Back in the day, I used to frequent some social media sites. For the most part, I viewed it as an avenue to coach up student athletes away from the field. As life evolved, that went away, and business centered sites became prevalent as a way to communicate ideas. That has since been hibernated.
This platform has been pretty much a constant in my life and will remain so far as I know. Emails are “ok” for work, but nothing will ever beat a voice on the phone or a face to face somewhere, some time with some body. I think that is what appeals to me about being here, with you all now, on line.
We seem to be together.
I can sit in the kitchen, wearing shorts and a warm beanie, look out the window and watch Chris and Rich hop around the yard hunting for scraps, chat about the daily prompt or whatever else works its way into my bald noggin. As close as I am likely to get to having a sit down with each of you. You would prolly want to bring your own coffee. Mine isn’t to die for, but to die because of.
Letters remain the best way to connect. Nothing will ever beat a hand written note to another. They aren’t tucked away in some e-file, folder or drive. They get opened, read, and tucked away in a drawer that is entered and exited every day. There is great joy to be found in sharing yourself with others in that fashion. A part of you is left in the ink on that page, in that envelope.
Since I became acquainted with expressing myself here, it seems to be the closest thing I found to pen and paper. Not ever a replacement. But a genuine source of warmth and connection. Hopefully for the reader. Definitely for this writer. Despite the miles and time zones, one thing is for sure.
Longevity ebbs and flows in my family. I remember my grandpa driving at 97, before he thought Uber was a better mode of transport. Well, maybe not Uber, but “Uncle”. Then there is my younger brother that just passed two years ago.
So it is what it is.
As far as I am concerned, for the purposes of today’s assignment, it comes down to being fully intentional about making the most of what you have been gifted.
Experience tells me that allocating the precious resources granted for this moment towards resentment, regret and retribution of the past is not what it is cracked up to be. Then, if you embark in advance of the here and now predicated on the approach of, “…that didn’t work, so I will cut this corner and use that short cut this time sround”, you pretty much added to an already sorrowful past.
The past is what it was. The future is what it may be. The present is just that, a present like Mr. Keane said a few days ago. That being said, I have no clue as to what living a long life is to me. If I can make the most out of every hour of every day going forward, then that will elongate my stay here.
When it comes time to give my notice, my only desire is that I can rest in peace knowing I gave it my everything. We are all gifted this position here on earth. Toiling in the dirt and debris of the past or buzzing about in the ether of the future would make me a worm or a fly. Nothing against them, but I like to think my focus needs to be on living life, not looking for feces.
So perhaps my longevity ends up somewhere between my grandpa and my brother. So be it.
To be honest, when I read this, I see it as “Daily Play Prompt”. Blessed to have come across it. Rather, happy that I tried it and found joy in doing so. Now I look forward to finding out what it will be the next day.
I am not much of a TV guy, other than some football games, old movies, cartoons and Stooges. Commercials are largely annoying for the most part, focused on the drug of the month, Bank cards and the like. But Matthew and Woody crack me up.
And I know this will come as a complete shock, but I happen to identify with the parental antics being therapeutically addressed by Dr. Rick. Not calling out the customer’s name, turning a photo op into 1 gig marathon, but some of the things people in the crowd at his seminar frown about.
Lawn care is not a hobby.
Breaking down cardboard boxes is not a thrill.
He did not mention sweeping the patio.
Nor did he specifically throw raking leaves and weeding into the mix
Maybe not play time per se. But sources of joy all the same. And all are an avenue of instant gratification. Where you engage in a short effort, work up a sweat, and produce palpable results within an hour or two. Having to push a mower for over an acre of grass is like a trip to PF. Talk about a core work out, rake the leaves in the fall and see how that feels the next day.
Play is what you make of it.
I love to listen to music, so being at a concert is play-time. But having a SoundTouch on the patio puts me in the front row. A vigorous walk around and through the neighborhood, saying “hi” to fellow walkers and kids on bikes or scooters is play. Once I get a bike, that will accompany walks as a form of play. and if my limbs loosen up some more, maybe I can even go back to flippin’ a tire across a field. Then I won’t be married to a gym for a workout.
When you come upon a renewable and revisable source of interest, that doesn’t just grow on you but grows you, I think that is what play-time is meant to be. A chance to engage several different aspects of your being into something that renews. Even work can be that, as long as you are able to find a joy similar to that pulling weeds.
So that being said, perhaps Dr. Rick should turn his attention to a wider audience. Like those that spend their life scrolling, playing video games, taking selfies and aiming for clicks. Mostly inside, alone even surrounded by friends. Maybe that is a market they have never even considered. Trying to get their attention would be about as successful as telling a parental client to stop shouting customer’s names off the cup in the local coffee shop.
“Family” is bandied about in various aspects and venues of life. It is especially conveyed as an corporate aspiration throughout the business world, as a way to promote community at schools of all levels and is especially prevalent in sports teams, just to name a few.
One thing I have noticed is that often times when the term is used, perhaps innocently and honestly at first glance, it seems that the key focal point of family is muddled. The table – that one common place you are called around to gather, collaborate, bond and love – can take on somewhat of a preset configuration. Maybe initially born of shape, but moreso how it tends to become organized and prioritized.
Whether by happenstance or design, it seems to gravitate towards being large and rectangular. Yet regardless of the origin, the configuration provides the “correct” setting for those that deem themselves apart. Those most worthy may elect to reign at the head of the table. Then, others so inclined, may array themselves strategically around the head, as second, third, fourth and so in, “in command”, honor, prestige or standing.
Things can get away from you if you lose sight of the true goal, becoming more an organizational, ruling setting than family in my estimation.
Throughout my time in football, I have noticed that the team huddle can too somehow begin to take on that shape, with certain players assuming a spot at the head – through their chosen thoughts, words and deeds. If not careful and grounded in the truth of the moment, ego and class become weapons to run roughshod over others. This creates separation not unity. And when those elders team up on the bully pulpit, others in that much larger family begin to shrink, retreat and hide away. What is meant to be an all inclusive, tightly woven circle morphs into some other obtuse geometry of disarray.
Not the way to be family.
With a truly familial mindset, shape neither creates nor reinforces misplaced values. What matters most is why you are being called, how it can become a lasting, loving and positive impact on all those gathered around it and what you can ultimately do and become to honor that family.
Perhaps it is a large rectangle because it merely fits the space available and the numbers enjoined. The huddle it meant to retain a shape conducive to shoulder to shoulder, arms entwined and eyes locked in common bond and purpose. Come to the think of it, despite it being a large “U”, the triclinium overcame its own challenges of shape and guest to bring together and create the most compelling family of all time.
You can choose to be defined by the shape of the space.
“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised.
But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.” ― C.S. Lewis,
I think for the most part He might be past the ‘getting the drains right and stopping the leaks’ phase of the renovation.
But then again, maybe not.
I get the impression that He is not going to be satisfied with only one new wing. And an extra floor. There is still an abundance of work that is going on inside of me.
To be honest, I am not always able to appreciate why certain things have had to happen, are still happening and have yet to happen. But as time passes, I am letting go. Learning to trust. Accepting that it is all part of His plan for me. And embracing an attitude of gratitude.
Perhaps some of you are where I am these days.
Being rebuilt too. Feeling that same kind of remodeling sensation.
Developing an awareness of an intentional, internal renovation.
For certain, this is an ongoing process that can leave clutter. Scatter your focus. Misplace some of your trusted tools and talents. And unsettle your demeanor.
For the most part, I am “ok” with all of this.
Not “ok” like, “whatever”. Far from that.
But “ok” as in I am getting used to it. Still. Learning more than I ever imagined. Growing into this relationship. Beginning to get a glimmer of what I might look like once this phase of the project is completed. And wondering who I will become once He finishes.
But I do have to confess.
From time to time, and more often than I care to admit, this renovation process totally stresses me out.
It starts out as a simmering anxiety. Soon, I feel the fear begin to well up inside. And then, for no apparent reason, it just spews out in all directions. As hurt. A bruised ego. Selfish pride. Diminished self.
Anger.
Sometimes the venting is directed at all the innocents around me. Other times, unmercifully towards myself in destructive thoughts, words and deeds.
And, finally, I train my aim on Him.
But as anyone should do when they have a disagreement with their best friend, I speak my piece.
Not just when I hit my knees.
But to or from work. Cutting the grass. Watching the sun come up. Or during a walk. Places and times where it can be just He and I.
Before I even get there, he already sees the simmering anxiety. Senses my fears. And weathers the anger. Taking the worst I can offer. No matter what.
He listens.
Helps.
And always comes back for more.
Little by little, with great effort, patience and faith, I am trying my best to get past the self-generated drama and self-aggrandizing behaviors that I allow to become a part of this venture.
And foist upon others.
While those around me may beg to differ,I never think I have all of the answers.
But I do think I have earned some wisdom to share throughout His renovation process.
I better understand what He wants it all to look like.
And despite the mess, it absolutely feels like home to me.
So since He holds the permit, I will be content to let the master builder do His work.
Because after all, the body was meant to be a temple.
...my temporary assignment. 