Trying to think but nothing happens...

“The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound 

thereof, but cants not tell from whence it cometh, and 

wither it goeth: So is everyone that is born of the spirit.”

-   John 3:8; The Bible

 

It's early morning, and the desert air is crisp.  A great way to start the day, except the screen is blank – my mind is blank, and the black letters on the white keys look more and more like the enemies of my soul!

 

Sitting behind a keyboard and hoping for a crease in the universe of inspirational thought is a lonely business. There are moments, to be sure when the tap flows freely and words take on a life of their own, coming so quickly, my fingers have difficulty keeping up with them. That would NOT be the case today.  

 

Oh, stream of consciousness, where art thou? 

 

It has always been that way…a void in the creative process, trying to listen, seeking meaning – staring into the electronic void of my computer screen. An excellent metaphor for life.

 

What to do…what to do. The rule? Write, no matter what!

 

Working to write has made me wonder about the Creator of the universe. I wonder if He struggled while stroking the blueprint for life on His cosmic keyboard.  Did the plan for all that is come fully formed or in fits and starts? Did the ideas flow with such consistency that from the beginning, there was never a doubt? 

 

It seems so brilliantly clear in the opening lines of Genesis.

 

 "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. And the earth was without form and void. And the spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters, and God said, ‘Let there be light, and there was light.'" (Genesis 1:1-3) 

 

At the creative juncture of the universe, He said, “…Let there be light.” I’m not sure how many times he wondered whether the inspiration would come, nor how frequently the celestial computer screen remained blank, fingers frozen on the keyboard as he worked to write the recipe for life. When that inspiration came, I'm not sure how it was operationalized, but when he said it, there it was.  

 

I accept the premise there is a Creator, a first mover, an intelligence I do not understand but cannot deny. To me, the elegance and interactive complexity of the natural world are so awe-inspiring and ordered; it defies the belief that all of this could have happened by accident. How the heavenly programmer could keep any of the code straight and provide conscious thought is so far above my pay grade it resists comprehension. As the Roman Catholic scholar Thomas Aquinas suggested, what he didn't understand, he called God. Precisely what I was thinking!!

 

My sense of wonder has nothing to do with religious belief. Instead, it has to do with the astonishingly consistent systems within which we live. Physical laws springing from intrinsic, rational guidelines bring order to our personal and collective lives. In that context, it seems the first few verses of Genesis give but a modest overview. And like simplistic summaries, we are left with the ‘what' but not the ‘how.'

 

It's always the back story that broadens our understanding. Since we have none, we are left to discover it through scientific inquiry and observation. Paul provided insight into this in the book of Romans when he said,  

 

“The invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made.” (Romans 1:20)

 

The more we observe and study nature and all its iterations – plant and animal, the more significant the opportunity to understand the creative intelligence of the universe. 

 

Returning to the first chapter of Genesis, the scripture says God made humankind (male and female) in His image. Those that say nothing can come from nothing miss the point. It is self-evident we can create substance out of nothing more than thought. We do it all the time. What, by the way, is thought. Like so many things, we have never seen one – we have never seen gravity, nor electricity, nor love, nor so many things that operationalize our lives. Of course, we see results, but the ideas, the concepts themselves? Nope, so far, nada. 

 

In the end (or is it the beginning), it is self-evident that constructs in our minds translate into all of humanity's physical works. The power of thought, like the creation of the universe, is incomprehensible. All we see is the result. Beliefs limit us or free us. Knowing this leads to intentional decisions that move us either forward or backward.

 

All of this brings me back to what began as an empty page and, so far, has brought little except a note or two reflecting the awe I feel and the consciousness to recognize an empty screen, an empty mind, and fingers frozen at the keyboard. 

 

Ah, well…there is always next week or month, and hope springs eternal. 

 

After all, moving from zero to one is the most significant increment.

­

‑ ted

 

Love and the long goodbye...

“Goodnight, sweet prince....”

- Shakespeare: Hamlet

 

"This is the fourth time," I said quietly, my heart aching, as I stared vacantly into space, the cup of coffee slowly releasing its heat, hunting room temperature.

"What was that? Were you talking to me?" She asked.

“Sort of…yes…not really…uh...no…just to myself.”

The fourth time. 

It’s not that I haven’t had experience or known people on the moving transport belt of my life who have found themselves or rather been found by the dark thunderclouds of this horrible disease. It’s just that it’s easier to compartmentalize when relationships lack the intimacy of these four.

The metaphor

In the early days of my professional life, I spent a fair amount of time photographing spinal surgeries. In that place, patients were covered except where the surgeon opened the skin and did the work...a field where scalpels sliced and into which metal instruments dug, and cut, and prodded to remove bone or discs.

When the person on the table was someone I knew…knew in more than a “Hi, how are you?” I could not compartmentalize. They were too familiar…not ‘surgical cases,’ but my friends.

The present

Recently, I learned a friend from Belgium, one of the more brilliant people I have known, is in early-stage Alzheimer's. Yesterday morning, he, his wife, and I had a video call. It was a gentle and loving time. 

He was enthusiastic to see me. With a bit of prompting and hesitation, he found the room, cutting through the growing web of amyloid, to the place holding memories of some experiences we had together…our meetings in Singapore, Dubai, and Los Angeles. The road trip from Belgium through France to Bern, Switzerland. A cable car up a Swiss mountain where we sat on a breathtaking sunny afternoon meditating…aware of how insignificant we were, yet how fearfully and wonderfully made, that as small pieces of assembled stardust, we could know and appreciate the moment with each other and the universe of which we were a part. 

What began as a professional transactional relationship became a rich and deep friendship. I love this man...I cannot compartmentalize. He, too familiar.

The other three

There was Jim. A man to whom I owed so much in my life. A man who redirected a young, wayward, and untethered fellow to a pathway holding an unimaginable future. We weren’t really close in time, but more intimate than he ever knew in eternity. His gift for young men changed everything about my life.

There was my mother, the most influential person in my life. A woman who, over more than a decade, had the onion skin of consciousness peeled away little by little until she spent her waking hours sitting in a wheelchair rocking back and forth, humming from time to time the hymns she had learned as a little girl. Before then, talking about how she and her fraternal twin sister had been busy working on curtains for the room where she slept away her final years. Her daughter, niece, and I... lovely, but unknown people. 

My sister Nancy knew more intimately about my life than anyone who had ever taken a breath of consciousness. Stolen by the inexorable angel of death until it wasn't that she lost our intimacy; she lost me. From a clinical standpoint, her early onset Alzheimer’s fit neatly into the clinical window of four years from diagnosis to death…so say the data. There was nothing remotely ‘neat fitting’ about the tortuous pathway that took that woman away.

Now it is my Belgium friend. He is still early in his journey. He, as the people just mentioned, is a fighter. As the incline becomes steeper and the ground more slippery, he will fight for memories…he will fight for the next breath…he will fight for the wife and children that will slowly slip away - from the people he loves and those who love him.

"This is the fourth time," I said quietly, my heart aching,..."

He WILL fight, grasp, and claw. He will lose.

The goodbye?

It will be long.

-ted

Enlightenment? I have no idea…

                                                                                              

The more I learn, the

less I realize I know.”

-  Socrates

 

My friend Bill and I talk about this all the time on our Saturday morning video calls. “This” being that everything we know or 'think we know' is the result of the ‘glasses’ through which we see the world and the focal point that brings clarity.

 

Clarity is a strange word for us because we are old fellows…me in my late 70s, he his early 80s. The unplanned topics are varied and usually lively. In our golden years (a 'lie of the devil' and patronizing expression), we talk about relevance. You know, at this time in life, how do we fit in.

 

On the other hand, as we continue this nearly two-decade weekly exploration of one another, the most common topic is how little we know about anything!

 

Time on planet influences the focal point of our lives. This is a kind of paradox because as the roots in the neural understory of our minds become more intertwined, our peripheral vision expands. This expansion opens a larger view of the universe around us, which, in turn, suggests that, in comparison to the 'what is,' we are relatively ignorant.

 

For some, the realization of how much there is overloads the system. It’s easier to settle in, find a comfort zone, and stop the journey. I mean — isn't enough, enough? 

The danger at this point is that we accept: 'We see what we look for; we find what we know,' close our eyes and take a nap.

 

That would not be us.

 

Our weekly calls provide a barrier to entry to giving up and settling. We partner, support, explore, discuss, and share the things we continue to strive to learn…recognizing, as much as possible, the vastness of it all.

 

Reminders along the way…

I have lots of short sayings posted around my desk. They are there to remind me of the importance of continuing to lean into life. Here are a few brief ones worth sharing:

·      “Don’t believe everything you think”

·      “Beware of simple solutions”

·      “Science is a process”

·      “I’m sorry, I was wrong, I need help, and I don’t know”

 

One of my favorite postings is a chicken cartoon by Doug Savage on wisdom (https://www.savagechickens.com/2013/08/how-to-acquire-wisdom.html).

“Repeat steps 1-5 for the rest of your life.” 

 

Yeah, that’s the ticket…heads up, look around, fall down, keep getting up, and take the next step because I'm pretty sure that chicken is right!

 

- ted

A small thing? I'm not so sure...

“Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and 

not one of them is forgotten before God?”

Luke 12:6 – Bible (KJV)

 

Some events in our journeys are milestones…big things that alter the course of life or, at the very least, have a memorable impact. Others are more intimate and smaller yet make unexpected impressions equally memorable. 

This is one of those.

 

“It was one of the most difficult cases I have dealt with," Carol said. "At first, it seemed a lost cause, but the next morning, after being in the incubator all night, he seemed better."

 

How it started…

I was sitting in the backyard working on a blog on a warm, clear, sunny morning. We have made an effort to make this small space as desert-friendly as possible for plants and trees, bees, insects, and birds. In fact, it’s easy to disappear from the world while watching these creatures. In one case, gathering pollen, and the other drinking from the feeders around the yard.

 

If I'm lucky, once and a while a coyote or two will trot by on the other side of our fence. We might even see the occasional javelina (have-a-leena). These smelly and unsightly pig-like creatures make one think they could only be loved by their mother. It is hard to imagine how they find mating partners. I suppose it is hard because I am not one of them.

 

The most plentiful visitors are hummingbirds. At first when we put the feeders out, only one or two found them. We gave them names, but it wasn’t long before more of these little creatures found the sugar water containers hanging in the yard. The naming fell by the wayside.

 

I have a sister who knows birds by sight and sound. On the other hand, I know nothing except the utter joy of watching these tiny birds stop, start, hover, and fly at incredible speeds. Some days, I suppose out of avian curiosity, they hover a few inches from my face checking me out. It is awesome!

 

The Event…

While writing this Saturday morning, I heard a muffled disturbance on the ground, just at the edge of our brick patio. I looked down to see what looked like a micro Mixed Martial Arts wrestling event just a couple of feet from me.

 

Two hummingbirds looked to be fighting with one another. One was on top, and at first, I thought they might be mating. I’ve seen birds mate before here in the desert…relatively benign events. But once in New York, I witnessed five male ducks attempting to mate with a female in a pond. It looked more like a violent gang rape. The attacks were so nonstop and so aggressive that I thought the female was going to drown.

 

As tiny as hummingbirds are, something didn't seem right. The hummingbird on the bottom was flipping from its front to its back, and the one on top was unrelentingly attacking.

 

Shewing the aggressive hummingbird away, the one on the ground rolled over on its stomach…one of its wings spayed straight out to its side. I picked the tiny creature up in my hand and the wing returned to a normal position along its body. It was so light I couldn’t even feel it sitting there.

 

What to do…

While this was happening, Molly got a small box and lined it with a couple of facecloths. We got the little fellow in it. He was not too happy about it…fluttering around inside. She got the contact information for the Tucson animal/bird rescue organization and called them. They said to bring the hummingbird to them.

 

We got in the car (the hummingbird and I – I drove). Forty-five minutes later, I arrived only to discover they did not take hummingbirds. The folks there had missed the 'humming' part when Molly talked to them. However, they knew a woman who took in these little creatures. Thirty-five minutes later, I pulled into the driveway of a home in a neighborhood on the east side of town.

 

The box with the hummingbird and feeling like a FedX delivery man, I knocked on the door. A mid-sixties woman answered and confirmed that she was the hummingbird rescue lady…Carol. 

 

“Yes, I am. Please come in,” she said pointing to a chair at a table just inside the door.

 

I began to tell her the story, but she stopped me. 

 

“Tell me in a few minutes. I need to get this little one into the incubator.”

 

Five minutes later, she returned, and we chatted. She had been rescuing hummingbirds for nearly thirty years. It was clear this was a passion of hers. She talked about them as if they were her children.

 

The one I brought was a purple-throated ‘Anna’ male. When I mentioned the circumstances to her, she said this was not mating. 

 

“Hummingbirds are extremely territorial and aggressive,” she said. “If they see another one is vulnerable, they will kill it. I'm unsure we can save this one, but I will try.”

 

After leaving her home, I hoped this little fellow would survive.

 

The next day…

The rest of the day and that night, I thought about that little guy, hoping he would make it. Sunday morning passed slowly. Finally, in the afternoon, I called.

 

“Carol, how is the hummingbird?”

 

"I'm sorry," she said, sounding as if she was going to cry. "He didn't make it. In the night, he perked up and took some food, but he couldn't get upright because the joint of his wing was broken. I had to put him down this morning."

 

What does it mean?

We chatted for a few minutes, consoling one another. I hung up and shed a tear.

 

On that Saturday morning, I felt connected with another life…another creature...part of the astonishing universe in which we live. 

 

I thought about the world around us teeming with life. All of it connected and pieces of the complex workings of nature's timepiece.

 

In the end, I knew this creature was just a tiny 'breath' in the universe, but so am I…

The difference in the big picture? Probably not that much... 

 

- ted