Less Daylight - More Choices

Sunsets are beautiful

The days are getting shorter! I am not only referring to the seasonal change but my changing life, as well. If you watched either (08.06 + 08.13) of the last two YouTube videos, I alluded to the theme of ceasing to explore life. A prevailing societal thought is that at some point humans stop exploring life in order to give attention to life after death. Prevailing thoughts usually are not for the benefit of the individual. Other motives are being established.

In the book, Out of Silence - After the Crash by Eduardo Strauch, he writes, "Instead of asking myself if there was life after death, I asked myself what life was before death." The author is a surviving member of the Uruguayan rugby team whose airplane crashed into the Andes Mountains while en route to Chile in 1972. A portion of the book recounts his seventy-two day ordeal prior to fifteen others and himself being rescued. There were forty-five passengers on the flight. They survived -30 degree temperatures at an altitude of 11,500 feet, crafting survival items from the wreckage, as well as getting nutrition from the deceased. His account is honest and deeply personal. It is bereft of any semblance of a happy ending. I found the depth of his life experience to be powerful, as well as respectful.

Death will be a reality at some point. Until that time presents itself, I want to live. Not simply exchanging air

A lifeless decoration

and having blood flow, but expanding my senses, my perspectives, my creativity, and my appreciation for all that surrounds me. I do not perceive this as selfish. Self care is never selfish. My days of focusing upon family concerns: food, shelter, medical insurance, education/tuition are in the past. Playing by the rules and earning income were chosen parts of my life. However, rules are meant to maintain order and safety. Income is one aspect of life of which we can never have enough, so we are told over and over.  Along with this is the projected worry about having enough for retirement. I believe we easily get bound to the rules while attempting to build walls of safety. In so doing, we block out life and forego the joy of living.

As a pastor, the concept of life after death has always been present, if not in the forefront. The congregations I have served, the hospitalized I visited as a chaplain, and the community members where I have resided have asked about life after death. Is the role of clergy that of dealing with what cannot be experienced in the here and now? The Christian Scriptures have numerous concepts about death and life which scholars over the centuries have attempted to blend into a homogeneous pabulum. Most often the teaching has been used to promote a type of moral playing by the rules. It has created hesitancy and fear of making choices today. The belief is that our free choices would negatively affect life in the hereafter. I believe what originally had good intentions has repressed more than it has freed. Personally, I no longer focus on life after death. As Eduardo Strauch aptly penned, "I asked myself what life was before death."

A lot to savor

My days are not getting shorter. There continues to be twenty-four hours each day. I am not waiting to be rescued from a disaster.  I have not lived this long to stop prematurely. In many ways I do not want to be mature! I am not opposed to rules. I am not opposed to safety. I am opposed to focusing so painstakingly upon the future that I neglect to experience my surroundings today. Death and what comes after that is not in my control. Choosing to live fully and freely today is a gift I want to continually unwrap!

Old Dog - New Tricks

It served well!

Aging provides an opportunity to coast with all that is familiar and to complain about all that is changing. Questions arise as to the necessity of change. Frustrations erupt when cornered by others prodding me to change. Can I not be left alone to gracefully slide into decrepitude?  Chided by an adult child, as well as decoding the cryptic intimations of my spouse, a new (well, it has 3,000 miles on the odometer) vehicle was purchased. The last time I drove a new transport away from a dealership was three decades ago. 

Air conditioning, cruise control, Bluetooth, and rear defrost are necessary. "Less that needs fixing," was my antiquated mantra. These words also help weave the thin shroud disguising my economic rule of mass depreciation as soon as four wheels leave the boundary of the dealership. The old belief patterns had served, as well as saved. All of the labor to solidify this mindset was quickly cast aside. The mission or possibly the obsession for new imprisoned me. I finally submitted to my captor. So much for sliding gracefully into decrepitude!

Along with air conditioning, Bluetooth, and rear defrost comes: dynamic radar cruise control, lane departure

Words, not letters.

alerts, heated seats, automatic high beams, and forty miles of electric distance. Little hatches adorn both upper rear panels. One allows for a fuel nozzle. The other allows for the alien looking charging plug. The old fashioned "glove box" contains thick bound manuals with minuscule print and drawings explaining the features. It was strongly suggested to download the app in order to increase access to features and updates. Decrepitude was not found in the app!

I did not expect so many internal changes, either. My head is on a swivel looking at the multitude of circumstances which can damage this wheeled wonder. I obsess over keeping the colorful graphics in the proper areas which indicate maximum mileage. I ponder how often to wash it and where to wash it. And the most satisfying, yet disturbing change: I am honing defensive driving skills anticipating the action of other drivers. My initial, internal verbal response to the other driver is, "What an a**h#le!" It is now morphing to congratulate myself for being aware. Instead of cursing, I applaud myself for the insight into the behaviors of others. 

This may be my last vehicle purchase. The investment in extended warranty and service/maintenance contracts should enable a long term relationship with this vehicle.  It also spells the end of a meaningful relationship with the repair shop mechanics. By the time the contracts expire I will either no longer be driving or I will board a self-driving ride-share to my destination. At that time I will once again consider my slide into decrepitude!

.

Cartagena, Columbia

This Is Only a Test

Tests captured my attention. In the overall flow of life tests were significant speed bumps which changed my focus. Once completed, life would resume its easy going rhythm. With the completion of eight years of post secondary education tests were placed on a high and out of the way shelf. I knew what I needed to know and I did not need to increase my knowledge.

A remnant of the Cold War with its penchant of nuclear holocaust were public service ads on radio and television from the Emergency Broadcast System. The portion of the announcement etched into memory is, "This is only a test. If this had been an actual emergency...." In an actual emergency detailed instructions would have come from the Civil Defense. Actions including shelter locations and updates from governmental agencies would have been forthcoming. Emergencies change the rhythm of life. Most of our days are only a test with little need to be concerned about emergencies.

Driving an EV (a test drive) was a thrill! It was not a significant speed bump, but the vehicle had plenty of speed. The representative from the dealership instructed me on a small portion of its features. The rep drove the vehicle for about 10 miles, all the while explaining the system, showing off the acceleration, technological driving features, and providing basic EV education. Getting into the driver's seat for the return trip to the dealership was my test. Not only did I pass the test, but I passed many other vehicles along the way. The experience was awesome! Is it an emergency to purchase this vehicle? NO. I have a very capable eleven year old vehicle with over 200,000 miles. It is reliable. I know about internal combustion engines. I know about its creaks and quirks. I know what I need to know without the mind numbing array of   

Toyota bZ4X

electronics. I know about the workings of gas station/convenience stores. I know nothing about charging stations nor their locations. My life can easily slip back into its easy going rhythm.

Along with many people, I find it not only easy but comforting to have a calm flow of life. As the joke is told in the Upper Midwest, "How many people does it take to change a light bulb?" Answer, "Change?! Why do we need to change?" The resistance to change or even to prepare for the test runs deep in human nature.  The idea that once the test is completed there is nothing left to learn is powerful. The denial, the push back, the acrimony expressed when we are confronted about impending predicaments in culture, climate, and global community indicate our unwillingness to prepare for or even learn from tests. 

Confronted with my own resistance to move beyond what I know and believe is becoming too uncomfortable. It is an actual emergency. Thus I will seek, listen, discern, and respond to instructions that are presented from a variety of sources. This is not about protection and defense. It is about embracing the current spectrum of life, expanding the base of knowledge, and moving forward.  

The Bright Side of Life

Ryan finishes the
Lutsen 99er

In 1979, "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" written by Eric Idle, was performed in Monty Python's Life of Brian. The song was also included in the 2005 musical, "Monty Python's Spamalot." Is there something that makes the song so enduring? Here are some of the lyrics:                                                               

Some things in life are bad, they can really make you mad, other things just make you swear and curse.....If life seems jolly rotten, there's something you've forgotten, and that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing."  Chorus, "Always look on the bright side of life."

No matter when a picture is take, my friend Ryan always has a smile. Whether it be mud splatter, an ice beard, or  a bloodied leg or forearm he exhibits a genuine smile. Maybe it comes from the enjoyment of movement on two wheels? Yet, I have seen this smile many times when he is not on one of his bikes. Ryan has a full repertoire of emotions, but somehow he grounds himself with a smile. 

A hiking adventure in early May, close to Colombia's Caribbean coast tested my endurance. It was not so 

Saturated, but made it
through the first day

much the physicality of hiking, as it was the bodily adjustment to the tropical climate. The heat and humidity meant I was constantly wet. This was not just some unsightly perspiration, but soaked shirts, pants, socks, and hiking boots for five days. In the midst of my self-consciousness and some ribbing from fellow hikers and guides, I realized my bodily mechanisms were working to keep me moving forward. My sweating was beyond my control. Even though my limits were tested, I could easily flash a smile. I had a functioning body, the ability to interact in a less than ideal setting, plenty of food and water, and a covered place to sleep every night. Plenty of reasons to brighten my face!

With a steady diet of media, my emotional, spiritual, and relational functions plummet faster than a roller coaster cresting the initial climb. I believe there are individuals, businesses, and organizations who want nothing more than for me to view the world as frightening. These sources benefit both in power and prosperity from providing toxic materials which nourish an attitude of despair and dependency.  It is easy to get caught in the thick of thin things. Arguing over minutiae is a distraction from living life. The number of people, situations, and things to cherish far outnumber those I am encouraged to curse. I am tempted at times to succumb to the constant reminder that life is not fair and others are getting preferential treatment. ENOUGH ALREADY! 

We all have choices. We all have life. We all are terminal. The question is, "How do each of us choose to see life ?" I will choose the bright side.

"Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" This link takes you to a YouTube clip of the song from the "Life of Brian." You may find it off-color or offensive. However, that is part of the Monty Python genre of humor.

Shorts, snow, and a smile!

Without A License

The person did not have a license! The person had no data indicating that training or lessons were a part of their past. It takes a lot of courage and/or lunacy to attempt such an activity with no relevant background. At least the person had a name: Orville Wright. I doubt if Orville Wright understood the impact of his actions, but they have been massive. 

As a young farm boy, I would often gaze skyward to see the white contrail of a jet or hear the distant hum of a propeller plane. The few times my family attended a Minnesota Twins game (always a double header because of the value) I watched airplanes take off and land from Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. The bleachers of Metropolitan Stadium (the cheap seats) were a fine location to satisfy my lust for viewing the airport. Needless to say, the airplanes captured my interest more than the game of baseball.  In the fervor of my obsession, I mailed a letter to the United States Air Force asking for photographs of their jets. To my surprise, I received a large, manila envelope filled with over a dozen glossy photographs of aircraft. It was my massive treasure. I developed a weekly rotation of the pictures on the bedroom wall. Orville Wright, 

Northwest was based at
Minneapolis-St.Paul

even though long dead, gave me a world of visions and dreams due to his willingness to fly without a license!

My dreams and desires never materialized due to my need for corrective lenses. Decades ago the sight requirements were more rigid than today. I also learned that heights, spinning, and hanging in the air messed with my balance, perception, and bodily functions. Too many amusement park rides, along with a couple of turbulent flights in small aircraft created physical conditions which demonstrated my deficiencies for flight. However, I still enjoy not only watching aircraft, but traveling by air imparts a pleasant mystique. 

An author I enjoy 

After decades of staying in my lane of vocational licensure, the dream of journeying into untried competencies has returned. I want to express myself, be creative, and take risks in the arena of writing. It has been a dormant avocation. My small, but significant collection of instructional writing resources, along with the joy of using fine writing instruments has catapulted me into a space which is not frightening. I am setting aside the routine for the thrill of discovery. Whether anything gets officially published does not matter. I want to pursue that which has been in my being for years. I want expression to take flight. I want to enjoy the surprise of taking off. Thank you, Orville Wright!

Thank you for reading

Jump With Both Feet

 

A street in Cartagena

The flight was scheduled to depart at 5am. It was an international flight with a connection in Florida. I have TSA Pre-Check, so the security screening process is quick. One bag to check at the self-service kiosk. Being at the airport three hours early certainly did not apply to me!

I had difficulty sleeping, so the ride share dropped me off at the airline's departure doors at 2:10am. The self-service kiosk indicated I needed to speak with an airline service agent. It must be an error. The third time this came on the screen I decided to follow the instructions. Off to the rear of an endless line which moved at a snail's pace. Because my destination was South America, the airline's agent needed to verify and approve Colombia's entry form which I had previously completed online according to instructions. After receiving paper, color coded boarding passes for my flights the rest of the process went as I had expected. Note to self: there is a reason for the three hour arrival before your flight advice!

This was my first, solo international flight. I have never been to Colombia or South America. On previous overseas adventures, my younger daughter took care of the details and so I just followed her. It made travel easy, but I did not learn the details of such travel. This time I had no one to follow, so the learning curve and the anxiety were steep. One way to learn is to jump in with both feet!            

One of the hiking guides

After returning and processing what had occurred over my ten days in northern Colombia, what rises to the top are people. The various cities and landscapes held a unique beauty. Individual tours, as well as the five day group hiking experience were packed with information, as well as physical and emotional fatigue. Beyond the Caribbean music, the hectic and chaotic traffic, the lush jungle, and countless varieties of tropical fruit, images of individuals continue to surface in my memory.

Cecilia in the market

Women who cooked with basic heat sources and marginal cookware in a crowded market produced delicious food and abundant hospitality. One of the guides on the hiking trip was not only agile and strong, but made certain everyone was cared for both on the trail and in our campsites. Most of this caring was accomplished with less than detailed communication. The ride share driver, who though recently married, treated me as a friend making certain (due to the late hour) that my lodging was available and acceptable. A woman from Canada who noted her sixtieth birthday by sweating, hiking, and persevering over five days while never second guessing her decision. 

Seeing the terrain, landscape, and sites of another part of the world is awe-inspiring. Seeing and interacting with a wide array of individuals makes me plan the next adventure. I am glad I jumped in with both feet!                 

Not just people,
but personalities

Haunted House

Our memories are ghosts. The houses they haunt are us.

"Forever" Pony Cars

The beautifully maintained 1964, Ford Mustang parked on the other side of the gas pumps was being filled by its owner of similar vintage. A new Kia Optima pulled in behind the Mustang. Its Gen X driver quickly scanned his payment card, activated the pump and began fueling. Gazing in admiration at the classic pony car he said, "That has to be awesome to drive." 

"An afternoon cruise around the area is enjoyable. If I was going on a road trip I would choose your vehicle.", was the reply.

"I thought the Mustang was supposed to be an amazing car?" asked Gen X.

"For its time it was innovative and exciting. Compared to the comfort, handling, and safety of today's vehicles it is a dinosaur."

The typical refrains of, "Back when I was your age, and In the good ol' days" are both descriptive and bromidic. The memories of bygone days invite us into a fantasy which is comforting, confusing, and heartbreaking. Take a look at the Stay Puft Marshmellow Man from the movie, Ghostbusters (1984). Fun and cute while providing distraction from the current chaos. Yet escapism is fleeting even when one chooses to reside in its fairyland. A one day pass to Disneyland starts at $104.00. Reside there too long and the expense will cause not only financial bankruptcy, but the inability to navigate daily life. 

I have numerous ghosts which haunt my being. The horrific ones include, but are not limited to needing to

Sheep in Cumbria, UK

end the lives of animals and pets on the rural acreage of my youth.  Some were for sport while others were for sustenance or mercy. No matter the reason, their eyes always seemed to be looking at me. My mournfulness was blended with the arrogance of power over other living creatures. 

In my recent past, the Red River of the North floods of April 1997, have dug a deep trench which is exposed when ancient Lake Agassiz seeks to reclaim itself. Initially my wife and I moved our daughters to a secure setting with friends. That security was fleeting! My wife and daughters drove hundreds of miles in order to reside with family. From their new location the rising, unpredictable waters were stories on the television news. I remained in the town surrounded by untested dikes. The Minnesota National Guard established an encampment within the town. Yet this tenuous security failed to provide restorative sleep. I was frightened that my fatigue would deafen my ears to the evacuation sirens if there was a breach of the levee. If that occurred the town would be multiple feet deep in water within minutes. 

Current flooding on the Red

Intermingled with these images are the ones of friendship, courage, camaraderie, laughter, and hope. Numerous relationships were created and strengthened. On the fatigued and forlorn faces were glimpses of consolation and compassion. While becoming an island surrounded by raging waters, the core of people created a community. Any dream of long-term, interpersonal kumbaya faded slowly as the flood waters receded. When the crisis was past the conflicts resumed. Yet, these memories open many doors in my internal house. Abiding with the haunting are the helpful.

The memories which cruise the avenues of my life have the power which I choose to given them. Primarily, I embrace the present. This is where I live with the freedom and the foolishness for the road trip which lies ahead.