Normally in school seminars people don't start crying, but I sat in on a very interesting exercise this week and more than half the people in the room were in tears by the end. Not me, of course, I never cry ;-)
We were given 16 pieces of paper and told to write down the following:
4 People (ex. Mom, Dad, Grandmother, etc.)
4 Things (ex. a house, car, computer, paints, spices)
4 Values (ex. friendship, love, loyalty, ambition, passion)
4 Abstract things (ex. beaches, sunsets, hugs, God)
The 16 things we chose would be our entire world. If it wasn't written down on one of our pieces of paper, it didn't exist.
Then we were told to take 4 of these things and rip them up. As though our lives hadn't become deprived enough, with only 16 perks, we had to eliminate 4 of the things that were most important to us.
Most of us got rid of our "things" first. We could live without cars, but not without hugs.
We were asked to rip up 4 more.
Now, whittling it down to only 8 cards, the selfish factor starts to play in. Yes, Grandmother is wonderful, but people don't live forever anyway, right? And I can't do anything useful without my computer. What else could disappear from my life forever? Art (which would include dancing, painting, vibrant colors and life), nature, passion, stories...
Finally, we were left with only 4 cards. We heaved a sigh of relief. That was hard, but at least we had identified the four things that were most important to us. Actually, the exercise was kind of fun; kind of useful, even, right?
Then we were told to rip up 3 of our 4 remaining cards.
The tears start.
How do you choose between Mom or Dad? Who do you "kill off", as though they never existed at all in your life? If you're left with only one thing that would become your entire existence, what would it be? One girl pointed out in frustration that she'd kept "friendship" but killed off all her friends. What's the point of that?
Backing up a few stages... As we were writing down our initial 16 things, I threw God in almost as an afterthought. I didn't really think about Him at first - maybe because I know He's kind of always there whether or not I think about him; maybe because I'm self-centered and forget to bring him into the most important parts of my life even though I am a Christian.
Anyway, as I was narrowing down my choices throughout, my method was to hang onto the cards that implied the same values as cards I was throwing away. I tossed "paints, paper, passion, and nature," but kept "art". "Art" could include all those things, right?
So, when it came down to picking my last card, I decided that "God" could include everything I'd thrown away. He made everything in the world in the first place - if I still had God in my life, he would make sure I had all that I needed. Turns out He's the most important card in my life, and I'd brought him in as an afterthought.
I know there are people who don't believe in God. There were lots of people in the seminar who didn't, but (call me biased) those were the people who were crying. They had to choose between their Mom, Dad, Sister and Grandma. Even after the exercise, they were distraught. They wanted a re-do. They couldn't give up their Mom - but that would mean giving up Grandma instead...
I wasn't upset in the least with my choice - and because I wasn't crying I felt like a cheater. I felt like I'd worked the system. I still had God, so I essentially still had all my cards, wheras most of the other people were forced to give up the people and things they loved the most in the world.
If keeping God in my life means I can have a kind of comfort that will keep me safe through anything, I confess that I love cheating. I'm not technically breaking any rules - and if there's that option, why shouldn't this game be easy?
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
The Monk and the Scorpion
This one's from Michael:
As two monks sat beside the ocean they watched as a scorpion fell into the water and began to drown.
The first monk stood up and pulled the scorpion out of the water. As he set the creature on the beach, the scorpion lashed out and stung him.
A short time later, the scorpion fell into the water again.
The first monk stood up once more, but his companion said to him, "Why do you keep saving him? It's in the scorpion's nature to keep stinging you."
The monk replied, "Yes, but it's in my nature to keep saving him."
As two monks sat beside the ocean they watched as a scorpion fell into the water and began to drown.
The first monk stood up and pulled the scorpion out of the water. As he set the creature on the beach, the scorpion lashed out and stung him.
A short time later, the scorpion fell into the water again.
The first monk stood up once more, but his companion said to him, "Why do you keep saving him? It's in the scorpion's nature to keep stinging you."
The monk replied, "Yes, but it's in my nature to keep saving him."
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Rebuilding
There was some writer somewhere that I probably creeped a while ago, and while creeping I happened upon a bit of insight:
Writing consists of two parts: Building a story, and tearing it down.
A good story needs several drafts - several dozen, sometimes - and a draft is not just the same words rewritten. Things need to change. Change is risk. Risk is scary. The whole, precarious story you've been constructing is at risk of collapsing. And it will, in a good rewrite. You need to tear it down in order to rebuild something much sturdier and well-executed.
If you're too scared to touch or modify your spindly, fragile first attempt, it will forever remain a spindly, fragile first attempt.
In life, there are lots of points where we need to rebuild. It's an acquired skill to notice these areas, acknowledge them, and then pretend they never existed. After all, if you touch them they might collapse. You would be left with nothing. You would be forced to rebuild from scratch; to take a few jumps backwards; to admit you weren't as far along as you could once pretend.
But in no situation in life ever are you ever truly screwed.
You can't be left with nothing because you ("you" being a noun) are something. You've been building things all your life, and you will always have the ability to rebuild.
So why should you fear the risk of change, or fear a second draft? It's bound to be better than sticking with your spindly, fragile first attempt!
The sweet thing is that everything is temporary anyway. Everything. Things you love; things you hate. Everything passes away. People are kind of like evergreen trees, in that we hardly notice when the dead needles pass away because there are a dozen new ones to take their place. But still, everything is temporary. If we screw up, it's temporary. If we're depressed, or anxious, or bitter, or cynical, it's temporary. No one ever said that the life you live today is guaranteed to reflect your life 5 years in the future. You can always rewrite it for the future.
*Note to self: Make it what you want to be.
Writing consists of two parts: Building a story, and tearing it down.
A good story needs several drafts - several dozen, sometimes - and a draft is not just the same words rewritten. Things need to change. Change is risk. Risk is scary. The whole, precarious story you've been constructing is at risk of collapsing. And it will, in a good rewrite. You need to tear it down in order to rebuild something much sturdier and well-executed.
If you're too scared to touch or modify your spindly, fragile first attempt, it will forever remain a spindly, fragile first attempt.
In life, there are lots of points where we need to rebuild. It's an acquired skill to notice these areas, acknowledge them, and then pretend they never existed. After all, if you touch them they might collapse. You would be left with nothing. You would be forced to rebuild from scratch; to take a few jumps backwards; to admit you weren't as far along as you could once pretend.
But in no situation in life ever are you ever truly screwed.
You can't be left with nothing because you ("you" being a noun) are something. You've been building things all your life, and you will always have the ability to rebuild.
So why should you fear the risk of change, or fear a second draft? It's bound to be better than sticking with your spindly, fragile first attempt!
The sweet thing is that everything is temporary anyway. Everything. Things you love; things you hate. Everything passes away. People are kind of like evergreen trees, in that we hardly notice when the dead needles pass away because there are a dozen new ones to take their place. But still, everything is temporary. If we screw up, it's temporary. If we're depressed, or anxious, or bitter, or cynical, it's temporary. No one ever said that the life you live today is guaranteed to reflect your life 5 years in the future. You can always rewrite it for the future.
*Note to self: Make it what you want to be.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Daily Essentials
BE LOUD in the morning (talk to someone, dance to music, go for a run)
Sleep is kind of like maple syrup. It spills over so easily, but if you have too much you feel really gross.
BE QUIET when things get too fast (write, nap, walk, stretch)
If the world is spinning, you're supposed to give it time to settle before you jump on another ride. Unless you want to lose everything you had that morning... ;)
LEARN from everything, even yourself
Apparently I need to write to stay sane - in other words, I've discovered a cure for insanity!
TEACH someone, even if it's only by example
Ex. Accepting an insult with humor/grace. Makes your life easier, and their life exceedingly frustrating.
GET OUT OF YOUR COMFORT BOX, so you can think outside it
Apparently pickles and peanut butter go well together, but I still haven't tried that one...
LOVE OR APPRECIATE SOMETHING
A friend or family member is good. If all else fails, remember that toasters are brilliant inventions. And not just for toast...
DRINK WARM WATER. Just cuz.
Sleep is kind of like maple syrup. It spills over so easily, but if you have too much you feel really gross.
BE QUIET when things get too fast (write, nap, walk, stretch)
If the world is spinning, you're supposed to give it time to settle before you jump on another ride. Unless you want to lose everything you had that morning... ;)
LEARN from everything, even yourself
Apparently I need to write to stay sane - in other words, I've discovered a cure for insanity!
TEACH someone, even if it's only by example
Ex. Accepting an insult with humor/grace. Makes your life easier, and their life exceedingly frustrating.
GET OUT OF YOUR COMFORT BOX, so you can think outside it
Apparently pickles and peanut butter go well together, but I still haven't tried that one...
LOVE OR APPRECIATE SOMETHING
A friend or family member is good. If all else fails, remember that toasters are brilliant inventions. And not just for toast...
DRINK WARM WATER. Just cuz.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
State of Mind
I heard an anecdote once about a boy who was sent into a palace with only one task: he couldn't spill any water from the spoon he carried. He navigated his way through the halls without spilling a single drop. When he returned, the Taskmaster asked him what the palace was like. "I don't know," the boy said. "I was concentrating on keeping the water still."
He got sent in again. This time he spilled all of his water, but could relay every detail about the palace levels and decorations. The Taskmaster informed him he would need to try harder next time. He could learn, in time, to both hold the water steady, and appreciate the world around him.
It's easy to focus in on one aspect of life and ignore everything else. On the other hand, it's easy to live in a state of constant "distraction", and try to experience every single aspect life that may or may not exist. The Taskmaster story alludes to the idea that we can do both at once, and maybe hold more than one layer in our minds at once.
In horseback riding if you try and focus on one thing at a time you're screwed. Heels down, elbows in, back straight, chin up, wrists even... it's impossible to remember all the rules and tips. However-- once you understand the nature of your horse, you can simply move forward (through jumps, dressage moves, etc.) and your cues to the horse (once you learn how to execute them properly) will be automatic.
In human relationships I've heard a lot of "rules and tips" as well. Play hard-to-get; two people will get sick of each other if they spend too much time together; opposites attract; don't talk about your past unless you want to scare people off... Umm - really? I'm pretty sure if you try and follow all the little tricks you'll end up acting like a paranoid and inconsistent therapy candidate.
Life can seem complicated. It's like there's a 5-dimensional (does that exist?) spiderweb of rules and tricks and little paths that may or may not lead anywhere, and everyone's sliding around like beads on a multilayer abacus (those wooden bead things for counting/math). But how, if this is true, can a human work through all the distractions and myths and opinions in order to direct the actions of a horse that is 6 times their size. How can so many unique individuals stay lovingly married for a lifetime?
Maybe they can see through the web. Maybe, for them, life's many different layers and aspects are guided and shaped by their ability to see through the spiderweb to a fundamental truth. Maybe they can hold more than one layer and aspect of life in focus at once, and gain a sense of perspective and understanding despite all the factors and distractions that arise. Both of my examples, by the way, are clarified by the idea that every living creature wants to be understood. In relationships (both with people and with animals) if your actions are motivated by love, everything is simplified.
He got sent in again. This time he spilled all of his water, but could relay every detail about the palace levels and decorations. The Taskmaster informed him he would need to try harder next time. He could learn, in time, to both hold the water steady, and appreciate the world around him.
It's easy to focus in on one aspect of life and ignore everything else. On the other hand, it's easy to live in a state of constant "distraction", and try to experience every single aspect life that may or may not exist. The Taskmaster story alludes to the idea that we can do both at once, and maybe hold more than one layer in our minds at once.
In horseback riding if you try and focus on one thing at a time you're screwed. Heels down, elbows in, back straight, chin up, wrists even... it's impossible to remember all the rules and tips. However-- once you understand the nature of your horse, you can simply move forward (through jumps, dressage moves, etc.) and your cues to the horse (once you learn how to execute them properly) will be automatic.
In human relationships I've heard a lot of "rules and tips" as well. Play hard-to-get; two people will get sick of each other if they spend too much time together; opposites attract; don't talk about your past unless you want to scare people off... Umm - really? I'm pretty sure if you try and follow all the little tricks you'll end up acting like a paranoid and inconsistent therapy candidate.
Life can seem complicated. It's like there's a 5-dimensional (does that exist?) spiderweb of rules and tricks and little paths that may or may not lead anywhere, and everyone's sliding around like beads on a multilayer abacus (those wooden bead things for counting/math). But how, if this is true, can a human work through all the distractions and myths and opinions in order to direct the actions of a horse that is 6 times their size. How can so many unique individuals stay lovingly married for a lifetime?
Maybe they can see through the web. Maybe, for them, life's many different layers and aspects are guided and shaped by their ability to see through the spiderweb to a fundamental truth. Maybe they can hold more than one layer and aspect of life in focus at once, and gain a sense of perspective and understanding despite all the factors and distractions that arise. Both of my examples, by the way, are clarified by the idea that every living creature wants to be understood. In relationships (both with people and with animals) if your actions are motivated by love, everything is simplified.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Vacansopapurosophobia
Huge word, right? According to google it's real. But I'll get to that. I wanted to ramble for a bit about a snake-headed dilemma called potential. When all your options lie before you, you can appreciate the beauty of potential. For instance, there are millions of people in the world, and each is a potential friend. There are millions of blank pieces of paper in the world. Beneath the white monotony of a canvas may await an otherworldly work of art waiting to spring into existence; or, in a Word document, a portal to world where our deepest hopes and fears become reality through the venue of a great story.
A world full of untouched, unknown potential is a magical place, but when a clumsy human comes along, he/she will inevitably fudge up any potential for greatness.
One embarrassment, and your crush will realize you're retarded and move onto a new, perfect mystery woman. One scuff of a paintbrush, and a decent painting is suddenly destroyed. And how can one person possibly write a story that will bring out all the emotions and wonder that have a mere potential to exist? Why not simply enjoy the fact that these things could exist, if someone greater than yourself took the trouble to bring them into existence? Um, because waiting is boring. Do it yourself.
Vacansopapurosophobia is the fear of blank pages. It's a fear of committing to one decision, because in the instant you choose one door, a million others are lost. A wall of doors might be clean and neat but eventually (hopefully) you'll realize that you are, in fact, spending your life staring at a wall. Dare to get messy, and to screw up, and to make an ass of yourself. Risk losing a friend, if it means being honest with them. Risk writing the first story in the world that will make everyone who reads it want to instantly kill themselves. Maybe the military will buy it from you and then, hey! it's not such a failure after all!
A world full of untouched, unknown potential is a magical place, but when a clumsy human comes along, he/she will inevitably fudge up any potential for greatness.
One embarrassment, and your crush will realize you're retarded and move onto a new, perfect mystery woman. One scuff of a paintbrush, and a decent painting is suddenly destroyed. And how can one person possibly write a story that will bring out all the emotions and wonder that have a mere potential to exist? Why not simply enjoy the fact that these things could exist, if someone greater than yourself took the trouble to bring them into existence? Um, because waiting is boring. Do it yourself.
Vacansopapurosophobia is the fear of blank pages. It's a fear of committing to one decision, because in the instant you choose one door, a million others are lost. A wall of doors might be clean and neat but eventually (hopefully) you'll realize that you are, in fact, spending your life staring at a wall. Dare to get messy, and to screw up, and to make an ass of yourself. Risk losing a friend, if it means being honest with them. Risk writing the first story in the world that will make everyone who reads it want to instantly kill themselves. Maybe the military will buy it from you and then, hey! it's not such a failure after all!
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