The Death of Discomfort

I heard a story about local politics on the radio this evening that interested me. I may not be getting the details right, but I think the gist of the story was that a county board member has called for a review of job qualifications for county employees. He did this because one county employee equated homosexuality with pedophilia in explaining why he thought the county shouldn't adopt a non-discrimination policy.

The part that struck me was the comment by the county employee. He referred to sensitivity training by saying (I'm paraphrasing) "People have to sit in these workshops and hear things they don't agree with."

At first I was appalled - actually I still am. How did we arrive at a place where people think they should only have to listen to information that is comfortable or that they agree with? But here's the rub - haven't we (lesbians/liberals/allies/social work-type people) helped create that belief? By insisting that people not say things that offend us? By screaming until things like sensitivity training developed?

So we've said "Don't say things that offend us" and we insist that people go to workshops so so they can learn what they shouldn't say because it will offend us - but the workshops offend those people. Does anyone else see the conundrum here? More importantly, I'd love to hear ideas about how one could possibly resolve the seeming contradiction.

Grace

This is the breath-giving video, The Sky in Motion, I referred to in my January 10 blog entry. You can also see it in on youtube, or in a bigger format at theskyinmotion.com



túrána hott kurdís by hasta la otra méxico! from Till Credner on Vimeo.

Breathing Again

My dad is home after the neurosurgery and I've talked to him briefly a couple times.

The radiologist who consulted with Dad before he left the hospital was hopeful that Dad could be around for a couple of years. We won't know more about his health until he goes in - a couple weeks from now - to look at options (what balance of chemo and radiation to do).

My uncle and my brother are there now, then my stepbrother will visit, then my brother again (he's in SF, which is 3 hours from Reno). There are lots of logistics to figure out - Dad can't see much out of his left eye. He apparently is crashing around because he's unsteady, which would be funny except it's not. He will probably never drive again, though alive and not driving is OK by me. They will have to figure out how to get him out of the house so he's not totally dependent on his partner to go everywhere.

Dad said I should not fly out in March("the weather's lousy here in March") as I planned to. I'm waiting for an opinion from my brother about whether it would be helpful if I was there, regardless of the weather. He said he'll know more after he goes back there next week.

He's just as ornery as ever - he had a friend bring Kentucky Fried Chicken to the hospital. I can breathe again.

"That's what carbon-based life forms do."

or Mindfulness By Any Other Name....

On the phone after asking how my post-surgical dog is, my dad told me he was going to ruin my day. He has a brain tumor.

We talked for awhile about symptoms - his vision is not good, which he realized after he had cataracts removed. Later in the conversation he said, "People ask why these things happen. Why? Because that's what carbon-based life forms do. They break down after awhile."

After the second opinion, which brought a poor prognosis, he called again and at one point said, "Look, it's better than Alzheimer's. It's better than watching your kid die."

He's a fatalist but somehow that becomes faith. Grounded, tethered to reason and sanity, and spiritual all at the same time. His cynical atheism, which should in theory lead to despair, somehow creates grace.

Speaking of grace, I realized tonight that I don't feel punished or sorry for myself. It just is. The focus of my spirituality isn't how pain is created. Whatever love there is in the universe can whisper quietly or hold me in its arms.

A song with the cadence of a waltz came on my car radio - and I realized I have been dancing with sorrow. In and out, forward and back in some primordial rhythm - gently. Oddly comforting.

The Option to Suffer

I've been thinking a lot about suffering. I was told by a therapist that suffering for me is like breathing. I hated hearing it, and she's right. Since then I've let go of some of it, and I continue to work. I've been unhappy with myself lately, though, and suffering because of it. I'm a jackass in my car. I'm impatient and rude and obnoxious. I hate admitting that. Not all the time, but often. It's a great indicator of my spiritual condition. I used to take pride in letting folks in front of me because I didn't care to get there sooner. I was going to a lot more meetings then - reading spiritual literature often. Hmmm - not rocket science. But knowing what I need to do to make my life better doesn't mean I do it.

I've just started working with a personal coach (check out www.candyspitz.com). She and I talked last week and came up with a great plan of all these things I was going to do - I did a couple of them, but not consistently. I have been working on being more physically active. I did some fitness walking in the concourse yesterday, ran up three flights of stairs and a couple times this week did the Walk at Home video by Leslie Sansome. (I like it because there aren't any complicated moves for those of us who are coordination-challenged - you mostly just...walk. It's not a bad workout as I'm getting into shape.) Other than that, I didn't do much to come closer to the life I want to create. And I'm trying to let that be OK.

But I was still suffering. Until a friend emailed me a link to a video of time lapse video of the sky. Watching it and listening to the sweet music - I realized I was breathing deeply for the first time since I don't know when. So why doesn't being outdoors here - or the surrounding areas - make me feel that connected? Is it because I'm usually out in nature with my wife, so I'm not focused on being spiritual and introspective? I want to blame it on the city I live in, which is not pretty. But I know how false blame is. So what's it about? Do I need to set a different tone when we're out walking in the woods?

I sometimes mess with my own mind with thoughts like, "The sun'll burn out in a billion years - it's so far away it's not worth worrying about. But what will the people who are here (if there are any) do?" Then I think about human beings becoming extinct - as we almost certainly will - and that feels disconcerting too. What will it be like as we die off? Like some science fiction story. So it's odd that looking at the sky - which triggers scary, disorienting thoughts like those - made me feel calm, but it did. In the end there is always the sky and the earth, and not much else matters. I'm part of the universe. That's enough.

Hold the Phone! All I Want for Hanukah....

is a Gnome Bowling Set and an ilogic hat.

Too bad I don't eat sweets. Chocolate Scrabble would be tempting.

I'm all for creativity, but man, people need more to do.

Is an honest governor too much to ask for?

Illinois - where all the state parks are closed, all the dead people vote, and all the governors get indicted.

(OK, not all of them. Just the majority.)

In the immortal words on Hermoine Granger: "What...an...idiot."

The Near Enemy

I just finished reading The Cruelest Month by Louise Penny. Loved it, want to have written it, am jealous of how good it is (which I find particularly interesting since one of the themes running through it is jealousy and how destructive it is). It is a real book - meaning not just a mystery novel, but one with interwoven themes, characters who are real, and a thought-provoking story.

I would love to write a book like it, and I don't think I can. I know I need to write the book I can write. But this is precisely what has stopped me from writing. My book is pitifully simplistic in comparison. Actually, my book sucks. I don't say that out of false modesty. It truly sucks.

But I think I have to write it anyway. Last year when I traveled to Madison, I met the adopted daughter of one of my information sources. She has an interesting name (sorry, not sharing - you'll have to read the book) and I asked her mom if it was OK to name a character after the daughter. Mom said yes, but she wouldn't tell her daughter until the book comes out. Mom didn't say this, but daughter has had enough disappointment and false hope in her life.

This weekend while I was in Madison I had dinner with both of them; daughter asked me if I'm going to use her name in it (and if the book will be sold in Madison). Yikes. It's not OK to let children down.

One line in particular from The Cruelest Month sticks with me: "The near enemy. It isn't a person is it? It's ourselves." I think I need to write the book, even if it sucks. Maybe precisely because it sucks.

Camp Wellstone Rocks!

Just got back from a 2.5 day training in Madison, Wisconsin run by Wellstone Action for people interested in advancing progressive candidates and issues. There are three tracks: Citizen activism, running for office or managing a campaign. I followed the managing a campaign track and learned an incredible amount. It's subsidized and well worth the sliding scale fee. (We also got an incredible deal through the Name Your Own Price program at priceline.com and stayed at the lovely Madison Concourse hotel for a third of what it would have cost otherwise.) I know my wife was concerned that I'd come back even more wound up about politics, but I actually feel calmer and more focused. I understand more about how to be effective politically, which translates to feeling more powerful. I know rage = anger plus shame, and shame is often bound to powerlessness. Though I feel no less angry, I do feel less enraged. I have some idea of how to harness that anger in positive ways. The friend I attended with wanted to know what I thought I would do next with what I learned; I'm not sure yet. I'll keep you up to date.

My Dog, My Litmus Test

I realized again this morning what a great indicator my dog Merlin is of my spiritual condition. And once again I'm amazed at the insidiousness of blame. It's like a siren call, luring me to my doom. (I imagine blame appearing somewhat like a mermaid sitting on a rock in the ocean saying in a sultry voice: "Come. Come - it's not your fault. It's other people that are the problem….")

I feel guilty because Merlin hasn't been getting walkies as often because it's so slick out. He usually gets a walk in the AM and one in the PM, but now it's too cold and slippery with snow or ice at both those times. My wife's been walking him at lunch, but he's still hopeful in the morning….

I was pretty crabby this morning anyway. I have a cold so I haven't been sleeping well, so I’m exhausted. And I'm crabby about how cluttered our house is. So there was Merlin this morning, following me around and getting under my feet. And I got mad at him about it. Fortunately I have - finally - developed enough self-awareness and (even more important) self-control not to act on my anger. But I caught myself - I realized I was reacting internally to him as if it was his fault I couldn't give him what he wanted. How seductive is that thinking? If you want something that I can't give you, then I have to make you wrong for wanting it. I think we all like to imagine that we can't possibly understand the thinking behind domestic violence - but there it is. I'm uncomfortable with my feelings so I have to blame (or shame) you for doing the thing that's triggering them.

Oy vey. Spiritual growth is a long, slow journey.