Now before you jump to conclusions, no, I am not giving up on my personal heritage's high holy day. I love St Patrick's Day. This year, it been a little on the low key side. Well, actually, I have't done anything in particular to observe the day other than think about it a lot and wear a spot of green. So I think what I have given up this St Patrick's Day during this particular Lenten exercise, it expectations. Used to be I expected holidays like St Patrick's to have certain things done in certain ways. Corned beef and cabbage, Irish music, some soda bread or Irish Cream. Wearing green from head to toe and talking with an Irish lilt. I love all that, but it is not happening this year for some reason. Maybe I am getting old. Maybe my prioirities have changed. I am not sure. What I have learned today is that by giving up expectations, it opens the door to new experiences. It makes things less stressful. Hard to be disappointed when you have no expectations. Okay, I think that sounds a little more cynical than I intended. I have had many, many wonderful St Pat's celebrations. I was actually invited to what I am sure will be a very jolly celebration tonight. But I am choosing to do something else for several reasons: it is in support of a good friend, it is something I truly enjoy and it is what I want to do. Not to say I don't want to go to the jolly celebration. I do. But as oft happens in life, conflicts arise. Choices must be made. And expectations must be at least adjusted. So, it is a good day to give up expectations. I expect, however, that you will agree and support me in my non-expectant state. Happy Saint Patrick's Day, by the way.
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3/15/2014 2 Comments 40 Days of Giving Up: Day TenI’ve hit a wall. I can’t think of anything I necessarily want to give up...at least not right now. There I times when my brain just doesn’t work and when I started this blog about giving up various things during Lent, I knew it was a possibility. I knew there might come a day when I was just plain uninspired. It wouldn’t be the first time, it surely won’t be the last. But oh my goodness, it just hit me while I was writing. Inspiration. Sometimes you just have to give up waiting for inspiration and push through it. So that is what I am doing: pushing through it. No inspiration required. Ironically, I just realized, not having inspiration was my inspiration for today’s blog. So it has long been a truism that all creative endeavors are 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration. Yipes. Well, I guess ideas are a dime a dozen. And they do come and go quickly. Sometimes they come in the middle of the night. I remember many times I am struck with inspiration in the middle of the night. The strike hits me and I know I should get up and write it down. But I don’t. And by morning it is gone, somewhere in the dark of night like a thief. So there you have it. Inspiration must be paid attention to. But it cannot be the do all and end all of every endeavor. It takes picking up the tools and cobbling together the product. Work. Again, yipes. Work, though, has gotten a bad rap. I know if something seems like work, though, it probably is something I don’t want to do. Inspiration or not, I just don’t feel like it. Do I listen to those feelings? Or do I work through it? Does inspiration ignite the fire in the belly or does it sometimes misfire and die before catching on? Sigh. I guess that’s the problem and the solution of feeling inspired. Today I felt inspired to clean the house. Yet I surely didn’t feel like it. So I did what would “inspire” me to get down to it. I hired a friend to help me. And the job got done. My house is clean. I am content and inspired by my environment. It supports my creativity, which, it seems is now flowing again. Who knew? So maybe giving up inspiration is not the answer. Giving up acting on the inspiration is not the answer, either. Finding a way to support the inspiration and do the work in a necessary without feeling burdened or riddled with guilt by not doing it, is the answer. Okay, here is where I start to wonder if this really is a blog that anyone will actually read and get anything out of. Is it a blog that says anything? Maybe. Maybe not. But sometimes I just need to move through the blocks and let inspiration light the way. No matter how uninspired it may seem sometimes. Got inspiration? Hallelujah! *************** Note: I just ran an auto-edit on this piece and it reported that I began a number of sentences with “But” or “And”. That is the informal the editor tells me. I have an informal manner of writing. But (intentional use) maybe I should pay attention to that. I hear the voices of my early English teachers in my head saying, “Don’t begin a sentence with “but” or “and”. And I still do it. So there, I guess. That’s just the way it is. But I will pay attention and try to alter the habit. And that’s the truth. Giving up cussing might seem more like a resolution (more fitting to NewYear's than Lent) but really, I have to admit, I rather enjoy letting out a good &*#&*#@ now and then, and a real blue streak like &%$#@! *&^%*# and ^%&$$ is delightfully satisfying not to say wonderfully like taking the lid off a pressure cooker that is about to explode. Sometimes you just can't express what you mean without a good four-letter word now and then. I confess: cussing is a guilty pleasure. So recognizing that cussing is a guilty pleasure makes it well-suited to a lenten sacrifice. A resolution is a vow to improve oneself. Giving up something during Lent is intended to cause one to be reflective and meditative and feel some pain or discomfort in order to bring oneself closer to God. Giving up cussing would do that. I am sure God gets tired of hearing &^%**$ and *##$%$@ during public addresses or on TV shows. Cussing has become epidemic in modern American society, That aside, it still feels good at times and so giving it up during Lent is good spiritual practice. It is also good for the spirit itself. Well, an educated and sophisticated person can I suppose. The meaning behind the cuss can be let out in more appropriate ways with some lovely ten-dollar words one acquires through a good study of the English language. One needs only to turn to Shakespeare to find some very effective and devastating turns of phrases that would turn any grandmother's ear red. But I digress. I shall give up cussing here on in, at least during Lent. It will be a sacrifice for sure. Like, as I was blogging about yesterday with the giving up of impatience. While driving, a good cuss, ^&$$$#%, alleviates the pressure of waiting needlessly at the stoplight when then is no traffic or the railroad crossing when there is no train. It feels good. So during this season of inner examination I shall refrain from the minor and the major cuss as much as possible and doing penance of some kind when I slip. It will be maybe one of the most interesting and enlightening exercises during Lent I could do. And who know? Maybe I won't need the swear words after Lent. My sacrifice would then become a legitimate resolution for the rest of the year and certainly cut down of my soap budget thereafter. Day Nine: Give up cussing. Amen. Now there's a word I could use more often! I can be rather impatient. Oh, yes. You might not believe it, but let me assure you it is true. There are times when I get very frustrated waiting..like at stoplights. Oh, boy, do I hate waiting at stoplights. I fume. Yes, I sit and I fume about wasting time at stoplights that seem like they will never change. And this is whether I am driving or walking the dogs. Waiting is not always something I do well. I want what I want and I want it now. Well, that is not always true. I do agree there are somethings worth waiting for. Today it might be this blog. Since I am writing it in the evening, I am going to assume it was worth waiting for. Impatience would not have hurried it up. It was just one of those days I was doing other things and it was post-poned. No, I was not procrastinating. I gave that up on day one. So today, it is impatience. Seriously, impatience does not help one to have good mental health. I can feel my blood pressure rise and I tend to get real grumpy. This happens when I'm feverishly tryng to get something done or find a misplaced paper or my keys when I'm already running late. So I did develop some good habits like making a list, placing papers in a file folder or my "to be filed" bin and hanging my keys by the back door dutifully when I arrive home. But still sometimes I don't lay the proper groundwork to avoid the frustrations of not finding what I need when I need it. And as far as waiting at stoplights, well, I find it a good time to think a deep thought, check my cell phone for messages, or just observing the people and things around me. Okay, so impatience is not a sin. But it not pleasant to be around, either. I know that. I am sure I will hear about the next time I have an attack. It will probably be a temporary lapse in consciousness. Remind me, gently, that I gave it up. And please, please....may I ask you be patient? I'm giving up tommorrow. No, not waiting until tommorrow; that would be procrastination. Already gave that up. I'm giving up tomorrow in the sense that I am not going to worry about it so much, if at all. Tomorrow, as Annie would say, is always just a day away. We will never be there. Today is where it is at. So what prompted me to give up tomorrow? Well, I attended a memorial last nigth for a kind and gentle man who had ultimately learned to live in the today. He was suffering from an undiagnosed "mystery" disease that caused him great pain and made it difficult to walk and almost impossible to perform some of the activities of daily life. Yet he carried on. He persevered. He lived at last in the now. He had signs that the end might be near and I am sure had ideas about giving up. Yet he held his head up and soldiered on. There was a concert he wanted with all his heart to hear at the Disney Concert Hall in LA. It was the Tchaikovski Festival and this performance featured the LA Phil with the Simon Bolivar Youth Symphony of Venezuela. Gustavo Duadamel (pride of LA) was the conductor. The symphonic gem? The 1812 Overture. If anyone could lust for a symphonic piece, this was it for my friend. So, knowing it would be at the very least a mighty physical challenge, I drove him and his wife into LA. It was a wonderful evening of friendship and music. The music touched our souls. I personally have never heard such amazing music. My friend and his wife were in heaven, holding hands, smiling and transported to great heights by the music. Ectasy in music. Then it ended. Shortly after, in the lobby of the hall, my friend collapsed and died. Just that quick. At the time it seemed like a dream...maybe even a nightmare. But it was despite the tragic end of my friend's life, perfection. He had achieved something many people would never attempt. He had transcended the limitations of his fragile body to do something he longed so to do. And in the end, he even transcended his body and left us on what only could be a super-high. That is why I am giving up tomorrow. Do it now, today, right away. Never let perceived limitations keep you from doing what your heart craves. Today is all we have. Lesson learned: live now. Let tomorrow take care of itself. When I left Detroit oh so many years ago, I was not certain of much. I did not know if I would make it away from home, being the home boy I was. I was very connected to my family, deeply enmeshed in my family as several folks described it back then. Breaking away and striking out on my own was a scarey thing to do. Even I thought I would eventually return and settle back into the fold of family and friends there. As a precaution, I chose some certainty in the move knowing that I would have a relative here in Riverside who would be my "anchor". That was me then, always needing an anchor, some measure of certainty that someone would always be there should I fail. I've heard it said we are all born knowing everything. Soon after, though, we begin to forget. And by the time we have language skills to express ourselves, we have forgotten even the experience of birth. Then we grow and when we reach puberty we think we know everything. Our parents, indeed most adults, are just plain ignorant, or so we think. Then as we mature we begin to realize just how little we do know. And that is when we are presented with the opportunity to learn. Some choose to open their minds, other to keep them closed. Some live in certainty. Others become more and more uncertain. And that's where the real certainty begins to mainifest: in knowing we don't know and may never know, everything. And its okay. So today I am meditating on certainty, on giving it up. I don't recall ever thinking I knew everything. I assuredly know I don't know everything now. Everything has questions attached. And every answer brings another question. I have come to realize that should I ever stop questioning, I might as well stop living. If there is nothing left to learn, why bother to breathe? "Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd." Voltaire Living in the question rather than settling in an answer is the imperative. Stop questioning, stop living. Of that I am certain. Everyone these days seems to want closure. They want to understand why certain events happen. I was listening to the news about the missing airliner jet in Malaysia and the reporter said that the families of those missing just want to know what happened so they can have some "closure". What on earth does that mean? I want to understand why my mother died of cancer at age 57 in 1976 or my brother died of a brain tumor in 1975. I doubt any explanation will ever satisfy me. What does closure mean? I actually gave up seeking "closure" a long time ago. For some thngs, there just is no explanation. There is hardly a day that goes by I don't miss those who have gone on before me. Knowing why does not bring me closure. I cannot close those doors. I cannot shut the window on the past. It is important to remember. Now don't get me wrong. I am not in a constant state of mourning. I have gone on. I live each day in the now as much as I can. But it doesn't mean I don't miss my grandmother each and every day. But I also know those I loved who are gone are still part of me. There is a new program on ABC called Resurrection. I plan to watch it. The premise is that people who have died are "resurrected" and return to their family and friends. Imagine. What if that really happened? Sad thing is, even resurrected, those who have been dead for many years would not be as we remembered them and we, we would not be the same persons they left so long ago. But it is an interesting fantasy. So what does that say about closure? Ultimately, I don't believe there is such a thing as closure. I think there is such a thing as explanations and reasons leading to increased understanding. But that does not close anything. I think what people are really talking about when they say they are seeking "closure" is acceptance. We want to get to a place where we can accept the reality of the situation and not hurt as much. Pain. That is what drives us to seek this closure we speak of. But sometimes you just have to feel the pain, push through it, and move on. And it will always be there in some form. It just becomes more familiar, less difficult to live with and more like an old friend. Sometimes pain is not a bad thing. It keeps us grounded. It keeps us real. And it keeps us in touch with that which is lost. I don't ever want to put closure on the people missing from my life. I want them to stay with me for always and forever. And they do. We can close the lid on the coffin of the past, but I personally prefer to remain open to the past and to remembering the love and the pain of loss. For me, it helps me appreciate the present and everything I have. Afterall, it is because I have "loved and lost" that I will not have to face the ultimate closure of "never having loved at all." I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it when I sorrow most;' Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all. -Alfred, Lord Tennyson ******** Update: I actually have been giving up procrastination and just doing what's to be done and it feels good. I am not comparing myself to others, well not as severely...that will take time and practice. Security...well, that, like hope, has two side. One is true, one is false and it is realizing which I am feeling that is helpful in the giving up of what does not serve. I can philosophize alll day long, but it is in the actual conscious giving up that will tell the proverbial tale. "...and on the seventh day, He rested." "Remember the Sabbath Day and keep it holy." For Christians, it is Sundays. For Jews and 7th Day Adventists, it is Saturday. I believe for some Muslims, it is Fridays. Whatever day you choose, it is important to choose one day in seven, (the traditional week), to rest and restore yourself. This is true even if we don't practice any religion. It just makes good sense. During Lent, this is the case also. Sunday is a day for rest and reflection, worship and communion. I am interpretting that to mean, no blog required. So this blog was optional. I figured you might think I was falling down on the job or getting lazy. Not so. It is Sunday and Sundays are not "counted" in the forty days. So that is why tommorrow, Monday, will be Day Five of my Forty Days of Giving Up. Just thought you'd like to know. I hope you have a good day!* *Just an aside, have you ever noticed how people conclude most conversations, especially business transactions, with "Have a good day'? Or something similar? Well, I read that it comes from the greater sentence, "I hope you have a good day" or "Please have a nice day" etc. We just drop the personal touch and almost command that it be so. The hope or the please part is implied. Sometimes it does sound like a command or an order, but of course you can't command someone to have a good day. But to wish for someone to have one is actually a very nice and considerate thing. So next time someone tells you have a good day, know it is actually a wish for your happiness and success. At least one would like to believe that, wouldn't one? Every morning the sun rises. My upstairs bedroom window faces opens on the west side of the house, so what I get it reflected light. But it still lets me know that the day is rising up like a phoenix to begin again. It reminds me how when I went to bed the night before, I still had hope: hope for a brighter day, hope of a new tomorrow, hope that everything would be okay after all. I am beginning to think one can live too much in hope. You see, hope is something that is always "out there", just beyond the horizon. It is not a real thing. It can bolster you up and make you want to carry on, but it is not real. Hope can be just an illusion. At the risk of sounding a bit jaded, I am giving up hope. Okay, maybe that is an overstatement. I am not giving up hope. There is always hope. As I write this blog, I am sitting out on my deck in the side yard. The sun is fairly high in a clear blue sky. It reminds me that hope can mean believing a better world can come out of a clear blue sky. I think that is even called "blue-skying". But really, it takes a little more. I read our local morning paper online today. It was full of stories about dog bites. "Dog Bites are on the Rise!" "Man bite by Pit Bull Will Recover." "Dog Shot by Officer wi\ill Live." Mixed messages for sure. Dogs running rampant. Dogs going to restaurants with their owners. People taking their dogs into public spaces more. And there are more dogs in America than ever before. All of this gives me pause. It is a mixed message to be sure and leaves me to wondering what the world is coming to? Is it, forgive my trite phrase, going to the dogs? I hope not. And there is the problem with hope. Hope is not enough. I believe in hope, don't get me wrong. But the object of hope needs action. To get the hoped for results, one needs to rise up and move their feet. It worries me sometime when I see and hear of so many who have given up hope. Like the man who lives on the streets whom I wrote of yesterday or the cynical pundit on TV news who dwells only on the negative failures of our government and economy. There is always hope. But I believe we need to get beyond hope, use the inspiration of hope, the "audacity" as our current president put it, to make it happen. So today I give up hope. I am going to live into the hope of a better day by moving to make it one. I am going to give up hope in hope of making it real. Let hope be my inspiration, not my dwelling place. Will it work? Well, all I can say is, I hope so. There is a homeless man who sits on the sidewalks near my house. In the morning he can be found by the empty Brewster's Drug Store on Magnolia Ave. Later in the morning, he moves around the corner to the side of O'Reilly's Auto Supply facing Jurupa Avenue. During the day, I have seen him using the restroom at Ralph's Grocery Store or Carl's Hamburgers. He is always friendly. Loves to talk to the dogs when I'm out walking them. Later in the day, he is over by the Star Donut Shop on Elizabeth Ave at the corner of Magnolia. I see him there until the early evening. Then he disappears. I have no idea where he sleeps. Lately I have found myself avoiding hiim, taking different routes on our morning walk just so I don't have to interact. Acutally, I try to avoid all the homeless folk who can be found on the main streets near my house. Most are harmless. A few ask for money. I never carry my wallet with me, so I am honest when I say I have no money on me. But most just tell me how cute the dogs are and tell me to have a good day. And yet I feel uncomfortable when I pass them. Why? I am thinking this is because they challenge my sense of security. They shouldn't be hanging out on the streets. There is no security in that. They should accept the help that is out there. Riverside has programs for these people, but the ones who are "hardcore" street people don't choose to take advantage of it. They appear to choose the life they live on the street. There is a strange security in that for them. They know pretty much what to expect from day to day. That man has his routine and it doesn't change much. It has been that way for him for at least five years, ever since I began my morning walk routine. I don't think I could survive a life on the streets. For one thing I am too attached to my creature comforts. A nice house, a warm bed, food in the fridge, and so on. But I also know it could all disappear tommorrow. One unfortunate incident and all this ersatz security could vanish. Every day I write in my morning pages how very blessed I feel and how grateful I am for the blessings. It is almost as if I am reciting a charm or knocking on wood. Security is an illusion. It is all borrowed. Today I will meditate on security, on how I must give it up to find it. No, I probably will not sell the house and pick up my blanket to walk the streets. Maybe this morning I will not avoid that man on Magnolia Ave. The dogs like him. He seems like a good guy, secure, too. What is real security? I guess it really is something you have to give up in order to have it. ****** Updates: already today I have resisted and conquered procrastination by getting up, feeding the dogs and cat, doing my morning pages and the above blog! Great start. I might have fallen back into comparing myself to that man on the streets near my house, but not really. I think rather, I may have honestly looked at myself and learned something. That's always a good thing. And that does come with comparing and contrasting. |