I love baseball; it gets into the veins and the eyes and changes perspectives. It's a sanctuary where people can save pieces of their childhood and learn how to grow up. It's a place to build relationships. It's global and it's patriotic. So, I am interrupting the regularly scheduled program to post 9 baseball movie quotes important to my understanding of the world. Even if you don't like baseball you should read this.
Dear Reader, if you have arrived this far, thank you for reading. My encouragement for you this week is to be grateful, inclusive, hard-working, collaborative, dignified, optimistic, consistent in the face of adversity, and a great combination of emotional and rational. AND WATCH SOME BASEBALL or at least go outside. If you got something out of this and want to subscribe and get an email alert for next week you can do that by clicking the word subscribe below. And if you feel like this might be interesting to someone else you could share it. Subscribe
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One of the reasons I adore my wife is her inconvenient habit of requesting my theories have practical impact. I began writing smart-sounding ideas about philosophy as it relates to traditionalism. I wrote a page of proud nonsense before her voice popped into my head asking “What does that mean exactly? How does it work?” So, if you would like to inconsequentially debate the impact of Kant on western philosophy I would thoroughly enjoy that. But, that’s not why I write. I'm laying groundwork for values about relationship, living inside-out, and practicing compassion. Here is take two on Traditionalism, with an approach that will more easily sidestep nationalism and dogmatism without disclaimers. We're looking for A bit of rhythm The kind we'll find On chilled concrete Always jeans Distant cars and Carhartt’s Cold hands and bare trees Old prayers dad (and his dad and before him) Prayed in their Fords On worn knees Faint winds and Wood frames My inheritance is a red hoodie that says 1985 and means "it's time to get to work." It is a breakfast casserole on Christmas morning and an audio book in the passenger seat. My inheritance is wooden pews and stained glass and hymnals in the little white church in Parker City. My inheritance is the shaky, reverent prayer that starts out "Almighty God". It is the meaning of "new old coveralls." No lawyer signed to me transfer of trademark value on words like, "Everyone has their day in the sun." and "You have to get yourself behind yourself." and "Life's not fair." But I feel rich every time I hear them. And I'm glad they're free to everyone. No estate tax has been levied on my inherited love of board games and the library. I do not remit half of my loyalties to teams, places, persons, or ideas. My inheritance comes with debts to forgetfulness, romanticism, obstinance, frustration, and lack of focus. But it comes with securities to cash in as payment of these obligations. It comes with a desire for rational thought and knowledge that reveals the why behind my faith in spiritual teaching. My inheritance has come to me in the blessing of my marriage and the joining of hands in prayer. My inheritance has come to me in grilled food and game night. It has come to me in touch football and scavenger hunts and in the smiling faces of children. It has come to me as tradition. Why is tradition meaningful to me? Because it represents belonging. And every human wants to belong. In all the striving to be and the suffering that comes with being human, tradition is a map when I am lost and a comfort when I am vulnerable. The seventh inning stretch, wedding vows, singing at church, giving toasts, these are practices passed along to guide and comfort. It's why coaches and businesses try to get people to "buy in" to the tradition and culture. (It's why the Michigan State basketball team has "Family" written on their shirts, and why so many of them wept when Ahrens went down with an injury). They recognize the depth of meaning humans feel in having a place to belong. Tradition gives me a sense of pride and duty and courage. But there is a place where tradition ends. It supports as a framework but it does not define as a foundation. Tradition is passed on by meaning not requirement. If it was all about the tradition and fulfilling a mold I'd end up living a life of empty words and empty practices, and harboring an intense fear of change. Tradition is about the meaning underneath. It is about the people, and looks more like sweat or a map or a practice or a hug . Here's an excerpt from a letter about family: "Dear brothers and sisters. . . The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, 'Abba, Father'." ~The Apostle Paul to the church in Rome If you have arrived at this point, dear reader, my encouragement to you is to identify which traditions in your life have meaning. Go about your daily life remembering that your family name is not a free pass or a specific mold. Your name represents tradition transmitted in an individually meaningful way. What will you pass along? If you got something out of this and want to subscribe and get an email alert for next week you can do that by clicking the word subscribe below. And if you feel like this could help somebody else and want to share that would be cool too. Subscribe "This one's for the man who raised me. Taught me sacrifice and bravery. This post will do nothing to fill the title. It will be a small drop in a deluge of important concepts. But, I made a promise to write down my thoughts that they may be held to the crucible and evaluated, so in the end every romantic notion may be brought out into the light of rational thought and allowed to exist in the beauty of reality for what it is and not only what I imagine it to be.
The problem, I uncovered, as I struggled to write this, is that "rainy days" has several literal and metaphorical meanings. They are testament to the mingling of language, nature, and emotion in a way that brings revelation, even to those who struggle to understand. Children may not have the emotional intelligence to tag or explain their feelings but they know the weight of sadness explained in the tears of the earth, and it is both visibly heavy and comforting. Because rain brings things like: growth, spring, flood, monsoon, puddles, mud, storms, noise, delays, cancellations, harvests, and darkness. Rain has the power to wreck and destroy, and it has the power to make things vibrant and green. I think what I meant when I wrote, "I believe in rainy days" is that I enjoy rain aesthetically and emotionally. For now I am going to examine the emotional part. I am no closer to narrowing the focus of this post into something revolutionary or even tangibly relevant to everyday life. But, I am closer to understanding "rainy days" are an important pillar for me. Because often when I set an intention I am derailed by pesky things like emotions. And when I ignore them they start to nag at me. For example: I say I am going to live my life joyfully in all circumstances and then something very sad or disappointing or challenging or infuriating occurs to me or someone I know, there is this heavy cloud. And I cannot wish or will it away no matter my intention. Like Rocky says, "Life ain't all sunshine and rainbows." Or like Jesus says, "In this world you will have trouble." So, my goal is forced to become personal and unique, which is great because emotions make things deeper. They are not something to indulge, or chase at all times, especially those most fleeting emotions, but they are something to listen to and understand. It’s a part of regeneration and newness and expansion and the inclination to become vivid and vivacious, and truly alive. Emotion is not the root and foundation of action, but it is fuel and motive and color. It affects. There is still somewhere I am going, but what a beautiful thing to see scenery along the way. And not all of it radiant, but some of it pensive, deep, and delightfully gloomy, and some of it is dark and challenging and wholly devastating. Feelings, especially the deep ones, will not be ignored. And the more time I spend rushing through the more I feel the nagging urge to stop. And there are times when I absolutely must pause. Because I am carrying all of these things with me, and they are good and they are natural, and they are relational, and they lend a hand in my understanding of virtue. So, I pause. I pause to mourn, to think, to pray, to hold and to weep. I weep for the things lost, like time and chance, things left, things missed, things shared and things unspoken. I pause to pensively consider the world and it's complexities. I pause to let the longing thirst for morality deepen in the heart and alter motives. I pause to let things be rinsed in a clean slate of grace and acceptance. I pause to make peace with warring emotions. I pause to embrace the vulnerability of quietly sitting in true and pitiless empathy with another human. I pause to recognize suffering may deepen joy and bring great reward. And when it is time to rise from my knees out of the water pooling around me I leave my feelings there and walk strong and happy through the rain. "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." Jesus My point, I suppose, dear reader, (if you have stuck with me to the end), is that joy in all circumstances does not exclude the rainy days. In fact the depth of joy necessitates other emotions. They are all swallowed up in joy, and they make joy the rich and beautiful overarching, comprehensive emotion that it is. Trust your foundation, let your emotion fuel the journey, and run in the rain. And my other point is that I really love things like folk music, and April, and puddle jumping, and mud runs, and the ridiculous antics that occur during rain delays in college baseball games, and the essential need for psychology in a well-adjusted society, and coffee shops, and Earl Grey tea, and blankets, and good books, and the sweet and beautiful peace of falling asleep to earth's gentle serenade lightly tapping against my window pane. If you want to subscribe and get an email alert for next week you can do that here. And if you feel like this could help somebody else and want to share that would be cool too. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. If you are still reading all the way down here I've got two links, one to a prayer by St. Patrick (Happy St. Patty's Day!) and the other is a poem. St. Patrick's Breastplate prayer Poem Over to the right it says “Author” and has a description of me. If you are reading this on a phone here's what's over there: I believe in black coffee Rainy days Traditionalism Transcendental words And the bottom line These words are an abstract thought I scribbled on a piece of paper in a coffee shop a few years ago because my mind needed an anchor. Something solid. They’ve become reliable and much less abstract as I navigate personal responsibility for things like 30-year fixed, 10-year plan, ‘til death do us part and give us this day our daily bread. Stripping away excess, letting go, makes it easier to find which things hold up under the weight of truth. It gives me space to evaluate and to fill with intention. Letting go of pride, possessions, and all sorts of other things that come naturally I am rewarded with core value and a real sense of joy. In short, what fills me up when I empty out are these words. And in these words is one Truth, which I rely on for all things. I'm going to run through this sort of personal creed line by line over the next few weeks starting with the coffee. I believe in black coffee for two main reasons. Simplicity: Standing in front of a coffee shop menu with syrups, milks, sizes, iced or non-iced, skinny, fat, tall, and thousands of available combinations it's easy to get overwhelmed. I believe in black coffee because options literally depress me. In his book called The Upward Spiral neuroscientist Alex Korb dedicates an entire chapter to decision making. One characteristic of depression is indecision. It plagues people with "what if's", FOMO, and the negative focus of eliminating choices. As an American I am given the option to have absolutely anything I want in any color and size. I waste time with all these thoughts bouncing in and out of my head. How do I feel right now? What is the weather like outside? How will the barista judge me if I order this? How quickly will I drink it? How many calories does it have? Is it worth the money? Should I experiment with a new drink? The simple pleasure of enjoying a beverage is stolen and replaced with order anxiety. I choose to take it back and be intentional. And I say, "I'll have a black coffee." I don't order black coffee every single time I go somewhere because I love tea and there is a time and a place for a well-crafted latte. But often I find I am infinitely happier when I approach life with simplicity and intention. I make my choice on purpose. Korb says it like this, "We are often under the impression that we are happy when good things happen to us. But in actuality, we are happiest when we decide to pursue a particular goal and then achieve it." Even something as simple as ordering a cup of black coffee. Intention > Goal > Action > Achievement Bob Goff says it like this, "Land the plane." Here's reason number 2. Authenticity: I like black coffee because it is simple and universal and when done correctly, absolutely delicious. But when it is bad, it has no place to hide. Black coffee is two ingredients, ground coffee beans and water. Black coffee can come as espresso, french press, pour over, batch brew, americano and probably more types I'm forgetting. There are dark roasts and light roasts and medium roasts and blends and soil types. By authentic and simple I do not mean uniform. I mean it's not dressed up. It subjects itself to my taste buds as a vulnerable and honest beverage. I appreciate it's candor. I'd love to go into long discourse about authenticity. But, that doesn't feel like the point of this post. Authenticity is something that is known when it is seen or heard or felt or tasted. These two reasons are why, "I believe in black coffee" is the metaphor I've used to describe a value system I desire to follow. It may seem to be a minuscule change, or like I'm overemphasizing its importance, but acting on it has made an enormous difference in my everyday life. So, I believe in black coffee bats lead off for my mission because the remaining tenants are contingent on the success of Simplicity and Authenticity. And because I really like black coffee. Dear Reader, if you have made it this far, thank you. I want to encourage you this week to be intentional, set a goal, and be decisive. Take action on your goal even if you are not 100% sure you have chosen the absolute best option that ever existed. By the time you arrive at 100% you may have been inactive so long you don't really feel like doing anything. Take action. And also read stuff by Bob Goff. If you want to subscribe and get an email alert for next week you can do that here. And if you feel like this could help somebody else and want to share that would be cool too. Next week expect things about rainy days. Spring is almost here. In a country without saints or shrines |
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I'm a Hoosier. I like the outdoors. Taxes are my job. I write for a living. This Blog
Writing my way to an adult life of minimalism, sustainability, and joy rooted in Truth. I'm learning, unlearning, and relearning.
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