On A Whim And An Audit

A lover of all things language, early in his college experience he declared himself a German major. Already fluent in Danish after living in Denmark for his senior year in high school, and with German under his linguistic belt, he was about to take his first class in Russian. Scanning his horizon, he imagined himself on his way to a life in academia.

But then something unexpected happened.

On a whim, he signed up to audit a geology class.

He’d loved collecting rocks as a boy, and thought, “Heck. Why not? It might be fun.”

And it was.

Before the semester was even over, thanks to a quietly charismatic professor who obviously loved what he was doing, this college sophomore knew what he wanted to do with his life. He would become a geologist.

His professional career spanned 38 years, leading him to become a world renowned expert in his field. As a research scientist, his work often dropkicked him out of the office and into the natural world. He engaged in field work close to home and around the globe, finding himself in circumstances that the world of academia might have had a hard time matching. Stranded on the top of an 18,000’ Andean volcano in fog so thick that the helicopter couldn’t find them, he and his colleagues had to find their way back down on foot. In the Philippines he made his way through shoulder-high grass, home to three different species of cobras, and oh-so-many other poisonous things, and lived to tell about it. Work in anti-American rebel territory in Columbia was done under the protection of a security force armed with automatic weapons. He rafted the Grand Canyon, attended a banquet as the guest of the Sultan of Central Java, spoke at the UN in Geneva, and was momentarily mistaken for the Crown Prince of Japan.

Regardless of where we find ourselves in life, it’s easy to get stuck thinking that in order to find success we have to follow the rules, check off the right boxes, and make carefully calculated decisions. We have to stay the course and follow the route we’ve mapped out for ourselves.

But maybe not.

At least not always.

This geologist would say his professional life was more than he ever could have imagined. And it happened on a whim and an audit. Because of what seemed at the time, an inconsequential decision. It wasn’t a strategic choice, or the next step in a plan hammered out with his academic advisor. It wouldn’t add to his GPA or satisfy a course requirement. He simply thought, “Heck. Why not? It might be fun.”

And it was.

Dr. Thomas C. Pierson a.k.a. the geologist I sleep with

Old Friends

It is fair to say that I am comfortable with melancholy. She is an old friend who has been with me for as long as I can remember. There have been chapters in my life where hers was a constant presence, in others she lingered in the shadows, but she is never too far away. I am so at ease with her that before I know it, I’ve welcomed her in, and allowed her to make herself way too comfortable. Sitting with her for too long, I forget that there is work to be done. The good and hard work of crafting a meaningful life, and becoming the person I am here to be.

In a recent and rich conversation with my spiritual director, Dane, we talked quite a bit about my longtime relationship with my old friend Mel. Today I was looking over my notes from that conversation and found these words:

Melancholy—

I know it.

I’m comfortable with it.

We are old friends.

For today, I will build you a fire and you can rest. I on the other hand, have work to do, and I don’t need your help.

You may not have a long and abiding friendship with melancholy, but my guess is that you might have some version of my story. Are there any old friends for whom you can build a fire and let them rest? Remember, we’ve got work to do.

(As always, with gratitude to you DA)

Photo by Jenna Hamra from Pexels

Leaving Our Mark

There is a tradition at the Glenwood Rodeo, and every year it gives me pause. At the beginning of the show and before the events get underway, time is taken to honor those in the community who are no longer with us. It may be a veteran who served, a longtime resident who passed away, or a community member that left us too soon. For each person being remembered, a cowboy rides around the arena leading a riderless horse as our beloved announcer pays tribute.

This year one of those who is no longer with us was a young man named Angel, and along with working on one of the original ranches in our area, he attended community college to learn the art of saddle making. His new craft gave him great pride and hope for his future, and while his future was cut short, his pride in his work will live on.

In listening to this tribute today, I learned that a maker leaves his or her own unique mark on every saddle they craft. It is a mark that says I believe in what I do enough to stamp it as my own. Those lucky enough to own a saddle that came from Angel’s hands will treasure it even more now that he is gone, his mark a reminder of what it looks like to believe in what we offer enough to stamp it with our own unique mark for all to see.

Sunday School

God saw everything that God had made, and indeed, it was very good.

Genesis 1:31 

In the biblical story, the world was created a day at a time, each day bringing more and more of the world into being. At the end of the day, the great Creator looked out over that which had been made and saw that it was good.

On the sixth day, in which all living creatures that dwell on the earth were brought forth, God went one step further and created humankind in God’s own image, giving to us stewardship of all that had been created. At the end of that day, the great Creator didn’t simply call what had been made good…but very good.

On the seventh day, there was no more to do. The Creator’s work was finished and that day was declared a day of rest. A holy day of rest.

Made in the image of the Creator, when we choose to live as a reflection of that from which we came, to be good stewards of all that has been entrusted to us, at the end of the day we  will be able to look out over what we have done, and see that it is good.

Every now and then, we can even see that is very good.

And when we’ve given all we have to that which is ours to do, we can take time to rest, knowing that to rest is  holy.

Amen.

Let it be so.

The Backup Generator

We had a scheduled power outage today so that the utility company could bring power to a new business in our little town. If you live in a rural area like we do, along with good-hearted neighbors and wildlife sightings, one thing you can count on is the occurrence of power outages, scheduled or not. We have a backup generator in our garage for just such events, and because we knew this one was coming, we were ready. Or at least so we thought.

Before leaving the house to report for jury duty, my husband Tom powered up the generator for me so that it was up and running and I could get on with my day. While I have started it before, I’m still not very comfortable with the process, even though in my camo jacket and muck boots I look like I should be a pro at it. However, even I knew that the noises coming from the generator didn’t sound quite right, and sure enough, it sputtered and stopped. Everything went quiet and dark, and suddenly the day I had planned got unplugged.

No internet.

No phone.

No computer.

And of course, no hot water.

Thinking the propane tank might be empty, I tried to unhook it from the generator, but to no avail. Loading the extra tank into the car I drove to town where a friend who works at the gas station filled it up for me. Enlisting the help of another friend, we drove back to the house and he hooked up the new tank and started the generator. It sputtered and went out again. Poking around he tried a few other things and was able to get it up and running again, although was doubtful that it would keep going. It might be a spark plug issue. We’d look into that.

Thanking him, off he drove and I headed into the house to accomplish what I could until the generator stopped again, which it did. The power was scheduled to go back on again in a few hours anyway, so I turned my attention to things that don’t require electricity. It was quiet and actually kind of a nice forced break from emails, phone calls, bill paying, and it’s always a good day to skip a shower. However, all of this got me thinking about the importance of being prepared for the next power outage. Obviously we need to get the generator in the garage repaired so that can power up and sustain life in the house when we need it. When the temperature plummets in the winter, or a windstorm takes out a transformer, we rely on that generator to shore us up.

When it comes to our lives, having a backup generator is essential too. There are times for all of us when we experience a power outage. When the supply of the inner resources we’ve come to count on can’t keep up with the demand. Some we can plan for, like the holiday season, moving to a new home, or a big project at work. But others happen in the blink of an eye when an unexpected diagnosis comes back, we are hit with a tidal wave of grief, or life as we know it suddenly falls apart. Regardless of the cause of the outage, our backup generators need to be in place and in good working order, and of course, we need to know how to power them up.

People and practices make up my backup generator, and perhaps they do for you as well. For me that means tending to those relationships that matter, addressing issues as they arise, making sure that there is a balance of give and take, and always working to deepen trust and respect. It means nourishing myself well — body and soul, learning to say no to what is not mine to do, asking for help, and staying connected to the Power Source behind everything. 

To all of you who keep me going when my power goes out. Thank you. 

To all of you who rely on me to keep you going when your power goes out. Thank you.  

Oh, and note to self: If you’re going to dress like you know your way around a generator, you damn well better! 

Done With The Dig

I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of an archeological dig, and have imagined what it must be like to unearth remains that confirm what has, until then, only been suspected. It’s thrilling to envision excavating the one piece that finally connects the dots. To uncover a previously hidden source of information that will advance our understanding of who we are and how we got here.

Having never actually been on a dig, or even visited one, it is easy to romanticize the process, filtering it through cinematic eyes, and imagining myself as the hero who finds the one piece that finally completes the puzzle, and wins the prize. I’m no archeologist, but my guess is that in reality, it must boil down to a lot of slow, careful, methodical work, and the site being excavated still might not yield the hoped for evidence. Which means knowing where to dig matters, as does how long to dig. There will always be one more tiny piece, one more fraction of a bone or shard of a pot to find, but when weighed against the effort and investment to keep digging, will the pay off be worth it?

The same could be said for the excavation of our inner lives. Understanding who we are and how we got here as individuals is some of our most important work. To be done well, it will require some digging, some emotional archeology as my wise spiritual director calls it. Filling in the picture of our past can help us live more fully now, and such work often requires the help of a trained professional to help us understand what we’ve uncovered. This archeology can provide us with the piece that completes our puzzle, bringing us the rewards of compassion and forgiveness, healing and wholeness.

Knowing where to dig and for how long matters here too. There will always be more tiny shreds of evidence of our past to dig up. Knowing when to stop digging up the past and get on with living in the present will make a big difference in the future still ahead of us.

Naming Our S*#T

Yesterday I finally sat down to work on an upcoming event, fleshing out the intent, core message, and overall experience. It was a creative, productive few hours, and it felt good to have gained some traction on work that I am passionate about. There were several other things that needed my attention, so I left the document open on my desktop, intending to come back and look it over again before closing up my office for the day.

Maybe you have an inkling of what happened.

After taking a break to walk Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle, I came back to my computer intending to return to my work-in-progress, but it was nowhere to be found. I had neglected to name it as soon as I opened up a new document, which if I had done so would have triggered auto-save. After a couple of hours of researching and attempting different ways of recovering the document, and spending way too much energy on frustration and self-criticism, I called it a day. I’d just have to start over.

Lesson learned. Name your shit early.

This, of course, applies to far more than document creation and the protection of our work. In every aspect of our lives, the quicker we take ownership for what is ours, the sooner we name our shit, the less energy we will have to spend on recovery and starting over.

Faithful To The Work

“The shortest way to do many things is to do only one thing at a time.”

~ Mozart

When we were building our home, my husband took on the task of staining the upstairs floor. No small task.

The floor measured approximately 800 sq. ft.

Each board had to be stained.

Twice.

By hand.

With a 4” brush.

While on his hands and knees.

It’s the kind of job that makes me want to enter a witness protection program.

The work took multiple days to finish. Probably because I was feeling a little guilty for not helping, or even offering to, I would regularly wander upstairs with water, or coffee, or a beer. How are you ever going to get this all done? I wondered aloud. He thought for a moment. Just one board at a time.

That is called being faithful to the work.

The work was to stain the floor. The floor would become the solid foundation upon which we would live. He wasn’t all wrapped around the axle about how long it was going to take. Or how hard it was. Or how tedious it was. He was simply faithful to the work.

One brush stroke at a time. One board at a time

Dip the brush into the stain.

Brush it onto the board.

Repeat.

Until one day there was a beautiful, rustic wood floor upon which our life continues to unfold. And it is there because someone was faithful to the work of staining one board at a time.

Let’s be faithful to our work. All of it. Not get all wrapped around the axle about how long it is going to take. Or how hard it is. Or how tedious it can sometimes feel. Simply be faithful to the work that is ours to do, whatever that work may be.

We are all meant to contribute, in our own unique ways, to the solid foundation upon which we all live. Which is exactly what can happen when we are each faithful to the work that is ours to do.

Just take it one board at a time.

Sit Down and Rest

 “God saw all that He had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning--the sixth day...By the seventh day God had finished the work He had been doing; so on the seventh day He rested from all his work.”

~ Genesis 1:31 & 2:2

When I stepped into the atrium of the Glyptoteket (an art museum in Copenhagen, which, incidentally, is funded by the Carlsberg Foundation - as in the beer) the space took my breath away. There was something about it that made it impossible for me to do anything but sit down, and rest. 

We eventually continued our tour of the museum, lingering in front of sculptures from the ancient world. But that atrium space kept calling me back. To sit down, and rest. The air was soft, the light gentle, and the temperature warm and cool all at once. It felt like sitting in the midst of God’s newly created world. The world that was proclaimed good. Very good in fact. The one in which to remember to sit down, and rest.

In the Biblical story of creation, God brings the world into being, creating the heavens, the earth, and everything in them. As She looked over His work at the end of each day, She would proclaim it good. Very good in fact. And then...and then...on the seventh day, He does the unthinkable...She sits down (taking a little literary license here) and rests. 

We are all tiny little creators, bringing our own worlds into being. Like the creator, we work to create the world in which we live. But unlike the creator, we often forget to look out over our work and proclaim it good. Very good in fact. Also unlke the creator, we forget to sit down, (same license taken here) and rest. 

Sitting in that atrium, I was reminded of my desire to do good work. To work hard at doing work worthy of being called good. Very good in fact. The kind of work after which it feels good to sit down, and rest.

Very good work.

Followed by rest.

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be. World without end. Amen.