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...