Thursday, May 20, 2010
"You Don't Suffer Fools Well...."
I believe it is safe to say that every one of my bosses would agree with my first one in higher education when he said that I do not suffer fools well. While there are those who believe I should correct that problem, I look at it as more of my charge and calling. Particularly when fools impinge on the development and expression of the God-given talents of the people in my charge, or when their actions diminish the potential of causes larger than their own simply because of their narrow-mindedness and pettiness. There are fools, and there are fools. It is the latter that I have a hard time dealing with but quite easily hold in disdain.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Talent
I opened my fortune cookie tonight. It said something about a talent that is not shared is not really a talent. Kim opened her fortune cookie. It said the same thing. I don't believe in fortune cookies.
I do believe in talent, and the call, the mandate, the requirement that we share whatever God has given us as a gift or an ability.
While I consider the cookies and their messages, I listen to the works of Cash, Chapiin, Croce, Haggard, Jennings, Bare and more. I consider Weston, Whitman and others.
Sharing ain't easy. But it is not an option.
I do believe in talent, and the call, the mandate, the requirement that we share whatever God has given us as a gift or an ability.
While I consider the cookies and their messages, I listen to the works of Cash, Chapiin, Croce, Haggard, Jennings, Bare and more. I consider Weston, Whitman and others.
Sharing ain't easy. But it is not an option.
Ignore Your Self at your own peril
I sit here, Maker's Mark on the rocks on the desk, and Johnny Cash's "Hurt" playing, and I consider many things, not the least of which is my oldest son's finding his voice in his blog, my middle son's finding himself in his work and adventures, and my youngest finding himself (and his Self) at the doorway to manhood. I consider this collision of realities and inhibition busters and remember why it was that God gives me breath. It is not to be a paper pusher.
I've been listening to Johnny Cash, Tom Rush, Arlo Guthrie and Harry Chapin over the past hour as I scanned my book draft about being a father and a son. The strange brew, or stew, of the influences inspires me, or reminds me.
It reminds me; my sons remind me; the artists remind me; my frustrations remind me: Ignore Your Self at your own peril.
May I pour you a drink and we'll talk?
I shared stories with a group of people at a meeting today. The meeting was about work, and the stories about the boys, about lyrics and about parenting. Only then was I alive today.
Ignore Your Self at your own peril.
I've been listening to Johnny Cash, Tom Rush, Arlo Guthrie and Harry Chapin over the past hour as I scanned my book draft about being a father and a son. The strange brew, or stew, of the influences inspires me, or reminds me.
It reminds me; my sons remind me; the artists remind me; my frustrations remind me: Ignore Your Self at your own peril.
May I pour you a drink and we'll talk?
I shared stories with a group of people at a meeting today. The meeting was about work, and the stories about the boys, about lyrics and about parenting. Only then was I alive today.
Ignore Your Self at your own peril.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Where Has The Time Gone?
I've been able to spend a lot more time than usual with my youngest son and it has been awesome. Where has the time gone? I've also been fortunate to be quoted in Christian Science Monitor, Careerbuilder, Globe and Mail, Communications Briefings, Woman's World, Better Homes and Garden and more...on topics ranging from photography to fatherhood to management. It's been fun.
And, there have been the two new books. :-)
And, there have been the two new books. :-)
Saturday, April 12, 2008
I don't know what I'm taking pictures of...
...the high school student said as he walked out of the room on the way to take photographs as part of an exercise at the Visual Arts Scholastic Event (VASE). How good to hear that!
Too often we (all of us) walk in the world expecting to see what we expect, instead of admitting not knowing. The beauty is in the not knowing, in the constant attentiveness, in the curiosity, in the lack of pre-conceived ideas. Spontaneous seeing, hearing, feeling...sensing...is the key to many doors.
Too often we (all of us) walk in the world expecting to see what we expect, instead of admitting not knowing. The beauty is in the not knowing, in the constant attentiveness, in the curiosity, in the lack of pre-conceived ideas. Spontaneous seeing, hearing, feeling...sensing...is the key to many doors.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
First Amendment?
I just read a great article about the First Amendment's guarantees and how important they are in protecting, in the long run, the ability of individuals to think and feel. (http://www.wnd.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=59949) The verbiage intrigued me and took me back a few years.
When I separated from my wife and family, my small apartment had little in it, but it did have a mirror covering most of the wall in the tiny dining area. And on that mirror, I wrote with a dry erase marker: "Do not tell me what to say, think, feel or do." This mark of rebellion was my first step in reclaiming myself.
Now I look at the atrocities inflicted on the First Amendment by our PC government, the ACLU, and others, and realize that what the "powers that be" are doing actually constitutes emotional abuse at an individual citizen basis. And the results of abuse include symptoms such as surrender, lack of self worth, feelings of not deserving success, and powerlessness. In other words, the current political processes constitute an abuse on the psyches and spirits of Americans in a manner that results in a beaten down population that doesn't believe it can stand up for itself nor has the right to. The Founding Fathers would be mortified.
Stand tall. Write on your mirror, screen saver, and proclaim through your votes and political activities: "Don't tell me what to say, think, feel or do."
When I separated from my wife and family, my small apartment had little in it, but it did have a mirror covering most of the wall in the tiny dining area. And on that mirror, I wrote with a dry erase marker: "Do not tell me what to say, think, feel or do." This mark of rebellion was my first step in reclaiming myself.
Now I look at the atrocities inflicted on the First Amendment by our PC government, the ACLU, and others, and realize that what the "powers that be" are doing actually constitutes emotional abuse at an individual citizen basis. And the results of abuse include symptoms such as surrender, lack of self worth, feelings of not deserving success, and powerlessness. In other words, the current political processes constitute an abuse on the psyches and spirits of Americans in a manner that results in a beaten down population that doesn't believe it can stand up for itself nor has the right to. The Founding Fathers would be mortified.
Stand tall. Write on your mirror, screen saver, and proclaim through your votes and political activities: "Don't tell me what to say, think, feel or do."
Monday, January 7, 2008
The Journey continues
It was shocking to see that my last posting here was in September. How time flies when on unmapped journeys.
This past Thursday provided a startling juncture that will guide or illuminate my path for years to come. In Quest, a men's church group class, the instructor stated that of the many hurts to be healed in our lives, the greatest is our disconnection from God. He went on to explain how we are born disassociated from God and that our life's journey exists to allow us to return to Him (reminded me of the Catholic version of Original Sin). More news: scriptures reveal time and again how our best intentions to do right are mitigated by our hearts' predisposition to evil; we have the potential for good and evil, and we are born in a trajectory away from heaven, not to it; and, a lot of our current social dilemmas are based on our sense of self-importance. The latter was revealed by statistics that show that about 20% of men and women felt they were important and offered something special to the world in the 1940s and now that number hovers close to 70%. In our world of no losers in school, points for trying, and feel good churches, we have created a society that has lost its respect for others' value, integrity, respect and importance because, after all, "I am important."
There were more lessons, too many to address here. But the foundation of the instructor's teaching was profound, but not new. The stories of hubris in ancient times appeared even more relevant after the Thursday morning class. Blessed are the humble...wherever you are.
This past Thursday provided a startling juncture that will guide or illuminate my path for years to come. In Quest, a men's church group class, the instructor stated that of the many hurts to be healed in our lives, the greatest is our disconnection from God. He went on to explain how we are born disassociated from God and that our life's journey exists to allow us to return to Him (reminded me of the Catholic version of Original Sin). More news: scriptures reveal time and again how our best intentions to do right are mitigated by our hearts' predisposition to evil; we have the potential for good and evil, and we are born in a trajectory away from heaven, not to it; and, a lot of our current social dilemmas are based on our sense of self-importance. The latter was revealed by statistics that show that about 20% of men and women felt they were important and offered something special to the world in the 1940s and now that number hovers close to 70%. In our world of no losers in school, points for trying, and feel good churches, we have created a society that has lost its respect for others' value, integrity, respect and importance because, after all, "I am important."
There were more lessons, too many to address here. But the foundation of the instructor's teaching was profound, but not new. The stories of hubris in ancient times appeared even more relevant after the Thursday morning class. Blessed are the humble...wherever you are.
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