Will Baby Turn Us Into Foodies Again or Will We Corrupt Her?

A delicious stir-fry with leftovers from making baby food:
sorghum, pork, peas, sweet potatoes and yellow squash,
cooked with butter and salt! Served with Greek yogurt mixed in (not shown).
(all organic, pasture-raised, yadda yadda)

It's been over two years since I gave up my 20-year, big-bag-a-day snack chip addiction. Things are holding pretty steady. I basically don't eat chips anymore (with a possible relapse I discuss below). I still crave them, though.

What has happened, unfortunately, is that the rest of my diet has gone to hell in a handbasket. Andrea, too. Ever since Lucy was born, we've really gone on a downhill binge. Maybe for me it's a way to replace one junk food addiction with another, or maybe it's just what's normal for under-slept, stressed-out new parents. We now regularly consume the following items that were rarities in the past:

• Fast food
• Frozen, microwaveable dinners
• Canned soups
• Cereal
• Desserts
• Candy
• Soda pop beverages

Despite my snack chip habit, I almost never ate the above items. Now they are mainstays. The carbs from chips may have been bad enough, but I almost never ate sugary foods. In the past I had one vice—a huge vice, but just one. I wondered whether I could still claim that overcoming this addiction is still a "win" given all of the other problems that have come in its wake.

I mentioned above a snack chip relapse. I had a run-in with a sleeve of Saltine crackers on a few occasions. It may not sound like a big deal, but I know where the line is, and it's fair to say that I probably broke my snack chip fast this way. I was eating them the way I used to eat chips. I wasn't just crumbing a few into soup, rather I was binge eating them late at night.

Given all my other dietary shortcomings, I have often wondered if keeping chips away was really much of an accomplishment in light of all the other pitfalls I have fallen into. What harm would it bring to re-introduce some chips, I wondered?  However, my brief experience with Saltines has reminded me why chips are in a category of their own. When I ate them, of course I enjoyed it. But I was surprised that I also felt disjointed. My rhythms were off. It took me to an old, familiar place where I no longer wanted to be. I didn't like my mood. I quickly realized this didn't feel good and stopped.

I have long postulated that addiction stands in the way of our real vocation, our love and our accomplishments. Even though I don't sense a direct connection, perhaps it is not a coincidence that some of the most noteworthy events of my life—marriage, parenthood and significant professional milestones (particularly around publishing)—all happened during the two years I was sans chips.

Who's the real foodie in the family?

The big challenge, of course, is that we can't keep up the charade forever with Lucy. She eats a pristine, almost 100% organic, nutrient-dense menu of foods. Meanwhile, mom and dad are plowing fast food on the way to the organic food store. Sooner or later, she'll either latch onto our habits or we'll latch onto hers. We've struggled with eating well, so we know what we're up against.

Being busy parents has pushed us to eat poorer than before, but Lucy has also been helping us eat better. It's been a mix.

In a previous post, I talk about making baby food. I tend to make it in stages. I'll cook up (usually by steaming) lots of fruits, veggies, meats and grains and store them in the fridge in glass containers.  On top of that, we keep lots of fresh, organic fruits on hand at all times as well as dried figs, prunes and apricots and frozen fruits of all kinds.  I'll blend up meals and freeze them within the next day or two after cooking. There is some nutrient loss in not freezing them immediately after steaming, but this is a consequence of being busy parents who only have so much time in a day. (Once food has been blended into a puree, however, it is immediately put in the freezer as those do not hold up well at all).  If Lucy doesn't like something, or if it has been sitting more than a couple days, I'll take her food and mix it into stir-frys, omelets and soups for the adults. We've had some wonderful meals that way (the picture at the top is an example).

Why You Will Marry the Right Person

I like this article:  Why You Will Marry the Wrong Person

It has some great lines, especially in describing how a partner will get us into those family-of-origin issues while many friendships will just skim over the deep stuff. I can see how the pessimism it describes can be freeing.

It's tough to admit, but in some way, shape or form, we all start off looking for a partner as an object to meet our needs--a puzzle piece that will "complete us," where everything just magically (and passively) falls into place. If a relationship doesn't work, the blame is on not having found the "right one."

Both men and women do it. Men want the 'princess in a tower' and women want the 'prince charming to rescue her.' The fairy tale may vary in some of the details, but the overall emotional structure is the same. He is treating her as an object, and she is doing the same to him. That's actually why they are a match, because they are both at the same stage of development.

There are definitely some growing pains when the fairy tale falls short and lived experience points to a different calling. The pessimism the article talks about seems to be the author's way of attempting to cope.

Where the article falls short is not seeing the karma in this. Partners will come into our lives to meet us exactly where our emotional work ends and our unfinished work begins. We actually are objects for each other's growth, but in a far different way than we thought as young romantics. Those old illusions have to shatter in order for the new growth to emerge out of those shattered expectations. Cynicism is only one of the first reactions in the aftermath of the fairy tale, but it does not have to be the last word. A renewed optimism emerges.

The "flaws", "rough edges" and tensions start looking like opportunities for growth--rather than signs of incompatibility or obstacles to be overpowered.

It's tough to watch young partners who are constantly bickering who don't yet realize the source of their bickering nor the fruitlessness of it. The relationship is urging them to grow but they are digging in their heels and refusing. They can go many, many rounds for many, many years. They won't win by winning the arguments in some simplistic sense, at least, not ultimately, not existentially. Their stalemate is actually quite a gift--it forces them to seek another, better way.

The relationship then takes on a new hue and becomes a deeper journey. I love the line in the above article that compatibility is an achievement, not a prerequisite. That goes against the massive tide of popular culture in America, where Hollywood aims and endings are mostly a voice for the fairy tale expectation. And fairy tales have their value and their place, but like Don Henley sings, we've been poisoned by these fairy tales.

I agree with the author overall, I just wouldn't call it pessimism. It's only pessimism if you are still grieving those fairy tale allusions. I think it's an exciting journey. 

I don't want to change you, I don't want to need you, and I certainly don't want to spend my time like some blacksmith hammering you into the perfect puzzle piece to fit all my rough edges. That wouldn't correspond to either my dignity or yours. An occasional truce may be in order to get through a rough patch, but not as a lifestyle. I'd rather just be with you, enjoy your smile, appreciate the differences and be companions for the journey.

Take it away, John Denver!

The Gymnasium as a Capitalist Conspiracy

I got my membership to a local gymnasium yesterday.

It’s time to work off some Christmas turkey (from 2 years ago) and get serious about my health.

I often think about my grandma’s comments about people who workout. For the life of her, she could not understand them. She would get so outraged when bikers and joggers would pass by in front of her house. She’d go out into the street to call them back in—if they have that much energy to waste, she would be glad to put them to work on the farm! There’s work to do! That made perfect sense to her.

I was afraid to tell her I bought a workout bench in high school with my money from mowing her lawn. She didn’t say much, but we knew she didn’t like it.

I have to admit, looking at the gymnasium through those eyes changes things a bit. There are roomfuls of people expending boundless energy . . . on absolutely nothing. They go round and round on their exercycles, sweat themselves silly, as if somehow those activities are even remotely interesting. Nowadays, of course, they plug you into various TV and radio channels to entertain you during your workout. Why can’t they at the very least route their energy into some sort of power generator for the building? I’m sure those cyclists can at least keep the lights on. Maybe that would even be a good incentive for them, too!

Sure, there are health and fitness goals! Many of us do not use our bodies in well-rounded enough ways in our days jobs and we have to fulfill that elsewhere. I get that. But it still baffles me when there are so many good things that need doing in this world—and then to walk into this gigantic room where people are exerting ridiculous amounts of effort just going around in circles like some hamsters in a cage, I have to scratch my head. You see powerful men, lifting thousands of pounds, and they are rendered totally ineffective in society because all this activity and strength is contained in this little gymnasium—it never gets out there where it can be a force for positive movement in our society. All they do is lift the weights . . . and then proceed to put them right back down where they found them.

I’m all for a little bit of sport and recreation, but most of the men in our society have been totally pacified and rendered useless by it.

Our arms are made for lifting. What about lifting babies in an orphanage, lifting food for the poor, or planting flowers to beautify our world? You can get a workout and do something with yourselves, too! I’m not trying to steer people into some sort of obsession with productivity, either. Society has gone through those phases and we have had to re-learn how to have fun. But where is the balance? Our bodies are part and parcel of our vocation in life. They are meant to be used on behalf of our life’s mission. What are we put on this world to do?

You may go to the gym and see family connections, friendships developing, and people focusing on health and well-being. I go and see various science fiction scenarios playing out, not to mention a whole host of political conspiracies: Keep them busy so they don’t get into the business of world affairs.

It is any accident that the gymnasium was a favorite place in Ancient Greece and Rome—our two favorite models of Imperial Overlords? Something to think about while I'm on the exercycle!

Now or Never

Even though I have been writing church music for the last several years, I have not shared much with my current choir. In the hustle and bustling of getting ready week after week and settling in as the director, it was the last thing on the agenda. Original songs would take several weeks of practice to work out the kinks. On some level, I wanted the choir and congregation to accept me in a more substantive way before pushing a lot of strange new music on them—I wanted them to buy into my vision and be willing to go for a ride with me.

I admit that part of the hesitation was my own inhibition about sharing this part of myself. All the other closet artists out there can no doubt relate.

However, we have sung at least 15 original Responsorial Psalms in the last year. At least a good 6-7 were mine. Most of them were originally composed by my cantor Mary. I enjoyed that as it took the spotlight off of me and gave me the chance to focus on the vocal arrangements and chord structures. She is nearly blind, so I have jurisdiction over everything written. That gives me an autonomy while still being a creative partner. She would sing a melody a cappella and the rest was up to me, with her feedback along the way. While it is appropriate to credit her as the songwriter on those, I definitely felt like a co-writer and could really stretch out creatively. It has been a great opportunity to practice arranging for voices, something I had not had a lot of experience with. Responsorial refrains are very short, which was a good opportunity to focus on the details and get them right.

Fast-forward to today.

Most Catholics are aware of what is happening in Advent, 2011: The implementation of the new translation of the English Mass, which includes changes to many of the sung parts.

The “Holy, Holy” is changing by the difference of a single phrase, but other pieces like the “Gloria” are radically different from the current translation. While it is possible to engineer existing music to fit the new words, this is often a questionable exercise. Some pieces just do not work with the different words. Even the “Holy, Holy” has significant troubles. “Lord God of power and might” will be rendered as “Lord God of hosts.” The difference of 3 syllables in a short piece, not to mention ending with an abrupt physical sound like “hosts,” is enough to threaten the very existence of an existing musical setting. Many versions are not going to survive.

Songwriters are like architects. There is a mathematics to it. You want to be creative, but yet all the pieces have to fit into the context, too: Heating vents cannot be covered by rugs or couches. Plants need to have the right amount of light. A house should be an expression of an artist’s creativity, but it still has to accommodate all the practical demands of withstanding the elements and being a functional space.

Songwriting is the same. You have to put the pieces together in a way that meets practical and artistic demands. The left and right sides of the brain are not only both used but they must work together in concert. Every note and phrase must make sense locally and within the whole. The right words need to be accented. Not only does the physical sound have an architecture, but there are the additional concerns regarding the appropriateness for liturgy and fitting with the available instruments, choir members and congregation. All that has to fit while still being an artistic expression.

All of this is to say: Do not be fooled at how “small” some of the changes are, because they will have a dramatic impact on the playability of these songs. This means that the next several months is now or never time. If the numerous Mass settings that I have composed are ever going to see the light of day, the time is now.

This gave me an incentive to pitch this music to the choir. They will sing whatever I ask, but it is important to me that they are with me in spirit. The choir is receptive to giving these compositions a chance. I want to be sensitive, as songwriters have a notorious reputation for holding their congregations hostage to being a dumping ground for their original music. The music has to resonate with the life of the congregation. But we must always remember that the Catholic faith has always inspired people to create art and music. Our faith would be dead if we did not make room for the different gifts people have to offer. I am a writer, and I need to tinker.

I have often had this vision that one day I would just open up my back catalogue of tunes and just start rolling them out as-is. What has happened is probably what is generally more likely: I pick a tune from the past I like, make a couple more to match, add a new piece and rearrange something else dramatically. There are factors which make some songs better options than others, and require still others to be adapted, such as the members of the choir and their respective ranges, the temperament and charism of the parish, and the singability and ease of learning of a piece. What we are rolling out is actually 2 older pieces and 3 brand spanking new ones. The creative process is always in the present tense.

I originally began writing a “Gloria” as I was recovering from cancer surgery back in 2005. Over the next few years I kept adding to it until the piece was complete. I recently added vocal harmonies that I am proud of. The other piece is a “Memorial Acclamation” from around the same time. I liked it so much I decided to use it to fashion a “Holy, Holy” and an “Amen,” since those pieces are a musical trinity. Mary added some significant advice, and we have worked out a finished set. They are simple, singable, and I overall feel good about them. I tried to work out a “Lamb of God,” but as I was tinkering on it one day, Erin started singing a completely new melody to the chord progression, and it turned out to be quite lovely. Her “Lamb of God” is the one we are going with.

Today we unveiled this set, with the exception of the “Gloria” which will still take a couple of weeks of practice. It is hard to debut original music. I always feel that it is never good enough, and I continually find places to make changes. I have come to a place where I do not need people to like it for my emotional well-being. Some will, some will not, and some just need more time and a good performance before they are convinced. But there is no question that this is me revealing myself, and it is so hard to face rejection on thooe terms. When people do reject it, or even reject the whole idea of me sharing my music at all, I know cognitively that they are usually doing it to mask their own insecurities or ignorance, but it still can hurt quite a bit. But I also have grown tremendously by taking the chance to share anyway.

I was happy with how it went today. The choir did a good job and did right by me. We will see how it goes as this music is sung over the next few weeks. A lot of people are just exceedingly happy that we are finally transitioning away from the Latin Mass parts (which we began in Lent). Right now, I am just happy to be sharing this music. I have been working on this music for many years. Aside from some very informal Masses at the Catholic Worker, this has not been played in a Church setting before, so this is a big step for me.

Going Native

I saw an IMAX movie once about the Lewis & Clark expedition. The film showed the daring travels of this small group of explorers over rivers, fields and mountains in all weather. It also showed in dramatic detail the lengths these people went to carry with them massive amounts of crates, boxes and all sorts of supplies. They took a small city with them. While they were exploring completely uncharted territory, they seemed to put an astonishing amount of energy inward on managing their stuff. I wonder how often they took the opportunity to just look around.

Every so often, the movie would pan out and show a couple of native Americans sitting on a hilltop observing all this commotion. They would sit in the shade, with perhaps a day's worth of food with them. They traveled light, and because of this, they could just experience the present moment a little bit better. They could no doubt get what they needed from the land around them rather than by lugging around tons of supplies.

The last several months has involved a lot of of moving. With the Catholic Worker dismantling and people coming and going, goods donated far and wide, many things put into storage, and me moving twice, it was a seemingly constant effort moving things around from one place to another. I have boxes of unsorted personal papers and memorabilia that I have trudged from placed to place. Much of it is just random papers that I may or may not want to keep, but I have not taken the time to sort through it all.

I have felt like I was on the Lewis & Clark expedition, with all my energy inward on my stuff and barely looking around, keeping anything and everything because "I might need it someday." It was an empty, unsatisfying experience.

I have boxes and boxes of keepsakes and mementos. Some have unfinished emotional business, in some I am hanging on to the memory of loved ones, some who have passed, and in others I have stuff I would like to keep for a rainy day--I may want to re-read those old letters or show them to my kids someday.

It has gotten to the point where hauling this stuff around is affecting the quality of life in the present tense. I have had to make decisions about where I live because of it. I can not count the times I have said I would have few regrets if an "accidental" fire took this burden off of me.

I have a box of old National Geographic maps from my grandpa. We used to look through those maps in wonderful detail together, pondering places and comparing facts and figures. These were his maps. I will probably not look at those maps again that way, if I look at them at all. Even though I have sacramentalized the box of maps itself, is it not more accurate to say that it was sharing those moments together that I treasure more than the objects themselves? The box of maps itself does not bring with it what made those moments special. Why keep them?

When looking at these boxes of stuff, the glaring metaphor of emotional baggage cannot possibly go unnoticed. The real danger here is that I could think that by keeping this box of maps, I could somehow keep my grandpa, too. However, if I did have my grandpa around, I would not stuff him into a closet or a storage shed, so why would I do the same with stuff that I am clinging to as a way of clinging to him?

Some archivist might come along with a quite lovely idea--I could make a collage of these maps and put it on the wall! That would honor the memory in the best possible way while still clearing out the unnecessary clutter. It is the memory, after all, that I want to preserve, and all I need is a trigger for that. I am not trying to totally discount the object itself, because there is something about the historical artifact itself that makes me feel like I can touch those moments of the past so directly, but maybe all I need to keep is a piece of it. However, when I consider the time/effort it would take to put something together like that, I just shove the box back into the closet and figure I will deal with it another day.

I could easily devote the next several months to managing my past. I could make collages of items. I could take photos. I could sort and label photos. I have an old 1980s computer with old files I would love to have, if I could ever take the time to set it up and relearn how to use the machine again. Let's not even talk about scrapbooking.

As any hoarder will tell you: I could lose 2/3 of this stuff and never miss it. Easy.

If it were just one box of maps, I could just keep them and bring them out now and then to remember. But it is not just one little box. It is old furniture. It is broken stuff. It is boxes and boxes of unsorted piles of clutter. Plane tickets, business cards, little notes, cards and envelopes--envelopes, for crying out loud! The real downside is that keeping anything for several years turns it into an artifact. It could be a 20 year old page of ads from the newspaper, but by golly it is 20 years old and now it is precious!

This stuff legitimately does bring back memories. However, it is not like I kick back on a Saturday evening, put a pot of tea on the stove, light the fireplace and bring out one of these boxes to savor old times. No, the only time I interact with this stuff at all is when I am moving. And moving, admittedly, can either be the best or worst of times to wrap up loose ends. I often throw stuff out, but just as often I am to busy and end up just transferring it from one location to another, unchanged.

Lately, I have barely had the time or energy to do all this moving, and when I realize I am just shuffling junk from one place to another, I have finally been "moved" enough to say: Enough is enough. It is time to purge.

I had a great time driving around Columbus recently, dropping off items at various thrift stores, churches and outreach organizations. It felt so much better doing this than the drudgery of hauling boxes from one storage environment to another. The Catholic Worker movement has a history of living in the present. There is a tendency not to hold onto excess items or even money. They take what they need and give out the rest, in full faith that when they are in need later, what goes around will come back around. It was great that so many people donated to the Catholic Worker, but it is hard to justify keeping all those donations in a storage shed when they could be put to good use outside. We only stored it because it was possible we would be up and running again in a short while. When that did not happen, it became time to liquidate. So I have been liquidating both my personal stuff and the Catholic Worker belongings, too.

For so many years, I kept this stuff because it felt like a piece of me. How could I get rid of something that was a part of me? The ironic thing is that the more I have given away recently, the more I have felt like myself. That baggage was keeping me trapped in a bygone moment and preventing me from fully living into the present moment. Even when it was just sitting in a closet somewhere, its presence still weighed me down on some level of my being. I am lighter and more me than before.

I would like to think I gave away half my possessions over the past few weeks. That is an overstatement, but perhaps the good news is that it felt like half. I delivered many truckloads to Goodwill and divided appliances, furniture and other items to various people and organizations. I took many trips to the recycling bin.

The greatest horror in this is that it is darn near impossible to find a good home for used books. I have a wonderful collection of classics, spiritual works, just all sorts of great stuff. The used books stores have enough of what I have, and often they will shred the rest if they take it at all. It is certainly a sign of the decline of civilization that no one wants good used books, even when given for free. St. Stephen's Episcopal Church right in the OSU campus area operates a used book store, and they donate the proceeds to NSI, an agency that runs a free food pantry and other services for the poor. They took a lot of my stuff, and I was glad to leave it there.

It is time to go native. It is time to travel light and spend time in the present moment. It is interesting that "going native" has connotations of nakedness. It is about being more exposed, perhaps more vulnerable but also perhaps more flexible, which is a form of strength.

As for the box of maps, I think this is actually my own collection and not my grandpa's after all! So much for memory!

Putting it all Together

If you haven't caught on by now, I like to approach problems in a strategic way. I focus on the overall systems and structures that affect our lives. Some people approach problems tactically; I'd opt for the bird's eye perspective. Many times a decision that seems very noble based on local issues may not be so wise when you take a step back and look at it from a strategic vantage point.

For example, I used to have all sorts of coping strategies to help myself write college papers at night. I took breaks, tried to give myself little rewards, limited social time and did all the things people recommend to do when you are struck. I hated all those ideas and they rarely worked, but they were the wisest things to do given the circumstances. But that's just it: Your ears should perk up at the word "given." Always check your givens and assumptions.

It turns out that the even wiser thing to do was to change the circumstances. Once I realized that I write better in the mornings without a belly full of carbohydrates then suddenly I didn't need those coping strategies anymore. All those little tricks to coax myself would at best help me gain inches (when they worked at all), while changing my overall work schedule helped me gain miles without much friction.

The previous four posts have revolved around goal-setting. I often focus on artistic goals, but these same themes apply to any goal, whether it is for fitness, personal growth or any professional aspiration. Try those ideas on and see if they fit! Each post addresses the topic of goal-setting with an eye for the larger framework that we operate in:

1. Time of Day and the Creative Process. Know yourself. Know your peaks and troughs. Maybe you write better at certain times of the day or seasons of the year. You might be a people-person at night or need a long hibernation in the winter. Build your schedule around that.

2. Artistic Formation through the Public Forum. Have a public outlet for your goal. Get feedback from the larger community. The presentation of art is as big of a task as the creation itself and that takes time to unfold. Get started! Even if your goals are not artistic, having that give-and-take with the wider community makes a huge difference.

3. Goals: How to Achieve Them. Think of any other environmental factors that support you. Don't make a spectacle of your personal self-discipline, but rather find the easiest environment to work in. The task itself is where the difficulty should lie. Don't burn yourself out just getting yourself to the drawing board.

4. Follow-Through. Have concrete goals, performances or other calendar items to force you to finish your work and get 'r done! Deadlines are a blessing.

So, what is the point of this post in particular? It wouldn't make sense to write about strategic goal-setting without having a larger, encapsulating post that covers it all!

* * *

This is part 5/5 of the series "Strategic Goal Setting."

Follow-Through

I enjoy writing liturgical music. I often will wake up in the morning and work out a new tune. I have been doing this for years even though I didn't have a direct outlet for that music. I always figured I'd do something with it at some point in my life, but for the time being it was enough just to create it and save it to my computer.

I mention this only to say that thankfully I haven't had a shortage of motivation on this front for a while. Creative inspiration does have its ebbs and flows, but overall I haven't had a problem applying myself to the task, at least when it comes to the initial song creation (I have had a problem with follow-through and finishing pieces, though).

Still, my recent job has caused a spike in this creativity, even though I didn't think I needed it. In the last 6 months, I wrote at least 40 Responsorials Psalm settings and co-authored about a dozen more. I also put the foundations down for several stand-alone songs. On top of that, I have made a number of new arrangements--especially for guitar but also for piano and voice--of contemporary and traditional hymns.

The reasons for this spike are simple and obvious, when I think about it:

1. I have had a direct occasion to play them. Even though I love writing with no goal in mind, it is so much easier to write when there is a concrete, direct application. Very little of this material would have been created if I didn't have a job where I would directly use this material.

2. The job also helps with follow-through. The Psalms simply have to be ready by the appropriate Mass if they are going to be sung at all. I knew if a didn't get a particular Responsorial together it might have to wait as much as a couple years before it rotates back in the liturgical calendar (Responsorials can be done outside of their designated weeks, but we prefer to stick with the liturgical calendar at my church).

2. I have had a supportive team to work with. The choir has been great with editing out unnecessary fluff. I've also worked with a couple of cantors to co-author pieces. We just generally encourage each other. There have been a couple of weeks where left to my own motivation I wouldn't have done any original music, but the prodding of one of the cantors gave me the necessary push. I've often provided the same push for her, as well.

3. I started writing in 4-part harmony. Why? Because I have a choir that needs it, that's why! In the past, I'd usually sculpt a melody line then pepper in with flutes, clarinets, or whatever. Having a choir that will sing these pieces has forced me to write for the choir, and I had to develop those skills. For some tunes, I simply wouldn't have written a harmony if I couldn't think of one off-hand, but having a choir has forced me to do it even when it isn't easy. On a related note, I haven't written anything for the flute in a while, because we don't have a flautist.
In short, I did these things simply because they needed doing.

A couple of my friends have reported similar findings: They love to write prose and poetry, but after being involved in a local poetry group their creativity has positively spiked--and it didn't take a lot of painful self-discipline to apply themselves to the task. It was a fun environment that was conducive to their creativity.

There is nothing like a deadline to foster creativity. It also helps to be with others who are creative and doing the same things. Even though most artists market themselves as individuals, if you did research on them you would probably find that any artist out there who has had success in their field also has had a team of supportive people around them and an environment that brings out the best in them.

I could opt not do my original pieces at church. However, once that choice is made, there is a natural structure that helps keep me on task. There is a deadline and a certain level of complexity is requiest as there is need for parts for a choir and at least one accompanist. Yes, I need enough self-discipline to commit myself to the task. But once I have committed myself, there is a natural structure and demand for follow-through that keeps me moving along.

* * *

This is part 4/5 of the series "Strategic Goal Setting."

Goals: How to Acheive Them

Maybe it's that grid-iron football mentality that many of us were taught at a young age: If you have a problem, you just tuck your head down, double your efforts, and plow through it, inch-by-painstaking inch. Goals shouldn't be easy, after all. If they are easy, something's wrong. Yet, we all successfully do things all the time that are easy. We just don't pay as much attention to them, because, well, they're easy.

I know folks with all sorts of goals--fitness goals, professional goals, emotional health goals, artistic goals. I often hear the same things: I just gotta push myself harder, I just gotta make myself do it. And then when they inevitably fall off the wagon, therein starts the cycle of self-flagellation and mea culpas. Unless guilt and shame are your true goals, this method usually doesn't produce the desired results.

There's no question that self-discipline is a vital characteristic of anyone who achieves their goals. It's important to have an underlying current of self-discipline at all times, at least in the background somewhere. You need to kick it in when times are tough and to be able to muscle through a problem when all else fails. But that's exactly it: You need the "all else." If you continually find yourself going against the grain, maybe there is a way to change the grain.

Are there strategic decisions you can make with your life to put yourself in environments, cultures and conditions that are more favorable to your personal style and thus more conducive to your goals?

Goals are hard enough just by themselves. There is no sense reaping on yourself additional burdens (and the guilt that comes when you fail) by making such an issue of your own self-discipline. I think some folks need to prove something to themselves, perhaps they feel they need to earn something in order to have it. I also suspect that all this talk about self-discipline may just be another method of avoidance. In true tragic irony, focusing so much on the process may just be a distraction from the true goal.

It really doesn't matter if Mozart wrote his pieces effortlessly or in gruelling agony & ecstasy. The important thing is that they got written.

It's a good exercise in being human to acknowledge that we have limitations and weaknesses. That is actually a moment of true empowerment. I can say to myself, "I really want to work out every day, but I know there is no way in hell I'm going to muster up the self-discipline every single day to do it consistently." I know that about myself. I also know that I will work out in a different environment. I'm much more likely to work out if I join a gym, have workout buddies, or change other factors in my life that bring working out closer to the regular infrastructure of my day. I could also think beyond the gym, and realize that I will work harder every day in my backyard vegetable garden than I ever would in a gym. Knowing this I can make some changes to accommodate.

Admitting limitations can be a moment of depression, but it can also be a moment of opportunity. Once you identify a problem, you can more easily identify a solution.

My roommate and I walked every day when we lived for a semester in Spain. Walking was just about the only way to get anywhere. Due to cost, the bus was only for emergencies. We lived on the outskirts of town, so that meant there was at least a mile to and from class, to and from the internet cafes, to and from restaurants, clubs and shopping. We walked 2-5 miles every day. When we did break down to occasionally take the bus, we noticed we didn't feel as good that day. We walked and we loved it--rain, sleet, or shine. We loved it so much and enjoyed such tremendous health benefits for mind, body and spirit from doing it that we said we would continue walking even after we returned to America. Guess what? We probably walked once or twice then let it slide. No matter how good it felt, no matter how convinced we were of its importance, once it was so far removed from the daily routine it quickly fell away.

Walking was hard enough. We had blisters, blistery weather, and some late mornings trying to hoof it to class. But at least we weren't fighting ourselves. When left to my own devices, I can't tell you how much time I would spend trying to convince myself to take a day off, quit or rationalize my way in or out of any other excuse. Being in an environment where walking was essentially the only option took that whole debate right out of the equation. We could spend our energy working through whatever problems arose rather than wasting all that energy deciding whether to get on the horse at all.

Daily, rigorous self-discipline is not what it's cracked up to be. It is also important--and perhaps essential--and perhaps easier and smarter--to put yourself into an environment that is conducive to your goals. It doesn't necessarily get any easier at that point--but at least you can apply yourself to achieving the goal itself rather than spend all your energy just getting yourself to show up.

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This is part 3/5 of the series "Strategic Goal Setting."

Artistic Formation through the Public Forum

Beatitude Sunday is probably not the best day to play Prometheus. Unless you enjoy tragic irony, that is.

I have a lot of friends who are closet artists of all kinds. One major lesson I have taken from my 6 months as Music Director of a church is how crucial it is to just get out there and put your art in a public setting. This is true for any art form--music, prose writing, you name it.

It has taken the last 6 months--2 Masses each week, practices and a few Holy Days--before I've been able to more fully stretch out on the guitar. If you are counting, that's at least 50-60 live "performances" with at least as many practices either with the whole choir or individual cantors.

I could play all sorts of intricate songs at home, but put me in front of a crowd in a formal setting, expecting me to lead a full choir and congregation through my playing, and all sorts of problems arise: My fingers suddenly have all the flexibility and dexterity of telephone poles. For months, the only thing that has worked was chugging my way through simple chords. It was the only thing I could do that was strong enough and confident enough to actually lead in an adequate way. Folks asked for more intricate intros with the melody so they could follow the tune better, but it was all I could do.

It has only been in the last couple of weeks that I have been able to play more elaborate finger-picking songs at Mass. I've been having a blast coming up with my own arrangements of popular songs, and the congregation has responded to it. The big lesson was realizing how long it took to do something in public that I could have easily done at home.

There's nothing like a public showing of your art to point out where the gaps are. A little hesitation while playing at home may not be noticed until it throws off the entire song at Mass. You also need to be twice as good in private in order to play half as good in public, when you factor in nervousness, crowd distractions, and sound system issues that are all poised to throw you off when you least want it.

Part of the problem was just finding a comfort level with the microphone and sound system. Artists often forget how important it is to navigate the technical doo-dad's and gizmotrons that are part and parcel of their craft. It takes a while to find the right settings and to get comfortable with placement of the mic so that it rings out the way it should. Even purists who abhor electronic amplification still have to adjust to each room they are in and factor in how the temperature, humidity and crowd size can impact the resonation of sound. These lessons are just as important as learning the notes on the page.

The public presentation of art is also crucial for garnering critical feedback. Many original ideas that work well in the privacy of your own living room just can't hold water in public. Some just need slight--but essential--tweaking. In Catholic liturgical music, I would argue that it should be darn near mandatory that all pieces are done at Mass before any attempt is made to seek publishing. Each piece needs to be sung and played and sung back to you by a congregation. They need to be part of the life of the Church, and the people need to be on board.

In addition, a choir needs to give feedback to chop an inflated song down to its essential core. While my choir is experienced enough and technically sophisticated enough to sing just about anything, it is often good when they struggle or wrinkle their noses at a new piece. If a piece can only be done well by the most avant garde ensemble, then it just might be missing something important, especially since I'd rather craft tunes you can whistle while you wash dishes. The public forum can be frustrating, and you have to know when to push for something new and stick to your guns and when to let the masses who are often resistant to new things push back. A lot of "cute" ideas aren't really that cute. A solid church choir won't let you get away with much, and your art will usually be the better for it.

You can put something together that you think has all the t's crossed and the i's dotted, but then an editor takes a look and brings it back to you smothered in red pen. That is not a moment to be discouraged, as the editing process is an essential part of the craft. It is not something that only "bad pieces" go through, every piece should be edited by people far a wide--for technical issues or to discuss the vision. Any good artist has a team of such people--whether formally assembled or otherwise--that serves this role. You should expect that a significant portion of what you create will not leave the cutting room floor (and you can always keep that stuff in the back of your mind to use again later).

Since my guitar playing has been going well lately, perhaps I tried to over-reach this Sunday and make a bit of a show of myself: I originally planned to do the opening song on banjo, the offertory in an open turning, the Psalm and Alleluia on piano and the rest on a second guitar in standard tuning. The problem was that the choir just struggled. No matter how prepared I thought I was, they just couldn't get into the pieces, and I'm still not sure why. I shelved the banjo to try to help, as I was a little awkward with it, but Saturday was still disappointing. We did close out Sunday singing strong, but my lesson had been learned by that point.

I will also admit something unfortunate: I only picked the song for Offertory because I was super-excited about an arrangement I came up with. I borrowed Erin's guitar and had a blast working on it in an open tuning. The problem was that the song had no bearing on this Mass at all. We were talking about the beatitudes, and this was a song about the centrality of the Crucifixion to our faith. As a good theology student, I can build a systematic case as to how and why those two themes are related. "Blessed are the meek" is, after all, not that far removed from the paschal sacrifice--the less becomes more and the sacrifice becomes a gain. Still, I didn't feel comfortable with it and my motives were not theological. Normally, I go to great lengths to pick music that is liturgically appropriate, but this time I let that slide a bit.

I keep getting reminded that slow-and-steady is what will win this race. Yes, it is good to stretch out and reach for more, but I reached too far and got burned this time. I also didn't reach with my feet on the ground, and that is probably the most significant issue. I picked at least one song for the wrong reasons, and probably had my focus off center on some other pieces. As a result, I'm not surprised that it just didn't work. I had too much of my focus on my own playing without giving enough thought to connecting to people through the music.

Seek the Lord all you humble of heart. As this passage from today's readings suggests, being meek doesn't mean we are passive or inactive. We need to seek the Lord, but through humility. We need to seek goodness and seek artistic fulfilment. You see, Prometheus wasn't wrong for reaching for more--he was wrong because of his motives for reaching.

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This is part 2/5 of the series "Strategic Goal Setting."

Time of Day and the Creative Process

I've always been an out-of-the-closet night owl, and I have worn that badge with pride. You can imagine that I was shocked and amazed to discover that I'm far more creative and write better in the first few hours after waking up. I was actually in denial about this for a while, because I didn’t even want to think of myself as a morning person!

I had an epiphany when I realized there was a huge time-of-day component to writing, for me. The best times are somewhere after coffee and before breakfast. I naturally sit down to start blogging or work on a song. As soon as I eat a big meal, blood goes to the belly and it’s all over.

Being a procrastinator means that I rarely wrote in the mornings during college. Each day, I took advantage of every distraction until I found myself staring at the computer screen at midnight, attempting to squeeze out a gold nugget or two. I now realize I was always writing during times that were less-than-ideal at best, and absolutely contrary to my body's rhythms at worst (with procrastinitis on top of that)! I was often working against my own grain. Looking back, I remember there were a few times when I wrote pages almost effortlessly in the AM that would have taken true grit later in the day, but I didn't fully appreciate why until much later.

There is a hierarchy to creativity for me, I’ve noticed. The deepest levels of creativity are best accessed in the morning—putting something on a blank piece of paper. It doesn’t matter if it’s writing music or songs. The rest of the day is certainly not extraneous, though, as other forms of creativity take center stage. Editing is perfectly appropriate for later in the day and so is what I call "secondary writing"--tying up loose ends, closing out scratchy paragraphs and adding essential dimension and color.

I actually do much better with music performance and improvisation in the afternoons. For example, I play guitar at Mass much better Saturdays at 4:30 PM than Sundays at 10 AM. I can crank out a better guitar solo later in the day. That could possibly be because my body has had time to loosen up during the day, too. However, any public presentation is better for me later in the day. I'm more jovial and creative in conversations as the day progresses, too. I become more of an extrovert as the day goes on. I'm much more present to people.

I finally had writing papers down to a science when working toward my Masters degree. Even on days when I was running behind and had to make every hour count, I would still subdivide my work in the following way to maximize my output and still work within my body's parameters:

First 3 hours of the day (or as long as the juices keep flowing): Writing!--Especially anything from scratch.

Next: Editing, joining disparate sections, rounding out pieces.

Afternoons: Reading, note-taking and research. Note: Taking notes provides the occasion for any later-in-the-day creativity to come out, as those notes often become the building blocks for later sections in a paper. Summarizing another author's ideas is a good writing exercise for this time of day.

Burning the midnight oil: If I need to stay up late, the best tasks are the most technical--adding citations, sculpting a bibliography, tinkering with layout & graphics.

After midnight? I used to have breakthrough moments sometime around 3-5 AM. I don't do this to myself anymore, partly because it's not kind, and partly because my body simply cannot hang in there long enough for this to happen anymore even if I wanted it to.

By adhering to the above schedule, I make use of my body's peak times. I also spread out the different types of work throughout the day. In a pinch, I can be productive nearly all day, because I don't over-tax any one area of the brain.

You can always go against your grain and attempt to force yourself to operate contrary to your body's natural rhythms. What I have found is that by doing that I would often just end up staring blankly at the screen for several hours, attempting to gather momentum via endless rounds of the latest time-waster games (that meant Minesweeper or Tetris in college; today that means Farmville). These days, if I have time to spare, I don't even try to write if my body won't cooperate. That time is best spent sleeping with the goal of hitting it early in the AM.

Keep in mind that the way I subdivide the day is relative to the individual: "Morning" is the time after waking up, it has nothing to do with the clock. My natural morning is around 10 AM, when I don't have commitments that force me out bed earlier.

Knowing this brings to mind a somewhat sobering fact: I can't do all things at all times. I have limitations. But this also means I have important information to make decisions about my day. I've been endlessly frustrated when working 9-5, knowing I am squandering my best creative hours doing something else. Even when immersed in the world world, I'd often find myself scratching down notes for a blog post or paper in my head, because it was simply in me to do during that time of day. Lately, I've been blessed to have a work schedule that is more conducive to my creative ebbs and flows. If my goal is to write, I have to find a way to orient my lifestyle around that, not give my writing the leftover scraps of weekends or occasional days off.

There are other factors that affect my creativity. Eating a protein-based meal helps significantly, while carbs make me feel more scatter-brained. I also have come to respect and know that creativity often comes in spurts, so when it's there I need to give it free voice and not just assume it will be there at a later time when I want it to be there. This is especially true when conducting research--if a particular passage sparks an idea, I need to write about it right at that moment and not assume I will be able to find that passage later, re-read it and have the same spark to comment on it.

Do you have a natural cycle for creativity like this?

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This is part 1/5 of the series "Strategic Goal Setting."

Debut

My Sunday debut as Music Director started this way:

A near-complete disaster on the opening hymn!

Seriously, I flubbed my way through the piece missing every other chord, then after two agonizing verses I just stopped, hoping we could just end there. I wasn't even sure I was at the end of a verse or somewhere in between.. The priest led everyone for an accapella verse. Then another . . . Then another! Later, I learned everyone was good natured and laughed through it, but at the time I was too embarrassed to look up.

The rest of the Mass went well, with no major mistakes, just some timing errors and a few better-disguised mistakes. I really had a strong urge to run screaming out the side door at various points. I was hoping that I'd build confidence this weekend and put the stage fright behind me. That may take a little longer.

Looking on the bright side, I suppose this was a true confidence builder as holding myself together and recovering from such a dismal start is an important, if not essential, skill as a performer. All those hours and hours practicing these past weeks helped push me over the hump.

I played for the Saturday Mass yesterday and everything went quite well. Today was merely the first time playing for the much larger congregation with the full choir.

This is a wonderful parish and folks are truly laid-back and accepting. I really don't want to make my own performance such a focus, but when one is nervous it is hard to avoid that. I look forward to times when we can work together to lead the congregation is prayer, celebration and deeper spiritual reflection through music.

Stage Fright

My gig as Music Director at a local church is underway!

I really have to thank the previous music director for being more-than-generous during this transition. I have been profoundly nervous and scrambling to hone up on my all-too-rusty piano skills. I sat in on guitar last week, and this week I was the sole accompanist on the Responsorial and Alleluia on piano. She has continued to be involved as I slowly take on more of the responsibilities. Perhaps that sounds a little too much like hand holding, but like they say, some of us just take a little longer to mature. In 3 weeks, it won't matter how we get there, it will only matter if we get there.

This might all sound like baby steps, but to me they were huge. The music ensembles I've led have been almost exclusively for college audiences and/or small Masses among friends, so playing in an "official" church with like, ya know, grown-ups and everything, is a big step! I’m no perfectionist, just trying to avoid the major train wrecks.

I lent out my mandolin more than a year ago to Barry, and he returned it last night. I brought it out on a couple of old timey tunes today—"Abide With Me" and "Come, We That Love The Lord." More than a few people have remarked that I sound hesitant, so that’s it, next week it’s on full bore.

What an emotional roller coaster. I sat at the piano moments before the Responsorial so nervous I was practically having an out of body experience. Afterwards, you couldn’t drag me off that piano with a cane. It is such an amazing transformation to go from wanting to shut down and hold back to then do a 180 degree flip and now find myself seeking out opportunities to share more and more and more. The good thing about being nervous is that it reminds me how essential it is to practice and focus. I can never forget that, even if/when it gets more comfortable.

Milestone

Truth be told, I have an extensive collection of original music compositions. The creative floodgates opened about 10 years ago, and I've been writing consistently--with occasional breaks--since then. In recent years, the focus of those compositions has been liturgical settings, particularly for Catholic Masses.

I have also shared virtually nothing with no one.

Sure, there have been a few times when I have gathered a few friends to share a few tunes or hand out some kind of demo, but those have been awkward affairs and few and far between.

What makes it so hard to share? Firstoff, I'm not that great of a singer. Sometimes, I can't carry a tune in a bucket. Add to that limited instrumental skills which bring me to churn out inspired but thoroughly rough and mistake-ridden recordings using some technological dinosaur, like a 4-track tape recorder. I always intend to record those again and get them right . . . someday.

Of late, I've been composing madly using computer notation software. I refuse to use the train wreck known as Finale. It can do anything--as long as you bend to its terms. I much prefer the simple and wonderfully intuitive (and cheap) Noteworthy Composer. It can function as a scratch pad that doesn't interfere with the flow of creative sap. In Finale, by the time I fight with the program and figure out how to use it, the inspiration is gone.

The tentative plan has always been to transcribe my creations to Finale when they are ready for sophisticated playback features or better printouts, but that is an unspeakable drudgery and as a result, it just doesn't get done. Sequencers are another option that I just haven't gotten around to, either.

The downside is that my creations come off in cheesy MIDI computer sounds. To me, I hear a symphony. But to you, it is like serving steak on a garbage can lid, to quote The Cosby Show. Those plinky-plunky sounds are supposed to be a string ensemble with wind accompanyment!

Or you can say those are just excuses to cover the fact that I'm horribly afraid of rejection.

Fast forward to last week. Our Catholic Worker community celebrated a Catholic Mass in our very own chapel. This was the first time we have done so since moving to this location a year and a half ago. The last thing I wanted was play the music for this, as there were lots of other tasks to be done, including preparing for an event right afterwards that we were hosting. Besides, my musician skills have been terribly rusty lately. Other musicians were contacted--again, and then again--all to no avail. By default, I ended up as the primary musician.

This was a weekday Mass and as such, it is not like there were music settings popping out of the woodwork and easily found. I didn't exactly look for them, either, though. I just started tinkering with the readings and before I knew it I had set the Responsorial Psalm to music. Then the wonderful reading from Isaiah 49:1-6 provided a bounty of inspiration. This was the Feast of the Birth of St. John the Baptist, so we had accidentally--or providentially--picked a holiday on the Roman calendar (click link for readings).

I dashed off a jumpy tune that we used for the entrance and closing, with verses taken from all of the readings for the day. I have to admit it is one of my favorite pieces, very simple but with coherent and snappy verses and refrain. Erin helped a lot with the cadence of the verses.

Why stop there?

I tapped into my experience playing music for Mass, and I tried to do what I could to prepare the congregation for the music. Having well-rehearsed singers and a congregation with printed music in front of them makes a big difference when teaching new music. It helps to know how much time people need to learn music, especially singers and people like me with limited skills. All those years in Mass ensembles paid off as I finally got it right, and we weren't scrambling at the last minute to pull it together or flubbing our way through it hoping not to screw up.

I used the melody of the entrance song as the Alleluia. I went back into my files and pulled out the first Holy, Holy I had written. It seemed like a good choice--simple, easy to learn, easy to play and not too avant garde. Most of all, it was do-able and teach-able on short notice. Erin suggested I take the Holy, Holy and set the Agnes Dei to the same tune--it worked quite well and came together effortlessly. We played a popular song for communion, but the others were mine.

I intentionally didn't share with anyone (aside from Erin) that this was my music. I like to hear the genuine reactions of people and not add any unnecessary focus or pressure in the wrong place. We were there to pray and celebrate the Eucharist, after all. She did announce after Mass that these were my compositions, and I did appreciate that.

There is nothing quite like hearing a congregation of people singing your own songs back at you and finding in those songs an appropriate vehicle for celebration and prayer. It was great hearing the singers join in on the refrain of the entrance and closing song with tambourine and maracas, and then with an a capella closing.

As a Catholic liturgical composer, there is something unfinished about a song that is never used in worship. The use of that material, and the response of the people to it, is an essential part of the music. Most publishers don't even want to see submissions of music that has not been tried out in worship already--like somehow it only exists in head-space until then. The validation of the people (for lack of a better word) is an important component for liturgical music in the Catholic tradition. Aside from a couple ditties I used in prayer services several months ago, I've never shared my music in a group setting like this before. I have to admit that hearing people singing those songs back at me seemed to affirm them or complete them in a way that I can't quite describe, as if they put the final brush strokes on a painting, or at least weather-sealed it. Having been sung at Mass, perhaps they are now joined to that "unending hymn of praise" that goes way back in time, all around the world and hopefully will go far into the future. That is humbling, and quite frankly a little scary!

What breaks my heart the most is that music publishing houses have not been accepting new submissions for Mass settings for quite some time. They are all awaiting the final revised English translation of the Mass to come from Rome. I have taken a look at some of the preliminary versions, and at first glance some of my songs simply won't survive the transition. However, I have tried not to dwell on this. With every tragedy there is an opportunity. When the revised words come out, it may create a window for new music. Some of my songs may be adapted quite well--or even better--with the new translation. I'll reserve judgment until then.

It also means that if I want to play these songs at Mass as is, I better get on it. Like Paul Simon reminds, there's not much worse than "writing songs that voices never share," as we bow to the false God of silence--that false God of insecurity, fear, and self-doubt, that false God that says we have nothing worth sharing, as if silence were a better sound that what comes out of our hearts and souls. I'm willing to dare disturb the sounds of silence. Come sing with me!

The Freedom of Jail

There's a line in a Civil Rights protest song that goes:

"I ain't scared of your jail, cause I want my freedom."

I heard it on the Pete Seeger album, We Shall Overcome: The Complete Carnegie Hall Concert. Great album, by the way.

It is such a simple line that maybe the deeper meaning can be lost if one doesn't pay attention. Isn't it counter-intuitive to want freedom so bad that you risk jail? Isn't jail, like, all about losing your freedom?

It gives insight to the spiritual depth of the Civil Rights movement. Life can be a ledger sheet--you weigh the pro's and con's and try to come up with the best possible solution considering all variables. You live with what you can and try to eek out for yourself the best possible circumstance given all variables.

Then others end up in some place that doesn't make sense to that account sheet. Folks love life so much they are willing to risk losing it. Folks want freedom so bad they are willing to lose it. Folks want the hungry fed so much they are willing to go on a fast.

If you try to hold that up against some standard of measured productivity objectives, it isn't going to be deemed sensible. Yet, the greatest saints and leaders for social change did these very insensible things.

Christianity often comes up with theologies that are all screwed up and they miss the point. There have been strains of Christianity over the centuries that have deplored the goodness of creation, imagining that the human body or sexuality were a bad thing. Others have wanted to follow Christ's passion and death so much that they were not just willing but actually eager to die. But true martyrs die because they love life, not because they are in a hurry to lose it. Some people misinterpret the suffering that many Christians have historically gone through--martyrdom, or the fasting and deprivation that many monastic communities have supported--to be a sign of hating this life or hating the human body or creation.

Martyrdom is the opposite of suicide. A suicidal person thinks they have nothing left to lose. A martyr probably feels that he has everything to lose and everything to gain. As G. K. Chesterton pointed out, Christianity has a bad history when it comes to a lack of compassion on people who commit suicide--yet it loves martyrs. While there should be compassion to suicidal people, particularly now the more we understand about mental illness, Chesterton is at least able to understand why there is such a cold shoulder given: Suicidal people hate life, martyrs love life.

The danger can come in when you follow any strain of theology too far and get too literal with it. It is easy to start off and say that "God is the souce of all goodness" and end up saying that logically speaking, if that is true then all creation must be a totally depraved place with no goodness in it. Well, God said that creation is good, too. Is it good because God flows in and through it, or does it have instrinsic goodness in it? It is hard to say and various theologies take that in different directions. Somehow a love of God is tied to a love of life. Somehow loving God and loving neighbor become the foundation of Christianity, and perhaps they are not two separate guidelines but actually one expression. Somehow charity and good deeds are tied to religion, somehow, deep down, we know this.

ADDED LATER: Another way to look at it is that the person in the song won't let the fear of jail imprison them. Sometimes the very threat of being in jail is enough to paralyze people and cause them to back down out of fear. The person in the song refuses to let their spirit be chained like that--imprison the body if you can, but the spirit will always be free! Hang him on the cross, if you can, but his spirit will rise!

Dec 2--Martyrs of El Salvador

We used to laugh at the Soviet Union.

What a tragic waste it was that they had to drain their economic and intellectual reserves just forcing all their citizens to stay in their country and maintain obsessive censorship of speech. Checkpoints, endless scrutiny of the citizenry, what a shame. Not only was it a colossal humanitarian disaster, but it was also unnecessary and, in fact, counter productive of the very goals they were trying to achieve.

The more you let something go, the more you have it.

In America, we knew better. The more freedom you have, the more benefits. Our citizens can pretty much go where they want and say what they want, and we are stronger for it--not weaker. We used to shake our heads at the former USSR. They just didn't get it. No surprise that the system ultimately crumbled

But don't think for one minute that that same knee-jerk reaction out of fear isn't always still present in America. It goes back to that fundamental struggle of love and openness versus fear and control. Many people feel that the only way to arrive at a goal is to forcibly control others--the only way to have national security is to silence all opposition, the only way to be prosperous is to oppress all the competition.

Business needs to be reminded of this every day. Business thought that the whole system would fall apart if we had child labor laws. Turns out business prospered.

Business thought that the world would come to an end if we had labor unions. Turns out now that we all miss the days when daddy went to work at a union factory shop and made enough money for mommy to stay home with the kids.

Business thought that capitalism itself would be ground to its knees if they had to be accountable to safety standards. Turns out they did just fine and we have a lot more healthier people to show for it.

Business thought that the 40-hour workweek would be the end of life itself. Turns out it was a new beginning.

Business always thinks in the short term--don't believe the myth that the free market knows all. The truth is that in the narrowest possible sense, an increase in these rules and regulations can and does spell a decrease in profits for an individual business--but when enacted over the whole system, it actually improves business overall. There are simply lots of healthier, happier, richer people to spend all their money back into the system. We thrive. Forget the humanitarian outcomes for a minute--it just makes good business sense to treat people right.

The problem is that business never really learned that lesson. Citizens demanding a marginal increase in their wages, the right to organize, the right to learn and study and say what they want to say can and does often spell malicious death in Latin America and other parts of the world--at the hands of soldiers trained, supported and supplied by the US government.

This may astonish most Americans, as these run contrary to some of the most fundamental values we have--we're all about spreading democracy, right? Well, all those "anti communist" actions we've been involved in over the past 50 years have often been a ruse for putting down labor organizers and others clamoring for a small raise in wages. Somehow, we still seem to think that our entire standard of life will fall apart if all these countries we exploit somehow got their feet on the ground. But wait--isn't this what we shrugged our heads at the USSR about?

Colonialism meet neo-colonialism. New boss = same as the old boss.

On Dec 2nd, 30 years ago today, we saw it in El Salvador. For some reason, soldiers trained, supplied and supported by the US military found that it was essential for our security that two nuns and their two female co-workers needed to be run off the road, raped and murdered on the spot.

The dirty little secret ain't so little. While we are lulled into thinking that we are the freedom fighters spreading democracy and toppling terrible regimes all around the world, our country in fact supports about 150 militaries, and the track record of the kinds of activities they get involved in would make the jaws of most Americans drop. Can someone explain how a massacre of an entire village of peasants in Guatemala is justified? But as long as Americans aren't coming home in body bags and there's no draft to awaken the Nintendo minds, it all goes on unnoticed. Clothes from sweat shops in southeast Asia are pretty cheap and no one asks any questions.

It is easy to turn a blind eye and say it's all about national security. To that, I refer you back to the top of this post. Don't we know that freedom and prosperity are good for all? A tight grip doesn't work. Isn't that a big part of what we're all about?

The only difference I see between the former USSR and the USA is that the former acted as if their national security depended on keeping their own people down, and the latter behaves as if national security depends on keeping everyone else down.

Getting Things Done

Getting cancer really changes things. Even if it's cancer-for-dummies like the form of thyroid cancer I have/had.

Things in your body change due to the treatments. It cracks me up that I can barely enjoy a bag of Doritos anymore. My mouth is just too dry from all of the radiation. I normally don't notice the dryness much, but with certain foods it is really apparent. Having to wash down some chips with water just to avoid choking isn't the same. It is actually a blessing in disguise: My multiple bag a week habit was not healthy and I wouldn't be surprised if that were a culprit in the cancer in the first place.

I also have this insane urge to get things done. It is like a surge in my body. Procrastination is a big non-issue. I have this incredible energy to get things done, like the clock's ticking. I have a profound understanding of how short life is, and I want to get some things done before I go. Like the old timers used to tell me: There'll be plenty of time to rest when I'm in the ground.

Is that healthy? Maybe not, but who's going to actually tell someone who has had cancer that to their face?

Judging

Before we form opinions about other people, we should consider not where they are but how far they had to go to get there.

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My creative juices have been a little dry lately, so that is often a good time to pay a visit to my "drafts" folder to see if there is anything there I can use. That's where I found this statement above. I don't remember if I came up with it or whether it is an adaptation of something I had heard. A wiser man probably had a better idea when he suggested we just don't judge at all.

On Mission at Work

One of the most convenient places to help transform the world is right in your current community and workplace. Sure, it is tempting to want to go away and be with other like-minded people. It is tempting to quit your job so that you can pursue a ministry vocation full time. However, doing ministry while working through a church or non-profit may not have quite the impact you may think. It is probably already an environment teeming with people doing that very thing.

Working 8-5 for some corporation can put a real damper on your time and energy for outreach. However, it also puts you right on the front lines. There are valid points to be made for both approaches, and only you can know for sure what you are called to do.

There are so many possibilities to do good right where you are at: Start a recycling program at work! It is much less productive to start a recycling program at an environmental organization, whereas many of the businesses out there are ripe for sustainable practices. It often just takes an employee with initiative to get the ball rolling. Be pastoral with your co-workers--people who may never step foot into a church or be impacted directly by the outreach done from there. Work is probably the one place people can be reached who are otherwise inaccessible.

What Does It Mean To Be Male?

One of the best effects of the women's liberation and feminist movements is that people have spent a lot of time trying to understand what it means to be female.

Right off the bat, this approach causes some problems as all males and all females don't fall in line the same way. Still, when you consider the separation of men and women in society plus biological differences and a history of discrimination, you have the justification for grouping people along gender lines to some degree.

Men are behind the curve when it comes to understanding ourselves. This hurts the feminist movement, too. It is hard to create a truly healthy society when we are trying hard to understand only half of our members. It is almost impossible for women to find true equality and fulfilment if men are not in a healthy, enlightened place as well. That is what makes us a society--we are in this together. Since our hurts come from relationships our healing will no doubt come from relationships too, as someone once said (I don't remember who that is). There is going to be a limit to how far our society can go if only half of us are healthy, trying to interact with unhealthy people.

There is a "masculinism" movement out there. It is small and not always popular, but in some ways that is to be expected. If we live in a society where we just assume that male = bad, female = good, then we are bound to ruffle some feathers when we show (just like feminists have been doing) that things are not always what they seem and societal assumptions--even some that have been held for centuries--can be flat wrong.

It is also wrong to assume that being male is "Easy Street" while being female is not. Those simple categories just don't hold up to a closer evaluation. However, you might be amazed to find out how hard people will fight to hold onto their preconceived notions. For a society that is weary of female discrimination, just on the cusp of making some great strides, probably the last thing it wants to hear are the concerns from its male members. But again, you can't address one without the other, unless the goal is simply to replace one form of discrimination with another.

On a Mission

So then what does it mean to be male? You ask anybody out there, probably the first response you hear is "competitive." You may also hear words such as "domineering" or "aggressive." I have never found those words satisfying, and I think they miss the point. That's like saying that all women are "bossy" and "bitchy." You can find some truth there, but you will miss the true essence of a person with words like that. You might also have to deal with the Political Correctness Police.

One idea that I have heard bandied about is "adventure." Somehow, someway, a healthy man will have adventure in his life. More importantly, he will see his life as an adventure. A quest. A mission. Just like Abraham leading his people to Canaan or Moses leading them back to the Promised Land, a man needs to believe his life has a mission.

Even if man is working 9-5 in some office with diapers to be changed at home, there is no reason why he cannot perceive his family life in adventure-terms. Men like challenges: Bringing home the bacon and getting mouths fed can be a satisfying challenge at the end of each day. Building a better life and raising good kids can all be seen as mission-driven. A lot depends on how men choose to interpret their lives. A society that can't find a way for its men to channel these God-given energies is going to have a population filled with angst who will eventually lash out, and all of society will pay for it.

Church

Some have said that the churches have lost the male element because of this as well. Christianity has been accused of largely presenting itself in feminine terms and has thus lost male enthusiasm. This may seem outrageous, because a counter accusation is that Christianity has too often tried to present a "male" God with men in the institutional positions of power. But consider this: When you look at your average congregation, the enthusiasm and active involvement is mostly through the female members. Men have been sort of hangin' in there for 700 years, which is surprising since men supposedly have the power. Being "pastoral" is often seen as a nurturing profession to be in--a trait largely considered feminine. It is not that the churches have been ignoring men--they just have not been connecting to them.

I am not suggesting we re-create Christianity to go on military Crusades again. But if you look at the highly successful recruitment tools of the US military, there is no reason why Christianity can't appeal along the same lines: Teamwork. Adventure. Challenge. Mission. Camaraderie. These terms get a lot closer toward the essence of maleness--they probably still fall short but they are a lot closer than "aggressive" or "competitive." Imagine all those sickening Army commercials instead advertising an outreach mission along the same lines! There is no reason why we can't go on a mission to clean up the environment or extol the camaraderie of Christian brotherhood. Christ himself was the Messiah--the "one sent", and his mission was to "save us." He came from somewhere and he was going somewhere.

We should never have allowed the military to co-opt those characteristics. We never should have allowed religion to refuse them. Is there a way to manifest the same zeal people feel toward taking up arms to protect our country and instead take up bricks and mortar to build homes for the homeless or deliver grain to the hungry with every ounce of military fervor? Or instead of Christian get-togethers being spoken of in terms of group hugs and affirmations to instead talk about camaraderie and our common work together?

Instead of attending church and just "being there", we need to present church as "going somewhere." Where are we headed? What are we trying to accomplish? Men need to be on the move--like Abraham, like Moses, like the "One Sent."

I actually have nothing against group hugs or the pastoral/nurturing side of ministry work. I am a male who finds those elements extraordinarily appealing. But I think we are missing a lot of people who take a quick look and find that religion doesn't resonate in their being, even if they want it to. War is stupid, but the military excites them on some level that can't be denied.

Keep in mind, I am not advocating for unlimited military symbolism in religion or to describe maleness. We have enough cases where religious mission is described with battle imagery and good vs. evil vocabulary. I am talking about the social elements that the military has taken in its advertising, elements that are not exclusively the domain of the military, such as the camaraderie and adventure.

The Secrets of Dating Revealed Right here!

Finding someone to date is not that hard. It is actually rather easy.

Some people (women especially) suffer from what I call the "knight on a white horse" syndrome. This is the false belief that they can live with all sorts of emotional barriers, making no effort, and that one day a knight will ride up on his white horse and whisk them away to a life of happiness.

That's not how it happens. Why would you want that, anyway? That knight never got to know you. He totally just sees you as an object. And face it: You see him as an object, too.

Actually, statistics show that women initiate the first contact of flirtation more than men. The knight shows up because the woman already gave the green light.

But that's okay, because I'm here to tell you the hidden mysteries of the universe. Here's the major, big-time secret--you may want to sit down and take a deep breath, because this is the big one:

Just freaking talk to people.

You don't have to do any kind of outrageous acts, or take monumental risks to ask someone out point blank--those are fine things to do, but it doesn't have to be that extreme. Just go where people are in an environment where you are likely to actually mix with them. Being a passive participant in a classroom or church puts you around many people but there is no mixing. Just talk to folks: How are you? What brings you here? I notice you have a book that I read... Smile often. It does not have to be a flirtatious, "come get me" smile... just a friendly smile. Show an interest in them and share some bit of yourself.

Don't even think about dating, just think about talking to people. At some point, yes, there will be a time to move forward and take the risk of showing more of an interest. But there is plenty of time beforehand to just be friendly and see if chemistry develops. Start talking in the buffet line or see if someone is standing around aimless at a conference. Seek out opportunities to study with folks and go out to eat with coworkers even if you don't feel like spending the money.

Dating won't come without effort on your part--bottom line. Sorry, you're just gonna have to get out of your comfort zone. For some people that is hard and for others it is excruciating, but one way or another you gotta do it. You will have to step away from your group of girls or guys--they keep you safe, but they also keep you single. But it does not have to be outrageously difficult, either. Just start with being friendly and in a short while you'll have a bounty of folks you are mixing with regularly and chemistry is bound to develop.