Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Pseudo spirituality anyone?

There is such a craze today about spirituality. Yoga, meditation. Then in the arts: zombies, werewolves, shape shifters, Harry Potter. Everything but the real thing. Hmm. Wonder why.

I have a theory. People sense that there is spiritual power out there. There is. But they want power they can control. Not Power that can control them. Hence, they will go to any lengths to get that spirituality but stop just short of the line that has them surrendering control.

Like the term 'Lord.' People want to be Lords, not have a Lord.

So round and round people play with pseudo spirituality. Harmless enough, right? Like kids playing make-believe.

I'm not so sure. Because see, there is a real spirituality. With big time stakes. And I think the distraction pseudo spirituality provides keeps a lot of people away from the real thing.

I like pseudo spirituality stuff. It can be fun to think about humans having super powers or zombies or whatever. I'm just not losing track of the real thing, because that's where the real power is.

Thursday, October 6, 2016

If Donald Trump talked to Gandhi

"Whoa, I love the robe! You've got some style, Mahatma. You should consider branding it."

"Thank you, The Donald."

"Yeah, me, I've got the best brand in the world, Mahatma. Everybody loves me."

"Even here in India?"

"Especially in India. I'm telling you, Indians can't get enough of me."

"But you seem very aggresive. My philosophy is based on non-violence."

"Trust me, Mahatma, non-violence is old school. In today's world you got do the deed when you need to."

"Do people love you for this?"

"People especially love me for it. People love me for everything I do. Mahatma, I could stand naked in the Ganges and sing "Yankee Doodle Dandy" and people would love me. I could kill a cow and they'd love me. I could kill all the cows!"

"You are worrisome to many people."

"Ah, only to the wimps."

"And the Muslims."


"And Mexicans."

"They'll come around. There's a few good ones. I know them and they love me. Soon all the Mexicans will. Well, the ones I let stay here anyway."

"And women."

"Oh my God, Mahatma. Are you kidding me? Have you seen my wife? Women everywhere love me. Yeah, some are fat and, well, not too easy to look at, but they love me anyway. Everybody does."

"But you are making enemies."

"Everybody will come around in the end. They always do."

"Hillary Clinton too?"

"Oh, don't get me started on her."

"The Donald, I must go."

"Well, hey, it was good talking to you. I'm going to make sure to build some golf courses in India. And don't forget to encourage your Indian buddies to vote for me. They'll love me! I'm telling you! Everybody does!"

Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Do you ring true?

We think we're so clever. That we can put on a show, a front, an act, a veneer that will deceive. Like make-up for the soul. But can we?

I was thinking about the term "ring true." It comes from the idea of testing a metal, like silver, or glass, and the response the metal or glass makes establishes its authenticity. I believe the same process applies to us. That we give off a ring. And that most people can discern it. They can know who we are deep down. They can see through the bark, no matter how thick it may be.

And what makes for ringing true? It seems to me, in a word: sincerity.

The sincere person doesn't even have to talk. You can just sense that they're sincere. When they do talk, their speech is straightforward and clear. There's no attempt to impress or dazzle. Accordingly there's no need to ask for clarification.

Little kids and pets are masters at discerning who rings true. They aren't drawn or fooled by looks or eloquence or wealth or fancy clothes. They see right through all that to a person's insides. 

A lot of adults aren't fooled either.

I have spent most of my life living from an image. I was my athletic trophies. I was my girlfriend. I was my car. I was my job. I was my partying reputation. I was anything but who I really was deep down.

Hopefully I've gotten to ring more true as I've gotten older.

How about you? Do you ring true?

Monday, August 8, 2016

Does God hate your creativity?

Think about it. What's another name for God? Creator. So if you're creating, are you infringing on God's territory? Is creativity best left in His hands? Does He become jealous when you create? The Bible says:

You shall not make for yourself an image in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below.

In Rollo May's book The Courage to Create he writes:

...creativity provokes the jealousy of the gods. This is why authentic creativity takes so much courage: an active battle with the gods is occurring.
Do you believe it?

I don't. Although I certainly think that it is a major challenge to be creative, I don't think in our struggle to create that God is against us. Quite the opposite, in fact, I think God helps us create. He leads us to people, books, opportunities that we would never be able to find on our own. And the timing of finding such things is usually perfect.

Not to be irreligious, but when you create, you are being God-like. Because again, God is the Creator, so when we create we're being like Him. And I think He enjoys watching our attempts and encourages us along the way.

Saturday, July 2, 2016

Could you be a genius?

Genius. It's a term admired, wondered about and endlessly debated as to its meaning. But could it apply to everybody?

Most people think of genius in terms of being some rare gift that only the exceptionally lucky are born with. No use trying to get it because you either have it or you don't.

That's the easy way out. A cop-out. That way you don't have to try. Why, if only the Mozarts and Einsteins and Michaelangelos of the world have it, should you try?

The fact of the matter is that Mozart and Einstein and Michaelangelo—although certainly not dim-witted or bereft of talent—all worked their butts off to achieve the things they did.

When Einstein died his brain was preserved and it turned out to be smaller than average. He famously once said: "It's not that I'm so smart; I just stay with problems longer."

Mozart, who everyone loves to think of as having been born with genius, truly of course was talented, but his early childhood compositions were rudimentary. And he was a tireless worker and a lifelong learner. When he came across the work of fellow composer J.S. Bach he said:  "At last, someone from whom one can learn!"

And, Michaelangelo, painter of the Sistine Chapel, sculptor of "Pieta" and designer of St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, said: "If people knew how hard I worked to get my mastery, it wouldn't seem so wonderful at all."

You can see that what led to that statement was people endlessly telling him how wonderful it must be to be born and blessed with the talent and genius he possessed. Michaelangelo set them straight that was definitely not the case.

So could you be a genius?

Undoubtedly, it takes a certain level of intelligence and talent to begin with, but beyond that, if you're willing to go after it with everything you've got, you may end up being the next Mozart.

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Has entertainment become our God?

Hey, I like entertainment. But I've been amazed at how obsessed our culture has become with it.

The average American household spends nearly $3,000 a year on it. Look at the tabloids, the Oscars. Actors become major celebrities, even sometimes authorities. Reality TV show stars become presidential candidates. A Justin Bieber YouTube video was watched over a billion times. Netflix, streaming movies and TV shows on smart phones. People can't seem to get enough.

But are we missing anything in all the frenzy? Have we maybe replaced more important things with entertainment?

I remember reading an article about parents taking their young family to Yellowstone National Park for a vacation. The kids complained. They didn't want to go.

"But we'll get to camp out in the wilderness, see buffaloes and sunsets," the father said.

"Sunsets are boring," his daughter replied.

I grew up near a park. During the summer we played baseball there and wore out a major patch of the lawn for the home plate area and pitcher's mound, and smaller areas for the bases. In the fall we wore out the whole center of the park grass playing football. Everybody played. It didn't matter how good you were. It was the thing to do.

Today, years later, that lawn is in perfect shape. And it's been ages since I've even seen a single person in the park. 

Because today everything is online. It's video games. Movies. Twitter. Whatever. I'm not knocking it. I'm a part of it all. I enjoy technology.  But aren't there more important things than entertainment? Aren't we somehow missing out by being glued to glowing screens?

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

How me and God made a difficult decision

I have a hard time making decisions. It once took me four hours to buy a pair of shoes at Kohls. I kept walking around the department store, getting very familiar with the various departments and even starting to recognize some of the employees by sight. A nice salesgirl had been helping me for a while and she must've gotten called to another department for a couple of hours, and when she returned to the shoe department and ran across me she said: "ARE YOU STILL HERE?"

I was like, Well, yeah.

So last night I was walking outside. (Seems I do a lot of walking.) Just my usual jaunt around the neighborhood. It was around 9:30 and a pretty decent night, maybe fifty still, not windy. And as I was walking down this long block I saw a car in a driveway. The car had a weak light glowing on the inside. Sure enough, as I got closer I could see that the car's roof light had been left on.

It was late. The house was dark. There was no outside light on. I could see faint light inside, shifting as if a TV were on, behind the curtains. I hoped that the car's roof light would turn off automatically, but I felt it probably wouldn't. In fact, it already seemed to be waning.

Ugh. I dreaded the idea of knocking on the door. What if it was an old person and they had a heart attack? I mean, I don't know about your neighborhood but nobody knocks on doors after say maybe seven p.m. here. My walking route called for going around this park and so I figured I'd keep walking and come back to the car to see if the light was still on.

Off I went. And of course I was thinking about the light and what I would do if it was still on. I weighed the pros and cons. Pros: the person doesn't have a dead battery when he gets up to go to work in the morning. Cons: the person has a heart attack when some stranger (me) knocks on their door in the middle of the night.

Okay, I told myself, maybe they won't have a heart attack. And I asked myself, what would I want done if the car were mine? I decided I'd want to be a little startled and have my car start in the morning.

But still I didn't feel like knocking on their door. That clearly made me a bad guy. An interrupter at best. A terrifier at worst. Yes, I was wavering in my thinking that I was going to knock.

I was getting close to returning to the car now and yep, the roof light was still on. Darn it, I thought. Why did I have to make this decision? I was just out for a relaxing walk and now my stomach was tied up in knots.

But I was coming up on the car. In a half a block I'd be there. I didn't want to stop walking (I still had a long way to get back home).

Well, I'd done all I could. I was willing to knock or not knock. The selfish part of me wanted to keep going by, rationalizing that maybe the car would start in the morning anyway, or maybe somebody else who lived there would yet be returning and would see the light, or that I was sparing somebody from having a heart attack, yada yada yada. The other part of me knew knocking was the right thing to do.

So, willing to go either way, and with the car right there, I gave it God. You know what, I was still a little keyed up, but I had a peace and a conviction come right over me. I walked up the sidewalk and rang the doorbell. But no one came to the door. I rang again. Still nothing. Great, I thought. So I gritted my teeth, pulled open the storm door and knocked.

There was a translucent little window in the door and I could see that somebody came up behind it. But they didn't open the door. I called, "The roof light is on in your car." After a few seconds, I could hear the deadbolt turning. The door opened.

It was a young guy (I'm pretty sure he didn't have a heart attack) and I told him I was sorry to be knocking so late but that his car's roof light was on.

"Oh," he said, looking over my shoulder and out at the car. "Thank you so much!"

As I walked away I could hear the car's door open and shut and the car start up.