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The Marriage Between Heaven and Earth

Crops (39)After several years of dating my first wife became impatient and decided to propose marriage. On that fateful night, she made a wonderful dinner, purchased a beautiful red wine and created an appropriate ambiance, candlelight included.

Finally the moment neared and she utter, “Honey, will you marry me.

Of course,” I replied stoically.

After a few minutes of silence, my fiancé queried, “Honey, you haven’t said a word.

Oh, quite the contrary. I’ve probably said too much.

I reflected upon my experience while listening to a famous theologian ponder the marriage between heaven and earth. As Richard Pratt said, “We think that Jesus came to forgive our sins, make our souls sparkle, sprinkle us with peace and joy so we can sprout wings when we die, grab a harp and join the eternal choir.” I may not always agree with Pratt, but I love the thought.

Personally, I have no clue how God will choose to marry heaven and earth. For many, the thought creates a conundrum of two visions. One vision entails everyone holding ‘Pratt’s’ version, including the harp and singing unity to the great one. The other vision extends the same flaws currently experienced here on earth, terrible wars in the name of that God, sexism, children of all ages not having enough spiritual food, etc., etc., etc.

For those who believe in traditional conservative approaches, when God marries heaven and earth, there will be a negotiation. Thus, those who currently dictate the rules of God’s love must inevitably experience God’s renegotiation of the boundaries between heaven and earth. Therefore, a difficult question must be answered: are we willing to trade a system that has served others so poorly for one that will serve others so well?

In truth, from a Buddhist perspective, why wait for heaven? Why can’t we experience heaven on earth? Right here, right now. If we are to be true citizens of God’s Kingdom, our obedience to Christ must touch every area of our lives. Simply confessing “Jesus is Lord” does not significantly impact the church or our too few spiritual habits.

Whether Buddhist or Christian, we must proactively spread love into every segment of society, influencing the world by bringing love and grace to all – be it through the arts, through business, through politics or through our vocations.

Cosmos’ Final Hour

maxresdefaultCosmos’ final hour revealed the final message embedded in the space probe Voyager’s Interstellar Golden Record. It was a recording of life on Earth, ending with Carl Sagan’s life-summing meditation on this “pale blue dot.”

So was the show worth it? Cosmos was television on an ambitious scale, a full-blown science program in prime time on a mainstream broadcast network, on the most crowded, and competitive night of the TV week.

Throughout the show, there were those who sought to deny the scientific evidence presented. The opening episode featured an introduction by President Obama and stirred controversy with a lengthy segment that deliberately pitted religion against science, providing an animated story about the Catholic Church’s persecution of the 16th-century monk and astronomer Giordano Bruno.

To the creationist viewpoint, there was no opportunity for rebuttal. But that wasn’t the show’s premise either. With that being said, one can believe in religion all they want, but when an asteroid falls from space at about 22,000 miles per hour and crashes into earth, I’m presuming God won’t be there to stop it. Remember, I didn’t say “if.”

Tyson said if he reached just one viewer deeply enough to get them interested in science, Cosmos will have succeeded. Cosmos began and ended with Carl Sagan:

From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of any particular interest. But for us, it’s different. Consider again that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity – in all this vastness – there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known, so far, to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment, the Earth is where we make our stand. It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.

Dr. Tyson, regardless of my faith … you reached me. I loved the show.

Courage To Reach Beyond

Nursing HomeEast of Tucson, Arizona is a retirement and short-term rehabilitation center.  There in room 205, lay father. Ten days ago a perfectly healthy man entered the hospital to have knee replacement.  Ten days later, a man was moved to this short term rehabilitation center have having stopped breathing, a heart attached and severe reaction to OxyContin, as prescribed by the physician.

The rehab center has four main wings. There’s long-term assisted living, a retirement wing, short-term rehabilitation and the disposable. The disposable wing is home to those solitary folks too sick and frail to leave.  On one hand, they have no family, no friends or soul mates. On the other, they await the angel of death. In strange way, they are comrades who abide by regularly scheduled activities and watch people go to and fro, surfing soap operas or sports while awaiting the angel of death.

By its very nature, most shy away, with many rarely venture this wing. There’s good reason: it’s the land God forgot. On face value it’s dreary. Patients come in to this area extremely ill, with such problems as sepsis, pneumonia, cancer and pancreatitis, etc. Only the early morning sunlight creaks the slightly drawn shades. Wheelchairs line the doorways and the air is perfumed with something dissimilar to urine or stool, permeating heavily.

After settling my father in, I ventured into no man’s land.  And by having the courage, I was afforded a wonderful opportunity to revisit history and lives of others.

Twenty steps in, I met Elias, a wonderfully entertaining elderly man who worked much of his life in now defunct Arizona copper mines. After leaving the mines, Elias started a landscaping venture with his “fat overweight son.” Remaining hearty at 62, he reached down to pick up a fifty-pound bag of dirt and snapped his back. Several weeks later, he has two steel rods running parallel to his spine, with steel screws every four inches. Long abandoned by his son, his only visitors are a church pastor and nurses.

After listening Elias, Sammy interrupted with her life. Sammy to friends and Samantha to family was a former dancer, who beautifully danced moved to choirs, orchestras and modern dance. In truth, Sammy was a former exotic dancer who self admittedly said “gravity’s won” but reinvested the cash she made and lives quite comfortably sipping tea as she pleases. She was clear to note that her youthful spirit of life remained alive, even at age 68. In fact ten years ago, Sammy was dancing in her living room while dancing to Springsteen’s “Born to Run.” She performed the split but suffered damage so severe she had two hip replacements.

Aileen is the resident grey tabby cat. And according to 92 year-old socialite, Ms. Spenser, Aileen is a little tramp and much “the to do” has been made over her affair with “Buster Weeds,” that orange tabby living on the other side of the washout adjoining the property.

In my few hours, I Charlie, Sandy, Barbara, Jensen, James, Cindy, Ms. Stemson and Carl.  I learned a little of Tombstone, local history of the Apache, Bisbee, the ghosts of Bisbee, the Copper Queen Mine of Bisbee, the copper mines of Jerome, Buckskin Mountains of west-central Arizona, politics, football and baseball.

For a few hours, history came alive. Each rolled back time and history relived as fresh and beautiful.  Because many of us simply refuse to reach past our own fear, real history is missed and much of history is lost.

Kneeling in the chapel I thanked the world for the courage to reach beyond the fear…to  listen, to laugh and to love. Maybe, I just couldn’t bear to see anyone move to another world without love. I am grateful for this chance to experience the impermanence of life. I am grateful these lives will continue on in me.

The Power of You

FriendTo A Friend Who’s Hurting.

Dear Ms. J:

There is a strange coincidence to this world, where people meet people and move on, others seemingly connect for only a moment and others connect for a lifetime. You and I are seemingly uncommon, for where we previously worked, we barely knew each other and now our lives continually intertwine.

While enjoying this uncommon bond I fear my own failures will weigh upon you heavily. This is not a burden I take lightly and guarantee that while my muscles work, I search for the proper way of service to both you and our clients. In doing so, I know of many who only search for themselves, yet I search for others, wondering if that’s my greatest gift and the curse to live with … is that I will always care.

I’ll admit our work has touched me deeply. As our communications of business shift to and fro our client’s work-site I find snippets of sheer courage to engage those whom seem bitter or angry. I cannot say our last engagement was easy, for there were many fatiguing and tedious moments. Still I found courage and strength from our conversations and these conversations bolstered my commitment to press forward.

Maybe my joyful experience in working with you means I am made more vulnerable to loss. Maybe, maybe not. But I simply cannot accept that. While it’s true both of us tend to place ourselves on the altar of corporate culture, yet unlike those who treat you shamelessly, I fly simply because you put a something wonderful in-flight and I’ve found flying in your dreams a wonderful painting composed of beautiful brushstrokes of love and compassion.

The negativity of this world tends to carve that which only resembles itself. Thus everything takes upon a deadened weight, neither rich for them nor their client. They seek power over life while you seek power through the experience of living. And to this end, I could not have envisioned my own personal growth and beauty without you. Remember, you have created something exquisite and rare. You fuel the transformation of the ordinary. This is the power of you. Never forget that.

Review: All Is Lost

BoatDespair isn’t unique to sailors. Every one of us is susceptible to despair. Perhaps we’ve lost a loved one. We can’t find a job. We see our children suffer or go astray. We watch as the loves of our life are pulled inexorably away from us. We try to fight through it, but it can be so hard sometimes. We can feel as if we too are lost at sea. Alone. Powerless. Destined to float, aimless, forever.

Like Redford, all of us fight against that kind of despair, and our will to survive is often unbelievable, even inspirational. We do everything we can to live. And though All Is Lost does not specifically portray the typical Christian movie, there’s something profoundly spiritual. In the end, we need a hand from above. All of us need help. At some point, someone has to reach down and pull us from our isolation.

Most Christians believe that Redford’s saving hand was ultimately God’s. But for most of us, God often comes from those around us. Even though I survived for many years, you saved me – saved me from the continued solitary journey of life. Through your efforts, I now don’t have to live life alone. All of us must be part of the community. We need friends and family to pick us up when we’re down—sometimes literally.

Like most we encounter in life, we know little about the character. We deduce Redford was an American, male, affluent enough to undertake ocean voyage, and that he had loved ones ashore. But most of us simply don’t bother knowing the homeless dude in a back alley, the family down the street, the kid serving latte’s at Starbucks, the mail clerk, our car mechanic or sadly … even our spouse or children. And most will wander through life not caring at all.

In the end, the conversation for all of us is that final thought of acceptance, that internal conversation with our creator. Redford’s character strove for artificially created search for authenticity and challenge. It’s something all of us strive for, finding that meaningful life walk is extremely tough. But at the end of life, it’s God and you who start writing your own ending. There will be no cries of “Why me?”, “No, God!

In the end, God will extend His hand and lift us upward.

Thy sea, O God, so great,
My boat so small.
~ Old Breton Prayer ~

Truthful Life or Surrendering to Lies

The SeaI was listening to a review of an upcoming “Mad Men” episode when I thought of the book  “Heart Aroused.” Poet David Whyte’s masterpiece, “The Heart Aroused: Poetry and the Preservation of the Soul in Corporate America” aimed at helping people find meaning and balance in their careers. There is a one-line poem in his book previously mentioned that forced me to reassess my professional goals:

“Ten years ago, I turned my head for a moment and it became my life.”

Truthfully, I sit writing this missive in the middle of a corporate HR meeting, whose sole purpose is to discuss assessing interpersonal dynamics and how to create wonderfully beautiful functioning teams. And I grant to each of you, that for this moment, I am unaware of the next question, then next word, the next PowerPoint slide. For none of this matters.

I ponder upon how much time was spent pursuing the money, the vulture of the corporate world. All the wasted dollars, time and energy collecting and spending for the “good” of my career, I have lived and breathed the hype and succumbed to varied products, including Apple, Microsoft, Samsung, HTC and others. And to what end? Was it all a sacrifice on the altar of life, where I traded off priorities for a lucrative salary, long commutes, long work weeks and a plethora of other things.

When I look past the jumbo mortgage paid completely two weeks ago, I sat in my overused easy chair, the sullen early morning light of a rain soaked day silently confirmed my auto-pilot life was not always in the best interest of those who loved me. Similar to that of a friend who passed in late November, I never really knew them and likewise, they never knew me.

“Does this represent who I am?”

Whyte also wrote, “Work is the very fire where we are baked to perfection, and like the master of the fire itself, we add the essential ingredient and fulfillment when we walk into the flames ourselves and fuel the transformation of ordinary, everyday forms into the exquisite and the rare.”

As I near the “great beyond,” I wonder if my worked baked all to perfection or just me. Then again, maybe neither. Could I have used the essential ingredients and fulfilled others or lived a lie. And did I live a life that became exquisite and rare? Undoubtedly, many would state no.

Accordingly, as a Buddhist, can one find peace in a truthful life or does one surrender to the lies? Some say Buddhism focuses on the unhappy side of life or takes a pessimistic view? This may be because there is an extreme focus upon suffering. However, this is only one side of the story.

I would like to say that by focusing on suffering, I am somehow actually committed to realizing and developing happiness. In fact, there are many kinds of happiness which are both true and lasting. There can be some form of contentment, freedom of enjoyment, debtlessness and happiness from being good.

But I believe it is a choice we must be willing to make. Are we living a truthful life or surrendering to lies?

Got Milk?

MilkI intended to write another thought today, but a story off the wire caught my attention. The newswires summarized the following:

Toad Suck, AR (no I am not making that up) resident Sasha Adams was arrested in November 2013 in a Conway, AR bar for endangering the welfare of a child. Her child. Apparently waitress Jackie Connors believed Ms. Adams was endangering her child and called the police.

Police stated, “… we got a report that you are drinking alcohol while breast-feeding.” Ms. Adams replied, “…Okay. I didn’t know that it was illegal.

It wasn’t. But the officers made a judgment call and arrested Adams anyway, implying alcohol laced breast milk endangered the welfare of her child.

What captured my interest were just a handful of bloggers. On Friday, “hlandggreenenga” noted “Protecting others, especially children and the elderly who can’t protect themselves IS our business. In some states it’s a crime not to report what seems to be criminal (sic) acts against them.” Blogger “allen bellman” wrote, “Nothing but praise for the waitress, and for the restaurant, a customer is more valuable then a health of a baby. The mother ?????? I guess everyone is called a mother. And who the heck would want to see a woman breast feeding (sic) a baby while eating in a restaurant.

Strangely it’s not a crime in any state for a woman to carry a pregnancy full-term if she has a drug problem, and no state has a law that makes a woman liable for the outcome of her pregnancy. Still, many states can arrest a woman for child abuse on the basis of positive tests for – or reports of – substance abuse. Poor, black, southern women are mostly likely to be arrested, with 74% of those arrests requiring a public defender.

To highlight, South Carolina mother Stephanie Greene, 39 was sentenced this past Friday to 20 years in prison for killing her six-week-old daughter via an overdose of morphine delivered through her breast milk. Prosecutors stated Ms. Greene was a nurse and knew the dangers of taking painkillers while pregnant and breast feeding, but chose to conceal her pregnancy from doctors to keep receiving prescriptions.

Those involved with the case say this was the first time a mother had been prosecuted for killing her child through drug-tainted breast milk. Greene’s attorney, Rauch Wise, said his client needed painkillers to function with the chronic pain she suffered from in addition to fibromyalgia. An expert witness for the defense had testified that a genetic test would have shown whether Alexis lacked a specific enzyme that could have broken down morphine. Still, Wise expects Greene to appeal Greene’s conviction, claiming there is little scientific evidence to prove a fatal dose of morphine can pass from mother to child through breastfeeding.

Quoting directly from respected medical literature, “… opiates used as medicines — morphine, meperidine and codeine — are excreted into the milk in minimal amounts and are compatible with breastfeeding, as are benzodiazepines, as long as they are taken in controlled doses. These are the drugs most frequently prescribed to women during pregnancy and after birth.”

Nonetheless blogger Joeline Starkey wrote of Greene, “… this sick, twisted incubator (she doesn’t deserve the title mother), should serve prison for the rest of her miserable life for the murder of her baby! it takes a sick person to do what she did, and she will get what she deserves.”

And just as a side note … neither the husband for Ms. Greene nor Ms. Adams was ever charged with a crime or neglect. Why Not?

Returning full-circle, the world for those like Sasha Adams and Stephanie Greene is changing. And to the Jackie Connors of the world who want to control every aspect’s of a child’s life, from impregnation to adulthood, I request them ponder the original questions posed in my essay “Real Solutions Never Fit.” None of them have yet to be answered.

“Questions must be asked and answers must be given. Does second hand smoke harm an unborn child? How about a living child? If second hand smoke does indeed inflict harm, do we punish the mother for allowing harm to her child or should we punish both the mother and smoker?  Here’s another; the automobile is great for personal freedom, but exhaust fumes are known cancer toxins. Should a car owner be punished for assault if their vehicle passes a pregnant woman? Can a child sue their next door neighbor for cancer causing toxins twenty-years later? If “personhood initiative” backers really want to be fair, shouldn’t society ban air fresheners, ammonia, bleach, antifreeze, drain cleaners, laundry detergent and oven cleaners? How come we don’t jail company executives who produce toxic products that local stores stock and sell? And how do we prosecute those local store owners? If a pregnant US citizen travels overseas and experiences a miscarriage in another country, how do we investigate and apply proper jurisprudence? Or do we simply perform extradition back to the country where the crime occurred? Can abortion doctors be tried for crimes against humanity? Should society charge parents for allowing their children play in full-contact sports such as football; thereby exposing them to potentially certifiable head trauma?”

So what’s the solution? The solution does not easily fit into our black and white news cycle. Real solutions never do.

Even sex is not all an orgasm

Jamie Coots: The Leadership of Ignorance

jamie-cootsJamie Coots, a snake-handling Kentucky pastor who appeared on the National Geographic television reality show “Snake Salvation,” died after being bitten by a snake. Pastors such as Coots cite a Bible passage from the Bible’s book of Mark, Chapter 16, that reads, in part: “And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.”

Meanwhile, Jamie Coots is being hailed as a “martyr.” Professor Ralph Hood stated, “They will continue, and praise Jamie Coots as a martyr who died for his faith.” Seriously, martyr?

The simple definition of martyr is someone who is killed because of his or her religious or other beliefs. In both Islam and Christianity, the words used for martyr originally meant ‘witness‘ or ‘testify to’ as in a court of law, and the words quickly became extended to those who by their deaths testified to, or witnessed to, their belief in their respective faiths.

Many in our world believe there are ideas worth dying for. Many in our ‘parents’ and ‘grandparents’ generations thought ideas were worth dying for when they fought in WWII.  Christianity and Islam, the two largest world religions, teach explicitly that they are worth dying for, and they both have martyrdom as core values which shape their practice and sense of identity.

So let’s lay it out there; right now, right here. Dr. Martin Luther King was a martyr. Gandhi was a martyr. Christ was a martyr. President Lincoln was a martyr. Coots? … Well, Coots was bit.

Looking at Coots’ life via the National Geographic reality television, I’m amazed at what he did not do.  His pastoral life focused entirely upon getting live venomous snakes.  There was little focus upon how to employ the parish’s unemployed, generate food drives, increase childhood education, develop healthcare and raising the standard of living for his congregation.

All Coots contaminated pastoral leadership. He was fined in 2008 for keeping 74 snakes, sentenced to a year of probation for illegal wildlife possession after crossing into Tennessee with five venomous snakes. He had no life insurance, leaving his wife a widow and children fatherless.

His ministry was choked by ignorance. And a week later, the train wreck continues:

  • Coots will be remembered with a special tribute to air on National Geographic Channel.
  • Cody Coots, son of the late Jamie Coots, said he would handle deadly snakes during upcoming services.  What’s more, he says there will be no anti-venom meds on hand in case the snake attacks again. “I will lay right there and say to everyone, it’s God’s will.  It’s good enough to live by, and good enough to die by.”

I’m positive God cringes when we repeat stupidity.

Be careful when choosing faith over evidence. Some will claim Coots was faithful. In truth, ignorance is what killed Jamie Coots. That same ignorance condoned slavery, suppressed women’s rights, attempts to oppress gay and lesbian communities (such as in Arizona, Kansas and other states). For Jamie Coots, faith meant death.