On the Continuum

Flat cropland

The beginning of April was filled with color, family, good food, and friends. Seeing the tabletop terrain of the Red River Valley of the North in the rear view mirror expanded my forward perspective. Shrinking from four lanes into two lanes provided a renewed appreciation for rolling cropland, livestock, and small towns. The encompassing daily thoughts and routines were laid behind with a relaxed enthusiasm for what was to come. The late night conversation with hospitable, childhood friends not only broke up the miles, but rekindled our connections on another level. Traveling with a sense of tiredness was a welcomed diversion to the ingrained routines of most days. 

While in Chicago, I accompanied my daughter during her volunteer work with Nourishing Hope. Delivering boxes of food, along with special bags for those marking birthdays provided a dope slap to my cloistered existence. I did not sense "good fortune" or "superiority" for my place on the 

Sleep anywhere

continuum of humanity. What I realized was the resilience of community in the vast and varied settings of daily existence. The connection between giver and recipient was not a one directional flow. The assistance provided to make the deliveries easier; especially the kindness and sensitivity of building security, care providers, and maintenance personnel illustrated our shared humanity. 

Time spent in the Lincoln Park Conservatory enjoying the colors, fragrances, and environments of their, "Spectrum of Spring" exhibit transported me to a recently uncovered aspect of life. While I am not enamored with gardening, I deeply appreciate the structural intricacies of blossoming plants. I did not "smell the roses," but I dawdled

Beauty in diversity

through the labyrinth of pathways admiring the growth which impregnates the space displaying uniqueness without hesitation. 

With bags barely unpacked and clothing laundered, I lifted off the runway in a southerly direction. Before settling into the home routine, I responded to my sister's text that my ninety-nine year old father was in the care of Hospice. The pace and sequence of changing gates at the Dallas-Ft. Worth Airport was on the other side of the continuum compared to the unhurried saunter of the El Paso, Texas airport. While culture, landscape, and purpose were significantly different from my prior exodus off the northern plains, I realized this too was on the 

Desert drive

continuum of life. I attempted to lay aside prior experiences and interactions in order to cultivate an appreciation for the journey. The time devoted to my father, sister, and nephew were insightful and meaningful. Echoing what I previously perceived, connections between people are not a unidirectional
movement. Being a recipient and a giver are simultaneous encounters. I am accepting of the mysteries of life remaining a mystery.

Blossoms to admire

According to Oxford Languages, a continuum is defined: "a continuous sequence in which adjacent elements are not perceptibly different from each other although the extremes are quite distinct."  

I am grateful to participate in the sequence of life!   

Thank you for reading. 

Spice for life

Border Crossing

Free from high school and primed for adventure, a friend and I went on a loosely planned motorcycle trip. A

Wide open Manitoba prairie

Yamaha Enduro was my friend's bike while I rode wild and crazy on a Honda 175. Leaving from southeastern Minnesota we went north. Cruising along Lake Superior's north shore brought us into Thunder Bay, Ontario.  We returned to the North Star state via Fort Francis, Ontario. I have no remembrance of either border crossing. What I do remember is not having Canadian currency. Gas and food was paid in US dollars. Lodging in Thunder Bay consisted of laying on a picnic table underneath a canopy in a city park. 

During the early years of marriage and family, trips were made to Regina and Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, along with Winnipeg, Manitoba. I felt out of place sensing I was in a foreign country. Measurements were different. Currency exchange rates were now factored in. Both English and French were used on signs and consumer products. The Folklorama Week in Winnipeg exposed all of us to diverse expressions of culture and living not seen in northwestern Minnesota. 

Local cooks and servers

The frozen, sparely populated, and windswept prairies of Manitoba have drawn me over the past decade to an ultra endurance event named, "Actif Epica." Similar to other winter challenges, participants choose a

230km bike start

predetermined distance and one of two modalities (bike or foot) to complete that distance. Mid-February is the time frame. What serves as a counterbalance to the
harsh conditions is the generous hospitality of local people and the copious amounts of lovingly created foods. Soups, breads, smoked meats, pierogies, sweet and savory treats, and beverages, along with salty snacks and candies await behind the doors of the unique checkpoints. It is not published, but of equal challenge to the austere environment, is the fortitude required to leave the warmth and conviviality of the checkpoints. The event may learn more toward emotional stamina that physical prowess. 

Proud banner at the start+finish

The tagline for the event, "Celebrate Human Resilience" is more than a published phrase. First of all the event is a cornucopia of humanity. All ages, ethnicities, nationalities, and lifestyles are embraced. In reality no one asks about those categories. Instead the inquiries are about hunger, thirst, physical condition, and celebrating the current accomplishment of distance. Secondly, there is celebration. This is not a competition for podium placement and medals of achievement. Participants are supported and recognized for who they are at that given moment. Whether a person goes back on the course or decides to conclude their effort, each person is embraced as part of a community facing unique internal and external realities. Finally, the characteristic of

50km foot participants
(Gregory C. McNeill photo)

resilience, whether spoken or unspoken permeates the setting. This is not limited to the participants, but to the volunteers, support staff, checkpoint hospitality providers, and family and friends who give from their hearts, as well. Not only are Manitoba prairies wide and awe inspiring, but Actif Epica reflects the reverence and expansiveness of human connection with equal grandeur. 

In my current experience the celebration, humanness, and resilience in life are retracting into tightly walled borders. Restricting community to those of a defined social, ethnic, and economic status closes interaction. We no longer celebrate one another for their unique journey which brings them to the present moment. Instead we negate and denigrate out of 

Being in the moment
(Gregory C. McNeill photo)

misinformed notions of scarcity. Even long established relationships are cast aside because we choose anger toward others out of the disingenuous perceptions propagated by those in leadership and the media. I believe it is time to open our personal borders so we can cross over, as well as allow others to come into our lives. The recognition of our humanness, the celebration of our unique journeys, and the strength generated by respecting resilience will create a meaningful life far greater than that promised by massive walls and impassible obstacles. 

Actif Epica, I will return to again be enveloped and celebrated for nothing other than being human!

50km finishers from Crystal
Spring Hutterite Colony
(Scott Sugimoto photo)

                                                 

                                     

Cornucopia of humanity

Playmate

(Online image)

It was an invigorating and secretive part of my mid-teenage years. I was able to buy a used copy of Playboy magazine from a schoolmate. Do not ask about the articles in the publication. I was not interested in reading! I wanted the excitement and fantasy of the pictures. I had a Playmate!  As much as I wishfully dreamt, a meaningful relationship never developed. However, I certainly enjoyed many aspects of this titillating relationship. 

For more than a decade I have been in a primarily one-sided relationship. I have been enticed and captivated by the siren song of politics. The promise of, "This is the most important election in history," captured my attention, devotion, and massive portions of internal energy. The promises grew and my response intensified. Over time this relationship became lopsided. I began to sense and now fully believe that I have been played. It is about abject loyalty. It is about taking sides and forsaking all others. It is about isolation and exclusion. I have come to realize that believing in politicians to care about me is the same as fantasizing that Playboy's Playmate would personally visit me because I gazed longingly and lustfully at her photos. 

Fostering and cultivating relationships is foundational to having a playmate. Play contributes to exploration, listening, and understanding. Play expands not only relationships, but the perspective of everyone involved. Playmates enhance and uplift one another. Even in the midst of disagreement there is a commitment to respect each other. 

I choose not be be played in the current deluge of political pornography. Visual and online media bombard enticing images and alluring sound bites with little concern for their effects on people. Everyone involved in this morally offensive drama wants to entice, stimulate, and engorge which produces an organism of venom. No soothing endorphins and cuddly afterglow follows. Rather it becomes an addictive rush to gain false righteousness and seek retribution.

Farmer's Market in L'Aquila Italy

I am intentionally focusing on relationships and interactions which are positive, playful, and enhancing. This does not mean that I choose ignorance or apathy. Instead of wallowing in anxiety or the quagmire of misinformation, I am cultivating perspective through action. I want to feel free, alive, and aware of my surroundings and the people who make up the communities in which I interact.  A healthy system of community will withstand the chaos of random humiliation, exclusion, and elimination. My plan is to continue enjoying time with people in personal, civil, and life affirming interactions.

70 Isn't 40

Just a few varieties.

SPAMtown was my address thirty years ago. My spouse had a meaningful job, I was in a residency year at the Mayo Medical Center, and the daughters were involved in school. The commute from Austin to Rochester, Minnesota was far more scenic than the flatlands of the Red River Valley. Opposite ends of the state, as well as opposite outlooks on the future.

The recognition of my fortieth birthday was a surprise event. I was positively impacted by the friends who traveled to mark this occasion. I was also apprehensive about the future. At midlife I was making an uncertain shift in my career focus. Leaving parish ministry behind, I was in a Clinical Pastoral Education residency program. The training provided national qualification and recognition as a Chaplain, but little else. There was no guarantee of employment once the training concluded. With young children, a single income, and more transitions in the future, there was no inkling of security. Forty was a fretful experience. 

Running scared

At seventy the future is less fretful. The worries are in the past. There are no surprises kept nor next day clean-up with which to contend. I have a deeper sense of security because all that is yet to come is death. Yes, that word is complex and numerous emotions are attached to it. However, I now see it as more inevitable and less disruptive than at forty. I am not certain how it will present itself, but it will happen. I am unable to change it.

As humans we prioritize security. In other words, if we can control the external, the internal sense of well-being should ensue. Yet our society thrives on promoting insecurity. There is never enough. Cameras are more important than doorbells because people come to steal not visit. We divide into factions. We are fearful that someone else may get what we deserve. We speak of wanting change and vote for change. Change often means returning to what was seemingly secure in the past. We want change to benefit ourselves at the expense of others.  For our businesses, governments, and healthcare institutions to maintain their status they need to promote a fretful future which only they can control. 

Wisdom and guiding principles flicker like candles in the wind. Like all things in life they are tested, used, and suspended. Yet if they endure through time and regularly return to our mind, then it must carry wisdom. These words of the late educator and author, Stephen R Covey have served and continue to serve me well, "The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing." These words evoke reflection, exploration, timeliness, and thoughtfulness. At points in my life the main thing became getting ahead, achieving status, and being recognized. I don't believe I ever achieved those things. If I did, I wasn't satisfied. The

Satisfied in all seasons

overarching main thing which I have finally come to accept is to marvel at creation, accept human nature, and embrace what is. I feel secure in life, but not invincible. I enjoy life while not being fretful of death. Seventy isn't forty. I'm satisfied. 

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

Focal Point

 

Keeping in focus

For over six decades I have used corrective lenses. Lenses in frames to be specific. During the childhood years, frames of steel would have been preferred. I had numerous configurations of tape, glue, and fasteners holding my lenses, bows, and frames together. Proper repairs were not only expensive, but time consuming. With the changes that accompany growth my vision changed, as well. Adulthood brought with it bifocal lenses. Those who have experienced bifocal lenses know how the neck muscles become stronger through the continual head movements in order to focus clearly. Now my head is adorned with progressive lenses held by light, sturdy, spring assisted frames. The need for gross head movements have lessened to the point of slight tilts or nods. Many times I can manage visual clarity with eye movement alone. Progress is a great thing!

Changes over the decades have affected more than my vision. The focal point of my attention has ranged from Air Force fighter pilot (no go because of vision correction), to physician, to teacher, to navigating retirement. At one time everything was in the distance. Now it is immediate and quickly behind me. What was envisioned for my career trajectory is now a gliding descent with a hoped for soft landing. The understanding of myself along with a clearly defined system of how the world should operate was once 20/20. The prescription has changed. The lenses through which I understand my beliefs and actions have produced a new focal point. While it is clear to me, others say I need to get my eyes examined (possibly my head, too)!

The insightful author of Ecclesiastes writes, "God has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, God has put eternity into human hearts, yet humans cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also everyone should eat, and drink and take pleasure in their toil - this is God's gift." (3.11-13, English Standard Version)

Flowers were nice decorations, but they were secondary to the vegetables in the garden. The flowers provided a bit of diversity, but in the long term they were of little value. As I began pastoral ministry, my focus was on well written and properly delivered sermons which had a liberal, if not excessive use of the 

Wrong focus?

name, Jesus. It could almost become an incantation to help people move beyond the trivial concerns of their lives. The other focus was numerical growth. Bring in new members, activate the inactive, swell the offering plates, and count the saved souls. Eternity was the destination. It was my mission to get people there, no matter what. The day to day stuff was sideline distractions for the greater calling of eternal salvation. My youthful focus was clear!

During the first month of clinical training to earn national certification as a chaplain my vision became blurred. I was requested to visit a couple who birthed their first child. Upon arrival on the nursing unit I was informed the child was stillborn. In conversation with the young couple, they expressed their desire to have their baby baptized. The standard theological and sacramental practice was not to baptize a deceased person. Standing alone in a small room with their stillborn daughter, I provided a baptism using the name the parents had given her. It was an unseen ritual. Seeing the profound relief on the parents' faces when I returned to their room provided a brief glimpse of clarity. I did nothing for their daughter, but what I unknowingly provided for them was significant. It had little to do with eternity, but weighed heavily with immediacy. Theological doctrine was being blurred as pastoral care came into focus. 

Focus on people

Eternity is no longer an interest. All I have each and every day is immediacy. I eat many vegetables, but I intentionally spend more time appreciating the details of flowers. Our cultural and political climate focuses on rigid, long held beliefs which divide and ferment anger while overlooking people on the borders, in the clinics, seeking housing, and desirous of an immediate sense of safety. This climate is fed as much by churches as it is by political parties, governmental legislation, and judicial decisions. Eternity is meaningless when immediate needs are neglected. Doctrines and laws are good talking points. They provide both distance and self satisfying safety. Currently my focal point is much closer and responsive to the specific needs of people. My vision is not 20/20. Friends have advised me to get examined and change my prescription. Sometimes my blurred vision is personally frustrating. But for myself there is nothing better than to eat, drink, and cherish personal interactions which are a gift for today.

Thank you for reading!  

Also, at the end of March, I will no longer post notices or links to the blog on Meta platforms. Bookmarking the blog is one way to see new posts which usually occur every two weeks. 

Is Nothing Sacred?

 

In the late 1970s, this cartoon by Gaham Wilson was published in Playboy. I remember that it not only brought a chuckle, but it made me think about its paradox.I then went on to look at more illustrations and photographs in the magazine. No, I did not read the articles!

My online search for this cartoon was spurred by an episode of 1A from WAMU, a public radio station from American University in Washington D.C. The episode which aired on February 6th was entitled, "The Art of Doing Nothing." It focused on the negative image given to "doing nothing" in our current culture. We are a 24/7, always connected, seeking monetary benefit, and frightened of not knowing the latest trends society. The old adage, "don't just sit there, do something" has become so ingrained that many people never get away from email, scrolling, and feeling anxious and afraid about the world they inhabit. One of the show's guests was Jenny Odell. She is the author of, Saving Time: Discovering Life Beyond the Clock (2023), and How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy (2019).

A personal struggle ebbs and flows; that being a decision to "fully retire." I have pondered the phrases used in describing this later portion of life. Am I "semi-retired?" Am I still "working?" If I don't get a W-2 does this indicate full retirement? Because clergy are deemed self-employed by the IRS, can I retire from myself? At the foundation of these intellectual questions is the aforementioned stigma of doing nothing. If I am not receiving compensation, if I am not producing something tangible for the benefit of others, if I am not leaving the confines of my dwelling, do I have value? Many people come up with simple answers to these questions. I struggle to find and accept an answer that satisfies this inner yearning.

Mixture of elements

"It's better to do nothing than to waste your time." was a poignant sentence from the WAMU broadcast. In the exploration of this statement, doing nothing could range from lying on the ground looking at the sky to structured meditation. Scrolling through social media feeds was not seen as doing nothing.  Scrolling may seem mindless and relaxing. As I conclude a scrolling session, I do not feel enlightened, relaxed, or satisfied. I feel used and dirty. I have wasted my time. A ten minute shower, 5 minutes of exploring what pops into my mind, or a walk around the apartment building would provide greater benefit. Social media is capturing our attention, monetizing our data, and softly infecting our outlook in order to promote the idea that we can never be enough. In a capitalist economy, sales cannot be sustained by reinforcing personal wholeness. Doing nothing, being satisfied, meaningfully connecting with other people and communities, all of which is falsely 

Is this nothing?

being promoted by the purveyors of social media, does nothing to sustain a consumer driven economy. Currently the answer to Gaham Wilson's cartoon question is, "Nothing isn't sacred. Nothing is evil and nothing needs to be destroyed."

The sacredness of nothing is a pilgrimage I desire to begin. How it unfolds in the weeks and months to come is uncertain. Setting aside decades of busyness which overall has been beneficial will take dedicated effort.  I will label this pilgrimage as "Intentional Nothingness." My desire is to embrace the everyday, natural surroundings. I want to interact with the beauty which surrounds me, as well as the beauty which is within me. It has beauty not because it is experienced as pleasing, but simply because it is. Experiencing pain and discomfort and sitting in it can enlighten my perspective. Instead of labeling and judging, I would rather observe and incorporate. Is nothing sacred? I intend to plunge into its manifold dimensions.

Please bookmark this address if you want to continue reading future posts. New posts drop every two weeks. At the end of March, I will no longer be using Meta (Facebook and Instagram) to post links to this blog. Thank you for reading!