Cannonball

Historic Island Park Pool in
Fargo ND being remodeled and
updated

Swimming is not part of my usual activities. I did not learn to properly swim until my early twenties through a university physical education class. However, I always enjoyed playing in the water. Jumping off the diving board, low or high, was a joy. I did not dive. Instead, I became proficient at cannonballs. Using my size, I made a huge splash with radiating ripples (more like waves 😁). The cannonball effect was useful in getting noticed. Often it was more attention from annoyance. The point being, I was remembered.

In the small community tucked away in the northwestern corner of North Dakota, the pastor was in the top five most influential people. Soon after settling in, my picture adorned the wall of pastors who had previously served the parish. Pride erupted inside of me which was greater than when I was chosen as the scholar/athlete as a high school senior. I only had verbal recognition along with my name and graduation year placed on a plaque with the prior recipients of the award. In the church basement I had an 8"X10" framed, color photograph. I was and would continue to be remembered!    

The original St John's Hospital
is recycled rubble

At a recent graveside service, I noticed something unusual: human beings less than twenty years old. The trend is moving toward fewer people coming to cemeteries. Those that do have been receiving Social Security payments for years. The ripples radiating from acres of organic, fertile stories are barely noticed. What gets noticed are the polished stone benches, along with the solar powered luminaries. I am not upset by or bemoaning this reality. It is my observation. This observation along with numerous others have recast the aforementioned cannonball effect.

The common advice of: "Leave a legacy," "Make a difference," and "Leave the world better than you found it," all can be heard as a cryptic way of fostering fear. These phrases lightly cover the underlying fear of being forgotten. Realistically, I will be forgotten. I have no doubt been forgotten by many people already. A forty year old photograph, no doubt with its color fading, gets passed over along with all the other old pastors. What happens to the photos when the congregation dissolves? I have been involved with some church closings. Sure, give items to a museum or the regional archives. When was the last time you visited one of these places? Times change. Perspective change. Culture transforms and what is important gets redefined. As a history major, I find meaning in the stories of the past. Yet, I live in the reality of today. 

Seasons come to an end

Forcing someone to remember and appreciate the past is like forcing someone to like Swiss chard. If nothing gets brought from the past, life in the present will continue. The prophet Isaiah was insightful when writing, "The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of God continues." (40.8) I believe the word of God is life. Life lived fully in the moment. Life lived as a new gift to be unwrapped.

Instead of making waves, my plan is to simply slide through life like an otter entering the water. If there is a phrase I choose for today it is, "Leave no trace." I want to promote each person being free to explore, discover, and enjoy their journey in life unimpeded by me. 

No splash necessary

Staying Dirty

 

Current Sign

Over a decade ago, gravel bike events within a reasonable driving distance were rare commodities. Scouring the internet for these events took more than a keyword search or a hashtag. Events were mentioned through links on web pages, stumbled upon by reading random race reports, or by word of mouth, often second hand, from other bikers. The names of the events were as unique as the routes themselves. Overall, these were low-key, grassroots, free events with massive portions of hospitality and camaraderie, often punctuated with food and libations. It was July 2013, when I began my gritty gravel relationship with the Dirty Lemming.

Jim and Suzanne, along with some like minded bikers staged this event from their home on a cul-de-sac in Watertown MN. The 7am start was preceded by a friend with an operatic voice singing "The Star Spangled Banner." Then the wheels turned for a distance of 100km or 100 miles. A couple of well staffed aid stations were along the route. Post ride nourishment and refreshments took place in the shaded backyard on the cul-de-sac. Cheap trophies in normal, as well as humorous categories rounded out the day. In 2021, I went home with 2 trophies: 1st Fat Bike and Last Lemming!

Covid, as well as Jim and Suzanne's relocation appeared to push the Lemming off a cliff. However, it is difficult to not only get rid of ground in dirt, but the scent of a tight knit community. In 2023, Deb and Garry took over the reins of the Dirty Lemming. The venue changed to their farm. No more annoying the 

Camp Setting

neighbors in the cul-de-sac! Features of onsite camping, an outdoor shower, new routes (same distances), and a refurbished barn replaced previous components. The critical characteristics of submitting an entry post card, a soloist singing the National Anthem prior to the start, cheap trophies (now the "Farm Edition"), and the all embracing hospitality remain.

Pre-start Anthem (Deb's photo)

My plans to navigate the 100 mile route crashed in early June due to my bike accident. The time away from the bike to allow my clavicle to heal and the effects of the concussion to dissipate meant I could not participate even in the shorter distance. However, this provided the opportunity to volunteer. Lemmings are communal rodents. There is support and strength in numbers. Sleeping in the one person tent on a humid night after sharing a meal and conversation with a dozen other riders and volunteers, while a bit uncomfortable was overcome by an abiding sense of serenity. Filtered pre-dawn skies at 5am, walking through dew drenched grass to the porta potty, and brushing teeth at an outdoor sink began a full day. Supplies were loaded, the timing tent was popped up and tied down, and moving tables and chairs for post-ride hospitality filled the hours. Connecting with others in a drama free, nonpartisan, story sharing, high heat and blustery winds day was fabulous. Cheering tired pedal pushers as they sliced through the unrelenting wind to the end of their ride was priceless. While filled with diversity, the gravel dusted, gritty group of Lemmings savored not only the struggles of the day, but provided support for life beyond the farm. 

Lemming returns home
(Deb's photo)

While many are watching the Olympics, tracking medal counts, and having emotional reflexes to the made for media stories of athletes, I savor the opportunity to get dirty with lemmings. There were no podiums on which to stand or coaches to hug. The scene was sweat-streaked individuals; exhausted, giddy, relieved their mechanical fix lasted to the finish, and satisfied that a ride was completed.  Tech workers, medical staff, individuals thankful for another day in recovery, retirees, novices, and veterans once again followed a line on a bike computer and a line through the gravel. It is a dirty community with staying power. A community of gravel I intend to join again in 2025.

Ready to roll

Limiting the Limitless

Seen on the prairie

Laying on the hard packed snowdrift staring into the sky, I was mesmerized by the infinite dots of light. My preteen mind made the connection to the Sunday School God who created the heavens and the earth. I still marvel at the intricacies of texture and color in flora and fauna. Crouching, gently pushing aside grass, leaves, and other detritus another lively ecosystem is revealed. This one is equally as complex as the one in which I exist. A Creator of all this splendor, in my current concept of God cannot be limited. In so many ways, all of these interdependent systems are beyond my comprehension, but not beyond my appreciation.

Standing tall in the midst of other signage was the billboard proclaiming God's magnificent design. When it comes to the supposed pinnacle of creation, being limited to an either or seems to be illogical. Amidst the immeasurable creativity and limitless possibilities, God finally grew weary and 

Truth?

settled upon two choices. If humanity is created in the likeness of the Creator, shouldn't we be satisfied with the simplicity of the binary? What?My preteen mind goes back to the kitchen cupboard gazing at the cereal  options: corn flakes or crispy rice. Neither of these options assume space in my current cabinet. If it wasn't for granola, some of which is mixed with fruits, seeds, and nuts; infused with added proteins, possibly being organic or gluten free, the product named cereal wouldn't be in my home. While binary exists, are we willing to be so limited? Marketing departments would be nonexistent if we were so simply satisfied. If choices and variety are vital, who are we to boldly post that God is limited?

Colors, contours, and creation

A quote attributed to Susan B. Anthony, an American social reformer and human rights activist, "I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do, because I notice it always coincides with their own desires." During the past decade I have seen a revival within the religious community of stances which are claimed to be approved by God. These interpretations are not limited to liberal or conservative groups. I sense that instead of marveling at the grand diversity in which we live, while attempting to incorporate our thoughts into the understanding of life, we have to attach God's authority to it. If God's approval is placed on our perspectives, our perspectives have to be correct. Right? The longer I remain in pastoral ministry the less directive I become in suggesting my interpretation of Sacred Stories is beneficial for others. I may be developing the aches of aging, but my willingness to appreciate life is becoming more flexible. 

Another quote which I appreciate is from the late professional boxer and activist, Muhammad Ali, "A person who views the world the same at fifty as he did at twenty has wasted thirty years of life."

Discovery Is More Than Digging

Trail in Scotland

The bouncing balls in my head were extremely active during a recent walk. Thoughts were converging, colliding, and exiting. One that rattled around longer and never found an escape route involved a book entitled, Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life. The author, James Hollis, explores ways to grow in order to fully become ourselves when the traditionally sanctioned ways aren't providing satisfaction. With enough effort and searching meaning will be found.

Returning from the walk, I logged onto the catalog for the Fargo (North Dakota) Public Library. Placing the keyword "finding" into the search function, I was immediately shown that there were in excess of 28,000 results. It appears that a lot of searching is taking place. Finding Nemo is an adventurous tale, yet I believe most people are searching for something that isn't easily found. Even though locating misplaced vehicle fobs and cell phones may be frustrating, the search usually concludes positively. As we search for the intangibles: love, beauty, meaning, serenity, etc. we believe these slippery concepts have a specific location. If we could only be directed in the general area our lives would be so much better! As well, once found we could cling onto them forever. The search would be over.

My experience, as I have spent decades attempting to find those elusive, internal qualities has brought me both frustration and acceptance. The gradual revelation, often fueled by my need for success along with a perception of superiority has left scars on my skin and on my spirit. As often as I use Alexa, the smart 

Roman Ruins

speaker was not forthcoming with advice. In the progression of life, interacting in a listening posture with others and with nature brought the endless digging to FIND something to an end. In the efforts to find, I missed all that had beauty, meaning, and surprise in the everyday. Now instead of finding, I observe; instead of answers, I question; instead of stagnation, I proceed. All things have purpose, vitality, and beauty. Constriction imprisons meaning. Cultural buttresses depreciate beauty. In the frantic effort to find there is great loss.

As my life continues my need to categorize has diminished. The concepts of light and darkness, good and evil, positive and negative are no longer held in opposition. Realizing that binary (having two absolute parts) produces humanly framed differences and divisions which too often are destructive, I see more of daily life as fluid. There is discovery in darkness. Actually, there is another world that exists in the darkness. Yet we shy away from it. Brutal, stormy weather provides an avenue for adaptation and insight. Events which bring us to our knees give our vision a new perspective. Striving to find that which is controlled, serene, and sterile can provide a rejuvenating respite, but pursuing it as a Utopian goal is vanity. 

Enjoy each day! Expand vision and perspective! Cherish the moment and the movement! There is no reason to exhaustively attempt to find that which is already present.

 

WWJE

 

Less than six months ago voices were chiming in to promote a proper respect for the late December Holiday.The familiar, "Jesus is the Reason for the Season." and "Keep Christ in Christmas." became the seasonal mantra. As it is the weekend when Christianity (at least a segment of it) recognize Jesus' exit from a tomb, either I am not listening or there are no chants to properly respect this pivotal Holy Day of the Christian faith. Jesus is still the reason for this season, I believe. Maybe, "Keep East in Easter." isn't as catchy?

Personally, my faith life isn't dependent upon certain days, religious dictates disguised as mantras, or any other trappings. I enjoy celebrations. Any reason to join with others around food and conversation is good enough for me. I also find amusement in our capitalistic, consumer driven culture when it comes to these identified sacred days. Observing the array of products adorning the front shelves of stores is entertaining.

Here is a photo dump of some of my favorite items related to or promoted as Easter appropriate.

Even being chocolate, it seems strange to nibble on something either seen as an instrument of death or jewelry worn on a lanyard.

Speaking of chocolate, those eyes staring at me with such precision is rather creepy. What part of a chocolate rabbit do you eat first?

Could Snap, Crackle, and Pop represent the Holy Trinity?

Far from being a religious purest, I marvel at how we meld, explain, and justify so much stuff to have particular meaning. Obviously the Candy Cane has religious significance.  Here is a short YouTube video so we can indulge guilt free into jelly beans.  

So with this spin-off on the never stale Peeps, do you bite off the Sour Patch Kids head first (similar to the chocolate rabbit)? Or maybe just consume the whole thing at one time? Rather strange for a holiday which symbolizes life that we eat kids.

The list could go on, but you get the point. No matter how you choose to spend this weekend or mark Easter Day, do so in the joy of relationships and the support of community. Life is to be lived with gusto embracing respect, grace, and integrity.

I leave you with one final picture and the question, "What Would Jesus Eat?"  

Thank you for reading!

What's the Problem?

I am not asking a snarky question in response to a perceived glare from another person. It's not that I'm above doing so. I've reacted that way too many times. Instead the question is posed as a general observation of our culture. Whether it be personal, societal, economic, or work related we live in a quagmire of problems. We focus on problems, real or imagined. We believe these problems demand our immediate attention. We believe we are solution oriented. The label "Problem Solver" is something to be tattooed where everyone can see it. If it weren't for problems to solve, what would keep us busy? 

The problem is the need to be perceived as busy. As I not only look at life currently, but as I recall the past decades have significant problems been solved? Yes, certain real problems have been eradicated. Advancements have been made in agriculture, medicine, and technology. Yet food deserts, news deserts, and geographic deserts are expanding. Problems are outpacing answers. If more problems can be solved sooner by fewer people we will catch up, correct?  This chasing doesn't seem to convince people in the United States that problems are being solved. If so, wouldn't individuals feel more secure and exhibit more happiness? Is contentment increasing? A recent survey measuring happiness between age groups and countries indicates that the United States has dropped overall. Our lives are busier. There are certainly multiple problems to solve. Yet this appears not to add to our satisfaction in life. The viewing of screens, video conferences, and endless email threads create busyness, but lack solutions. 

I have intentionally decided to get off the "busyness train." My desire is to explore, as well as contemplate the world in which I live. Instead of attempting to solve perceived problems, I will investigate and embrace them. In developing relationships with reality and making meaningful connections, not simply scrolling and searching online, I believe satisfaction increases. The internal need to appear productive still exists. It has been fed and exercised for years. However, I am challenging that aspect of my life. I cannot solve major problems by increasing my pace. In reality, I cannot solve major problems. Major problems are addressed 

King's Cross Station in London

through collaboration of people who have had time to think and explore multiple dimensions. Part of staying off the busyness train is meeting with others in a relaxed, unencumbered setting. The buzzing phones, the twisting of wrists (not to see the time), and the need to leave in order to get to the next meeting will not be in that environment. Retirement doesn't equate to retreating and decomposing. I see retirement as a time to get reacquainted with a part of myself which was left on the platform when I boarded the busy train years ago. I am content to let that train leave the station without me!

Windshields and Rear Windows

Rear facing 3rd seat

Many road miles were viewed as they passed into the distance. This awkward and sometimes nauseating view was experienced from the rear facing seat of a 1960 Ford Fairlane station wagon. As a child it was a treat to get away from the adults in the front seat and my brothers in the second seat. It was also a respite from my dad's choice of AM radio stations. There was one speaker on the top middle of the dashboard. The sound did not travel to the third seat. Watching the world move away from me held some intrigue, but overall it was disorienting. It was the price I paid for space to myself.

Over the years vehicles have changed, but it remains that the windshield is larger than the rear window glass. I rarely look out of the rear window other than with the rear view mirror. In so doing my vision of what is behind me gets very limited. On my latest vehicle, the backup camera gives a wider perspective, but what is behind me still has a limited context. Along with a narrow perspective the rear window often gets obscured by various forms of dirt and grime. Instead of a clear view, what is past gets filtered with an impaired perspective.

As a college history major, I have an interest in the past. The interest lies not in data and dates, but in the 

Wiper cleans some dirt

human actions and responses. The adage of "history repeats itself" has little correlation to specific events. Its connection is deeply rooted in human behavior. The social and psychological influences of individuals and groups remain constant over eons even as technology changes the environment. The need for security as fear is promoted has always narrowed and clouded human action. Seeing through the murkiness of social agitation in order to navigate a forward direction has to be an intentional endeavor. If not, our actions and attitudes turn to the past. We begin to believe that safety and security is found in what is behind us. Just like being settled in the rear facing seat, there is some temporary relief in solitude. Yet overall, we become increasingly nauseated, willing to seek answers from the self-serving and unexamined promises of others. 

As I continue my journey in life, my steps have slowed. I experienced more aches and pains which never fully subside. I trip over slight imperfections as my feet don't rise and flex as they once did. Each step is more plodding and less nimble. There are options and purveyors of promises to make my life better. All I have to do is take a back seat.  However, I choose to sit in the front seat with a vast panorama ahead of me. Even as the siren song of the "Oldies" engulfs me from the surround sound speakers, wooing me into nostalgia, I choose to continue forward. Life, the full spectrum of life is ahead of me. I desire adventure with its freedom and its detours. The windshield provides hope instead of the queasiness of looking at what has passed me by.  

Looking toward what is ahead