x ray vision

i’ve spent some time, recently, with a few people who would fit into the category that our world calls “beautiful.” while i am personally connected to these particular individuals by blood, love, and history, it is shocking to me to witness how often it is their physical appearance that gains them recognition in the eyes of others. “you’re so beautiful,” literally spills from peoples’ mouths upon introduction. wide eyed stares mark awkward pauses. a few times people have actually commented to me about the gorgeousness of my companions as though: a) the “object of beauty” weren’t present and hearing the conversation or b) i somehow deserved credit for being associated with such stunning attractiveness. if it weren’t so surprising to me, i would have a comeback and if i did, it would sound something like this:

“i know! (insert name) is really beautiful. it’s shocking to me, however, that you saw it so quickly. typically graciousness and determination take time to uncover. honesty reveals itself in similarly slow and methodical ways. intelligence and character can’t be detected by the human eye and humility is rarely revealed upon simply learning ones’ name. to be honest, so little about beauty can be seen. at least beauty that is solid. and grounded. and deep. you are brilliant to be so perceptive! i’m amazed!”

beauty that resides in the external only is just a part of a persons’ story. i feel sad both for those who are seen as having this gift and for those who are seen as lacking it. the former leave encounters with the world feeling as though their externals are what matter most, fearing a loss of their most-important-to-the-world gift with each inevitable imperfection that comes with being human. the latter, however, feel marginalized, are often over (or at least under) “looked,” and feel compelled to find compensatory methods of making a positive first (that leads to lasting) impression.

in this system, everyone loses.

social psychology tells us that people tend to settle in friend groups and partnerships with individuals who they find similar in physical attractiveness to themselves. for example, individuals who perceive themselves a “7,” so to speak, on the american “1-10” scale of attractiveness, tend to associate with individuals they see as falling in the “5-8” range. they wouldn’t want to risk dipping too far down into the scale and losing some of their own attractiveness by being closely associated with someone too far “below” them and they don’t want any 10s around to reveal their lack.

does this bother anyone else?

while i’m sure that my blind spots are as big as anyone else’s, i see physical appearance as being only one small part of what makes a person beautiful and compelling to associate ones’ self with. scales that refer to externals only can do no justice to the intentions of the heart, the brilliance of the mind, the creativity of an individual, or the complexity that drives them.

i wish we all had x ray vision. not the kind that every teen age boy seeks with dime store glasses that promise to “see” through clothing. the kind, instead, that sees past the externals and into the being of those with whom we share space. the kind that waits to make judgements about beauty until there are substantive reasons to do so that don’t leave the externally beautiful feeling objectified and the externally less-than-beautiful feeling left out. vision that sees flaws (in ones’ self and others) as part of what makes a person unique and interesting. vision that tends toward noticing what makes a person “fun,” “loyal,” “brilliant,” “special,” “relational,” “generous,” and any other number of other traits in equal proportion (at least) to the ratings it makes about physical appearance.

and if we can’t have x ray vision i wish we could have x ray perception that would allow us a reality check about how the words we use about ourselves and others label, qualify (or disqualify), and shape the way we encounter. for, regardless of our physical appearance, our words, and even our thoughts/intentions, can contribute to a world wherein beauty is skin deep or further in...where only x ray vision can see.

offerings

"None of us gets to be competent, mature people without the help of others... people who have loved us all along the way. I'd like to give you a minute to think of those who have believed in you...those who have helped you live your life knowing what was good and real. A minute of silence to remember those who have cared about us through our lives..in our being who we are right now.”
(insert one minute of silence)
“Whomever you've been thinking about, whether they're here or far away or even in heaven, imagine how pleased they'd be to know that you recognize what a difference they've made in your becoming.” fred rogers

i receive a monthly email quote from the office of family communications, inc., the organization conceived of and nurtured by mr. rogers. the quote you just read is the one i received today. if my memory serves me (and it usually does with all things mr. rogers), he delivered these words on live television when presented with a prestigious life time achievement award. i remember him at the microphone, in a tuxedo, speaking to a room full of celebrities and standing there for a full minute in complete silence. he didn’t just suggest finding a time to consider the important people in one’s life. he actually created the time. right then and there. i have always wondered how many teachers, neighbors, mentors, doctors, and parents received phone calls from those assembled that night and i’ve considered how many hallmark cards were sent the following day to those who were thought of in that minute of pause. 

last week i had the humbling honor of hanging out at biola university where i was participating in a campus wide conversation about faith and technology. before i arrived i ordered 4000 pipe cleaners to be handed out during my first talk. as many folks know, i always bring something for people to play with while i talk. it keeps them engaged and gives them something to do if they find me utterly boring. my bringing toys is nothing new. what happened after that first talk at biola, however, was utterly unique. i was brought offerings. pipe cleaner creations in the shapes of shooting stars and thumb braces (to help protect against the effects of over zealous texting) and magic carpets and genie lamps, cards with original art work and meaningful words, and tomes scribbled on the back of notes being studied for a test following my talk. later in the week more offerings were made. words, spoken and written. playdough sculptures and gluey collages. lingering conversations filled with eye contact and awkward transitions. one special student even brought me a massive jug of apple juice. “if i brought you a gift,” he said, “i thought you might remember to pray for me.” trust me phil, jug of juice or not, i will remember to pray for you.

as i packed my suitcase at the end of the week i felt a deep well of gratitude to these students who possibly felt silly, who risked being misunderstood, who likely felt awkward in offering tokens of their thanks and expressions of their struggles, their longings, and their hopes. 

these are offerings of the most precious and rare kind. for many, writing a check is easy. for others, giving time is a breeze. some offer up effort or labor without thinking twice. much less frequently, however, people feel free to take risks in making offerings. instead we give what is “safe.” what is “normal.” what is expected. we shy away, however, from offerings that are personally costly, relationally risky, and that have the possibility of being misunderstood.

as we north americans embark on a day of thanks-giving i challenge each of you to sit in a minute of silence. let the name of a person (or two or three or...) float to the surface of your mind. once there, consider an offering of gratitude that would speak deeply and directly to that individual and make it, thinking not of how silly you might feel in giving it nor how misunderstood the offering itself might be, and instead “imagin[ing] how pleased they'd be to know that you recognize what a difference they've made in your becoming.”

ohio

if you’re breathing and you live in the united states you’ve been hearing alot about ohio these past few weeks.

i had the distinct honor of visiting one small part of the state a year ago and i can see what all the attention is about. i ate one of the best indian meals i’ve ever tasted in a locally owned restaurant and found incredibly unique teas at another. i marveled at an intersection in one small town which housed a jewish synagogue, a greek orthodox church, and a christian college. a few blocks away sat a muslim mosque. all were stunningly beautiful, each in its own way. the people i encountered were friendly and warm, smart and broad minded. i can see why ohio would be all the rage. it’s a really wonderful place.

the reality is, however, that it’s currently on the map because of its significance in the upcoming election. if the media was all you attended to you’d never know that there were indian restaurants or exotic teas or vibrant faith communities or smart people in ohio. you’d think there were only electoral college votes. this makes me sad.

so often, these days, we settle for 140 character summaries of “news.” we feel uber-connected to current events yet our knowledge of them is sentence deep. “super storm shuts down northeast,” “new poll puts candidate x in the lead,” “negotiations between teachers union and district fail,” “honey boo boo endorses candidate y.” with the sheer number of updates we receive in a day we feel caught up and yet often know very little about what’s really going on. further, what we do know is likely biased by the shape of the social and digital networks we’ve created.

just as the less experienced internet user forwards every warning they receive to everyone in their inbox, we mindlessly forward and “like” and repost and retweet without much thought for considering the content. in so doing we reduce the complicated realities of life (and politics and religion and weather and relationships and, well, everything) to trite digestible sound bytes. 

it’s as if we’re becoming increasingly comfortable eating meal replacement bars instead of preparing a balanced breakfast. such bars are convenient and filling and even have some nutrients but they pale in comparison to the taste, experience, and nutritional value of a thoughtfully created meal or the complication presented in having to make sure that there is balance in one’s diet. you may love chocolate chip protein bars but that doesn’t mean that a constant stream of them is optimal for your health and well being.

it’s the same with current events. it’s the same with life. there are things i like. there are things i agree with. things that are easy for me to chuckle at or “amen” in response to, to understand and to comprehend. these are things that are easy for me to promote. there are also difficult things, complex things that i want to be hearty enough to welcome. things like my neighbor’s differing view points, my fellow country member’s divergent and complex needs, the preferences of those that tick me off. these are the reasons i want not to be content with short updates and news from only sources i, in my certainty, “condone” as worthy. 

i want, for myself, to become less and less content being sure of everything related to politics. i want to be open to complexity and to respectfully listen to those whose opinions and preferences i don’t share. i want to take the medias word for less and less and rely on the tried and true methods of inquiry and research and deep exploration to find sturdy places to land ideologically, practically, and realistically.

and so, ohio, i honor you. not because i want to shape you or mold you or convince you to vote like i want you to but, rather, because we share space in this world and you matter in it as much as i.

making space

on a recent trip to southern california i was motivated to think a great deal about space. while there i heard story after story of the space shuttle, newly grounded, preparing to make its way to its permanent home in an air and space museum. folks were mostly concerned about the ridiculous number of trees that were removed along the sidewalks of the streets it would travel along. as i encountered the buzz i kept thinking how humorous it was that we were busily clearing space down here in order to commemorate having made space in, well, space.

it strikes me that each of us could benefit from a similar kind of clearing.

more than any other time in history, our lives are full. we make our way through our days in status updates and think in 140 character tweet type self talk. we chronicle our meals via instagram and pull out our mini super computers (called cell phones) any time we are idle. in the grocery store check out. at red lights. during dinner and even with friends. one of the newer regular complaints amongst my partnered clients revolves around the amount of time their partners spend reading, playing games, and trolling social networking sites while sitting on the toilet. truly. we are available 24 hours a day and there are plenty of screens that will oblige our availability.

in response to an article i recently shared about how sleeping with smart phones might impact sleep quality, a young man (who i used to babysit...nothing like the young teaching the old...) emailed me about his high school band teacher. this wise sage had reminded his students that the rests in music were as meaningful as the notes that were played. rests are active, they accentuate, they direct attention.

it’s similar with space. spaciousness, whether it be in the realm of intrapersonal experience or our actual geographic locales, matters. the trick is that is typically not easily created. it isn’t easy to move a huge space shuttle through small and busy city streets. it was created to move in much less restrictive spaces.

it’s similar with our souls. we were not meant to live squeezed into the spaces we place ourselves. the expectations of ourselves and others in our new 24 hour full on connectedness, the commitments we have actively and passively made, the demands of our vocational and personal work, the necessities of day to day living all threaten to choke out any rest time that might present itself. further, we delude ourselves into thinking that staring at a screen is restful so exclusively substitute screen (and earbud) time for true self time.

without rests, however, music (and life) becomes cacophonous. imagine the frenetic feeling that would result from removing the rests from the familiar opening bars of bethoven’s fifth symphony. if the “dah, dah, dah, dddaaaahhhh’s” had no space to separate them, the music would become a single lump of sound. it would lose it shape, its feeling, its uniqueness.

so it is with all of us. without rests we lose our selves. we become defined by what we do, by what we watch/listen to, by how we update, by who needs and wants us (and who doesn’t). we become caught up in productivity and consuming rather than with restoring a sense of internal balance and calm and being able to delay gratification and/or stimulation. the trouble is, rests are active and many of us have no idea how to achieve them. what is restful to some is not to others and often we stop trying if we don’t achieve early success in resting our souls.

so consider what you have readily available and begin there...with lungs that can take in air, with a body that can stretch and move, with a mind that can wander and imagine, with a nose that can smell and a mouth that can savor. with a minute or two or three, an hour, or more. begin small...by simply being still and opening yourself to receive the rest that can come in the way it comes best for you. notice it. lean into it as you would lean into the wildest turn on a roller coaster for there is nothing more stimulating than rest.

i want to slam poems in spanish

i want to slam poems in spanish. 

read that again.

i want to slam poems in spanish.

now picture me reciting that line followed by 3 minutes of other similarly sleek sentences in some cozy coffee shop, crammed with people, and filled with the smells of fresh grounds and the sounds of steaming milk. 

i want to slam poems in spanish. 

i want to, but i don’t. i don’t because i can’t seem to write in poetic form and if i did i think i would die a death by hyperventilation waiting to recite poetry in front of an assembled group. one poetic line is all i’ve got and that isn’t enough to make my wish come true.

i’m called to other things it seems. things like listening and noticing and loving. periodically i feel called to bring someone a meal or to write one of these posts or to pass along a link to something that i think might change someone’s life. or week. or day. sometimes i feel called to send a text that says “i’m thinking about you. you matter.”

which is what i did today. i texted my friend garret who is on tour, performing spoken word poetry around the country. shortly after i pushed send my phone rang and it was garret. we got to talk for a bit and it was lovely to have sound accompany words in ways that texts can never accomplish. it was exciting to hear him describe a recent calling, made clear to him when the person he was staying with him was watching rambo 3. it’s not often that someone recognizes their call while overhearing rambo 3 and working on poetry. he did, however, realizing that, just as rambo realized he was, perhaps, put on this earth to accomplish the task set before him, he (garret) was possibly put on this earth to share his words with those of us who need to hear them. 

which brings me back to wishing i could slam poems in spanish. 

a couple of weeks ago i was at a slam where the open mic included a young woman who performed her piece in spanish. it was beautiful. it was stunning, actually. i have no idea what she said but the sounds of the piece were soulful and the response of those who understood the words was profound. people “mm-hmmm’ed” and blew out little “whoooo” breath sounds and shook their heads. i’ve made these sounds and gestures when i’ve heard my friends and others slam. i love being lulled by the rhythm of the meter and feeling of different poems and those who recite them. i can hear, in my mind, the pauses and rises and falls that create emphasis and call the hearer to attend in a different way. i hear them in my unwritten spanish poem and yet have no natural way with which to bring them forth.

could i learn to write poetry? sure. could i overcome the sheer terror i imagine involved in performing a piece? possibly. and yet, that isn’t the point. i don’t feel called to it. i desire it, but i don’t feel called to it.

i recently got to hear richard rohr speak about living from a place of deep, internal “yes.” he reminded the assembled crowd that it is healthier to identify ourselves by that which we are for rather than by that which we are against. this “yes” feels to me like a calling. i can wiggle and shake and squeeze myself into becoming a slam poet but it will never bring about the deep yes that i experience when i live into my true calling which often feels so ordinary and non remarkable. my calling doesn’t have a meter or rhythm or involve lulling. and yet, it is mine. and maybe i was put here to live into it.

and you have yours. and maybe you were put here to live into it. it may not be what you wish it was. you may not even value it. you may clean houses instead of writing top ten hits. you might extend kindness on the train home rather than climb mount kilimanjaro. you might check groceries or teach children or sit on boards or coach a team or answer phones instead of doing any number of glamorous things you imagine. and yet, if these simple acts tap into your calling, then you are in the exact right place at the exact right time. your “yes” may seem like the most mundane and ordinary thing in the world to you and yet it might be just what the world needs...even if you don’t understand it....kind of like poems in spanish.