They told me it would change me The open-mindedness The unfamiliarness The freedom The structure The system The doubtful told me They told me I'm a grown up I need to be responsible Factual I can’t think like a child Or watch Sandlot Or be imaginative Or curious The mature told me They told me life is money To be concerned To be stingy To get rich The successful told me They lied. I am the same small child Sitting in the same spot Thinking and imagining the same things In the most generous, carefree Simple way I know how. Right here, I am the same Because they told me, “You are loved” The ones who matter told me This week I leave Indy--the city I have called home for 26 years. Looking at the faces of the people here, reflecting on memories and examining the environments in which I've grown up, I am filled with an endless stream of gratitude. Life is a collaboration of social pressures that squeeze us into being. That statement is a hope and not a fact. The people and places surrounding me have been exceptional. It is a relentless comfort to feel joy in mourning, and sadness with change. I feel rich. Dear Reader, tell someone you love them.
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I love Tolkien’s hobbits for more than just their barefoot lifestyle. They’re brimming with simplistic and indulgent nature, humble loyalty, pure intention. In Lewis and Tolkien’s high fantasy novel series they both write heroes as humble characters like children and hobbits. Their champions live further than what everyone else sees in them. Reflecting on my goals for this week’s post I ran across a Tolkien quote, “It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.” Writing has been getting me through some large changes in my life. I’ve written roughly 5000 words in the past few weeks. There is a never-ending stream of thought, but all of it comes out shrouded in a summer haze, lacking clarity of purpose, conviction and vision. And without vision writing is just noise. Surface level words written for writing. If I am writing this way, it’s probable I am living this way—without a solid grip on the question “who are you?” If I go outside and put my bare feet in the grass and stare at the clouds for a little while the image gets clearer. And when things get clearer I put them on the page for a tangible reminder of my identity. We do all sorts of things to sort out identity. Some of us tattoo it on ourselves so it’s always present. Some of us wear our identity in our clothes or with our accessories or our vehicles: iPhone, Galaxy. Prada, Gucci, Oakley, Rae Ban, Tesla, BMW, Jordan, Polo, Pottery Barn. There is an easy switch to make in vulnerable times, from “this is well made” to “This makes me.” (Check out the art at the bottom of this post for more on that idea). When these things are nearby they give a solid sense of comfort about who I am and how people will perceive me. That’s good PR. Brands do, and should, communicate a message about who we are, and environments should be designed to evoke an emotion or a sense of being. But the mistake is when there is a shift from, “this communicates my identity” to, “this makes my identity.” Everything is communication. The sensational things give corporeal feedback for interpretation. Tangible, external items are internalized, evaluated and turned into identity. Buying a pair of hiking boots and having them in my closet can make me believe I am “naturey” even if I only hike twice in a year. It’s an appeasement, and it communicates a message that can be a bit misleading. It’s inevitable we acquire pieces of identity that don't necessarily align with how we actually live. It is so easy it’s dangerous. Consumerism is subtly persuasive and plucks at the depth of our souls. The gatekeepers have their own motivations, which means they can’t be trusted. So, it’s vital I’m responsible for my own consumption. To uphold this responsibility, I’ve been systematically losing things or attempting to be OK with them going away. In fact, it seems both the intentional and unintentional destination of my adult life has been a stripping down of all my tangible identities. But when the brand is gone, and the house is gone, and home is miles away and my naked feet are traversing an open road I still need and have identity. It is at this point I pray my life can be lived inside-out, and the underneath part will still be living a naked truth in every vulnerable place I go. . As things in my life are lost or left or changed, in each new place, like Tolkien’s Hobbits, I hope The Shire is in my heart. My family and my roots, my faith and belief, I know they go with me. Home is a place existing in my mind, but it makes adventure possible, not impossible. The intangible sense of who I am, the character part, is rooted in something deeper than the brands and buildings surrounding me. It is a mural of the people whose hearts are in mine. There is a place and an environment I know as home, but my hope is my home lives in me, and is communicated tangibly in my words and actions—in a strong hand of friendship, a soft word of kindness, a dedication to show-up, a desire to act honorably and love deeply. I carry these things with me and they help me keep my feet. Dear Reader, I am ending this post with an encouragement. Evaluate, with me, whether your communication of identity is in what you do, or what you own. If you want stuff like this delivered to your inbox each week click here. And if you think other people would benefit from reading please share.
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in I have written three full posts this week. I am not sharing any of them. Sometimes it is right to give up on words and let things more like art express what I can't form. Branded in the mind Etched like chisel on stone They work tirelessly Spent nearly a decade on this This piece Piece of something. I'm not sure Where it goes or what it does It looks finished Feels finished It isn't closed Sometimes I explore it All the way to its steep edges Thinking I can put it to sea Gently nudge it into the wind And watch it sail far, far away Or fall heavily and sink A brief case of lead memory Plummeting to the fathomless deep Lost in sight and mind forever Until it washes up at my feet Dredged up by the fleet I sent after it And I open it. Again And again And again Always the same result They bend their minds over their craft And sing endlessly for mercy The Fascination of What's Difficult ~ William Butler Yeats The fascination of what's difficult Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent Spontaneous joy and natural content Out of my heart. There's something ails our colt That must, as if it had not holy blood Nor on Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud, Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and jolt As though it dragged road metal. My curse on plays That have to be set up in fifty ways, On the day's war with every knave and dolt, Theatre business, management of men. I swear before the dawn comes round again I'll find the stable and pull out the bolt. Dear reader, do something challenging. If not for the joy of it, for the sweat and the unrelenting will inside you to persist. Love the sweet, salty taste of effort. You exist. Today is going to be light and summery. Saturated in sunshine and water. Reflective of sunsets from docks or boats or beaches after long days of hard play and the sweet smell of grilled food. Happy Independence Day. It’s a common joke in a college baseball clubhouse that pitchers aren’t athletes. They don’t hit, most can’t field, some can’t even throw the ball to first base. During my time as a pitcher I helped perpetuate some stereotypes. Awareness of my body in space and adeptness at adjusting my body to changing situations, not my forte. I like to say I make moves premeditated and got decent by habit and size not skill. One summer I had free time, and I spent a good chunk of my free time going to the lake with my college roommates to do general stupid college guy stuff. Like inventing new ways to almost die but not die. (Have you seen the video where they put 12 guys on one rope swing??) There is this one dock ideal for gainers (run forward, flip backwards). But, I’m not an athlete. And it seemed like no amount of premeditation helped me let go of the fear that prevents people from changing direction mid-air to flip backwards. 50% of the time I landed on my back or face. The other 49.9% fear choked all the motion out of me and I’d end in a pencil dive or cannon ball pretending it was on purpose. Fear is good for preservation. Peer pressure is good for pushing the limits. I’d like to end this story by telling you I perfected the gainer. I did not. I think during the summer I completed 3-ish (4 if you’re feeling generous). But, I learned a lot from failing. Good social pressure, for me, is getting out of the room where I feel like the smartest, most capable person and into the room where I'm curious or determined and want to learn and potentially fail. It's knowing my place, pushing others to be better, and being humble enough to let others push me. It was tempting to give up after the first time I hit my face and popped up to the surface feeling foolish. It was easier with someone sitting their laughing with me saying “dude, you were almost there. You just need to really commit.” I think if I would have believed it more I could have had more success. But I lacked the faith to be more vulnerable and less afraid. Here’s a fun comment on trust from Simon Sinek’s “Start with Why”. “Trust begins to emerge when we have a sense another person or organization is driven by things other than their own self-gain.” That's a hard thing to believe. Especially for a skeptic or a cynic. But, have you been in that type of community before? Have you felt that culture? The one where people are valued contributors with a shared desire. Have you been a co-owner; with a deeper motivation than personal gain? A motivation that inspires acts of service and worship and encouragement and kindness and generosity. That environment where the people surrounding us—they drive us to be better, not by spiteful words, but just by being present. They hold us accountable when we are wanting to complain and slack off. They encourage us when we begin to get tired. And when we are truly weak, they shoulder the burden for a portion of the way. This is community. Good community. And what community needs is trust. Sinek promises that trust is attached to genuine value. Value we are seeking. The trust it takes to stop being a fisherman, mid-work day, to go follow a teacher. The trust it takes to look another human squarely in the eye, knowing full well you have given them your whole heart, and be open to the idea they may step wrong and they may hurt you, but you will be ok. The trust it takes to launch into something new because the core of your community has helped mold you into something awesome, and capable of going out to overcome failure and success. Have you been there? It’s almost not believable. But it's real. There are genuinely decent, loving, humans in this world, that help bring about more genuineness and love. Provided you’ve got that foundational faith and the grace it takes to trust an imperfect human. And the generosity to pass love along. When words of praise ring sweetly in the ear it is easy to hear them and sit comfortably, greedily, counting compliments and achievements with wicked enthusiasm, stepping eagerly on others to claim every virtuous phrase. But love is the currency passed hand to hand without delay. And as it circulates it grows. We were meant to be generous This is my encouragement, to you and to me, dear reader. This holiday week let go of the fear and exchange it for the vulnerability it takes to fail, the humility it takes to get back up, and the trust it takes to succeed. It’s not easy. But it will be fun. Enjoy the people in your life. Give love generously. Inspire greatness with trust. Happy Independence Day. |
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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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