Life at 3 miles an Hour

I’m going to resist the obvious urge to wax poetic about a new year and an auld lang syne and all the other sentiment that comes with this midnight. Don’t misunderstand, I truly understand the lure of being able to begin again with resolutions that we fully intend to keep. I have been through the emotional relief of leaving a year behind that is best left behind. I’m just following an unofficial resolution of my own. This particular one is one in which I resolve to take life in smaller bites. I’m beginning with this “black forest ham, egg, and cheese” sandwich on an English muffin that I’m enjoying right now with a water view from Starbucks. My wife would be pleased with me. Even though she is understandably madly in love with me, she is still not impressed with some of my eating habits. She contends that if one eats slower, more intentionally, and with smaller bites, that the culinary experience is greatly enhanced. Poor misguided soul. In reality, the bigger and faster the b...

Christmas Eve. I guess that this means I’ve made it through one more holiday journey. It is true that Christmas day is still on the horizon, but I’m of the opinion that it’s mostly a day of recovery from the previous twenty four of madness. Yeah I know there’s still one more holiday left before it’s all said and done, but don’t even try to put New Years in the same sentence as this day. New Years Eve is like the evil twin. It’s like, “whatever happens New Years Eve, stays in New Years eve”. What happens tonight, I want to keep as memories for the rest of my days, quite unlike the shadowy visions that are certain to haunt too many of next weeks celebrations. It’s kind of coincidental how these holidays fall exactly a week apart. What I mean is that It’s kind of like the cosmic choice one has, to either live by the power of our own resolutions, for the three weeks that they may last. Or we can live by the power of the gift that arrived on this night so many failed resolutions a...

This is a list week. One week left and every moment counts. Every minute lost is a minute lost forever and possibly a bit of magic along the way. Either magic or headache, but either way they contribute to the experience of the season and both can be constructive. Even moments to not live by lists are on my list so that the urgency of one list doesn’t overwhelm the importance of the other list and in the end, as I light a candle on Christmas Eve, I can rest in the fact that this was a Christmas to remember. So I live a life on paper, all cosmically calculated to achieve the objectives. There are wish lists of gifts. There is a calendar list to observe and make sure that I’m not supposed to be three places at once. I can sometimes manage two, but that’s my limit. There are grocery lists, pastoral lists, lists that I’ll check twice, lists of who’s been naughty, which is quite lengthy, and lists of the nice. Each list has its own significance and each item, if deemed important en...

I’m just coming up for air. As of this morning I’m half way through my observation of the season and it’s time for another breath. Starbucks is a bit disappointing today, although I’d still highly recommend the apple fritter. The fireplace isn’t on. I can’t think of too many things this time of year more disappointing than a fireplace that isn’t putting out some sort of warmth and ambience. Especially when all one has to do these days is flip a switch. I briefly considered a stay at home in front of my own fireplace before succumbing to better quality coffee and an assumption of flames. A few haven’t seemed to notice. There’s a star struck couple bundled up in front of it, apparently oblivious to its inability to expend any heat. Maybe that’s why they’re seemingly content to generate their own. Don’t get me wrong…I appreciate their resourcefulness probably more than most. It just makes it a bit more difficult to concentrate on my fritter. Today is the point where I’ll need t...

I have a window seat for the annual December monsoon season here in Seattle. High winds and mudslides are the order of the day. Part of my agenda will undoubtedly be dealing with a newly repaired and now leaking roof on our arts building and navigating underwater crosswalks while keeping my latte dry. It’s hard to be concerned about this mundane earthly stuff though when I’ve recently been so close to the other side of life. I’ve had the privilege of being in the presence of pure joy. My community o’ faith is sharing life for the next few days with the African Children’s Choir . I can’t imagine any other group this side of the goal that could pierce the gloom like these young lives have been able to do. They’ve dealt with so much more in their lives than the wind, rain and mud that we’re mired in. Yet they sing and dance before their creator without comparison. Watching them last night, I was overcome with a sense of envy that I’ve rarely experienced. For me, it could have be...

I’ve chosen a different view this morning. I have surrendered the beach for the magical world of Christmas that has unfolded in my living room this past weekend. It really is quite a transformation. You’d really have to see it to appreciate it though. I’ve chosen an amazingly comfortable spot on my couch with a prime view of the fireplace, and a tree shining like a jewel. I’m guarded this morning by a large assortment of snowmen, angels, my Santa collection, the holy family, and our loyal and lazy cat who has shared this view for the past 15 years. She loves this season almost as much as we do and demonstrates it by curling up under the tree even before its decorated. She’ll hibernate there until we can lure her out with her annual bag of kitty narcotics. Eventually she’ll end up back there, quite stoned from the experience. I choose this spot today partly because I have two other appointments with Starbucks today and I wouldn’t want to be a candidate for intervention. I have ...

The change of seasons has finally hit me. I’m slower than most. I don’t know what exactly brought that stunning revelation to me this morning. It might have been the mental pre-Thanksgiving to do list that I woke up with. Thanksgiving? Did I miss Halloween. It may have been the rain soaked, “gore tex” clad bicycle commuter that I passed along the water. It might be the nearly naked beachside trees against the gray backdrop in view through my window. It was probably all of those including the very obvious tribute that Starbucks has paid to the impending Christmas season. Although here in the land of denial, we call it “the holiday” season. Wouldn’t want to offend. Anyway, I’m not lamenting, I do after all love living where the seasons change. I know many of you living elsewhere have heard that Seattle only has two seasons; rainy season and the fourth of July. That’s a load of crap. It doesn’t really rain here as much as rumored and it almost always does on the fourth. I lo...

I’ve been thinking a great deal about depth lately. It might be that sitting here every week staring out at the cold waters of Puget Sound have inspired me toward this. My mind wanders to what lies beneath. A pod of Orcas has been hanging just off shore this past week. I’ve recently enjoyed video views from local divers of the giant octopus and the six gill sharks that lurk in the darkness. We’ve been blessed with the adorable baby seals lounging on the beaches and all of this draws my mind towards one question. What’s it really like down below the surface? It’s carried over into real time for me and peeks out in many different venues. I’ve been reading more lately, possibly inspired from a pilgrimage to Powells City of Books in Portland last week. My studies for my teaching in my community o’ faith have taken a different path. Relationships are slowing, more time is invested. I want to know what lies beneath. I admire the divers I see who confidently stroll from the safety o...

It’s taken me awhile I’ll admit, but I’m really beginning to get the idea that things are not nearly what they’ve been made out to be. For the most part anyway. I really have resisted complete surrender to this concept. Those who really know me will have a hard time believing that I would hold on to an optimistic view of anything. Really, it doesn’t matter to me whether the glass is half full or half empty, it still seems that I’m drowning in the bottom of it most days. Still I hold on to hope. I recently installed some software on my traveling friend here in hopes that I would encourage it to longer life and strong performance. The program in question came with all of these promises, most of which I downplayed when wrestling with the possibility of purchase. I have been down this road before. Things are rarely what they are promoted to be and many claims fall miserably short of expectation. The one that I did hold out hope for was the promise of cleaning up enough clutter tha...

I bought some new clothes the other day. It’s probably not a news worthy event, but it is of fair significance for me. It meant that I was in the mood. Most times, when wandering the aisles with my wife, I’m not really wondering “what’s in this trip for me”. If we’re in a clothing store, the answer is usually “nothing”. It’s not because she doesn’t try desperately to liven up my wardrobe. I just have to be in a mood. Usually, I’d call that mood desperation. Anyway, the other day we’re exploring the racks, shoes I think, when I just began to be inexplicably drawn around the corner to men’s clothing. My brain was whispering to me "shirt". I need a new shirt for my Sunday pastoral arts detail. Maybe it was because my inner voice was reminding me that anything remotely worth wearing was still awaiting rescue at the dry cleaners. It’s the curse of being high maintenance I guess. I picked out 3 and waited excitedly, well OK…anxiously, nervously, whatever,…I just waited f...

I woke up this morning, went through the routine which always includes turning on the Today show, and listened to Al’s weather forecast. Once again, it included the phrase “Showers in Seattle”. Once again I wandered outside, laptop in tow, and gazed up at a gorgeous sunrise lifting over the eastern mountains. Into my car, morning radio conversing with me, and it’s down the hill toward the water and caffeine. No showers in sight. In fact, as I came in for my usual, the usuals were already there commenting on, of all things, the gorgeous morning outside on the beach. Once again I’m bugged. I’m bugged because once again, people all over the nation will arise to the authority of the network weather god and learn that people in Seattle must be ridiculous to endure the soaking that we are surely always getting. One more day, I’ll take phone calls from people in other parts of the world with that condescending “poor pitiful you” tone in their voice, inquiring about when the rain might ...

I’m trying something different this week. The last few weeks have suddenly added up to a year and I’m breathing a bit heavy. So I’m trying something different this week. It’s called pacing. It’s certainly not a universal breakthrough as far as concepts go, but it’s a bit of a shift for me. I’m traditionally more of the opinion that it’s better to burn out than rust out. Having been born and raised most of my life in the great northeastern United States, I’m well acquainted with rust. I am, however, a bit wiser and more understanding that neither of the previously mentioned lifestyles is conducive to leading a community o’ faith. So I will downshift and begin the process of pacing. For the moment, it’s just me and the crows who are line sitting over the sidewalk outside of my window. I began this morning by accompanying a group of preschoolers to a pumpkin farm. If that won’t clear your mind of anything seemingly life altering then I don’t know what will. Seeing life and prio...

G.K. Chesterton once proposed that, quite possibly, each morning, God says to the sun “Do it again!”. This morning is one of those I believe. As I drove down to the beach, the sun was painting watercolor streaks of magenta and orange against the misty, muted violet mountain lines on the eastern horizon. I realize some of you never get to see this. You should try it sometime. It’s worth the effort. And I couldn’t help but think, “Do it again!”. Upon arrival at my caffeinated home by the water I discovered that He was saying the same thing to a whole bunch of His other creation. Being Tuesday morning I am a day late in my routine due to some pressing needs, but even still it looks like Monday in here. God obviously had the same “Do it again” message for the seniors who haunt me here as well as our local law enforcement. History does seem to repeat itself. Don’t get me wrong. I am a fan of history. I appreciate days gone by, antiques, and Nickelodeon. However, I’m much more e...

I admit that I really have no idea what I’m doing most days. I may be able to put on a good showing, but most of any success that might be observed in my life is literally by the grace of the One who created me. I’m a follower more than a leader by nature. Leading tends to give me headaches. Following however, if done correctly, can appear brilliant and lead to its own success. This process is a tough sell in corporate, the one who dies with the most toys wins, America. The same goes for the American church. The traditional view is overwhelmingly in favor of “leaders”. The type “A”, dog eating dog, top rung on the ladder people are the ones who get recognition. I happen to be in a position and a role that, at times, recognizes those very types. I have no doubt that it can be beneficial to the church community to have such people in such places. I have seen these instances first hand. I also have no doubt that it can be a trap from which a community o’ faith will be hard pr...

I went to bed last night looking forward to my time with some beach front caffeine. I even woke up this morning, early like a typical day, looking forward to my, shot in the dark, beginning to another week in the pastoral arts realm. For those of you who have not been cultured in the art of coffee, a shot in the dark for me is a grande (that’s graand – A) brewed straight coffee with a shot of espresso (not expresso). My life centers around it now pretty much and my 10 days back on the East coast drove home the reality that I can no longer consider living anyplace that I would have to go more than two blocks for a fix. Really, I don’t know how the rest of civilization deals with a Maxwell House kind of life. Anyway, before being sidetracked, as I was saying, or typing, I was looking forward to the day. Almost imperceptibly though, a change began to come over me on the way down to my Monday retreat. It’s almost as if the grayness of the morning sky seeped into my very being. It is g...

Joanne and I went on a date last night. After a week of playing many different roles, we were overdue for playing our most important one, that of a married couple still madly in love after 23 years. So when balance is needed we often find a way to get back into one of our favorite Seattle neighborhoods. We were taking in a movie and dinner at her favorite place. The movie, “Becoming Jane” was actually a good investment for us, despite being a fairly obvious female attraction. Anyway, as the credits scrolled at the end of the film, one particular role stood out very near the end of the cast of characters. It was simply listed as “Wine Whore”. The reaction from those of us lazy enough to still be sitting around near the end of the credits was immediate. “Wine Whore”? That’s just funny. As my wife shared, “just imagine telling grandma…Hey I’m the wine whore”. How does one prepare for that part? As humorous as it was at the time, I guess you had to be there, I’m still contempla...

They say that it’s darker just before the dawn. I wouldn’t know. It’s not that I don’t get up early. I really do, but contrary to the popular belief of those who know me, it is not before dawn. My creator has graciously wired me to come on line just as the dawn has broken. Ok, so once in awhile he’s wired my alarm to go off then, the result is still the same. I’m up and witness to the unveiling of each new day. For the past several mornings, really since the return from my east coast vacation, my eyes have opened, as if on cue, 10 minutes before the alarm sounded. I enjoy this. In my limited and somewhat demented state I feel that this indicates that I have achieved some sort of balance. I call it life without alarm. So I’m up early today, earlier than most, and anticipating all that He has in store for me. I’ve already seen some of it. The sky is progressing from that chalk- like gray blue, with a sliver of light outlining the skyline. Now, as the ferries glide across the ...

I am a reader. From the early days of elementary school when my mom would take me to the great mysterious library until now I have read everything that I can get my hands on. To be fair, I know plenty of people who read more than me, some of them walking through life literally with a book in their hand. But I do read more than the average Joe or Jane. It’s not just that I read frequently, I just read everything. I read labels, packaging on toilet paper, and every magazine that ever found its way into a waiting room . I've read about hair, health, and homes more times than is probably healthy. I’m always searching for that illustrious bit of trivia that only I would care about. And I do know truckloads of useless trivia, enough to keep my wife campaigning for me to park my butt on a game show. I’m not really tempted though. In all of if I’m still not sure that I’d be smarter than a fifth grader. A thought ran through my brain last night about my reading patterns. Yesterday...

I’m on vacation. Just being able to write those words should somehow elicit some overwhelming feelings of joy shouldn’t it? Vacation….I’ll write it again and see if it sinks in. I had always expected more. I’m having a “Princess Bride” moment right now. You know the line. “Vizini, you use that word a lot, I do not think it means what you think it means…” That’s how I’m feeing about vacation. It used to be that I had high hopes for what one might actually be like. That was, of course, back in the day before I could afford to really take a true vacation. You know the type, airlines, rental cars, eating out, blah, blah, blah. Now that I’m older and more capable of taking said vacation, not to mention that I’m older and really need said vacation, I have found that it is all illusion. A friend asked me, “where would you go on vacation if you could go anywhere?” That’s a nice thought. I really didn’t have an answer for that. Every place I could think of involved airlines and ren...

I live within a closed world. At least sometimes it’s closed. Too often it’s closed. It shouldn’t be closed at all….ever. After all, the one who created said world formed it with quite the opposite view in mind. The world I refer to is the world of my faith. Don’t get the wrong idea, I’m not closed unto myself. It is actually the community which one becomes associated with when living within a faith context that can too easily become closed. We can speak our own language. We have our own symbols. We have initiation rights and coded conversations. To be fair, most of us don’t realize that we’re doing it. Many that I am friends with would never seek to live in that vein. And to be fairer still, I have been part of many subcultures who act in much the same manner. In my manufacturing engineering days I existed in a culture of acronyms. Never knowing what any of these letters or designations stood for, we would pompously posture ourselves to show off our limited yet impressive ...

I’m into wrestling lately it would seem. I’m not referring to the “men in tights”, thrashing around on a big mat, type of wrestling. I’m also not referring to the chair on the head, cage match to the death, arena lights and fog machines, pseudo rock star world of the WWF. It’s a more personal form of wrestling. It’s like shadow wrestling if there was such a thing. Most of us deal with it. Some of us deny it and still others are treated for it. The opponent is a formidable one to be sure. Everyone has, is, or will face him. In my life, I’ll just call the opponent “the point”. Some would call him “purpose”. You may call him "meaning". Whatever the name, the contest is the same. I refer to it as wrestling because I know the feelings, emotional and physical that are attached to a real life wrestling match. Unknown to most, except those who have known me from childhood, is the deep secret that I was once a person of the mat. I was actually fairly good at it. In my short tenure I w...

It’s amazing the things that one notices when paying attention. I’ve been coming to this particular part of the universe most weeks for the past year or so. And is my nature, I usually sit in the exact same place. Some would call that boring. Some would call that predictable. I call it calculated. Whatever. It’s just who I am. Anyway, this morning, as I sat at my corner table, I realized something very profound. I face the corner, but just to the left of my table is a window. There is also one just to my right, next to me in fact. Looking straight ahead, my view is divided by the corner into two distinctly different worlds. I’ll refer to the one on my left as “coming” and the one to my right as “going”. In the world of “coming”, off to my left, there are streams of people and their various means of transportation slowing to approach the intersection. They have decisions to make as well as signals to give. Some are approaching with caution and some are testing the laws of physics and br...

I have an interesting, for me anyway, dilemma at the moment. It’s certainly not life threatening, and easily resolved for me. I’m sitting here with a blank screen and a blank mind and hoping for God to drop inspiration into my lap so I can get my writing fix in at the beginning of the week. Inspiration in the form of an annoyance appears. Not exactly how I would have scripted it, but I’ll take what I can at the moment. This is where the dilemma enters. Lately, it seems, that whenever I fire up my trusty porto-pc at this particular caffeinated establishment, I get conflicting signals for my wireless. Here’s the issue. In this place I can look out the window, across the corner, to a Starbucks. I realize that this is not such a stretch in Seattle. So anyway, I fire up my laptop and it automatically seeks signal from a friendly wi-fi provider. The place that I frequent, Tully’s, has free wi-fi. The venue across the street does not. In fact it has a very expensive choice for wi-...

I’m trying to regain a sense of control this week. Selfishness has been taking a beating lately. During this past week, little has been about me. That’s ok I guess, for a week anyway. I’d rather not make this a habit though. Last week was about college, and movies, and artists, and internships, and weddings, and herniated discs and cars, none of which were mine, but all of which I was responsible for. This week didn’t promise to start off any better. Last night, in thinking through just the mornings tasks, I nearly had a panic attack. At least I thought it might be one. I’ve never had one, but I imagine they feel that way. It ended quickly though when I resolved to get up extra early today to start the week with some caffeinated beach time to try and establish balance real early. I’ve heard that the best defense is a good offense so I’ve decided to go on the offensive today and take some of my selfish time right at the beginning. I’ve discovered that if one finds that there is not enou...

Life is totally off center today. I didn’t get to any of my places of inspiration. I barely got coffee at all really. Don’t feel bad for me though. Compared to what is going on around me, these details are insignificant. The two main ladies in my life are in crisis which means my needs can wait a bit. Their situations are far from similar, which makes their needs not even remotely close, which then translates into a magnified challenge for me. My wife’s crisis is physical. She has another herniated disc in her lower back. This makes three consecutive summers with unplanned spinal failures which have fairly well debilitated those of us who depend on her. It’s not just what she does that we miss, but it’s also who she is that is incomplete. My daughter, has a crisis all her own. It’s known to most of us as the pursuit of higher education and the quest to find oneself. It is also a painful journey which should not be taken alone. That’s where I come in. I need to be there for both of them...

It’s crowded in here this morning. I’m a bit later than usual so I avoided the beach this morning, but this isn’t much better. Even the local police are having a hard time finding a seat. I’m not giving up mine. I’ve given enough to local law enforcement lately, but let’s not go there today. They have their jobs to do. It’s just that they seem to enjoy it so much when it’s not to my benefit. I do have to admire the attitude though. To love what you do is certainly a gift that not nearly enough get to experience. I have a feeling that this has a direct effect on the mid-life crisis phenomenon. I know this to be true. I’ve already been there and come out on the other side. Growing up in a success driven culture, an understanding is formed that you need to be good at what you do. Good is successful right? Good brings you recognition. Recognition brings you finances, and finances bring you security, and security brings you happiness, right? Maybe. Most likely not though. M...

I’m back at the beach this morning. I feel smarter here sometimes. Let me put it this way, if gray hair is a sign of wisdom and knowledge, I’m swimming in the Encyclopedia Britannica this morning. The retired crew is out in force inside and outside. I’m beginning to think that the promised rapture has come and only taken those under 50, with a few notable exceptions at caffeine central. The sun is out, the water is blue, the mountains still white, and the ferries are dutifully carrying their cargo of those less fortunate to real jobs across the bay. I on the other hand, live and breathe in the realm of pseudo employment. By that I mean, I don’t necessarily have real hours in which I perform the tasks for which I receive financial reward. This might sound like a brilliant plan to operate by but, let me assure you, it’s not always all that it seems. As a pastoral artist, I really kind of get paid for being instead of doing. In order to really be effective at this, I believe anyw...

Things are a bit brighter at this time of day. I had a date with about 100 kids this morning which took priority over the caffeine hideout. It’s a good change for me actually. I get a different drink, one that’s cold and blended as opposed to hot enough and stiff enough to blast me headlong into the week. This one is just smooth and soothing. It goes well with the sunshine streaming in from the street. I also have a fresh perspective, compliments of said 100+ cherubs who I was surrounded by all morning. They reminded me what enthusiasm looks like. They also reminded me where enthusiasm came from. At the risk of exerting my pastoral artist influence, I’ll just share that “enthusiasm” literally means “in God”. It is from “en – theos”. I had forgotten that bit of trivia. Fortunately 100+ “enthusiastic children did not. I was brought face to face with enthusiasm “en – theos” this morning as these children in question went crazy over the idea that the creator of the universe love...