIFE FORMS of life)?

Why are we so different from our closest biological/genetic cousins?

Why does man have the potential for destroying the world with nukes?

Why are whales and chimpanzees naturally "green," with no effort?

What makes us different?

What's it mean to be "broken?"

What's it mean to be "ransomed?"

Why do I believe that I am both?

Are we aliens?

Is God an alien?

Where does the universe start, ... and stop?

Does it?

Are there really multiple dimensions of existence?

How many dimensions can we see and experience?

How many are there to see and experience?

What's it mean to "hate," and where does that come from?

Should I make a difference?

Can I make a difference?

Can you make a difference?

Should we make a difference?

How?

Why?

When?

sweet nothings in her ear(s)

2010-04-02T17:49:00.000-07:00

funk peace?

2010-03-11T16:58:00.000-08:00

now this makes perfect sense

2010-03-04T17:46:00.000-08:00

yesterday

2010-02-26T17:58:00.000-08:00

miller lite: the healthier happy hour

2010-02-25T20:46:00.000-08:00

Mom's LIfe

2010-02-15T08:37:00.000-08:00

This is a slide-show that Jen put together for my Mom's memorial. I hope you enjoy it.

My Mom taught me and others to let Love Win, and she will be missed.

almost painting, ... but I miss you, Mom

2010-02-03T20:27:00.000-08:00

evidence 2: crooked kisses

2010-01-15T18:42:00.000-08:00

Devout creationists, particularly those with hands wedged deeply into their pockets (clutching tightly to their iPhones and blackberries) in protest against the idea of randomly-happening life, posit that our existence has resulted, within this largely blank and isolate universe, due to, in large part, “God.”

I am on a mission (or what some scientists may call an “experiment”) to figure out which belief is “more right.” I’m looking for data, and I’m starting from the assumption that every one of my encounters (interpersonal and intrapersonal, real and virtual) will fork-over stuff to help make sense of, … in this experimental case, … one of only two possible answers:

HYPOTHESES:

Ho: There is not an intelligent designer

H1: There is an intelligent designer

________

Evidence 2: Crooked Kisses:

I'm about 50% of the way through a book by Brennan Manning called "The Ragamuffin Gospel." In the beginning of chapter four, Manning points to another author's experiences. This other author is a medical doctor writing the following:

********

"I stand by the bed where a young women lies, her face postoperative, her mouth twisted in palsy, clownish. A tiny twig of the facial nerve, the one to the muscles of her mouth, has been severed. She will be thus from now on. The surgeon had followed with religious fervor the curve of her flesh; I promise you that. Nevertheless, to remove the tumor in her cheek, I had to cut the little nerve.

"Her young husband is in the room. He stands on the opposite side of the bed and together they seem to dwell in the evening lamplight, isolated from me, private. Who are they, I ask myself, he and this wry mouth I have made, who gaze at and touch each other so generously, greedily? The young woman speaks.

"Will my mouth always be like this?" she asks.

"Yes," I say, "it will. It is because the nerve was cut."

She nods and is silent. But the young man smiles.

"I like it," he says, "It is kind of cute."

"All at once I know who he is. I understand and I lower my gaze. One is not bold in an encounter with a god. Unmindful, he bends to kiss her crooked mouth and I am so close I can see how he twists his own lips to accommodate to hers, to show her that their kiss still works" (Manning, 1990, 2000).

********

So, what does this story mean? Is there evidence supporting Ho or H1 in this story? I believe there is evidence in everything, even this story.

I argue that this story offers evidence supporting H1: There IS an intelligent designer.

If humans were simply randomly occurring beasts, animals, and/or just simply randomly evolving chemical and biological material, how can we honestly account for the soul and heart illustrated in this love story? How can we make sense of this husband's love for his "damaged" wife?

We know, by looking around the animal kingdom, that damaged animals often suffer the fate of death because they are outcast and even purposely trampled upon for the cause of collectively bettering the species. The behavior of killing the irregular, or the sick or lame, ... this is a very normal practice in the animal kingdom. We find evidence of such in watching beings close to us in geniality (mammals) as well as those who are not so much like us at all.

So the question becomes, how do we make sense of acts that run in complete opposite to those of the animal kingdom? How can we explain the radically different ways that humans can impose LOVE atop biological determinism, the evolutionists' theory of natural selection and survival of the fittest?

There must be something different about us.

And even if we try to believe that, "well, this is just a story, it's fiction," ... does this mean the argument of intelligent design makes less sense? It is difficult to wonder what I would do in a situation similar to the one the story's husband is in, but even this question leads me to ask what kind of intelligent designer has made me in such a way that love, above all, makes sense.

This story illustrates how crooked kisses make us different, as if we are aliens in a broken world with an intelligent designer who has placed into our hearts the proclivity to let love win no matter how bad things can get.

It would appear that this experiment (“EVIDENCE 2010)” has, thus far, yielded the following results:

Ho: +1

H1: +1

Now before I go-off, "hand on the cross," proclaiming that intelligent design rules the day, more data should be gathered.

… and remember, this is all anonymous.

run this town tonight

2010-01-06T22:14:00.000-08:00

evidence 1: wrapping paper

2009-12-25T17:40:00.000-08:00

Devout evolutionists, particularly those with arms raised skyward in protest against the idea of an intelligent creator, posit that life has resulted in this blank and isolate universe due to a series of random evolutionary shifts in cosmically-charged biological and chemical interactions.

Devout creationists, particularly those with hands wedged deeply into their pockets (clutching tightly to their iPhones and blackberries) in protest against the idea of randomly-happening life, posit that our existence has resulted, within this largely blank and isolate universe, due to, in large part, “God.”

I am on a mission (or what some scientists may call an “experiment”) to figure out which belief is “more right.” I’m looking for evidence, and I’m starting from the assumption that every one of my encounters (interpersonal and intrapersonal, real and virtual) will fork-over data to help make sense of, … in this experimental case, … one of only two possible answers:

HYPOTHESES

Ho: There is not an intelligent designer
H1: There is an intelligent designer

This is a video of wrapping paper, and I think the footage offers evidence supporting the hypothesis (Ho) that there is NOT an intelligent designer. If an intelligent designer existed, one would only find “certain” things (as if by intelligent choice) wrapped in paper. That almost everything is wrapped in paper would support the hypothesis (Ho) that wrapping paper occurs randomly.

If wrapping paper were NOT random, one would find only certain things papered-over. The evidence might then illustrate a strategic selection of wrapping paper. Perhaps the shower curtain, but not the shower brush, would be papered.

This video illustrates how wrapping paper *may* simply “occur,” with no pre-existing thought, behavior, or plan.

It would appear that this experiment (“EVIDENCE 2010)” has, thus far, yielded the following results:

Ho: +1
H1: +0

Now before I go-off, "hoof-in-mouth," proclaiming that universal randomness rules the day, more data should be gathered.

… and remember, this is all anonymous.

finally, part II

2009-12-18T17:46:00.000-08:00

evidence: the preface

2009-12-17T19:40:00.000-08:00

I'm new to faith.

I'm old to evidence leading to proof.

I want to believe in God.

But I thirst for proof of God, which is related to faith in very strange ways.

"What's a thirsty guy to do?" one may say. Look for evidence?

Now that seems easy. So let's try:

Until it gets old, I am going to throw out (right here on this sparsely visited and tended to blog in the desert) some of the random events, and/or people, and/or encounters that I personally experience. Then, I'm going to digest those in a way that beats with the heart of complete anonymity (don't tell anyone). One of two explanations will do. To simplify matters:

Either God is real. Or, it's all BS.

Let me say that differently, and in terms that make scientific sense:

HYPOTHESES

Ho: There is not an intelligent designer

H1: There is an intelligent designer

OUTCOMES

I will find evidence supporting Ho or H1.

(p.s. - I'm ripping-off this idea from my good friend and mentor, Steve Fuller. I'm just making it different, ... kind of doing it in a better way.)

sensemaking elsewhere

2009-12-16T07:11:00.000-08:00

This video does a pretty good job of illustrating how different people make sense of things quite differently. What is more interesting to me, however, is how for the really, really BIG ideas, ... like God, there seems to be a lot of agreement across cultures. In fact, there are some striking similarities among all of the world's major religions. Now there is some really big differences too, particularly if one goes from cultures that embrace Islam to cultures that embrace Christianity to cultures that embrace Hinduism or Judaism or Buddhism, etc.

If we look for the similarities, they are there, and if we look for the differences, they are there too. We will find what we seek, right? So how do we make sense of Jesus in a world with other gods?

Nancy Cain writes: "In the book Jesus Among Other Gods, Christian apologist Ravi Zacharias tackles these kinds of tough questions posed by postmodern people. Are all religions equally valid? Can one determine spiritual truth? Does man even need God? Don’t Buddha, Mohammed and Jesus all merely represent different paths to the same God?

Jesus Among Other Gods focuses on the major world religions of Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism, and Christianity. The author compares the claims of Jesus Christ with those of the spiritual leaders of other religions.

Helpful insight in the blending of Eastern and Western understanding is laced throughout the book. Zacharias has lived in both cultures. From that perspective, he brings in cultural nuances and observations many authors would miss.

In this serious work, Zacharias presents the clear differences between who Jesus said He is and how Jesus lived His life, contrasted with the life and claims of other religious leaders. The focus of the book is Jesus’ distinctive response to questions of identity and origin.

At the beginning of the new millennium, Christians find themselves to be living in a religiously sensitive time. “Philosophically, you can believe anything, so long as you do not claim it to be true,” Zacharias said. “Morally, you can practice anything, so long as you do not claim it to be a 'better' way. Religiously, you can hold to anything, so long as you do not bring Jesus Christ into it. How does one, to a mood such as this, communicate the message of Jesus Christ, in which Truth and absoluteness are not only assumed, but sustained?"

How do you make sense of Jesus among other gods?

where are they?

2009-12-07T10:36:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking: Theories of Evolution and Natural Selection would make a whole lot more sense if we had more (inter) galactic friends. It almost seems like our existence is not so random after all.

doubt

2009-12-03T05:49:00.000-08:00

It's always been interesting to me how God comes through to "simply-broken people like me." It's never how "you think" you want or need it, ... but He always comes through, ... often in ways that make no sense.

I threw-up grace ... regurgitated, into the universe, my doubt, ...shirked the possibility of Nobel Existence for the sake of selfish death, ... and my good friends, ... who've experienced and lived with similar questions faith, ... asked me to read a book, ... which has been on my shelf for probably 3 years now, ... never having read it, ... up until now.

Brennan Manning (1990, 2000) writes in the "Ragamuffin Gospel:"

"You are accepted, accepted by that which is greater than you, and the name of which you do not know. Do not ask for the name now; perhaps you will find it later. Do not try to do anything now; perhaps later you will do much. Do not seek anything, do not perform anything, do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted."

If that happens to us, we experience grace" (Manning, 2000, p. 29).

... and wow, what an awakening.

Manning (2000) goes on earlier talking about coming to terms with that gift in saying, "My deepest awareness of myself is that I am deeply loved by Jesus Christ and I have done nothing to earn it or deserve it" (p. 27), ... and in reading that, .... like messages in bottles, ... I'm reminded of the mess that God finds me in, ... and I'm reminded of the belief that there is no-thing I need to do but accept Him accepting me.

My doubt has been temporarily erased, ... and when it comes back, ... and I know that it will, ... I will try to remember that there is no-thing I can do to make God love me more, ... and there is no-thing that I have done, ... or will do, ... to make God love me less.

He just loves me, ... and if I love Him (through Jesus) back ... nothing is impossible. When I follow our Brother toward our Father, ... I'm in Grace. And even when I don't follow, ... grace is till here, ... but He wants me like a father wants his son, .. . full of joy and peace, ... being humbled by the confidence of indescribable acceptance , ... and so my most important first-step is to listen and follow, .... knowing that our Father loves me too (!), regardless my worshiping moments and treasures of what's fallen.

"For grace proclaims the awesome truth that all is a gift. All that is good is ours not by right by by the sheer bounty of a gracious God. While there is much we may have earned -- our degree and our salary, our home and garden, a Miller Lite and a good night's sleep -- all this is possible only because we've been given so much: life itself, eyes to see and hands to touch, a mind to shape ideas, and a heart to beat with love" (Manning, 2000, p. 26).

a first? ... or a third-person narrative?

2009-11-26T16:54:00.000-08:00

You(r) Tube? Really? It might belong to someone else.

2009-11-25T19:51:00.000-08:00

I love it when anyone talks about God in the Context of Communication.

The question for me is: Does God use the internet? Or, are we just using the internet and looking for a way to fit God into our use?

... should I be reading the bible right now instead of drinking Millers and watching Youtube?

proof of "random" or "intelligent" design?

2009-11-22T10:22:00.000-08:00

I've been doubting my faith lately, and so what's a guy to do but surf the internet looking for answers?

By the way, what's the chance that "You Tube," and/or the "Internet" for that matter, both occurred randomly? It's almost like someone intentionally created them.

....hmmmm......

i love science

2009-11-20T21:29:00.000-08:00

lightening in a bottle ... sort of

2009-11-18T20:23:00.000-08:00

What if God was an NFL referee?

2009-11-07T20:21:00.000-08:00

I talked with one of my best friends in the world tonight. Larry and his wife, Donna, live in Tucson, Arizona. He told me, on the phone, how he escaped near-death for the second time.

It should be noted that Larry suffered a major heart attack about five years ago. He died for a few minutes.

Just a few weeks ago, he wrecked a motorcycle, and his heart didn’t give out this time.

We talked about this fact, … his heart, … extensively, … which got us into talking about life and stuff.

Larry is a “non-sometimes-wants to be-recovering Catholic-believer.”

After talking politics, sports, etc., I told him about playing football with Ethan, my son, today.

I know the game of football.

Ethan knows how to run around the backyard like all three and a half year old boys do, and he knows how much fun it is to tackle and chase after the ball in the grass. He doesn't know the rules.

He will someday know the “game” of football, but right now Ethan only knows what he knows.

So, I told Larry that I found myself standing with the football in my hand, … frustrated, ... with decades worth of football knowledge, … knowing all the rules … watching my son run around the yard, ... he, ... wanting to do nothing else but get dirty and muddy while laughing and having fun, … me wanting ... him to just understand the importance of “hike.”

And Larry thought that God might watch motorcycle crashes too.

cool technology

2009-11-05T19:21:00.000-08:00

shock and ... awe-...fully cool

2009-10-30T19:58:00.000-07:00

viral emails?

2009-10-20T09:34:00.000-07:00

Periodically, a viral email comes floating my way, and I typically take a quick glance and then delete them. Not so much because they're not funny or interesting, but I delete them because I'm busy at the time or bogged down with other emails, etc.

With that said, one of these viral emails recently came across my desk, and I actually had time to read it. And, ... it's pretty funny. With that said, ... it's pretty political too, ... which is why it's funny.

Check it out and tell me what you think. Do you think it's funny? Is it funny because it's true? Or, am I just another jerk passing along a viral political email?

THE ANT AND THE GRASSHOPPER

This one is a little different.... Two Different Versions................. Two Different Morals

OLD VERSION

The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.

The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away..

Come winter, the ant is warm and well fed.

The grasshopper has no food or shelter, so he dies out in the cold.

MORAL OF THE STORY: Be responsible for yourself!

MODERN VERSION

The ant works hard in the withering heat and the rain all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.

The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.

Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while he is cold and starving.

CBS, NBC , PBS, CNN, and ABC show up to provide pictures of the shivering grasshopper next to a video of the ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food.

America is stunned by the sharp contrast.

How can this be, that in a country of such wealth, this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?

Kermit the Frog appears on Oprah with the grasshopper and everybody cries when they sing, 'It's Not Easy Being Green.'

Acorn stages a demonstration in front of the ant's house where the news stations film the group singing, 'We shall overcome.' Rev. Jeremiah Wright then has the group kneel down to pray to God for the grasshopper's sake.

President Obama condemns the ant and blames President Bush, President Reagan, Christopher Columbus, and the Pope for the grasshopper's plight.

Nancy Pelosi & Harry Reid exclaim in an interview with Larry King that the ant has gotten rich off the back of the grasshopper, and both call for an immediate tax hike on the ant to make him pay his fair share.

Finally, the EEOC drafts the Economic Equity & Anti-Grasshopper Act retroactive to the beginning of the summer.

The ant is fined for failing to hire a proportionate number of green bugs and, having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes, his home is confiscated by the Government Green Czar and given to the grasshopper.

The story ends as we see the grasshopper and his free-loading friends finishing up the last bits of the ant’s food while the government house he is in, which, as you recall, just happens to be the ant's old house, crumbles around them because the grasshopper doesn't maintain it.

The ant has disappeared in the snow, never to be seen again.

The grasshopper is found dead in a drug related incident, and the house, now abandoned, is taken over by a gang of spiders who terrorize the ramshackle, once prosperous and once peaceful, neighborhood.

The entire Nation collapses bringing the rest of the free world with it. MORAL OF THE STORY: Be careful how you vote in 2010.

I'm not a cat from Brooklyn...

2009-10-16T15:02:00.000-07:00

... just sensemaking in cincinnati.

Nobel Fodder?

2009-10-10T18:12:00.001-07:00

"Maurice McCrackin (1905-1997) was an American civil rights and peace activist, tax resister and Presbyterian minister. McCrackin started a community church in Cincinnati after gaining notoriety for refusing to pay federal taxes. Many of his former parishioners followed him to the small building on Dayton Street in Cincinnati where he preached, ran services, baptized babies, and performed weddings and funerals.

He was a principled pacifist all of his life. He was active in the struggle for racial equality and an end to militarism in the United States. McCrackin was well known to the state's attorneys office as he was arrested over and over again in protests. Rev. McCrackin was also active in the fight for prisoner's rights and spent much time visiting convicts. Once, he was abducted by a man that he had visited in jail and rather than see him incarcerated again, refused to testify against him. The district attorney in Cincinnati jailed McCrackin for weeks because of this incident."

Hope and Change and Peace

2009-10-09T05:03:00.000-07:00

Thoughts?

hall of fame?

2009-10-06T21:16:00.000-07:00

... classic ... "fountain of youth."

2009-10-01T20:18:00.000-07:00

Rakim?

sensemaking in cincinnati: Noah's Ark?

2009-10-01T09:48:00.000-07:00

sensemaking in cincinnati: Noah's Ark?

sleepless in cincinnati

2009-10-01T08:29:00.000-07:00

It's almost 12:00-noon on Thursday. I've already sucked down about four cups of coffee, but I am exhausted.

My wife has been taking "night-duty" with our baby-girl this first six weeks of her little life because she, my wife Jen, is still on maternity leave. I've gone back to work, so Jen is allowing me to sleep when Riley wakes up throughout the night ... to eat ... or because she has a dirty diaper ... or because she just wants to be held for a while.

And then last night happened.

Riley just wouldn't sleep, ... at all ... which is unusual. Jen typically sneaks in two or three hours in between waking-sessions, but last night was different. The little girl just wouldn't sleep, and she wouldn't stop crying unless she was being held. Her crying woke me up several times, so I decided to get out of bed to see what was happening in the nursery. I walked in the door, and Jen looked at me as if was on the verge of collapse. It was around 2:00 and she had been up all night, unable to even put the baby down for more than a few minutes.

She insisted I go back to bed. But I knew better.

So, I took baby-Riley out to the family room, and Jen went to bed to get at least a few hours of sleep. I laid back in the chair, Riley on my chest, and tried to get some sleep too, which worked "sort of." I'm still not sure why, but the little girl was just restless. She never really fell into a deep, consistent sleep, and neither did I.

(Now, please don't applaud me. Quite literally, I've been feeling sorry for myself all stinking day because I had to stay up ...just one night out of, ... hmmm, ... six weeks worth of nights! Save your applause for the worthy.)

Morning came. I went to the gym, then to work. And now I'm exhausted. But as I'm sitting here at my desk, working while listening to background music, ... a particular song, ... one that I've heard many, many times, ... comes on. It's the one in the video above.

And for the first time in my hearing it many, many times, ... I get it. I understand it.

And even though I'm still very tired, I wouldn't trade sleepless moments with my little girl snuggled on my chest for anything in the world.

Thanks, God.

my first publication (that someone could actually buy!)

2009-09-25T09:05:00.000-07:00

I've been writing over the last several years and have been able to eek out a few publications. The problem as been that all of the manuscripts have been been published for academic audiences, which means that in most probability, only a handful of people (academics) will ever read it.

It's the nature of academic writing: You write for a very small and specialized group.

Well, my fourth piece is a little different. I was asked to contribute a chapter for a book titled: "Sexuality Matters: Paradigms and Policies for Educational Leaders." And from what I could initially tell, the audience was going to once again be academics, which means that only a handful of people would ever even see it, much less read it.

But then I got an email from my one of the contributing editors. The email contained a link to Amazon.com, where in, ... believe it or not, ... one could actually purchase the book!

During a lunch this week, I asked "said" editor, "am I going to be able to go to ... say ... Barnes and Noble and actually see this book on a shelf? To which he replied, yes, but you will probably be getting your own copy from the publishers, so don't go buy one.

I smiled and said, "I don't want to go to a bookstore and buy the book, ... I just want to be able to go to a bookstore and see that I have something there, that I wrote, that I could buy!" He laughed and understood that this is probably a bigger deal for me than it is for him.

So, I've kind of done it, ... sort of. I have a piece of my writing that will be sold in the same store as Chuck Palahniuk or Anne Lamott, ... not that I have any delusions that I am of their writing calibre.

But, it's neat. I feel pretty good about the accomplishment.

Sexuality Matters is published by Rowman & Littlefield (September 28, 2009). The title of my chapter is: "Deconstructing Silos: Non-LGBTQ Educators and the Subjects of the Urban Classroom."

If you are so inclined, ... check it out. I am really proud of the piece.

betrayal is hard

2009-09-23T16:25:00.000-07:00

wow

hankerin' for a hunk o' cheese?

2009-09-21T17:04:00.000-07:00

underpants

2009-09-11T17:50:00.000-07:00

I started thinking about this post because I've figured-out pants. Actually, what I figured out is that I like wearing pants. But really, it's a specific pair of pants that I'm talking about, ... and that's not the whole story.

It's more that I have become accustomed to wearing a specific pair of pants: Black Dockers.

But it's not these pants that ... I love, ... nor is it that I really like pants that much. Rather, it's becoming "accustomed to" that which I've grown to "being accustomed."

The black dockers sort of ... fit me (emphasis on "sort of"). I wear them everyday, no less. They are indeed black, ... although they are starting to turn a lighter shade of reddish-grey where the sun sees them, ... or where my hands hit them when slapping my thighs while laughing or crying, ... feeling nervous and alone, ... or where my hands rest while living ridiculously and pleasantly as oblivious as an ostridge is to a sandstorm.

Black pants go well with shirts and ties, particularly when wearing black shoes and black belt ... and more importantly they go well with the rest of my mess. Pants are one less thing that, ... I think ... need to be worried about. They are "automatic" -- always available when I need them, busted stitches and fade. No working for, no thinking about, ... just comfortably available to abuse.

And there's the rub.

We took 12, ... yes twelve, bags of clothes to "Good Will" recently. Eee-billy-Gad, what a relief! To get rid of all baggage, ... some of those things that weigh us comfortably-down, is mighty, mighty nice.

But, my black dockers were not a part of that party. And it's not for the fact that many other garments deserved a lesser destiny than to ... succumb to thoughtless and effortless slaps from the sun.

They, my black dockers, were salvaged much like other things in my life because ... I am afraid to give-up, to turn-over, to live, to be alive, ... to trade-away those things which make me feel ... safe????

The fact is that I am afraid, and becoming "accustomed-to" is the hole-in-shifting-sand that I find myself hiding in. I hold onto those things which by no means, ... as they say, ... "become me," ... as told in a story greater than I have the capacity, proclivity and authority to write about.

And for anyone looking, these pants are terrible. I imagine that onlookers gawk. They are most probably asking themselves, ... in small groups comprised of hip-folk in smart shorts and neck-ties, or in cooly-ripped and prefabed-damaged jeans, "why is this weird guy wearing these stupid pants ... and why is there sand in his hair?"

So, from now on, ... when I perceive that my head is buried, ... when I am hanging onto things that clearly are not "becoming," ... perhaps the very first thing that I should do is take the pants off, ... leaving, ... for all on-lookers, ... the sight of arms and legs dangling in the air like a naked Halloween ornament.

And now for underwear, ... marching on.

root's rights

2009-09-09T15:43:00.000-07:00

Os novos direitos humanos from Mauricio Campos - COMMO design on Vimeo.

can you believe this?

2009-09-08T20:42:00.000-07:00

A friend of ours is currently teaching in S. Korea, and during a recent visit back to the states he was telling me about how it seems that the people there often seem to be operating with a "singular collective mind." I sort of see what he was talking about here. Amazing.

sensemaking in cincinnati: wait a minute!

2009-09-07T11:52:00.000-07:00

sensemaking in cincinnati: wait a minute!

wait a minute!

2009-09-07T11:43:00.000-07:00

... this kid is one ham sandwich

is this healthy consumerism?

2009-09-02T16:31:00.000-07:00

Yikes!

like special effects?

2009-08-29T16:16:00.000-07:00

... down the memory lane of cinematic magic in five minutes, 6 seconds:

a hard-hitting interview

2009-08-28T08:32:00.000-07:00

three-and-a-half-year-old sensemaking...

going it alone? you're not built for it.

2009-08-25T18:45:00.000-07:00

We just watched a movie called "The Soloist." Aside from me highly recommending the movie, ... if you happen to rent it, I urge you to check out the DVD extras. In particular, take a look at the short clip called "Beth's Story." (also above)

As I write this, my family and friends are happily inviting young Riley into the world. But this movie reminded me of all the people out there so desperately needing to experience Love Winning.

There are lots of ways to do that.

Just ask and listen.

But if you're stumped, Faces Without Places is a local organization that would be a good starting place.

my first movie!

2009-08-17T09:53:00.000-07:00

... how did we do?

Contagious Grace

2009-08-13T08:29:00.000-07:00

I've recently been listening to a book (yup, have stooped to such, ... but it's better than listening to talk radio, right?) titled "The Irresistible Revolution" by Shane Claiborne, and it is pretty interesting. Shane does a really good job painting the picture of God's Kingdom as was originally articulated by Jesus. And as I'm listening to the parts about radical love, ... about when affronted by wrong, one should turn the other cheek and show radical grace, ... I'm being challenged to rethink how I react to other people.

I mean, what would happen world-over if we just started to see even our enemies as sons and daughters of Our God? What if we began to see those that do wrong as Jesus sees them? What if we could show uncanny grace in those times when our worldly intellect and temper screams out for justice and retribution?

Would it be contagious? Could there be an infection of grace that would be passed from one being to the next, ... all eventually becoming ravaged by Viral Love?

What would the world do to stop the outbreak?

smells like twit in here...

2009-08-05T08:46:00.000-07:00

ONE WAY FARM

2009-07-27T19:19:00.000-07:00

One of the coolest things about my job is the incredible people I get to meet. One of those people is Barbara Condo, the director of an organization called "One Way Farm." It is an organization that supports the healing of severely abused children.

Check it out:

"One Way Farm Children's Home provides residential care 365 days a year, 24 hours a day. Our agency provides an Animal Education Therapy Program, an Employment Training Program, Counseling Services and a Youth Program to further the healing of our children, all very unique programs. We have served approximately 8,000 children and have been in business since 1976. We are licensed by the Job and Family Services and serve children from throughout the State of Ohio."

Barbara runs this organization from her residence, and she is passionate about loving children out of brokenness. It is not surprising that Barbara is a Believer.

If you have a moment, take a look at the letters written by some the the children, ... and then if you are up to it, take a look at some of their needs.

It's easy stuff.

Love Wins.

it's about time

2009-07-26T07:28:00.000-07:00

like bunnies?

2009-07-21T18:18:00.000-07:00

... then don't watch this.

... this guy seems to have "a thing" for twenties-era art.

*******
I just noticed the caption for the video. Please note that while it reads "Me in my Bunny Sleeper," the "Me" in that sentence does not mean "me."

I have a ducky sleeper.

getting air

2009-07-17T20:54:00.000-07:00

We are born into this world with a taste for Perfection because our Maker knows us, and He loves us where we are.

Maybe He puts us into the world like a father would put his son into a 1993 Toyota Celica GT.

We take our first hard-turn-left at 90 MPH.

He knows that the vehicle is much too fast, and He knows that the chances of dying are patiently real.

But He allows us to wildly "fly" into a torn, incomplete, broken, uncertain, ... imperfect certainty.

We speed toward destruction and death.

He knows the enemy's tools: our desire to drive fast, ... for the road to succumb to our will.

But He also knows the possibilities found in choosing the road blazed by His Son.

And with every moment of Listen, He reminds us that BIRDS learn to fly off-road, ... where even blistered tires have no traction.

justice at :41

2009-07-07T19:03:00.000-07:00

"socialism works!"

2009-07-04T15:36:00.000-07:00

We went to the North Side parade today, and it was great. I really like North Side because it is eclectic and different. Lot's of different types of people ... all doing different types of things.

For example, one float had a bunch of drag-queens holding and displaying a diversity of politically oriented signs.

I love that stuff, particularly when eccentricities are compounded.

In particular, I loved one fine individual dancing and jumping around a float platform named "Guerilla Queer Bar", ... belly shirt, red-white-blue boy-shorts, and hairy belly that appeared to be pierced. Just imagine that "We Are the Champions" was blaring as this "boy shorts" superhero is jumping around the stage with enough energy to strike a match in someone else's shirt-pocket.

She/He was holding a neon-green sign reading, ... "Socialism Works!"

Happy Independence Day, America!

"People demand freedom of speech as a compensation for the freedom of thought which they seldom use." ~ Soren Kierkegaard (1813 - 1855)

there is no spoon ..

2009-07-01T18:03:00.000-07:00

... made of lead, ... melted down into a molten liquid, ... and now cooling in my mouth ... for me to in just a second, ... spit out as a semi-solid, yet searing-hot, state ... in order to burn Korean Morpheus:

white men and jumping? it's amazin'

2009-06-27T18:48:00.000-07:00

looking for a good read

2009-06-25T09:56:00.000-07:00

I have just recently finished a pretty neat book, "The Shack" by William P. Young.

This post is not going to be yet another blog hyping the book, however. It is a good book, and I really do recommend you check it out, but I want to write about how I seem to find God working in my life ... again.

As I've written before, my mother and I are very close. We talk every day, and we visit her and my father 3 to 4 times a week. The frequency of visiting has much to due with her being ill. Not knowing how much time she will have with me, Jen, and Ethan can be very motivating.

With that said, I have also written before that my mother is an ex-communicated Jehova's Witness, this having occurred years and years before I was around. This little fact is important because, while my Mom is one of the most religiously intelligent and knowledgeable people I know (she knows the bible better than anyone I've ever met), her experience with the very structured religion of Jehova's Witnesses has left her with a very particular image of spirituality. Her tainted experiences with religion caused her to emerge into another type of belief system. In fact, many would consider Mom to be a "New Ager." You know, those who read and believe psychics like Sylvia Brown and John Edwards.

The problem is that the more and more I find myself buying into Jesus, and following Him, her comments about New Age stuff really gets under my skin. Part of it is due to my beliefs, but another part is due to the fact that she is not going to be here for too much longer, ... and I desperately want her to find the peace and love offered through Jesus, ... that same peace and love that I'm diving into more and more deeply as I journey.

And so we reached a sort of impasse: I could no longer stand to hear her talk about Mother-God, ... whom she calls Azna ..., anymore than she could stand to hear me talk about Father-God and Jesus. More than once, I became upset enough to completely change the subject abruptly enough that one would consider it rude.

Long story shorter is that my mother and I became unable to meaningfully talk about God and spirituality, and this at a time when we both so desperately need to.

So, I started praying, asking God to help.

A few days later, someone recommended The Shack. And now my Mom is reading it.

I don't want to ruin the plot of the book for those who have not yet read it, but if you have read the book, you'll understand why finding this book, ... or this book finding me, ... at this particular time is fitting and important.

And this is how I find God working in my life sometimes. I pray, ... it's answered, ... but it's hardly never answered in the way I think it will be. If this happened every once in a while, I could easily chalk it up to ironic coincidence. But it's happening far too often. Love Keeps Winning. It's amazing.

Trust grows.

Grace flows.

God shows.

Now I'm looking for another good book to read. Any recommendations?

change

2009-06-11T07:02:00.000-07:00

I have a brother four years my junior, and in some ways you couldn't find two people that were simultaneously so similar yet radically different. Some of you know that my walk with Jesus has really increased in intensity over the last few years, and one of the ways that I've been challenged is in trying to make sense of my brother’s decisions, life, and brokenness, particularly when his stuff spills over into his family’s life and well being.

But this post is not necessarily about my brother.

It is about how talking to Jesus makes me different.

I have a story, ... one that just happened this morning, ... that illustrates this point.

My mother was admitted into St. Elizabeth Hospital last night. She has fluid around her heart, ... complications from the Myelofibrosis, ... which is causing her breathing difficulties. She is having a procedure to drain fluid from around her heart this morning. Actually, she is in the ER right now as I write this.

But this isn't really a post about my mother either.

It's about how Jesus changes me.

Here's the story: Jen and I visited my mother last night in the hospital, and I came back this morning to be with Mom before and after the procedure. My brother had visited my mother last night after we left and left me a copy of a DVD. It was very important to him that I get the DVD, ... so important, in fact, that he sent me a text message last night to remind me to get it. Actually, he sent the message twice. He didn’t want me to leave the DVD at the hospital.

The DVD is titled “Religulous,” and is written by comedian Bill Maher, who also stars in the film. According to Maher, “the title of the film is ‘portmanteau’ derived from the words ‘religion’ and ‘ridiculous’; the documentary examines and satires organized religion and religious belief.”

After arriving to the hospital room this morning and seeing the video, and after I began to understand what the premise was about, … I became furious! I just couldn’t believe that my brother would choose this particular moment in time to share this video with my mom, … and with me. I felt like calling him on the phone and chewing him out, … telling him to never, ever, call me again. I wanted to tell him how insensitive he was. I wanted to let him know how wrong he was. I wanted to show him how angry I was.

Then the nurses and aides came in to take my Mom down for the procedure.

I didn’t have time to call, but as I walked along side the cot, I was seething with anger, shaking my head, … waiting for the moment that I would be able to tear into my brother. Here I am with my mother, who is very afraid of what’s happening, and my brother has left a video, … while his mother is in the flipping hospital … that is critical of faith?

WTF?!?!?!

Having to walk from her room to the waiting room gave me a moment. It gave me time.

I prayed. I asked Jesus to show me what to do, which is new for me. In the past, I would have already called him, would have already told my brother to F--- Off, … would have already allowed the pressurized volcano inside of me to erupt, … and would have felt justified in doing so.

I would have given into what I now understand as “the plans of the enemy.”

But this time, … I asked Jesus for help, and instead of calling my brother, I typed him this text message:

“ [Brother], I can’t for the life of me understand why you would bring a video that is critical of faith, particularly right now, and ask me to watch it. I just don’t understand. Why? Why right now? It’s times like these that people NEED their faith the most. Couldn’t you have waited until things are a little less frightening?”

I hit the “send button,” and it felt good. I shared my feelings in an honest way, without anger, without tension, without the enemy’s ways, … and it felt right. I expressed what was on my heart, but I hopefully did it in a way that will not walk he and I down the road toward another distant argument.

I felt free.

My brother responded with a text saying that his timing was awful. He apologized. He said that he wanted to get my opinion of the video because he respects my advice about such things.

Wow.

Maybe this will give he and I a reason to talk about Jesus.

Love Wins!