Boxes can't hold us, or God

A Box by King's X

 

Lonely days will come and go,

nothing new unless you're bold,

revolution #19

brand new wave of anger
Stain yourself with pumpkin pie,

liquid tattoo I got mine,

don't forget forgetfulness,

call it Deconstruction
There is no room inside a box,
there is no room inside.
Way down in the deep depress,

colder than the coldest yes,

we all know of loneliness
others to another,

just a place to run and hide
just a place to free your mind,

just a place to break the chains

and find whatever matters
There is no room inside a box,
there is no room inside.

 

 

When I first heard this song, I was going through a deconstruction, of sorts, questioning my faith and all the things I was raised to believe as Truth. From what I know about Doug Pinnick, the singer for King's X, I know that he was struggling with these same Truths. That could be what led him to write this song, but I cannot be sure.

 

To me, this song talks about the futility of trying to hem God in. It reminds me that you cannot place the Infinite in some tiny little box that fits your puny understanding of things greater than yourself. I don't pretend to have God figured out. In fact, it's the mystery of the Divine that keeps me interested in the pursuit of knowledge and experience.

More than just a statement on God or faith, however, I believe the lyrics also speak to the deconstruction of one's self. Others may try to box us in, but the human spirit cannot be contained in tiny little containers, either. In fact, our bodies don't even do a very good job of hemming us in. Ever been around someone with a contagious smile or giggle? Or been around someone who is so charismatic, he/she enhances the atmosphere around them? I believe that is the spirit of the person leaking out of every pore of their body. It cannot be contained.

Yet, we are all guilty of trying to capture, analyze and label everyone like scientists. We want to fit everyone into tiny little boxes we can categorize and file away. And when they don't behave in the way we have preordained, then something must be wrong with them. We want God and others to fit in neat, rectangular boxes that we can carry and stow away for safekeeping.

How do those same boxes make us feel? Confined? Clausterphobic? Not understood?

That's where this song hits me the most. I don't want to be confined inside the small box of someone else's understanding. Unless they really get to know me or walk a mile in my shoes, they can't possibly understand me.

Boxes are confining. And unless we open the box of our small thinking, we'll continue to misunderstand others and the world.

I know from experience that my small thinking has caused me to be surprised by the world, and not always in a good way. When I thought I had things figured out--analyzed, categorized and arranged into boxes I could handle--I was thrown for several loops.

But back to the idea that our spirits--the essential part of who we are--cannot be contained in tiny boxes. I was recently reminded of this when I took part in the burial of my girlfriend's mother.

Her cremains were delivered to us in a small, retangular, black box. It wasn't Jean. It was just the ashes that her physical body had been reduced to. That body had not contained Jean for 10 days. Her spirit no longer dwelled there. And so when her ashes were placed in that box and we placed it in the ground, the lyrics of this song came back to me. "There is no room inside a box." There is no way that little black box could contain all that Jean was, her essence. That certainly lives on in some way, either in the spiritual world or in the hearts of her two children and grandchildren. The fact is, that box did not contain Jean. Her spirit was much too big for her own body, let alone that little box containing her ashes.

It served to remind me that I am more than this mortal body. And in the same way that I cannot be contained in some box, neither can God and neither can others. I need to keep my mind unboxed, as well, so that I can more easily accept new things and ideas. I can even accept that my girlfriend doesn't fit into the box that I try to contain her in. I can let others simply be who they are and accept the little surprises that life throws my way from time to time.

It's important to remember, "there is no room inside."

Three Chances at Life

Three Chances at Life

I don’t know many people who can honestly say they’ve had three chances at life. Mine came by way of four incredible people--first, of course, my parents. If they hadn’t met in high school and fallen in love, I would have never formed in my mother’s womb or drawn that first burst of air into my lungs. For the first two people I ever loved in this world, I am grateful. Next month, they will celebrate their 45^th wedding anniversary. Later this year, I will also celebrate that many years of life…thanks to them. I was their firstborn son.

Chance number two came in the most unlikeliest of ways—adoption. I had not done any research, hired an attorney or contacted an agency. No, in fact, I had just come out of the darkest period of my life in 2001 and getting that fateful call in August wasn’t even the faintest blip on my radar screen. But it happened and without time to even catch my breath, I said yes to idea of adopting a six-week old, bald and blue-eyed beauty, my Baby Sweet. I didn’t realize what a difference becoming a father would make in my life, most notably on my heart. I’ve always said that my oldest daughter saved my life. And maybe that sounds a bit melodramatic, but as I said, the year prior had been the darkest year of my entire life. Adopting my daughter made 2001 the brightest year of my life, followed three years later by the adoption of my youngest daughter, a mocha-skinned, brown-eyed beauty with the thickest and shiniest main of dark, “stick-up” hair.

Then came my divorce, making the last half of 2012 another dark and gloomy year for me. Separated from my daughters by more than 400 miles, I cried many tears and fought like hell from slipping back into a blackness so dark it seems like there is no escape. That’s how I had felt 12 years earlier and I had determined never to go back there again.

Chance number three at life came after I crossed the item off my bucket list that read “Play in a rock-n-roll band.” While it wasn’t the band that saved my life, per se, it was befriending the bass player in that band who would later become my best friend and lover. She helped me to believe in love again, then she delivered. Speaking my love language so fluently, she swept me off my feet and made me a very happy man. Ideally, I would have custody of my daughters, then I could say I’m the happiest I have ever been. Still, I am very content in the love I’ve found, a love that caught me off guard and came as quite a surprise at the very end of 2012. I am so thankful to have found her and to have found real love.

Very few people get that many chances at life. I’ve had three and I thank God for each of them and for those four very special people--well, five--who helped to make my life complete.

The need for self-compassion

I've always tended to be a self-centered person. In truth, I think all humans are self-centered to some degree. I mean, some sort of self-awareness is crucial to survival, but I'm talking more about the putting one's own needs--emotionally, physically--before the needs of others on a regular basis.

The problem I've found with my own focus is that I'm more keenly aware of my faults and shortcomings than I am with those things I do well. Self-centeredness that looks only for what's wrong is not a good thing. It's caused me to be negative, critical, judgmental and pessimistic. It really is a self-defeating mode of operation. It causes me to sabotage myself, my relationships and my goals.

I've worked on having a more positive attitude, but it takes real effort. As my partner of 19 years once pointed out, "You wake up in the morning just waiting for something to make you happy." She was right. I was a grumpy person first thing in the morning, especially before coffee, and if nothing good or promising presented itself, I kinda stayed that way throughout the day. So I attempted to change that by waking up in the morning with a thankful attitude. It worked occassionally well, but didn't really get to the heart of the matter.

As a critical, self-centered person, I needed to become more mindful of the way I speak to myself. That only became evident when I picked up a book at the library, titled "tthe mindful path to self-compassion," written by Dr. Christopher K. Germer. He explains that our self-speak should be just as compassionate as it would be for anyone else who is hurting, struggling or deflated.

What a concept! Show myself the same compassion as I would show unto others.

I had never considered it. But it makes perfect sense. When I was most down on myself, I'd usually turn to others for compassion and a "pep talk." It only dawned on me after reading the introduction and opening chapter of the book that I could be doing this for myself. Instead of judging, criticizing or chastising myself, I could be more affirming, affectionate and kind. And instead of beating myself up all the time, I could show more grace and love.

To some, this may seem like a no-brainer, but for the self-defeating pessimist, this is a real eye-opener.

My aunt, a therapist, has spoken to me before about mindfulness and I've put it into practice on occasion. It usually involves me taking in my surroundings, appreciating the beauty of the environment and living totally in the moment. In the book, Dr. Germer gives some exercises in mindful meditation that take it even further. His meditative practices encourage you to focus on your senses, your physical and emotional responses to your environment.

I haven't taken all of that to heart nor put it into practice, yet. The idea of meditation is still somewhat foreign to me. I have a hard time shutting off my brain to the multitude of distractions that lie in my subconscious, but I do see the benefits to it.

Still, the mere concept of self-compassion has me rethinking how I deal with myself. I know that I can be kinder and gentler to myself. As a life-long, worst critic, I believe that I can change that and become my biggest fan. It will take a lot of effort, but I am committed to living the second act of my life differently than the first. The first step in that direction is self-compassion.

Am I self-centered? Yes. Is that a bad thing? No, not necessarily. The important lesson I'm learning is how to speak to myself with more love, understanding and compassion. And I do believe that this, in turn, will help me to love and understand others better, as well.

Peace.

Comfort Music

Sitting in a quiet cafe this morning, nearly lulled to sleep by the hum of the overhead flourescent lights, I put in a 70's music CD I had made several years ago. The soft rock music instantly changed the atmosphere in the cafe and improved my mood, wiping away the cobwebs from my mind. It dawned on me that this music from my childhood is as good as comfort food. Hence, I donned the term "comfort music."

Just like it's edible counterpart, the style of music depends on the individual. For me, it is the music that played on the car stereo, the transistor radio/Walkman or the intercomm system at our house while I was growing up. Yes, our house had a built-in intercomm system with an AM/FM radio tuner that we managed to break the first or second year we lived there. Still, that music, which ran the gamut from Motown to Folk to Rock, that provided the soundtrack to my adolescence is what I would call my "comfort music."




This morning it was "Summer Breeze" by Seals and Croft, "Listen To What The Man Says" by McCartney and "Old Days" by Chicago, just to name a few. Like I said, it was a homemade CD of 70's tunes that I either plucked from another CD of mine or from an MP3 download site. It is full of tunes, like the ones mentioned above, that take me back in time and make me feel at home. When played on a great sound system, they wrap me up like a warm, wooly blanket on a cold Indiana day. Some of them remind me of childhood trips to our cabin in Sullivan, IN. Others remind me of driving through downtown Indy on the way to Pee-Wee Football practice at Riverside Park, or through Broad Ripple and past the mansions on Meridian Street. Those are great memories and the radio hits of the 70's were my personal soundtrack.

Okay, before I start to sound like a late night Time-Life Music Collection infomercial, let me switch gears. I also love Smooth Jazz. That upbeat, modern "elevator music" serves as a great backdrop to any number of things from chores to making babies (not that I've ever actually helped in making one). The syncopated and groovy rhythms sometimes get me motivated or make me want to jump behind a drum kit. But when I'm really looking for inspiration, to do chores, projects or workout (not that I work out that often), I switch into what I call 99X gear, mixing up classic rock from the 70's-90's with some edgier, newer alternative rock. See, I'm a complex music lover. But back to my point, and the informercial, I find comfort in the music of my youth. Back in my days of innocence, it was Paul McCartney and Wings, Stevie Wonder. the Doobie Brothers and James Taylor who provided the soundtrack. I think what that music does today, besides transport me back in time, it reminds me of when life was a lot less complicated and anxiety-ridden. That's why I call it "comfort music."

Toy Drive Article and My Memory

Call it old age, fading memory, failing synapses...I don't know why, but I have been absent minded lately. My friend, Janine, calls me forgetful because I only retain bits and pieces of her stories. Well, I haven't posted any of my news articles lately because I haven't had access to a scanner. DUH! I could have been taking photos, like the one below, the whole time. Now, I have quite a backlog to post. I'll get right on that (note my sarcasm)!

Pertaining to the news article, below, that appeared in today's Island Sand Paper, my father recently attended his high school reunion, where he learned that one of his classmates co-owns The Beach Pub right here on Fort Myers Beach. Talk about your small world coincidences. My father grew up in a small town that is just a spot on Old U.S. 41 in Southwest Indiana. His classmate, Tim Miller, is mentioned in the article. I interviewed co-owner Lou Caleca for the article, never remembering that Miller was Dad's classmate until my father called and reminded me Wednesday night, mere hours after the article had been submitted to my editor.

I'm such a dolt sometimes! Anyway, you can click on the image below to get a full-sized version of the article to read. I hope to get down to The Beach Pub this weekend to introduce myself to Mr. Miller...if I don't forget all about it before then.

Positivity, please.

Been awhile. Been busy...preoccupied. Have been journaling regularly and thought I'd share a portion of today's entry. I was taking some personal inventory and here is what I expressed:

...one thing of which I'm certain, my attitude helps shape my destiny. Positive thoughts always seem to breed positivity...attracts it even. I am determined to control my attitude and conquer the negativity to which I am prone and which dominated a large part of my life.

I've seen Joel Osteen on the morning shows and news programs promoting his new book, and while I don't subscribe to Osteen or his brand of religion, I do have to agree that affirming words help to shape our outlook on ourselves and life, in general. If we want to set a course for success, we definitely need to steer clear of negativity and affirm ourselves at every chance we get. Osteen offers 31 affirming words, one for every day of the month, and while they are probably laced with fundamental Christian ideas, it is the principle of affirming oneself with which I am aligning myself.

So today, I declare that I am a good person. Intrinsically, I want what's best for myself and for others. I seek out goodness for my life and I deserve good things to happen to me.

I am an honest person. I've been accused by others of being too nice and too honest. Well, I make no apologies, as those are character traits of which I am proud. I strive for honesty and despise deceit. I don't want to be lied to or about. I deserve honesty. I will continue to be an honest person and strive for truth. I will not hide behind falseness, lies and half-truths.

I will also strive for positivity. Positive thoughts are going to dominate me today.

Peace, love and happiness to you.

Stellar people, great friends

Okay, so my blog sat dormant for the majority of the summer. Part of the reason was personal and the other part was not having access to a scanner to keep my news articles posted. So here we are, approaching middle August and I feel the need to post something positive about two of the people in my life.

Here is a photo of their awesome family from about two years ago...

Shawn and Sherri Critser live on Fort Myers Beach and pastor the First Baptist Church--www.beachbaptist.org. They moved here from Henderson, Kentucky, near the area of Indiana where I was born and where my roots are. Needless to say, we hit it off right away.

I met their two daughters, first, at soccer practice at Bay Oaks Recreation Campus last August, nearly a year ago to the date. Their youngest played on my youngest daughter's team and their oldest daughter was goalie extrordinaire for my oldest daughter's soccer team. It wasn't until the season actually started that I met their family and all of the folks they usually brought with them.

To say that Shawn and Sherri are very vocal at sporting events, especially when their children are participating, is a HUGE understatement. It drew me to them right away. I tend to get very loud in support of my girls, as well. When I found out they were "old home folks," I immediately bonded with them and felt like family. It took some time for us to find space to interact and build on that "I've known you my whole life" kinda feeling, but it eventually worked out.

Now, I find myself living on their property in an RV they are letting me use...because they are just that kind of people--loving, kind, considerate and compassionate folks (though don't tell Shawn he's compassionate)!

To give an example of what I'm talking about, I asked Sherri if I could wash my first load of laundry in her house. She's basically said what is theirs is mine and to help myself to anything. Well, she not only said that I could, she offered to wash and fold my clothes for me. In fact, she insisted on it. That's the kind of friend you want in your life.

Beyond that, they have shown their true colors to me in many other ways. They are what I would call authentic people--genuine, forthright and honest--and "true" Christians. They have loved and supported me through the most difficult summer of my life, and I wouldn't trade them for the world. Nor would I trade Friday breakfasts with Shawn at the Heavenly Biscuit for all the money in the world.

I adore their children, their extended family and the good-hearted people at their church. It's been a pleasure getting to know them and become part of that circle of trust (i.e. their wolfpack of many). Well, that's all I had to say. It's good to have friends like that in your life.