And So This is My Kryptonite

It is amazing how every step along the trail somehow works into our eventual destination... we certainly are not privileged to the how's and why's and why nots... but I am convinced that they are out there. We just need to settle... we need to find that place and moment of silent gratitude... and we need to listen, listen to the wind. Life. It is an incredible complex puzzle of which we are a part. And each of our pieces is equally complex in its make up, its history, its destiny. But we make it complex, we make it hard. The simplicity is out there. It really doesn't have to be that hard... and yet... it is.

And so this is my kryptonite. And everything inside of me wants to collect this fading energy... and raise the sword. To have the battle that seems to have always been in the background of this consciousness. And so this is my kryptonite. And I am fearful. That is the challenge. Choose fear or choose love. Those are the only choices.

How does one fight an enemy that seems so powerful? How do you fight an enemy that is not outside the borders, but entrenched inside. I am reminded of my OIF / OEF experiences and one of my favorite topics of conversation - the definition of an enemy.

"Love your enemies as yourself."

And this one is deep inside. Is it not part of me? Has it not always been there - forever - and now, for whatever reason of God's providence, it raises its form and apparent ugliness? Lucifer has showed himself and I am nothing short of fearful. But Lucifer was an angel once... God's greatest angel... this is indeed a battle... but not one of sword and shield... but of spirit and salvation. It is not us against them... no battle ever truly is... it is us against ourselves.

"Love your enemies as yourself."

How we react to our enemies defines us for who we are... and where we fit into that amazing puzzle of God's grace. And it answers the question we really all have to answer... have we learned anything with this precious gift of life?

So... do I hate this kryptonite? Do I hate this Lucifer? I truly do not know... Part of me wants to get back into a jet and rage hell upon that enemy... yes... it would feel good to light the hair on fire... go really, really fast... and blow the eternal shit out of something... but my enemy is inside of me... to kill my enemy means killing me...

Instead perhaps this kryptonite is a teacher. An enemy? Yes... but still... a teacher... its lesson is one of subtlety and grace... but don't be fooled... its lesson is nothing short of pivotal, is nothing short of survival.

So the lesson of Course in Miracles is love. As one of its students, give me strength and wisdom to choose love and not fear... even if it means loving my enemy... even it means loving Lucifer... even if it means loving kryptonite...

I pray that God's Holy Spirit will show me that way... that Earth and Sky will give me insight to the subtleties that happen amongst such a bizarre set of circumstances... I pray that my ears and eyes will remain sharp to the lessons to be learned, that my heart remain open to the wonders that truly surround me, and that my faith in a loving Universe remains steadfast. And with these gifts, finally, may destiny allow me to recognize the hidden beauty in Lucifer's age-old demonic face - a face whose true essence was created as Angel and not demon.

And so this is my kryptonite... my destiny. Blessings upon my kryptonite... my Lucifer - may we finally see each other's purpose and reach God's understanding peace.

This Ain't Your Daddy's New Year's Resolution (Or Perhaps It Is)

The original title of this was "God, don't let me fuck this up..." - stealing a quote from Alan Shepard (sitting atop his Mercury Redstone rocket), the first American in space and one of the seven original astronauts. But then, I thought that might offend... so I moved it to the lead sentence... that should be less offensive... right?!? Shepard was, duh, referring to a historical moment - I am, however, just referring to life in general...

New Year's Day - 2009. And I have reached that stage in life where all the cliches are no longer stupid sayings - but truisms. It seems that there is good reason that they are cliches.

Where does the time go? It is passing too quickly - these moments - these slices - this life. I must be past the halfway point - because this question is becoming more and more important. I am no longer bullet proof. Krytonite seems to be stronger then ever... and I can no longer just damn the torpedoes... I find myself adding more weight to the options... and counting the cost. And the roles keep changing...

My eldest, Keith, was in from Los Angeles for Christmas. A week flew by. Didn't we just pick him up at Austin Bergstrom - with his smiling face and lanky body bounding down the steps as we waited downstairs by the luggage return? It was only a second - I swear it was - and we were dropping him off at curbside checkin. The seasoned traveler, my son, heading for LAX and his blossoming life in southern California... I watched him as he hugged his siblings and mother good-bye. And then he turned to me... and my tears welled up. His 23 years passed before me - in that moment - in that second. (As I type this - I take more then an occasional glance of a photo on my desk. It is of Keith and I from sometime in 1986. He can't be more then a year old... I am holding him in front of our first house in Dallas. Coincidently - "Hanging by a Moment" by Lifehouse drifts from the laptop speakers.) I hugged him like there was no tomorrow and asked him to text when he lands in LA. He nodded and took his bag... gave us all a big smile... and SWOOSH... he was through the automatic doors and gone - once again out of our everyday. I tried to avert eye contact with the others... I was almost back in control... but I watched Kristen out of the corner of my and she watched me. I immediately thought that she would probably be next - the next one to take the step and find the trail of her own destiny. They're just babies though - not old enough - not ready for the parts of the world that I don't ever want them to see... but so ready for the parts that fill their dreams and visions. You want them so much to learn to fly - and then they prove that they can... and it is bittersweet. Yet you watch them - and it is magnificent. They swoop and soar and slowly learn to trust their wings to ride upon God's undercurrents.

(not finished... to be continued)

God Is All of Us

I sit here listening to the Joan Osborne version of the song "What if God Was One of Us?"

This song has intrigued me for some time... and whenever I find a quiet place and blast it out of existence with these lyrics and notes echoing off the walls... I see the video (playing in my head) that I have always planned on making, but never did.

In the usual style reflecting my love for edge and dirt and noise and hard cuts and cameras and movement - it always makes me uncomfortable - this unmade video - the faces I see - the images that splash before my mind's eyes. Why uncomfortable? Aren't I the director of even the images that dance about inside my head? Maybe - maybe not. Uncomfortable because of the message that they seem anxious to drive past my soul - into the heart - its depths of dark and light. Into the core, into the night, into the day. That kind of uncomfortable - the kind of uncomfortable that makes you immediately transport back forty years into the Sunday School classrooms of Northway Christian Church. "I am the light - the truth - the way." What would those teachers say? "For whoever believeth in me shall have eternal life!" Would they be proud of this supposedly independent thought? "The Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost" Or would they be horrified by my conscious endeavor to tear apart the words - tear apart the ideas - tear apart the nice, the comfortable - shine the light and watch the darkness flee.

The question is not "What if God Was One of Us?" We stopped at the edge, but didn't jump off. The question is not a question at all. The question is a comment - with a twist - "God is All of Us!" How can he not be? Sure, that is easy to accept if we edit it, if we use selective show and tell. It makes perfect sense if we are talking about us - the collective us - our families, our friends, the people like us... the ones that make it easy to love.

But love isn't about easy. And we cannot edit God... we cannot see Him in One and not in All. He is in the All. He is the All. But love isn't easy... and I certainly haven't begun to figure it out. So all of this is fucking theory... Mr. Big Stuff with his high ideas. Pretty lame. Anyone can type. Anyone can write. Anyone can write a statement - God is All of Us.

Love isn't about easy. It's about seeing God in the rat bastards that deserve a 9mm tap-tap to the skull... and not any fucking recognition of God or Christ or the Holy Spirit. And they do! They deserve the tap-tap and some of the rat bastards I'd be happy to be the one to pull the trigger. So... How does that work? God is All. There is light in everyone of us. I am cursed to see it. I am blessed to see it. And yet, what happens? What happens in these fragile shells that allows some to be Ghandi... and others... PolPot? If God is in Sister Theresa... He is in the Hitlers just as well. And that is where the discomfort comes in...

This has haunted me since 2003 - that's when the light first came to me. It was sometime around 3AM. I was in Qatar, at Al Sayliyah - our HQ in the MidE for the fucking roadshow we call OIF and OEF and ask good people to deal with the very heart of this issue.... anyway... I can't remember the date... but the entire day was one where the warriors had trapped Saddam's kids in the north city of Mosul... and had trapped the rat bastards in an "apartment" - more like a frigging armed camp... anyway... it took a lot of brave men and women and lots of things that go boom to settle that little score. The pictures you saw were different from the ones I did. You understand what a TOW missile can do to a human being? Well... there you go... 'nuff said. The good news was was that these two criminals - these two rat bastards that had caused more then a billion times the pain and suffering that anyone should be allowed - these fuckers were no longer amongst the living.

The HQ erupted in cheer and good will when the news came across the net that the prince brothers of Iraq were dead. Literally, screams like you hear in a football stadium echoed around the warehouse offices. It was truly good news. And then I headed back to my quarters for some sleep. It was about a 15min walk across the base.

I can still hear the platforms of the air jockeys coming and going from Al Udeid Airbase as I strolled back. They weren't to far away... and their afterburners lit the sky as every type of war machine that prowled the skies sortied from its runways. Against that backdrop came the light. The press pictures of these horrible men kept playing in my head - their cockiness, their pride, their horrid smiles of power built upon the bodies of thousands of long dead innocence. And every now and then - images from their day of destruction joined in.

And then the nausea hit. And the tears flowed. And the light came. This was a tactical victory for this temporal setting. It was a symbol a gesture of good over evil. And I still believe that.... the rat bastards died more merciful then they themselves had ever showed their victims. And yet there I was - nauseated, crying... and mourning the deaths of two of the worst fuckers known to walk the planet. This was a tactical victory, but a strategic failure. A failure for us. A failure for the God in All of Us. What happened? What happens? Are not all hearts capable of love? Are they not capable of hate? What happened? What happens?

That night the light came. For good... for bad... it came. As time moves on... I think about that night less and less... determined to think about its implications rather then its details. There is God in All of Us. There is light in all of us. It's there. It was in Uday. It was in Qusay. Maybe for but an instance, but it was there. It had to be. Leaning against that wire fence that early morning, I decided that it had to be. There had to be one moment. One moment where they were the hope of the world. Certainly, if not for more then that moment - they were the light of the world. What mother has not gazed upon their new born and not thought the same?

"I am the light of the world." - John 8:12

If God is All of Us... then we all are the light of the world.

What happens along the way? How does one choose light and the other dark? What does that say about them? What does that say about us? And what does it say about me... fore given the same situation... and opportunity... I would have been happy to have pulled the trigger...

Recognizing the Inevitable

Sitting with my adult son last night (but making him get up to answer the door for the trick-or-treaters), a small puzzle piece seemed to slip into place - and the Sioux idea of "Hoka Hey" once again whispered wisdom across my consciousness. It really is all about the present... the past doesn't matter... and the future... well... the future may never come. I have been so lucky in not being in that proverbial beer truck's path as it swerves around the corners.

The moment, this moment is it - and what a shame it would be to waste it. And how many have I wasted in vain attempts to change a world that I can do nothing about??? Or trying to change people that I have no business in trying to change? Certainly they are trying the very best that they can with what they are given to work with... and who am I? I cannot see their whole story...

Maybe "do nothing" is not the right idea. We all have impact - we change history with everything we do - everything. Every word spoken, every thought processed, every feeling felt. Our action and reactions impact the rest of those riding this impossible ride. All of us struggle and question and wonder and gamble... it's a crap shoot. Who am I to use such judgment? God reminds me of the log in my eye as I bitch at them about their sliver...

So, I showed my son my blog... it's adult warning... and my favorite titles. He mentioned, "that's intense." I hope he reads these. I hope all my kids do... eventually. At the least, it will remind them of my humanity - and for once and for all bury any self- inflicted hero / martyr image that I might have tried to implant upon them. It will also remind them of the struggle. My struggle. Their struggle. The collective "we" struggle of those of us privileged enough to live and work in God's School Planet Earth. And, it will remind them of the victory. The victory of recognizing that struggle - the victory of having lived through one's own crucifixion. The victory of having faced one's own demons... the victory of letting the light burn through all adversity and having it reveal the darkest places of one's own history. And, most importantly, the victory in just lying there - completely exposed, exhausted - completely open, wounded - the jugular beating life's most precious liquid. And then, the victory of risking everything - and showing that - to another. For the victory is in the showing - and in the self acceptance of that risk - knowing that the sight you reveal maybe too ugly, too grotesque for another to stand there - and yet you show it anyway. Damn the consequences.

And that is the precise point of hoka hey. "It is a good day to die." It is a good day - because at that point, the seeker has achieved what their soul was placed here to do... It isn't morbid. It is moment. It is the moment. The west doesn't understand that. We are near sighted. We are instant in our need for gratification. We are instant in our need to feel good. We numb ourselves to pain. We numb ourselves to struggle. We numb ourselves to consequence. We miss the moment. We miss its purpose. We miss its lesson.

I pray for hoka hey. Perhaps I will pay attention one day. Perhaps I will learn from the precious teachers and their awesome lessons. I must. To live each moment to be the moment - that is my quest, my nirvana.

...and feel free to remind me... when the demons come... even if they don't....

Borders

That's really what this - whatever this has been - it's what this has been all about. Borders. Maybe boundaries. A) Where they are drawn? and B) What do they mean? So maybe not my best analogy, but that's where I am today. I am sure that tomorrow will be different as the perspective once again shifts and shimmies and settles into whatever it is going to settle into.

Border disputes. They are fascinating things. Why does Kashmir come to mind? No symbolics... just a random thought. Border disputes. They really don't have to be that big of a deal. They are what they are - and once both nation states (or whatever) finally understand just what the crux of the discussion is... then... progress can be made... negotiations held... back and forth diplomats... etc. etc. Shuttle diplomacy. Just ask Henry Kissinger or Jimmy Carter about that. And the outcome will be the outcome. Nobody's good, nobody's bad. They just are. We all ponder our way first - our perspective - our position. And, of course, since it is ours... we like it the best. And it certainly must be "the right one". Depending upon the specifics it may be the only solution that we will accept - or not. Too many variables to make a blatant statement. Of course, the other party - the one looking from the other side - has their own perspective - their own sense of what should be - of what is fair - what is good - and what is just. Which makes the whole thing quite fascinating.

So who knows. Nations have stayed at war over border disputes - and others have never been questioned. Hmm. Oh well, the only thing that stays the same is change. And change is not necessarily bad - only different. And everything really will be ok.

Angels and Demons

I am delighted that director Ron Howard is in the editing stages of his latest film, "Angels and Demons" - the prequel to "The Da Vinci Code"...

Angels and Demons. What are they? Easy. They are us and we are them. Isn't that, when you break it down to the bare basics, how we see one another? And it changes, doesn't it? And it can change in an instance. How can the same being - the same life force - be angelic in one moment and demonic in the next? How does that work? What changes? Is it a change in us? Or, is it a change in them? Can the two truly occupy the same space at the same time? Can an Angel be a Demon?

Of course they can. They are Angels and Demons. We are Angels... we are Demons. So when do we use which definition? Depends on the moment, I suppose. What we see. How we act. How we respond. Notice I say we... not them. Isn't it our senses, our perceptions that are collecting the data? Sure it is. Our brains do the analysis and come up with the conclusion. But will that conclusion always be the same? From one vantage point to another? It can't be. One minute, we see an Angel. The next, a Demon. And time - time changes our perspective. We gain data - we gain input - and it changes our evaluation. They were an Angel - now a Demon. They were a Demon - now an Angel.

Which is more valuable? Shouldn't that answer be obvious? And yet - it isn't. It isn't to me anyway. Of course, I am a fuck-up... how can a Demon be as valuable as an Angel? Isn't that heresy? I'm sure it is... but WTF? Aren't they really equal? Aren't they?

Demons materialize because of fear. Angels, out of love. Again, HERESY! FEAR on par with LOVE? No way. But then again - I didn't say that... I said that Demons were as valuable as Angels... big difference.

Demons SUCK. No doubt about it. But they teach us. They mold us. How we respond to a Demon - better yet - how we respond to our personal Demons - those little devilish traits and characteristics inside each of - how we respond to them... defines who we are. What are we but a summation of our thoughts and deeds and actions and reactions? Don't demons (note no capitals) play a huge role in all of that?

"Love thy enemy as thyself!" - How we respond to an enemy - a demon - defines who we are. What we are. By serving as a catalyst, even a catalyst to pain and suffering, should we not acknowledge that as a valued role? One that shapes us? We are who we are because of the challenges in life - how we chose to deal with them - how we chose to live them.

And Angels. Yes, Angels. Angels come in when the battle is done. When the smoke has cleared and nurture us, love us, shower us with such compassion - knowing the fight - knowing the challenges that we have faced. Notice I keep the capitals. Angel.

Angel. demon. Two sides of the same coin.

More on this.

Some Insight From the Looney Bin

The best thing about being labeled a "fuck-up" is that nobody then really expects anything out of you. Talk about freedom! If no one really expects anything out of you because, "you know, he's stupid and a fuck-up" - then the world is at your doorstep. You are suddenly transported into the power group with all of the cool kids - errr - other fuck-ups. Of course, the real secret is that we are all fuck-ups... a more socially acceptable term is "humanity". Go figure. The real division is between those who are self-aware - and fully realize that they are fuck-ups... and those who still hide from reality and think that they actually have their proverbial shit together. And you thought it was all a class struggle... or economics... or politics... or religion... or sex... well, all of those play into it... but the root of the struggle of the human race is between the fuck ups and the illusionists.

I find myself watching people - a lot. Starbucks are good places to set a spell and watch people. So are airport waiting areas... anyplace where people choose to spend time in transition... coming and going... the in-between. Anyway, I love to watch people. It is amazing when you open your eyes and really start to see. There is such beauty - and we ain't just talking about a women's curve outlined by designer jeans.... ...

I do so love the broken ones - a category of which we all belong - we are just separated by our willingness to admit our brokenness. We play this game of cover-up. We tried to hide the fuck-up portion of our beings. And it always gets us in trouble. We are denying who we are by pretending to be something that we are not. We all put on masks. We have these prefabricated masks - masks of beauty, of wealth, of power, of position, of importance, of ego. Yes, we all have these masks. They are quite useful. They seem to help us get through the day. And maybe they do.

But - what happens? One day we start believing in the masks. We start believing that the masks are true - but they aren't. Then, we have a problem. Which is real? The mask? Or the fucked up being that is underneath? Masks are masks. I don't think that they are really who we want to be... but we get trapped. The mask seems glued on... and we try to pull it off... but something stops us. Fear stops us. Fear stops us... because without the mask - without the beauty - without the wealth - without the position - without the illusion - then people will see the fuck-up! People will see us for who we really are! Then how, oh how... will we be loved?!? Without the mask, who am I???? Surely... no one can love this fucked-up being beneath the mask!

We all want to be free of the masks. We all want to be accepted for the humanity that is underneath. But we are scared. We are all too scared. We've been hidden for so long underneath that we have forgotten who we are - what we are - what our very being is... or was... or maybe should be....

Surely underneath is too ugly... too poor... too confused... too sick... too powerless. Who could love such pity? Who could love such humanity? Remove the mask? No way. Fear leaves us powerless. Pain immobilizes us... won't we lose everything if we show the humanity that we really are?

God bless the fuck-ups. God bless those with the courage to take off the mask and face the sun.

I love to watch people. I love to see them - really see them. I love their ugliness, their humanity, their fear. I wish they knew the freedom of a world without the masks.

But what do I know??? I am a stupid fuck-up....