Life at 3 miles an Hour

We all know those people ... some of us are those people... the people who have an answer for everything.  There are a few variations of them.  There is the version that is already out in front of the game and pursues their path and plants their flag in it no matter the reality.  They don't even remotely claim to be interested in the opinion, experience, or outright knowledge of others.  There is the version who will engage with the knowledge of others, but then debate them at every turn.  You know that kid ... the one who always has their hand up during class.  Then there is the version who will feign interest in the advice of others ... sometime even seek it out ... as they acknowledge their own shortcomings. When given advice they will then deflect it with the skill of an NHL goalkeeper ,,, continually and unflinchingly informing you of their own justification for the shortcomings of your solutions.  This is, for me, the most frustrating of all the versions.  At least the first

I picked a great day to return.  Alki point is nearly always the place that the Fall and Winter storms batter the Seattle area shoreline. The winds from the North funnel down the sound for a direct hit on our urban peninsula. From the warmth of my window seat in Starbucks I can feel the waves pounding the promenade.  Even from across the street, while sipping on the first of my holiday season drinks, I can feel the concussions in my feet as they rest on this stool. Its good to be back in more ways than one.   This place, once upon a time, years ago my weekly go to writing home, now seems a vague echo of another life.  To be honest, even writing, especially with any regularity has been nearly forgotten.  It's not that I haven't tried.  I've tried so many times to just sit down and, once again be able to process outwardly the internal workings of my soul.  For years, sifting through my thoughts and pouring them into this space and a few others has brought balance and kept san

I've always been a proponent of cause and effect.  Very simply defined, doing this leads to that … very simple and uncomplicated.  Even though culture and an industry of ambulance chasers resists and seeks to eradicate undesirable effects (insert responsibility here), cause and effect still rule the day... unless you're trying to carry a cup of coffee between your legs while driving.  In the physical realm its fairly easy to predict and measure … in the emotional and spiritual realm its a bit more complicated and nuanced. From a human standpoint, it all comes down to choices, for good or bad.  You choose to breakup over a text, you're a looser … cause and effect.  You choose to go shopping with your significant other rather than golf with a buddy, you're a romantic.  These kinds of decisions may seem small and insignificant, but the results are noticeable and often immediate.  I get those. They are much easier to understand.  What I have difficulty with is imagining

" If I speak in the tongues [ a ] of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal."  For most of the past 6 years my existence has centered around what is arguably the most intense urban renewal project anywhere in the country.  For more than 10 years now this 10 block by 10 square block section of the city has been in a constant build mode that is taking place on the streets, under the streets and upwards of 40 stories above the streets.  It can so many days be such a source of stimulation overload.  The daily game of street roulette to determine which street or sidewalk is open and which ones closed became very old very quickly.  I often am driven from my office to seek sanctuary and silence … or at least a dull roar.   Personally it has driven me, against everything I've always believed about interacting with the world, to spend a good part of my days wearing ear buds or even full on headphones.  So, as many times as I

It's been well over 2 years since my last post here.  It's not that I've not been writing at all … I do have other outlets that are a bit more specific to my current role.  I just haven't been able to write here … in my own personal space, unloading and examining my own personal wrestling with faith and function.  It's not that I haven't tried.  Not a week goes by where I don't remember back to when it felt natural to process my inner thoughts and demons while chasing a cursor across a screen.  So many things have happened these past 28 months that could have, should have, and in other times would have found their way to my screen as a record of my having lived them... and yet they didn't. Some of it I'll attribute to living a certain way for much of your adult life, and then suddenly not … at least not in the same way.  Some of it I'll attribute to what I understand of conventional "writers block".  The rest I'll attribute to a

For most of my life I would have been considered anything but urban. I've lived in the cornfields of the Midwest.  I've lived among the rural farms of Upstate New York. Some of my fondest memories are still the many days of my life spent in the solitude and wild of the Adirondack mountains.  In many ways I am convinced that those were the days that formed my inner places.  I am an introvert by design. I am a writer of sorts and this place breathed the life and contemplation into my soul necessary for words to then be poured out.  I could feel the very presence of God there. The secret places of the forest seemed to wrap themselves around me and even now, nearly 30 years after last stepping foot on those paths, I can still feel them calling to me.  Especially now. These past 17 years I have chosen to live within the city limits of one of our country's major urban centers.  In fact for these past few years it has been considered the fastest growing urban center in the US.  W