Storms? It's about perspective...

“Storms make the oak grow deeper roots.”

– George Herbert

It's summer monsoon season here in Arizona. Because we are at the base of the Catalina Mountains, there are brief periods of fast moving water across roads and in washes decompressing the unbelievable volume of water rapidly collecting from the mountain slopes. The power of nature is so awesome all that can be done is try to manage its effects.

There was one such powerful summer storm today. Sitting in the small alcove just outside the door to our home, I have a front row seat – a dry seat – to a magnificent thunderstorm. The streets in our neighborhood act as water conduits, and when it rains hard, they look like small, blackened rivers of incredibly fast moving water.

There is something soothing about thunderstorms. The torrent of falling rain provides a paradoxical sense of comfort, stillness, and isolation. It is a little strange, but there are few things I enjoy more than a full-throated downpour accompanied by the occasional whip-cracking explosive bang of nearby lightning strikes and rolling thunder.

I owe this feeling of awe and comfort to my mother, as I do so many positive attributes in my life. She had friendliness and comfort genes, which made people feel welcome and safe in her presence.

Safety would be the watchword here because my earliest memory of heavy storms was not so pleasant. We were in Canada and driving along the narrow roads of cottage country one night in a storm. While the exact year is not clear, the event is. There was a brilliant flash somewhere nearby, an earsplitting explosion, followed quickly by the acrid smell of ozone produced when the powerful electric charge, split two oxygen molecules and temporarily reconstituted them into a three molecule construct.  The air felt charged, and as I recall, my sinuses instantly cleared…I was terrified.

I huddled down in the front seat of the car as Mum, pulled off to the side of the road. She rubbed my back and said, "It's okay honey, that was just the angels bowling tenpins. One of them got a strike."  It was her way of taking a frightening event and making it something of an awesome wonder. We got back on the road for the short ride to the cottage…my head in her lap. As was her custom, she later revisited the event in the context of the breathtaking spectacle of storms and how they were part of God’s plan.

She was a great story-teller…never more in her element than when they were from the Bible. In this case, it was the book of Ecclesiastes where Solomon describes the cycle of rain falling, being taken back up to the clouds and falling again…my first science lesson. Thunder and lightening were part of God’s remarkable plan to keep his planet fresh and sustained. That was her way.

The foundation she laid in my mind and heart took away fear and replaced it with wonder. My mother was quick to make me understand that storms could be dangerous, but if I were respectfully careful, I did not need to fear them.

Before we had our own cottage, some of our relatives took turns staying in the family cabin…ours came in August. The best part of this place, in the context of storms, was the covered veranda that faced the bay on Lake Joseph. When summer rains came, you could embrace the storm while staying dry.

At one end of the porch was a small, screened-in area that had a bunk bed. There are few memories in my life more pleasantly powerful than lying on the bottom bunk listening to the pounding of the rain and on the roof.

The thunder and lightning? Thanks to my mother, they were the burnt sugar topping on the Crème Brûlée of a summer storm.

Over the years, I have been in weather that was dangerous and scary…driven in the rain so heavy, I could barely see the road…lightning strikes so close as to stand my hair on end, but other than the momentary fear, I have always felt appreciation for the power of the event.

Sitting here today is no exception…the downpour evoking so many appreciative memories. It brought my mother to my mind, and while I was reminded of that early event, I closed my eyes as she and I visited together on any number of other topics.

During my journey with this woman, I learned to weather any number of storms. She helped to take away the fear and to see them as a part of the journey. She understood life did not always bring clear and sunny skies. She provided a covered veranda to help me see that no matter the circumstance, much could be appreciated from the storm.

Little doubt, “There is something soothing about thunderstorms…”

- ted

Want one? Be one...

“Friendship provides sustenance to the frailty 

of the human condition in which I live .”

– Anonymous

Isolation is fatal!  Okay, life is fatal!

I get it! But living is what happens between the bookends of birth and death. Isolation during the breath of life we have been given has everything to do with the quality and quantity of the ‘what happens’ in the middle.

I’ve been reading Marcus Cicero’s essay On Friendship the past couple of days. Friendship is that indefinable thing in which there are no strings attached. It is part of the human condition that is more needful than anything in life short of clothing, shelter, and food.  Even then…even then, a good friend is one who asks for nothing – someone with whom you can talk about anything, as though you were talking to yourself…someone who shares your joy or sorrow, and has empathy for both.

I am particularly appreciative of friends that bring a sense of stability and continuity to my life.  While it is easy to enjoy good, friction free moments with other folks, it is when the chips are down that I turn to those with whom I feel the safest.

I don't mean when work is challenging or a project seems insurmountable, I am talking about when the curtains of life darken the soul, and there seems to be no light…suffocating moments when it feels there is no room to breathe. It is then, the roster of those to whom I can turn, is a short list.  While it might be true there is safety in numbers when the ‘shoes of life get tight,' the numbers are small.

Friendship, of course, is a two-way street.  Solomon in the Proverbs writes: "A man that hath friends must show himself friendly..." (Pro. 18:24). Building bridges of real friendship takes time, interest and effort. 

Cicero says:

“For friendship is nothing else than an accord in all things, human and divine, conjoined with mutual goodwill and affection, and I am inclined to think that, with the exception of wisdom, no better thing has been given to man by the immortal gods.”

It’s not that all relationships are the same, they, of course, are not, but all of them do have things in common, such as tolerance, patience, longsuffering, support and belief in one another, pleasure in time spent in one another’s company.  Friendships casual or deep have these qualities.  The thing about friends is that they don’t have to be around to appreciate them. Just thinking about them is often enough,

Cicero again:

“…friendship includes very many and very great advantages…it projects the bright ray of hope into the future…he that looks on a true friend, looks, as it were upon a sort of image of himself…friends though absent, are at hand…though dead, are yet alive.”

Some mistake relationships (existing for whatever reason) with friendship. This is not so.  So-called friendship based on expediency in many ways is like sex without love…its meaning diminished from the purpose for which it was intended. Friendship requires kindness, love, and trust, without which is time ‘empty spent.’

If there is a point to this wandering topic, it is this. We are stronger together than we are apart. We find solace in the interaction with others, and poverty of spirit when we are alone.  Friendship softens the hard edges of our lives. It breaks down barriers because it is based on love and the desire all have for inclusion.

While there are but one or two people to whom I would turn in mortal crisis, my life – and yours – has been given strength by those to whom we have reached out and gotten to know. These are the people that have expanded our worlds and increased the quality of our lives.  Even better, those who have reached out to us, provide a sense of gratification and reinforcement of our own self-worth.

For me, Cicero’s words are as timely today as they were when they were written:

“Ask of friends only what is honourable; do for friends only what is honourable and without even waiting to be asked; let zeal be ever present, but hesitation absent...”

When I think about the canvas of my life, those with whom I have spent ‘my breath’ richly color it.  I’m pretty sure if you take a little time and think about yours, you will feel the same…

- ted

Neither them nor us...

“You can get discouraged many times, but you are not a failure until

you begin to blame somebody else and stop trying.”

­– John Burroughs: Naturalist and Essayist

“If you don’t have something nice to say about someone, then don’t say anything.”

If I heard those words from the lips of my mother once, I heard them dozens of times during her lifetime. It wasn’t just when I was a youngster, but as long as she was fit of mind, this idea tumbled out of her consciousness.

Why did she say them so often? Frankly, because she knew that incorporating this teaching is one of life’s most difficult lessons to learn.

My Aunt Nellie embodied this teaching. If a person (read me) began to complain about something or someone, this quiet woman would simply disengage and look at the floor until the words were finished. Then she would look up and suggest a cup of tea might be in order. If complaining falls on deaf ears, maybe there might be something better to chat about.

Blame and creation of somebody else, an other, upon which to place our own misery, discomfort or failure, was something the elder women in my family proactively worked to combat.

It’s an old story. If only that person would NOT do such and such…If those people weren’t here, life would be better…They are causing the troubles in my life, my city, my country.  The problem, of course, is that when the other is finally removed or put away from our lives, we are no better off. It was never them…it was always the things we were taught and believed.  Nothing comes from nothing, thoughts do not come from nowhere. We live our lives based on the things we have accepted to be true.

Maybe it’s us…

Walt Kelly, the American cartoonist, brought a character named Pogo to the pages of newspapers from 1948 until 1975.  This series of comic strips conveyed humor and social satire.

One of the most enduring two panel cartoons appeared on Earth Day in 1971.

Panel one: Porkypine and Pogo in close up, appear to be tiptoeing across a shallow pond.

Porkypine: “Ah, Pogo, the beauty of the forest primeval gets me in the heart.

Pogo: “It gets me in the feet Porkypine.”

Panel two: The scene pulls back. Porkypine and Pogo are sitting on an exposed tree root, looking at a large area of discarded trash obscuring nature’s intended beauty.

      Porkypine: “It’s hard walkin’ on this stuff.”

      Pogo: “Yep, son, we have met the enemy and he is us.”

The cartoon was intended to admonish the carelessness with which we have destroyed nature by our selfishness, all the while not realizing that it is ourselves from whom we rob the potential beauty of life.

It really isn't us...

The truth, of course, is that the enemy is NOT somebody else nor us, but the things we have been taught and harbor within our hearts and minds.

My mother understood this principle and spent her time of life, teaching her children as much as she could about the decency of our humanity. She also lived by word and deed, doing all she could to help us understand, we were responsible for the things we put in our minds and the ideas we cultivated.

She knew, if she did not teach us, we would not know, and perhaps grow up to blame others for things that were our responsibility. Worse, that we would believe there was something wrong with us over which we had little or no control.

In a free-falling world of disrespect for ourselves and others, it might be worth appreciating the power of words…for good or evil.

I can’t change Dallas or Paris or Brussels or Medina or Bangladesh or Baghdad or Istanbul or the politic of separation and disrespect or the media lust for self-righteous indignation.

I can quiet my mind and continue to try not to contribute to the raging fires of discontent and at every opportunity work to find ways to encourage dialogue toward those with whom I disagree.

Internally, I will continue to proactively work on the narrative my mother so strongly advocated and lived.

“If you don’t have something nice to say about someone, then don’t say anything.”

- ted

Neither them nor us...

“You can get discouraged many times, but you are not a failure until

you begin to blame somebody else and stop trying.”

­– John Burroughs: Naturalist and Essayist

“If you don’t have something nice to say about someone, then don’t say anything.”

If I heard those words from the lips of my mother once, I heard them dozens of times during her lifetime. It wasn’t just when I was a youngster, but as long as she was fit of mind, this idea tumbled out of her consciousness.

Why did she say them it often? Frankly, because she knew that incorporating this teaching is one of life’s most difficult lessons to learn.

My Aunt Nellie embodied this teaching. If a person (read me) began to complain about something or someone, this quiet woman would simply disengage and look at the floor until the words were finished. Then she would look up and suggest a cup of tea might be in order. If complaining falls on deaf ears, maybe there might be something better to chat about.

Blame and creation of somebody else, an other, upon which to place our own misery, discomfort or failure, was something the elder women in my family proactively worked to combat.

It’s an old story. If only that person would NOT do such and such…If those people weren’t here, life would be better…They are causing the troubles in my life, my city, my country.  The problem, of course, is that when the other is finally removed or put away from our lives, we are no better off. It was never them…it was always the things we were taught and believed.  Nothing comes from nothing, thoughts do not come from nowhere. We live our lives based on the things we have accepted to be true.

Maybe it’s us…

Walt Kelly, the American cartoonist, brought a character named Pogo to the pages of newspapers from 1948 until 1975.  This series of comic strips conveyed humor and social satire.

One of the most enduring two panel cartoons appeared on Earth Day in 1971.

Panel one: Porkypine and Pogo in close up, appear to be tiptoeing across a shallow pond.

Porkypine: “Ah, Pogo, the beauty of the forest primeval gets me in the heart.

Pogo: “It gets me in the feet Porkypine.”

Panel two: The scene pulls back. Porkypine and Pogo are sitting on an exposed tree root, looking at a large area of discarded trash obscuring nature’s intended beauty.

      Porkypine: “It’s hard walkin’ on this stuff.”

      Pogo: “Yep, son, we have met the enemy and he is us.”

The cartoon was intended to admonish the carelessness with which we have destroyed nature by our selfishness, all the while not realizing that it is ourselves from whom we rob the potential beauty of life.

It really isn't us...

The truth, of course, is that the enemy is NOT somebody else nor us, but the things we have been taught and harbor within our hearts and minds.

My mother understood this principle and spent her time of life, teaching her children as much as she could about the decency of our humanity. She also lived by word and deed, doing all she could to help us understand, we were responsible for the things we put in our minds and the ideas we cultivated.

She knew, if she did not teach us, we would not know, and perhaps grow up to blame others for things that were our responsibility. Worse, that we would believe there was something wrong with us over which we had little or no control.

In a free-falling world of disrespect for ourselves and others, it might be worth appreciating the power of words…for good or evil.

I can’t change Dallas or Paris or Brussels or Medina or Bangladesh or Baghdad or Istanbul or the politic of separation and disrespect or the media lust for self-righteous indignation.

I can quiet my mind and continue to try not to contribute to the raging fires of discontent and at every opportunity work to find ways to encourage dialogue toward those with whom I disagree.

Internally, I will continue to proactively work on the narrative my mother so strongly advocated and lived.

“If you don’t have something nice to say about someone, then don’t say anything.”

- ted