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The Dancing Bear

“Life was simple before World War II. After that, we had systems.”

                                                -G. Hopper

“You weren't born to be a cog in the giant industrial machine. You were trained to become one.”

                                                -Seth Godin

 

I have been wondering lately if I am crazy. I think it really is more about feeling crazy- like I and so many around me have been duped, drugged, and dragged. If you have not noticed lately or been aware of it, you are living in a system. A pungent system designed to numb, comfort, and kill you. The numbing robs the very awareness you need and the desire to discern, the comfort replaces peace and sufficiency, and the chaos…well it is just chaos- a destruction of all that is good, true, and real.  life It seems the world around me has a formula for what success looks like- and many have bought the factory along with instructions on how to run it. They think they know how people should fit into that place, these predetermined boxes, slots, and square holes that give them the needed “pat on the back” security in how to run the company. They put profit before people, growth before character, and security before gifts. For them it is the only thing they have known. The system is very good at indoctrinating every person on every level from newbies to old bees and the lessons have produced results and a bottom line. The tragedy is that on many levels the system has “worked” and given them the american dream; a larger home (housing less people), more stuff to fill the empty spaces (oh how we hate empty spaces), and a core belief we deserve what we have worked and we better keep it up. We better fall in line if we are to get our porridge. We better learn the ancestors dance.

Is a bear meant to dance?

When I voyage out into the great mountains of Colorado I am always reminded of the delicate frailty, shared beauty, and vast unpredictability of raw nature. One of the thoughts that always pops itself into my head is the chance that I might cross paths with a bear. There is a part of me that thinks that would be cool, especially if it was close enough to watch for awhile. But if I were to get too close, I could be dinner for that very bear I admire. That is just the reality of it- things could go either direction, hopefully not the latter. But have you ever seen a dancing bear in a circus? Stripped of its dignity it often wears some decorated outfit (sometimes even a pink dress), is controlled by its trainer, and amuses a crowd of spectators. The bear has no idea how silly he looks but I would bet a million dollars he is thinking that this is what he should be doing for now. He has been trained to twirl, shuffle his feet, and bob his head…you might call it indoctrination. He really looks stupid but we laugh mockingly and maybe even endearingly at each move he makes which represents hours of practice, intimidation, and a giant re-creation of the image of bear. All he has and all he does appears as a great ability, a wondrous result of training, and a taming for a “safer” bear. But a bear is a bear unless he has been brain-washed, dressed, and expected to waltz for the masses. But when the night stills and the day draws to an end, after all the dancing and body contortions, he tries to sleep but is haunted in his tiny cage. Maybe that night he has a faint memory of days he walked proudly in the wild, hunted and foraged for his food, and taking naps in the warm sun under the aspen and ponderosa pines. That was real and good. Now his food comes to him, he works on making the perfect spin, and the sun from a long day falls crookedly on his broken toothless smile. This is false and dead.

Can you dance with the bear?

If you are like me, I bet you have some outfits you have worn all your life, some moves honed perfectly, and some mocking dreams that still your beating heart. You have been numbed, comforted, and killed by another's measured success,  by those who have trained you to believe just what that is and how to get it. Maybe you have even taught others about the best way to achieve the american dream is to dance like they want you to, conform to the image they put around your waist, and you will never think it is really stupid. But it is…profoundly. Have you followed the way of the dancing bear? Do you trust your training in the system so much that you have trained others to stay in the system- maybe even fear it? Do you get what is happening? Do you smell the pile of crap you have been given and call it mountain mist? Do you want more?

 “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they might have life and have it abundantly. I am the good shepherd.”

                                                -Jesus Christ

 

 

A Beautiful End

"When you go through deep waters, I will be with you."

-The Holy Spirit, Isaiah 43:2

 

So sorry friends, but it has been a long time since my last blog. Most of you have for good reason stopped visiting my blog but I want to write now...so away...let's go!

This will be a bit free flowing since that is about all I am capable of today, yet in a strange way I feel something guiding me to the keyboard of creation...so away I go. So how is this day finding you? For myself I feel a myriad of emotions. I have been in a relationship with an amazing woman for over 4 months and a week ago we both decided that our journey, a beautiful dance together, had come to an end. No regrets, no sin to confess, no damage...yet we have both grown in this love, in this hand held and heart led story, and in our experience of God. It is a crazy reality that I can still feel love for her, deep respect, and admiration yet know in my heart that our relationship has come to the end, much like a wild game trail disappears into the dense trees. I feel like I am standing at the edge of where my trail diverges from hers, looking back on all the good times together with tears of a deep grateful heart...I was fully emerged into beauty...and now am at lands end.

When I first laid eyes on her my heart skipped beats and then began a pattern of beats just trying to take her in. She was astonishingly beautiful, intelligent, and outspoken fun sense of humor. The further we walked together, talked in coffee shops, and played in the snow I found myself emerged into her beauty as if I discovered a tropical island for the first time. It was as if both our hearts were moving to the same rhythm, the same beat, but it was also a dance that has never been seen before. I think relationships are like that. Each one is unique because of who the dancers are in their glory and brokenness and how those worlds collide and mesh. We push and pull, swing and sway, step forward and back in all the ways we know how with the hopes that we will find the same rhythm. But just like in real life, some dances come to an end. Some dances end quickly as one or both step back in pain, while others go for awhile then drift away, and still others last forever...and that is the dance I want. We both lost our step somewhere along the way- a mystery that goes deep into our stories, yet God helped us hold the dignity of each other well, allowing us to love well without any pain. Our goal was always to honor each other and in that honoring form a culture of beliefs that gave us a safe place to continue the dance. 

When God began to show me signs in my heart that our paths were diverging, I could not believe it. I thought He had given her as a gift to my heart, and Me to hers but this dance was not one that would last because he wanted to show me something. He wanted to show me what transformation looks like. Because of a painful loss of a 13 year relationship a few years ago I never thought I could love a woman well again. The pain was so searing that it caused much of my heart to go underground just to avoid being exposed again. The path He led me down since then was one knowing something very deep inside…that I was loved by Him and that love would last forever. That love would open me up to hope, to take risk, and to enter into life with my full heart engaged again! I cannot love to be loved…it is just not in my DNA anymore. Knowing my heart is good (because of the full work of Christ) allows me to receive His love and give love to another without loosing all that I am in the midst. Being stripped of everything you once held dear gives you compassion for yourself and for others in a way that can only be lived out, not discussed in textbooks. As I engaged deeper into fellowship with Him and made decisions to step into my identity as a prince, His glory shines through my heart changing me into the man I am today and it continues to change me into the man I am becoming.

Now I am walking the early experience of grieving the loss of her. I cannot reconcile why the dance even began and why it ended the way it did. I have more questions than answers. I really do miss the way we used to be. She has a great laugh, her face makes the greatest expressions, and she carries a beauty that is like nothing I have ever seen. I am glad I actually had eyes to see her beauty, even if it was for a short time. My sadness feels pure and yet without despair. Our relationship was beautiful... but not everything beautiful lasts. There are some flowers that bloom brilliant but only for a season. Early in our relationship a good friend of mine invited me to take in all the beauty being offered to me by God through her… to move very slow and enjoy the beauty... without having to possess the beauty. This way of seeing her allowed me to hold her beauty well without having to make it mine. I breathe a deep, deep sigh.

Advent Parking

Waiting dresses as anticipation in very different tones when the object of waiting is a who versus a what. Have you ever had to wait for some big event to begin? The waiting touches us more on the surface as our senses become acute to sights, sounds, and movement...but it does not usually touch us personally or deeply at the level of the heart...unless another dimension is touched. It is the dimension of contemplation. In October I flew down to Phoenix to attend my first ever U2 concert. Prior to the show a friend of mine and I were stuck in traffic for over 2 hours covering a grand distance of 1 mile! The anticipation turned into a soured frustration as we participated in the worst event bottle-necking traffic flow and parking design on the planet. I think if a group of penguins were flown in to manage the event they would have done a smashing job compared to this event staff. I guess I was thankful they were not hired as air traffic control at the airport. We missed the opening act but did get to enjoy U2 work their magic...and the evening was salvaged...mostly. So as I stood in line after the concert to get an extremely overpriced T-Shirt, I began to think of the event. I felt distant and almost empty standing there in my shoes...and my new shirt. I was only getting the best the event could offer...I was only entertained. Unfortunately I did not get to sit down after the concert with Bono and have a Guinness...that would have made it better. Events offer only what their nature cannot encompass...the weight  essence of connection to another...no matter how spectacular they are.

When was the last time you felt "the waiting" for someone whom you really like to be with? Did it feel different in your heart? My guess is that the conditions may not have been perfect; dry or rainy, day or night, cold or hot...but did you even notice? Probably not. You would probably even put up with penguins organizing the parking. My take is that in that anticipation there was more going on inside than outside. Have you ever stopped to ask why that experience? The interior flesh tones are almost like a song that moves slow and steady, good and true, like a deep moving river or maybe a crashing ocean wave! Then when you actually are with that person it seems like the conditions get better no matter what they were before. A snowy day becomes transcendent and wonderful as you watch the snow fall on each other, the trees above and street below...heck you might even go sledding. A rainy day creates puddles to be played in, colors of trees and rocks run deeper and true, and even the smell of the air changes to emit meaning like stories told from wise old men with leather skin. The difference here is that you take notice. You become more aware and the awareness grows like a concert of the senses cycling to a harmonious convergence...and all is well...come what may. The surface of the ordinary quickens and calls out for more with each breath of your heart. This very difference of the two waitings show us the way to more than we might think. Life is empty and drab without deep relationship experiencedd...the event is...well...just the shell on the surface.

Advent season is a time of waiting for Christ to come to us and live with us...it is not just an event. It is a time when we are waiting with others for our lover to set us free. If we are aware of this time and the one we are waiting for we become part of the story. We are all the wise man searching, waiting and walking in a long journey to see the Christ-child. We are all the shepherds surprised by the blast of light and love from the ordinary night of watching sheep. We are all Mary and Joseph asking for a place to wait for the CHrist and behold his face. We are all the prisoner in need of greater freedom and the brokenhearted that longs for deeper healing. How we see and what we are aware of this Christmas will determine the type of waiting we experience. Will we shop frantically and crank the busy agenda or will we stop and let a snowflake settle on our outstretched tongue and feel the cool breeze awaken our senses? Will we fret over measuring and mastering our finances like Ebeneezer or will we warm someone's heart with the cup of a generous overflow. Wait with me during Advent with wonder and childlike anticipation for the who not the what...and feel it all!

Green Lanterns

Green abounds in my heart for the first time in years. You see most of my posts this past year have been about things I feel and think about, things that make my heart heavy and light, and the whisperings of God's grace that flows to everyone around me...even me. I have been searching for moments that take my day away along with my breath...again and again. Do you know what I am talking about? Let me turn the page in your mind, maybe the one you have not yet written. These hidden pages are the goodness that songs are echoing, books labor to birth, and movie curtains strive to reveal. Sometimes words say so much. Sometimes they don't say enough. Sometimes we need a vision fromgreen lanterns.

I am slowly driving on a small paved highway weaving in and out, up and down a mountain countryside. The rain has been pouring from the sky in my heart and above like great swell unable to utter a single understandable phrase. I notice a shift in my spirit as the last of the large drops strike my windshield and travel down onto the road that is moving beneath. I watch the backside of the battle cloud storm that left a fresh wake of water from heaven filling all the small pours in the landscape releasing smells of earth and green and light filling the senses with nostalgia...and again I am 7 years old...a little young to be driving. The trees and grass glisten diamonds from a wealthy farmer throwing his seeds about in a wanton and careless fashion...promise of a great harvest. The sun is caught by an emerald sage brush and it gives it back to the world as if to thank the streaming clouds of night for its streaming bounty. The earth sand is darker now moving from latte tan to espresso brown and the rocks carve out images of their ancient days highlighted by orange and lime splashes. Wildflowers playfully and extravagantly accent the round edges of the ground like beauty pouring from a naked woman that is beyond my senses to absorb.The setting sun begins its descend behind some distant epic passes of peaks and valleys accented like a silhouette by orange, yellow and pink stratus clouds on a backdrop of cerulean blue leaving a soft hue to all life around me. I am taken in.

I stop the car because my spirit has stopped running. I open the door and feel the wind wisp gracefully and carefully against my forehead filling my ears with a haunting voice of quiet beckoning me to be still. All is calm inside my driven heart and it beats to a rhythm of a slow dance between two lovers unabashedly intertwined. I am glad that I brought my young heart to this beauty...or did it call me here on it's own. Be still and know. The wisdom of these words echo deep in my heart, filling my mind with clarity and tranquility. Tears pour down my face from the battle cloud storm in my mind drenching the crevasses in my mouth and I cannot speak more than a few words..."THank you!"

For is there any other words we can speak that the Father wants to hear? To be still and know that He is our true Father is to stop the car and say thank you. The glory of God is man fully alive in the beauty of accepted tenderness. TO keep driving is to miss everything that matters...and most of the time it is only thing we know how to do. As I sleep tonight some remnants of the day that I have been given will remain in my heart and some will leave. My prayer for tomorrow is for more green lanterns. My hope is that they will bring me back to Father, to this place He has saved for me at the end of the day...a place for He and I. He shares this out of his never ending palate of love and paints a new creation from the battle clouds of night. He whispers..."Behold I make all things new!"

We Love Each Other...Or Die

"When we were little we needed to be held, cuddled, and loved...when did that stop?"

-Jack Lemmon, Tuesday's With Morrie

 

There was something on his face that fall afternoon day. Something needed to be said and he was the only one who could say it. The tension built in his face as he began to write out the journal of a lifetime. Regret, sadness, joy, fear, and yes...love. He spoke under the power of his own heart as his lungs had given out weeks ago. He wanted to share his life so that others could see how he loved. And then he spoke words that have haunted me since they journeyed from his heart to his lips..."we love each other...or die".

"Stop!" the hospital nurse shouted in a quiet but stern tone. "Please don't go in the room yet, the other babies will awake and then the crying will be hard to stop." I wanted to go in but I thought that it sounded like a better idea to wait...but I couldn't wait. I have been longing for this day to see my son for the first time. He was in bed #8 and I could see his tiny hand rise above the edge and move in some rhythmic motion like he was directing a choir no one could see...but I could. I could see the music. The light in the room seemed to shine on his God shaped delicate fingers and the orchestra was playing the music of a thousand decades in praise and honor of the day...his day. He was the only one I could see...he was my son and my namesake. I would cherish many days just looking at him and he at me, holding him in my arms, and rocking him to sleep with the sun setting on yet another glorious day to love. I knew that something was being passed from me to him...like manna from the sky I was the only love he knew for that moment. I wanted time to stop so I could hold him like that forever and in some rooms in my mind the loving has not stopped...how could it. The picture is set and there is nothing more or less, wanting or waiting, this was love as he knew it and all is well. My face was the only planet in his solar system and he beheld my eyes while twitching his mouth...and then a smile. Longing eyes are a light in dark places.

He was the last to come off his bus that day. He walked so slow up the hill that I thought he would never make it to the driveway. He stopped and rubbed his eyes. It had been a hard day in his life. He found out he did not make the boys basketball team even though he looked at the final cut list over and over again, hoping his name would appear. There must have been a mistake and so he would go to the coach and ask why his name was not on the paper. His answer came that there was no room on the team...only 12 jerseys. I was not there when he came into the house and this would be a common occurrence for years. I missed this...I missed him. I longed to pull him into my arms and tell him he has what it takes and that he will make the team next year. I wanted to tell him he was not abandoned and that he was loved far beyond what he could see that day. If he could just look into my eyes for a little while I would erase the dark. That day, he began looking away to other eyes that would feed his little soul with validation. As the years went on and others eyes found his faults, he believed there was something wrong with him. I could not convince him of his belovedness beyond what he could or could not do...and my eyes were rivers.

Have I ever needed love more than now? I have wondered why it is hard to look into another's eyes and not glance away in awkwardness? The strangest fears begin to take shape in my nervous little heart. Tension fills the air and the tightness ensues around my lungs until I look away into a safe space. Is there is something wrong with my eyes...or my heart...or does this river run its course from far off lands? I think that above all I do need this and yet it is the only thing I do not give room for. But if I do not have love I will die, or at least something will die in me that I want alive someday. It is that simple...and letting love in is the hardest part...even harder than letting love go. I am having to let a love go now that I thought I would never loose. Will it return again? I sometimes think there is something wrong with me to have this need so deep and wide as the grand canyon. I want to let God love me and it is harder than I thought, perhaps it is harder than it looks. When did that stop?

It is hard to ask God for the love I need. It is hard to stare at him...but he never stops looking for my eyes and for the music to start again. So I wave my little hand and stare toward that 18 inches spanning the distance from my head to his heart.

 

 

Deus Nobis...For The Rest Of Us

            "You drank up our suffering and feasted on pain..."

                       -God With Us, by Barry & Michelle Patterson - Long Straight Up Hill Climb

 

    Yesterday I hopped in the car with my brother on his way up to a mall in Denver, the only place for a special gift to his wife on their 5th wedding anniversary (way to go Bro!). Right..the day after Christmas...the day where one might think would be relaxing for people, having been satisfied from stuffing their faces with food, tearing wrapping off of bargain hunted presents, and absorbing gobs of entertainment...not for us consumer loyal Americans. The scurrying, hurrying, hustling, and bustling was in fine form and new Olympic records may have been set in "creative driving and gesturing" and "lets see how quickly I can loose my cool". When we attempted to leave the parking lot we got sucked into a vortex of immovable cars due to a poorly planned parking lot. I decided to get creative and went to each car behind us and asked them to back up (in a one way section) and head in the opposite direction of all the traffic flow so they could all get out. Everyone agreed and so I went to the beginning of our section and directed traffic to get things moving again and it worked! When the last car was out of the bottleneck a man who had to wait 60 seconds cowardly yelled out his window to me, "F_ _ _k you!!" I returned the knife with a glass of water by saying, "Have a GREAT day!" I guess the Canadians call the day after Christmas "Boxing Day" and in America I call it the same for different reasons.

    "Would you like to try our chicken?"a young girl asked the shifting crowd. She was a working for a Japanese food kiosk, a little shy and a bit homely but she was trying her best. People would grab the chicken bits and keep walking but no one looked at her. Simple kindness was as void as the bottom of the Christmas tree. I decided to try some chicken and then said "thank you" to her and smiled. She smiled back a bit. I wondered if anyone really saw her that day or just some hands holding out marinated poultry samples. I wanted to tell her that she was beautiful and loved by God and that he was with her...standing next to her in the marketplace of empty hearts and full bags. My eyes welled up as I thought about God's heart and how it aches this time of year...of how He is missed just like her.

    Jesus said that if we do something for the least among us that we do it unto him. I believe that because Christ is with everyone, the least could be someone we do not even see...and then we miss seeing him. We miss him when we forget that His kindness leads to repentance and healing. We miss Him when we glance at him and gaze at men or women. We miss him when we look for his hand but not his face. I don't want to miss him...but I am sad to report that often I do.

    I believe that because of the nature of the broken and desperate world we live in we are all overlooked, missed for who we are, and at some levelabandoned to one degree or another. The severity of the abandonment is different for every story... a loved one dies, a lover leaves, or a parent checks out at a crucial time in our lives...and it all matters if anything matters at all. The message of abandonment is often "You Are Alone". In my life this Christmas there has been nothing that has stuck with me like the words "Deus Nobis", Latin for "God with us". He is with me. I love him most for this. The Kingdom of God invades my driven, tired, and wounded world by announcing "Immanuel! He sings this to me and I am reminded as I listen to the Almighty Lover. What this means is that he is right next to me and that division and distraction keeping us from being together has been torn in half. This means being alone is not an option and the message of abandonment has no truth or power to seize my nights and footpath. He drinks up my suffering and feasts on my pain and does it all with his hand never leaving mine. What a God! What a Friend!

            When you start to doubt if you exist, God believes in you

            Confounded by the evidence, God believes in you

            When your light burns so dim and your chances seem so slim and you swear you don't bbelieve in him, God believes in you

                        "God Believes In You" by Pierce Pettis- Everything Matters

A Thanksgiving Day Dream

        "And you ask me what I want this year,And I'll try to make this kind and clear, just a chance that maybe well find better days...and someplace simple where we can live and something only you can give, and that's faith and trust and peace while were alive..."

                                            -Better days, Goo Goo Dolls

I have a tendency to dream in broad daylight. I go places. Once and awhile people will stop me and ask, "Where were you just now?" The strangest thing is that many times I have no idea where my mind has taken me. I give this befuddled look of "Huh?" I do remember where my heart was taking me. There are paths that I have traveled when times are hard and the present day is almost a marathon through land mines. With my feet in my shoes kicking the dirt, the cool wind at my back blowing my hair, and a song whistling in my ears some enchanting tune...I find a better day.

Where do you go when someone does not love you today but did yesterday? Where do you go when you have lost something you held so close to your chest? Where do you go, out of breath and lonely from the fight that is yours and yours alone? I look for an escape, a way out of this place into another place...and it is always a place. I wonder sometimes if I am looking for the garden again. Some dusty memory chip in my heart that will not let go of yesterday. The memory of the day shines an old light... or perhaps it is a new light. I was told by someone who studies stars that the light we see today from stars was actually sent hundreds if not thousands of years ago. An ancient light from yesterdays long gone giving hope for today. A garden filled with light, laughter, and life...a golden field open to the sky with running, singing, and dancing...a mountain cabin after a morning rain, holding a cup of coffee, and drinking in beauty with a smile...these are some of the places that I go.

Today is a day to remember with my heart all the things my head has forgotten. To remember that I am forever the beloved son and to walk in that confidence of being...faith. To remember that present death and loss only means greater life to yield to come...hope. To remember that this battle is short compared to the peace that is just around the corner...peace. I dream in the daytime and it is a strange gift that pulls me out and into ancient light. Someone is inviting me to solid ground, a day that will be better, moments in the place my heart has always longed for...in a garden again walking with my God.

And for these days, all my days, I am thankful.

        "So take these words, and sing out load, because everyone's forgiven now, because tonight's the night the world begins again."

Frames Without Photographs

"Honey cover me in roses, and do not spare the thorns. Some of us are waiting for a life time to be born...God shows his face farther up the road."

Bill Malloney, song- Farther Up The Road

I am sitting in the morning at the coffee shop peering through the glass walls at a rugged mountain in all her glory. The grey whispering clouds are dancing above her head creating patches of shade for moments and then disappearing over her backside. Her snow-veins reveal a texture and a tone to her mood that throughout the summer will melt into small streams and waterfalls cresting from her silent presence. It is only a glimpse in a moment, in part due to the buildings and sky wires that create a crude framework that limit her from my eyes, my mind...my heart.

On the week of our honeymoon, my wife and I decided to use the money we set aside for snowboarding to purchase a painting that touched our hearts, moved us in some way, something that would remind us of the mystery of our love. We chose a local artist whose heart created a painting of wild mustangs running by a mountain range at dawn, highlighting the delicate features of their mane, tail, body and face. Beauty in motion. It would be years until we would choose a frame for our memory because it had to be able to point to the beauty, direct the light, eyes, and heart back to the mystery of what it spoke to...a deeper longing for more.

"Love will open you to beauty and beauty will someday...when you are listening...give you back to love." The problem is that I have not been listening. How many times I have missed her? Rushing to appointments, scrambling to return calls and emails, and settling for limited and impatient glimpses of her beauty at a distance, creating frames that hold neither beauty or love. I was too busy to listen, slow down down to see my frames without photographs.

I was late again. The promise was that I would be home by dinner time but the office of drivenness would once again blind me from the hurt that I could not see...her heart was breaking. Burying her face into the mane of her favorite horse Sunny, she wept. This is a picture that haunts me to this day and it is not one I want to frame. Recapturing the beauty of her heart is a long road and one with no guarantees. With sawdust, tears, and desire I have built my first frame with the Master Carpenter's hand for Rembrandt's "The Return Of The Prodigal Son". A picture of broken smiles back to the mystery of our first love...a longing for more.

"For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost."

-Jesus, the Carpenters Son