Tag Archive: Life Lessons


20 Years in Prison

Filed under: Life Lessons
December 9, 2020

Reflecting upon his time in prison, Wesley Snipes said, “Nobody wants to get locked up, although ‘locked up’ is a matter of perspective. There can be people who are out who are in prison mentally and emotionally and worse off than those who are behind bars.” Snipes’ comment is similar to Proverbs 27:3, ‘As you think, so you are.’ Its meaning is simple, whatever the beliefs and thoughts you hold about yourself, they are likely to become reality. Combined thoughts and feelings can embrace you or defeat you. Some thoughts are great, some are fairly simple.

According to research, the average person generates 60,000 thoughts per day.  Multiple that by 365 days, one gets a grand total of 21,900,000 thoughts per year. Thoughts run the gamut. Simon McCarthy-Jones noted 60% of reported thoughts about running a car off the road. 46% were about hurting family members. Other thoughts included fatally pushing a stranger, sex, forcing another adult to have sex, and other desires. In my teens, my thoughts were consumed with thoughts of getting any woman into a horizontal position for an extended period of time. Unfortunately, all those thoughts lacked any proper planning and execution. I once read men think about sex every 7 minutes. I cannot say I do. But that leads me to ask, how the hell does a researcher prove that? On the other hand, after hearing women talk incessantly over the past 3 decades, women seemed to obsess about burning 200 calories to compensate for eating that one piece of chocolate. Once past the failures of my terrible teens’, I turned to guilt, constantly reflecting upon what I did wrong. I reflected upon such events so much that one Priest finally stated, “Jesus died for you. If so, why do you keep crucifying yourself? You’ve become nothing more than a slave to yourself.”

And that’s what I became — 20 years a slave (unto myself). Richard Francis Burton wrote “… that one should conquer himself. Until you do, you are nothing more than a slave.” I agree with Burton’s commentary. Wesley Snipes notes similar themes, that many are mentally and emotionally in jail. We live it, breathe it, and eat it. Mental jail had become so ingrained, I didn’t know how to live without.

The self imposed jail I built cost 20 years of living, the greatest love of my life, and riches far greater than money. Nearing life’s end, I simply want a good name. As Proverbs notes, a good name is more desirable than great riches, it’s better than silver or gold. I was convinced a ‘good name’ could not be had, that I [the intrinsic soul] would forever remain undesirable. 

Two decades is a long time to be stuck in such a cycle, passing blame, fading in and out of other lives, and neglecting to understand the lessons God wanted me to learn. People like me walk the streets everyday, We allow ourselves to become so overwhelmed, that it seems impossible to overcome anything. To bust the cycle, I had to become free and studied how ‘my’ universe worked and I authored the thoughts that strove that imprisoned the soul. My escape was in pen and paper.

I’ve acquired tons of computer equipment, by most advanced piece of technology remains either a fountain pen or a #2 pencil. The latest book of Barack Obama’s political memoirs, A Promised Land, became a best-seller. What is unexpected is that Obama’s 760-page book was written by hand. Maya Angelou did likewise, noting she had written 31 books, essays, plays and lyrics for songs — all on yellow pads. In doing writing, I learned a few things and some timely lessons.

Writing allowed me to express my thoughts, recraft my image, to let go of the past, to focus on the here and now, and helped me choose more empowering thoughts. Second, I stopped growing old. Samuel Ullman noted that nobody grew old merely by living a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Sure time may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Last, having a false image of what people actually are can harm the health of society. Likewise, having a false image of what your soul is like, will harm you. The negative image of myself was wrong.

People have negative thoughts all the time. That’s natural. However, victory is ultimately determined by the outcome of the war on the psychological front, whether one is able to live, to love, and to laugh before the specter of death is significant. 20 years on, I am a freeman, living and reliving the reasons I remain worthy. In my mind, now that I face my last few months/year(s), I choose to live, love and laugh with a light and smile like no other. Do me a favor, pardon yourself.

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Being Da’ Man vs. Being a Servant

Filed under: Faith & Doubt, Life Lessons
December 2, 2020

In Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, Scrooge asked the spirit, “… tell me if Tiny Tim will live.” The ghost indicated that should the shadows remain unaltered, he saw an empty seat. Eventually, the spirit used Scrooge’s own words against him, “If he is to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.” Interpretations tried to turn it into an assault on the wealthy, critiquing capitalism’s effect on society. It is not. Rather the spirit condemned Scrooge for the act of looking away, ignoring the evils imposed on people who cannot survive in society and also the political structure that keeps them in place. If I had to summarize God’s message to me, Dickens’ message would be an arrow between the eyes. 

These past weeks, I have been meditating upon my transition. In Dominoes, I noted Ms. K., waits. Why? In 2019 (see My Thanksgiving Letter), both God and she promised not to surrender, that they would always be knocking. I repeatedly told God I wanted to mentor people as if I could somehow drop from heaven and mysteriously help those in need. It’s as if I was saying, “Yeah, that’s it, God. I’m your man, your go-to guy. Bring it on. Let’s go.” I was on a roll until God provided a small portion of my end of life review.

An end of life review is a common aspect many Near Death Experience (NDE) claim to experience. It is sometimes described similar to a movie, in segments, or reliving every moment of life. During that process, there are no secrets, nowhere to hide. It’s all open. Suddenly, my meditation was no longer an exchange. God began to speak.

He told me that running the universe is above my pay grade. “You want to be a mentor? Then when did you mentor the needy in life?” Showing just a few clips of those I’ve ignorantly hurt or dismissed, God continued, “Who are you to request your position? What makes you so right? Why do you ask for something to be in heaven that you willfully failed in life? What effort did you give? What passion did you expend? Where are your fruits?” God claimed that the same passion that resides in us, the spark of the divine, the image of God that we bear, is what also allows us the free will to do good or evil, to choose to harm or either ignore willfully. 

It was a lovingly rebuke during a moment of arrogance. There were many moments where I failed to mentor. Let’s face it. I am not perfect. I was presumptuous to think I could ask God for what I thought I would like to do, but I was honored by God’s honest questioning. Terminally ill or not, I shouldn’t have overstepped. As written, “If you want to be first, you must be the very last. You must be the servant of everyone.”

What Jesus told His disciples is the same lesson God had for me: I needed to be a servant. A servant does things for other people before themselves. When someone is a servant, they put themselves last. As mentioned before (Deciphering God’s Call), Ken Boa stated God entrusted us with specific resources, gifts, and abilities. Our responsibility is to live by that trust by managing these things well, by design and desire. For a good portion of my time on earth, I the very gifts God entrusted me. Seeing my own arrogance, I sheepishly requested to be the caretaker [janitor] of a small park. “No. Taken.” Angel of gum removal? “Taken,” He interjected. “I have something else in mind.” He left without indicating what that ‘something else’ would be. Whatever it is, it will be His will, not mine.

Former world heavyweight boxing champ, Muhammad Ali, was known for often bragging, “I’m the greatest.” Just before take-off on an airline flight, the stewardess reminded Ali to fasten his seatbelt. “Superman don’t need no seatbelt,” Ali said. The stewardess retorted, “Superman don’t need no airplane, either.” Ali fastened his seatbelt. Likewise, I fastened mine.

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Post-Election: Rebuilding Trust

Filed under: Life Lessons, Social Justice
November 16, 2020

A day prior to the election, a heating and air conditioning technician arrived to perform ‘the scheduled Fall furnace inspection,’ a preparation for winter. I always engage these technicians during the inspection process, often learning of who they are and obtaining perspectives of life one rarely gets. “If Nancy Pelosi were to show up here, I would immediately hang her for treason.” He blurted. “And Biden should be shot.” The technician’s stunning admission was brutally honest, ‘summary execution.’ Neither Biden nor Pelosi deserves trials, just termination. The conversation still haunts me post-election and reminds us just how fractured America has become.

Blue-collar workers (like him) were left behind. It is one reason the ‘blue wave’ frittered like a mild earthquake. The tsunami didn’t occur. Democrats entered the U.S. election hoping for a GOP repudiation, certain to be swept back into power. Instead, close to 50% of the electorate denied the “blue wave” and steadfast in fear and hatred. GOP rhetoric permeated America’s soul and what emerged is an underlying desire to kill anything opposing the President’s view. If you’re not with the president, then you must be terminated. Enemies must die. All naysayers must be excoriated. 

GOP success is especially amazing given that their entire platform for the next four years was ‘Trump. Whatever he wants.’  As such, half the electorate drank from the cup of venality, vulgarity, and racism. Mirroring Gordon Gekko, one might say, “Hatred is good.” Of course, the Senatorial GOP lied, cheated, and stole a Supreme Court nominee. They copied their strategy straight from hell and told their minions, “God calls us to lie, defame, and cheat.” Glen Cook noted that more evil gets done in the name of righteousness than any other way. Do we expect politicians (whether GOP or Democratic) to proclaim they perform evil deeds in the name of Satan? Of course not.

Any attempt to politically embrace America, both racially and ethnically, in an increasingly divided society is misplaced, viewed with suspicion. My heating and air conditioning technician heard the line “we’re all Americans message,” and saw his America had evaporated and rather than accept change, he prefers to destroy all he sees, even if that hatred destroys himself. Given the permission to hate, half of America’s electorate chose a kingdom of ‘swill’ and its scraps of waste for pig feed. America’s new reality will chain Democrats from lofty horizons. Subtly, Democrats failed to understand that their party no longer looks like white America.

Unlike Democratic party delegates, Americans of the ‘rust belt’ and ‘Bible belt’ are not too thin, too rich, and too sophisticated to care about the fate of Paris Hilton, the Kardashians, or the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. They align themselves to the Republican thunder that reverberates a repeated mantra, “We are tougher, meaner, stronger, better Americans than Democrats!” Clinton’s fabulous ‘Deplorables’ slur and subsequent approach to statesmanship, “Strength and wisdom are not opposing values,” was a hit among the like-minded, but it was never Texas bumper sticker material. We simply refuse to trust.

Trust leads to some form of expectation. Wherein, that leads to the presumption that some things remain static. The disappointment is that at some point, everything changes. The question both GOP and Democrats must answer is difficult. Can we really trust politicians to not act only in ways that please those who think like them when they ought to find middle ground solutions that unify the multiple threads of our country? I’d argue no. But we can trust in ourselves.

“To have confidence in ourselves is to have confidence we can control our response. This is trust. No matter what we can possibly do in this short and fleeting life, without trust we are stuck being the traffic cop, trying to make everything go our way, according to our one-sided and self-deluded views.” 

~ Shinge Roko Sherry Chayat Roshi ~

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A Lesson From the Road to 270

Filed under: Life Lessons, Social Justice
September 9, 2020

Veterans and military families were divided about reports that President Donald Trump made disparaging comments toward the military. Some service members bristled at the remarks while and others questioned whether they occurred. Supporters claim that should one twist the President’s words, take something out of context, or cannot refute anonymous sources, an avenue to criticize exists. Other veterans have become disenchanted by the Trump presidency. Therefore, regardless of what’s done today, America needs a change.

I have no clue whether Trump openly disparaged Veterans. His past attacks on John McCain, a Gold Star Family, his military leadership, and the open disregard of the Uniform Code of Military Justice can propel one to conclude that Trump may have disparage military members. As seen on the news, our fearless leader launched an unprecedented public attack against the U.S. military’s leadership on Monday, accusing them of waging wars to boost defense manufacturing companies’ profits. Also notable was the choice to attack members of the press, specifically Jennifer Griffin and Laurene Powell Jobs.

While reporters from other news outlets confirmed aspects of the disparagement, Griffin works for Fox. And there, in the house of Fox, opinion hosts and corporate owners are seen as Trump’s personal media outlet and reliable supporters. Griffin’s confirmation led to Trump’s call for her firing via Twitter. Laurene Powell Jobs was also accosted via Twitter, stating that The Atlantic was “failing” and “radical.” Job’s sin came because she established The Emerson Collective, which focuses on education, immigration reform, the environment, media, journalism, and health. The organization happens to have an ownership stake in both The Atlantic and in Axios. Why do women always get the brunt of attacks?

Hillary Clinton, Carly Fiorina, Elizabeth Warren, Heidi Cruz (and a long list of other women) also experienced attacks. The way he talks about women, any prominent, powerful woman, is trivializing in the most demeaning ways. Professor Marianne LaFrance, a psychologist at Yale University, stated that when a female opponent is criticized, that woman is often reduced to sexual objects or someone unworthy of respect or attention. Yet, Trump receives support.

Ms. G. (a Trump supporter from work) said she did not mind. She and other conservatives say there are more critical issues than his remarks. They applaud the low unemployment (before COVID) rate among women and appreciate how he fought against abortion. Supporters adore Trumps’ appointment of conservative judges, attack on the poor, anti-immigrant stance (unless you are from Norway/Europe), the fight against other countries via tariffs (which they pay, but what do I know). Yet, these supporters only look at one or two issues rather than the whole. Trump’s road to 270 electoral votes would have been a cakewalk had things been done differently.

Had the Trump administration implemented healthcare reform that reduced costs, covered everyone, and ensured quality care, his support would topple 90%. Did America get healthcare reform? No. Can I drive to work without worrying about whether the bridge my car is driving upon collapses? No. However, the Trump administration held many ‘Infrastructure’ weeks. Did America get better roads and bridges? No. And about that steel boom? Overall, the employment rate at steel mills remains unchanged from when Trump began his presidency. ‘Protectionism’ cost more jobs than it saved. Face it, America lacks a plan.

America’s leadership has no plan for COVID, no healthcare plan, no nothing. All American’s have received is ‘crass and crude,’ a hell of a lot of unemployed citizens, and the promise of darker times. “Praise Jesus that abortion will become illegal, and we have conservative judges,” I heard Ms. G. exclaim shortly after Justice Kavanaugh received his appointment. 

Ms. G. died two days ago in the same hospital I.C.U. she worked.

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Transparency

Filed under: Life Lessons, Right Speech
September 6, 2020

My cellphone rang just before 2:00 PM. Pulling away from watching people stroll near the waterfront, the number only revealed my employer. When one is technically on sick leave, the person being called always wonders about such calls. The call could be anywhere between the benign, “You’ve received a package,” to the dramatic, “Hey. Hate to tell you; you’re downsized.” Pressing #1 revealed our company’s mentorship program indicated someone had chosen me to be a mentor – their mentor.

Mentors are important, so choose wisely. Maria Shiver said, “God puts mentors in your path. They may not look like you, sound like you, or be what you expect.” As such, I was curious about why on God’s earth one poor fool to choose unwisely. Even those with limited knowledge understand, I am not the poster boy of mentors. I’ve neither written a book nor cured any disease. During a meet and greet company social, my last mentee asked, “Where do you see yourself in five years?” “Dead,” I replied with a smile. And that quick exchange started a two-year friendship ending when he left for Washington, D.C.

Our relationship wasn’t hard-ass. I required only four things. First, I will not set your goals; bring your own. Second, you must follow through. If you don’t, I won’t. Third, I periodically review the mentee, mentor relationship to ensure it continues to work. Fourth, be transparent. Show your scars so others know they can heal.

During the first introduction meeting, my mentee asked, “What was the greatest challenge you faced.” I could have rattled off a litany of challenges, but the answer was easy, “In 2018, I sat with an FBI agent for the interview portion of my security clearance.” Revealing real grief, I was no longer afraid to show the anguish of someone who knew he had inexplicably screwed up. “During the period between 2009 and 2010, I said and did things that weren’t true. I was fired. I let down my colleagues and spent the last eight years doing my best to reestablish trust and remain true the values I chose to honor. What happened was an acute period in my life, and I had put many people through hell. As such, it is important to remind ourselves who we are, and in many cases, who we used to be.”

All of us have inner-truth, and ten years ago, I required an honest look in the mirror to acknowledge my imperfections (sins). Doing so meant the willingness to transform into a better person. It is not solely about one specific religious path. Instead, it is a path that is more concerned with how to live without harming others.

People want transparency. They don’t like being lied too. Except by the President, which represents an interesting exception, doesn’t it? Is it because “he” is “entertainment,” or because “he” was not like the others? Does it matter the whole thing was most certainly an exercise in marketing and publicity? As one person said, “At least he’s transparent about not being transparent.” I chose a different path.

I wanted to live selflessly and commit myself to the necessary work, sacrifice, and occasional discomfort to choose “the best way to live.” Transparency doesn’t just help the world at large, and it isn’t just about the fact that it’s the right thing to do. It means seeking to understand those around you. Doing so can and will transform your life.

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Did He See That?

Filed under: Faith & Doubt, Life Lessons, Parkinson's — 2 Comments
September 3, 2020

Stuck in bed from excessive pain and excessive blood loss, l watched the world from a window. Laying horizontally, one views a different perspective of the world, its beauty, frailties, and trivialities. In the hours, and the hours after that, life’s opportunities are thrown to viewers to ponder, but only those who see.

I was taught God knows us. And, in an ideal world, not one shall fall ‘cept by His will. Christ said so. “Yet not one of them (sparrow) will fall to the ground without the will of your father.” Am I afforded the same? Does God willfully wish me to die painfully, either from a tumor or Parkinson’s like a multitude of others? If God sees sparrows fall, does He see all animals? How about cats?

A cat died today crossing the street. Naively darting into traffic to cross the street, its hind legs were trapped under a tire. In excruciating pain, it tried to maneuver back to safety, but could no longer function and finally succumbing to fate’s last breath. We were both unable to move: the cat and I, helpless, and unable to move. Hours later, the moment we both participated remain frozen. My only words, “Dear God!”

“Dear God? Did you will that? Was that YOUR will?” The driver who saw the cat drove on. Other vehicles passing by looked at the struggle and simply passed by. “Not my job,” one might say. “No time,” another may claim. In 2018, Five teenagers who taunted a drowning man while recording his death. Did God see it? George Floyd died with an officer kneeling on his neck. Was that God’s will? Jacob Blake was shot seven times in the back. As Blake was shot, did Christ believe the will of YOUR Father was completed? What the hell was He thinking?

When an Antioch, Illinois teenager shot protesters in Kenosha, WI, was HE good with that? If Trump refused to condemn the shooter (and the act), was that God’s will? When Trump plays golf while many painfully die from COVID, are we good with that?  If God does nothing, should we? If our leadership willfully throws children in cages on America’s southern border, is that the type of tough love God condones? If we remove the Affordable Care Act and thousands die, does Christ say, “Cool.” I come to ask these questions because I know of no better forum to bring such grief. As the Apostle Peter once said to Jesus, at a moment of confusion and doubt, “Lord, to whom else can we go?”

During my incapacitation, In Fakebook’s show Sorry For Your Loss, the lead character typed a deep heart penetrating comment. “Everyone says it’s not the end of the world. That’s because it’s not the end of THEIR world.” I truly believe our world no longer feels grief because we no longer experience connection.  I had no close ties to the cat, but in a searing single moment, part of us shared a body of pain. As the cat suffered, I suffered.

Many of us will succumb similarly to the cat. We come. We live. We get ill. We succumb. However, in order for us to get past the ideology of the day (whether Trump, QAnon, GOP, Democrat, whatever), we’ll need to feel scars, In the presence of Jesus’ scars, Jesus instructed Thomas to “Feel my hands” and “Touch my side.” In a flash of revelation, Thomas saw the wonder of a God who in some way, stooped to take on our pain. In that sense, I can attest that where there is misery, there is Love (God).

In moments of pain, I want answers. “(Looking at Trump’s antics) Like God, why?” Yet God appears to remain aloof. Or does He? Frederick Buechner said, “I am not the Almighty God, but if I were, maybe I would in mercy either heal the unutterable pain of the world or in mercy kick the world to pieces in its pain.” God did neither. He sent love (Christ). God joined our world in all its unutterable pain to set in motion a slower, less dramatic solution … one that involves us.

All that has happened in these past four years demonstrates that your life—the decisions you make, the kind of person you are—matters now. Neither the cat nor I have a future. I would like to promise an end to pain and grief, and that one will suffer again. I cannot. I can, however, stand behind the promise that all things are redeemable, and can work together to a greater good. It’s a lesson God, Kanako, and that cat taught.

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On The Road to Kingdom Come: Pain

Filed under: Life Lessons, Parkinson's
August 23, 2020

A week has phased since my last blog post. I could have generated a few excuses, but none fit. I awoke Thursday morning stiff. Friday through Saturday, my neck felt like a volcano near eruption. I couldn’t hold a thing, had a hard time moving, and every muscle in my body regurgitated at the thought of moving, anything. Staying awake was difficult. Awake one moment, drowsy the next, then awake again.

Sleeping provided respite. I slept ten hours from Friday night through Saturday morning. Saturday to Sunday, thirteen hours. I felt comfortable enough not to use the restroom, though I did. When the act of laying down caused more grief than getting up, I nudged to the bed’s edge and stood. Shuffling over the cold hardwood floor provided momentary relief as I stood under a hot shower and wondered, “What the f***?”

I debated whether the Parkinson’s or osteoarthritis was the cause. Rigidity is seen in many Parkinson’s patients. Though not entirely understood, researchers believe stiffness is associated with the reduction of dopamine. If that is the case, then my Carbidopa-Levodopa failed and I should demand a refund. However, osteoarthritis pain can occur at either rest or night. In my case, nearly every part of my body was on fire, and more than once, I wished a ‘water scooper’ (aircraft that drops water on a forest fire) would drown me in Aquafina (purified water). Having inside knowledge of medical science, I know osteoarthritis usually does not affect the wrists, elbows, or shoulders. In the end, neither argument won.

Like many suffering in major illness, I am left with daily challenges. Whatever body part that’s inflamed today may not be tomorrow. Others experience it differently. Buddhists believe suffering is part of life. Pain is expected. Therefore, if a person experiences pain calmly, he can attain higher states of being without becoming emotionally distressed. At 2:26 AM, not sure I can buy Into that argument while every limb screams, “Holy Mary, Mother of God.” A pancreatic cancer patient once described abdominal and back pain, “I had woken up in the middle of the night screaming because of the pain, terrified to move because each time I did, it hurt more. It felt as if someone was stabbing my lung over and over again.” Such stories are not uncommon, and it’s hard to neatly fit spirituality when nature Is gnawing upon the body.

Even though I didn’t complain, the prospect of living under this type of pain is hard to fathom. I know pain is part of our human living experience. There is no way to escape and we often feel victimized. Being in pain also makes one anticipate further discomfort in the future and reminds us how finite our life is and of our fragility. Therefore, I chose my pain to be ‘teacher.’

My educator will help me to prepare for the pain that might be present as I die. Given a chance, I will try to explore whatever lessons that bring my life into greater focus and meaning, teaching me strength, patience, and giving me compassion and humility. Of course, I will take whatever medication is prescribed. Yet, maybe this pain level will allow me insights to endure, make me more mindful, and see the road ahead. Like others, I might even view it as a gift, like many of those dying realized their pain and suffering made their relationships more valuable and helped them reorder priorities.

There are numerous spiritual and psychological approaches to pain management. Medications make it possible to manage pain without diminishing awareness and provide one time to strengthen practice, be with others, and not have pain or be of an unclear mind. In such ways, I often say to myself: “I am in pain, but I am not suffering.” I say this to remind myself not to amplify the pain by building Some grand story. Rather, I can become ‘friend’ to my pain. Reach out to it. See what it needs. I may not know what to do, but the pain might. I can give it latitude, and try to see what it may teach. Therefore, I can use the experience of suffering to develop compassion for the lives of others who have pain like me.

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Dominoes

Filed under: About Love, Do No Harm, Life Lessons
July 27, 2020

“I wish your father were a part of our lives,” my mother blurted while playing Dominoes. Since suffering a stroke, my father’s health declined from a self-professed sports addict to being unable to recognize anyone, including my mother. In the wake of Coronavirus, many families are staring at walls, hoping for an idea ‒ or perhaps a miracle ‒ to come through those walls that will return life to the ‘normal’ once known. Such miracles rarely, if ever, occur, and we are remanded to rehashing previous events, hidden wrongs, and unquenched anger.

If the story is correct, my grandmother said my father created chaos wherever he went. For our family of four, chaos spared none. Preferring to drink with ‘bar buddies,’ my father was absent for a significant portion of family life. Post-stroke, he disappeared again, shuttled off to assisted-living, left to manage his thoughts alone. Yet, each family member is left to balance inner thoughts, and as walls close inward, secrets begin oozing from the crevices.

Sixty or so years is a long time to carry grudges, but my mother’s pain appears just as raw yesterday as it did 50 years earlier. Like 40 percent of children sleeping in homes where fathers do not reside, my mother bore the responsibility of managing both the household and children. Dark secrets buried nearly half-a-century were suddenly barfed onto the dining room table. I can personally attest to the consequences of a life stuffed into canyons far more profound than anything created.

My father neither saw my brother or I as we were, he saw us only as he wished we were. Being quite adept at sports, my father drew nearer to my older brother as I struggled to find shelter, to hide or fit. To be anything else, I learned, often entailed humiliation. As the years went, I found a way to mingle while never exposing the inner child who desired love. Turning eighteen, I left.

I carried forth my father’s legacy: chaos. At times I skipped school and received poor grades. I committed a crime, but only by God’s grace, I was never prosecuted. I was promiscuous and was foundationally set for poor relationships, including several divorces. Unknowingly, I became my father, and the journey to unwind it has been long.

Being so flawed, I often reflect upon the nature of perfection. Recently, I asked Ms. K. why, out of all the people in heaven, she waits for me. “Because you are always seeking to improve. The danger for you is that you have become focused on shortcomings, that I would judge harshly, unable to accept and forgive your faults. I want someone real, not perfect.” And therein lay the hope for us. Maybe perfection in God’s eyes is the desire to improve. 

I should stress that we should not accept ourselves. By that, I mean that we shouldn’t swallow the notion to “accept ourselves” as a license for complacency. We shouldn’t say, “I’m going to accept myself. Therefore I have no desire to change.” I accept my desire to change. We need patience, kindness, and forgiveness so that we can bring change to our lives. 

To change means bringing more love into your family. And then, ultimately, to you. If we change, you end the repetition of family secrets, children cowering in fear, and unwanted legacies. You are your legacy, and the life you live, by choice or by fate, is the legacy you ultimately leave behind.

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Letters To God

Filed under: Life Lessons
July 25, 2020

I haven’t written for several for nearly a week, as I’ve been so busy with work that I couldn’t pen a decent article. That’s partly true, and part fabrication. I ran out of things to say—a little writer’s block. Maybe time off is good for the soul. Then again, one never knows when inspiration will occur.

I captured a snippet of conversation yesterday. “Ugh,” an exasperated patient decried. “I cannot remember what I prayed to God about ten years ago.” Adding a chuckle, “Now, I’m praying for survival.” I’ve encountered similar ironies throughout the past decade: some funny, a few ironic, and several deathbed confessions. There hasn’t been a patient alive who hasn’t wondered where they were ten years ago or what they prayed, including me.

Years ago, I wrote God two letters. Yup. Him (or her). The head honcho. Da’ man. The great guru. If what’s said is true, God being everywhere, then the Almighty remembers what I wrote. That’s good because I don’t.

Pulling my two letters from the safe, one would never know what was written, when they were written, or circumstances under which they were authored. Was it at a good point in life? A celebratory note? Did I request a permanent piece of knowledge? Or, did I seek forgiveness for some event remaining unforgiven? Should we open and review?

Technically speaking, this letter is God’s letter. Even though I never adhered postage and dropped in the mail, this mail is addressed to God. According to the Associated Press, “…letters addressed to God are routed to Jerusalem, Israel and directed to Israel’s postal service. The Israeli postal service then delivers the letters to a unique address that hasn’t changed in thousands of years, the Western Wall, also known as the Wailing Wall.” Would the Almighty be offended if I opened my letter today and reread it?

Writing a letter to God is not as imposing as it sounds. When I wrote my notes, I heard no internal chorus of objections. “What am I supposed to say?” “I don’t like to write.” “I’ll sound stupid.” “What do we do with it?”

Author Janet Levy said, “I promise you, God won’t laugh!” When you write a letter to God, you are walking right past negative pride, self-doubt, fear, and reservation. You’re allowed to pour out your heart as one would to a close friend. You are permitted to unload problems, worry, fear, disappointment, grudges, and heartbreak. Place your hopes and dreams toward God’s loving attention.

Whatever the reason, I wrote two letters to God. Putting curiosity aside, I will not open and revisit them. Come Monday; I will place postage (about $1.50) and write “To God, Jerusalem.” I should have done it years ago. And, being as sick as I am, I should write again.

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On The Road To Kingdom Come: Why?

Filed under: Do No Harm, Life Lessons, Parkinson's — 1 Comment
July 19, 2020

After learning being diagnosed with “high-functioning” autism, writer Helen Hoang never told her mother. “I hadn’t really known how to tell her. More than that, I’d feared her reaction, so I’d simply avoided the topic around her altogether.” When I was diagnosed with a tumor last year and Parkinson’s this year, only five knew of my tumor, and only three (my doctor, my case manager, and a friend) knew of the Parkinson’s. Only three knew both, those being my doctor, my case manager, and a friend. Avoidance will either be my enemy or friend.

My doctor has routinely asked why I haven’t told any relatives. Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche said, “Death and dying is a subject that evokes such deep and disturbing emotions that we usually try to live in denial of death.” My brother is not particularly adept at dealing with it. And to be fair, most of us aren’t. Dealing with a terminal illness is hard enough without family instructing me to suck it up, swallow some Vitamin C, or work it out. Such a pronouncement would change every interaction; none of them are genuine. When I told my brother about the tumor, he was driving on the highway after flying lessons. Rather than waiting for a more suitable time, he listened to my diagnosis, demanded a second and third opinion, complete several other medical tests, and get back to him. He never called again, even when the date of the surgery came and went. The process of hiding or masking fits better in America’s society.

My military call-sign was ‘Chameleon,’ meaning I could almost on cue, adapt to any situation. I’m very good at it. I learned to blend as a kid because I saw people treated me, ‘different,’ ‘not socially adept,’ etc. Underneath that easygoing facade, was a soul struggling and found the minutiae of social interaction draining. The military changed that and trained me to adapt. It’s an acquired skill I continue to leverage and flawlessly execute.

I’ll admit, for months, I have considered coming clean. I almost came clean to my boss at work about the Parkinson’s diagnosis, but I know its impact on my career, for he was the second person informed of the tumor. Beyond that, I don’t want to have my illness define me, turning every conversation into a series of “how are you?” and every email into “here’s the latest cure you must investigate.” Nor do I want someone telling me to suck it up. Such conversations would provide neither meaning nor purpose. I aim to find out what the truth is for me and to live without vulnerability.

Vulnerability mustn’t be turned against me. It’s bad enough to battle a tumor Parkinson’s at the same time. I am unsure if I can fend off youth’s naysayers, demanding I fit into their mold. I don’t want to be the guy who seeks every nuanced therapy that provides marginal to no benefit. I want to live but live under my control, not under another’s umbrella.

Before the end of the year, I will tell my family. In subsequent days, conversations will become harder, and silences will grow. Relatives living in Chicago, Wisconsin, Florida, and elsewhere will email and either express regret or outrage at being uninformed. The ultimate question for every conversation will be, “Why?” And, it’s a fair question.

I have read many blogs where readers posed such philosophical questions of determining the proper moment to inform others of their terminal illness. Blogger Molly Kochan stated, “I have chosen to navigate this journey privately, with a handful of supportive friends and family. It was important to me to not be seen as a “patient” or as cancer.” I do wonder if my selfishness would impact others to such a degree that those affected would never move on. And so I say, “Yes. Eventually, they would find it within themselves to move on.” Therefore, I hope everyone focuses not on my final days (or year(s)), but rather upon leading the kind of life that will impact others. And should that be the result, then I would be truly inspired.

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