Monday, December 31, 2007

Reflection 2007


"An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves" ~ Bill Vaughn

Ringing in a New Year is a tradition that is often filled with celebration. Some of us host parties, are invited to the homes of friends, go out to lavish galas, drink too much champagne and set off fireworks. It is a time to say goodbye and a time to look forward for possibilities. For some others of us it is a time of feeling apart, a time of regrets and resentments, a time to look at what might be coming next with dread. How can this occsdion present such pairs of opposites?

Perhaps we put a little too much emphasis on the endings and beginnings of this annual calendar change…and perhaps not. It is a chance to look at who we are and who we are becoming. It is an opportunity to make changes, offer amends and clean up our mistakes. We can do a lot more than list our resolutions. This is the perfect time to make a spiritual adjustment. Let’s really begin to slow down and live a day at a time. Come to terms with the fact that the past is what it is and that the future is not a reality. Get up in the morning with a clear plan to “do the next right thing” in every situation that we face…and when we don’t…make the adjustment, clear the air and move along. This is how life becomes the celebration that God intends for us to enjoy.

My resolution this year is to truly live a day at a time

Sunday, December 23, 2007

A Christmas Memory


Bondurant Place, DeLand, Illinois
Christmas, for me, is among other things a time of fond remembering. Some of my most vivid memories are of the late 1950s and early 1960s celebrations at the country home of the Trenchards, my uncle and aunt, in Deland, Illinois. In the middle of the endless Central Illinois farmland sat Bondurant Place. Named for Uncle Wendell's grandfather, it was nestled among hundreds of trees with a winding driveway. Truly a festive gathering place for my granddad, his nine children and their families.

I remember waking up early to see what Santa brought to our house at 18 West Winter in Danville. Mom and Dad were in their robes and we opened presents and hugged and laughed. It was hard to get me away without taking a favorite something to go on the road to Deland. But by the time we got to Champaign on two lane, snow packed roads, I was anticipating the event at Bondurant Place!
Wendell Trenchard and Bobby Jones

Uncle Wendell would be HO! HO! HOing at a door wrapped with an image of Santa! Aunt Helen would gleefully shriek at our arrival almost as if she didn’t know we were coming. "They're Here! They're Here!" they would exclaim. We were always the first to arrive...except that cousin Joan, her husband Taylor and the boys had spent the night...and had Christmas Eve together. The oldest son, Bon, would be down at the trains in the basement. I was so excited I could burst. People would start coming almost in order! Granddad and his companion Mavie were next, then Aunt Beulah, and then everyone else almost at once and then.....Aunt Nellie, Uncle Lester, Irene and Sarah! Always last...always anticipated with joy! Everyone received the happy "They're Here!" greeting. The smells of turkey and goodies filled the house. The cousins and cousins played and played mostly downstairs. There was no need for lots of toys...but there were plenty of them. We just delighted in each other. We shot each other with Ack Ack Guns, played with the best model train set in the world, looked for spooks in the coal bin, explored the unknown....Every now and then one of the parents or uncles or aunts ventured down for a minute. They knew that we were OK but just wanted to share in the fun! My older cousins could only resist for awhile. We usually got them involved without much struggle!
Grand Dad Jones and some of his brood

Then came the call! Dinner was ready. All of the adults sat at the big table and the younger members at the children’s table. As people moved or died you graduated to the adult table. I never made it. The littlest kids sat in the adjacent sun room next to the kitchen and the older kids sat at the table in the hallway. Everyone hushed and Uncle Wendell called for order. Aunt Nellie said the blessing. Then we got in to the feast. What a feast it always was! Turkey, dressing (traditional and oyster), cranberries, mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls, fancy butter....place cards at every seat made by Aunt Cil....Oh Boy! When the main course was done we got to have special frozen Santa ice cream made just for us and Hickory Nut Cake (We all LOVE Hickory Nut Cake).

There was short a play time while we waited for the next tradition. In a few minutes we would all line up according to age and put our hands on the right shoulder in front of us. Sarah was always in front of me. Granddad Jones was first and held the long strand of Jingle Bells. Uncle Wendell would fire up his lights and movie camera. Then we marched through the house singing "Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle All The Way". Opening presents took forever! Someone would play Santa and bring a present one at a time. The relative would open it and we would all go "Oooh and Ahhh". Then the next one.

FINALLY...we could go and play again! It was back to the basement. Uncle Lester would fall asleep on the couch. The Moms would clean up and the other Dads would play gin rummy. This would be story time in by the fireplace in the basement. I would start with the most horrible ghost story that I had learned that year. Usually Strawn, Penn, Danny, or Debbie would sit on my lap. The room would hush. Terror would fill the room!
Helen Trenchard and Mary Timmons
Now the call would come again! Aunt Helen would have made a special bag of goodies and leftovers for each family. It was time to go home. Sometimes I wanted to cry...but usually I was eager to get home to tell my buddies about "what I got". I could never relate to them that "what I got" at Bondurant Place was more important and more fun than anything that came in a beautifully wrapped box. It was dark and there was snow hanging on every branch. I fell asleep in the back seat of our Chrysler. Happy Family....Happy Christmas

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Christmas and Winter Solstice


“Then the wolf shall be a guest of the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; The calf and the young lion shall browse together, with a little child to lead them.

The cow and the bear shall be neighbors, together their young shall rest; the lion shall eat hay like the ox.
The baby shall play by the cobra's den, and the child lay his hand on the adder's lair.

There shall be no harm or ruin on all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be filled with knowledge of the LORD, as water covers the sea.”


Today, the winter solstice, is a celebration of light. It is the beginning of Winter in the Northern Hemisphere and of Summer in the Southern Hemisphere. There have been festivals throughout history which mark this “triumph of the sun” since ancient times. Light and illumination are the focus of attention as the seasons give us hope for tomorrow.

It is no coincidence that this is the week of Christmas. We have been marking the days of Advent in anticipation of the miracle of renewed birth. This is our time of joy. The whole atmosphere is infused with joy. Once again we are given the opportunity to do the right thing in response to this light, illumination, hope and joy of Christmas.

How does Jesus appear to young people who die of AIDS, to the millions without employment and social dignity…when children are physically and sexually abused…when women continue in many cultures as subordinates…when ethnic slaughter goes on in Africa, Europe and Asia…when the Earth is ravaged by our excesses? How does light and joy come to these? Jesus, the light of the world comes in the guise of YOU. We have the renewed chance for reconciliation with those who suffer. It is our opening to offer relief to our brothers and sisters who experience material, emotional, social, moral and physical poverty.

How can I illuminate life for others? How can I bring joy, hope and light to the world?

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

An Advent Thought

It is "the most wonderful time of the year". Johnny Mathis reminded me of this with his traditional Christmas Carol on my way to work today. This is the season of Advent. The practice of observing Advent is one that is practiced by many Christians throughout the world. It is all about anticipation. It is about finding the gift in each day. What a good thing to remember as we rush to Christmas.

One day, an old friend from high school days called me on the phone. He was going through a difficult time and wondering if and when things would ever turn around and improve. I knew he was in a lot of pain. I didn't know then that he was considering suicide.

"You are in the helping profession," he said, "If you could give a person only one thing to help them...what would it be?"

I thought carefully about his question; then I replied, "It's not one thing. It's two: gratitude and letting go." Gratitude for everything, not just the things we consider good or a blessing. And letting go of everything we can't change.

A few years passed and my friend called me again. His life had turned around. Two very large problems he was facing at that time sorted themselves out. The actual process of facing and working on these problems helped him redirect the course of his life.

Someone once asked the artist Georgia O'Keeffe why her paintings magnified the size of small objects, like the petals on a flower making them appear larger than life, and reduced the size of large objects like mountains, making them smaller than life.

"Everyone sees the big things," she said. "But these smaller things are so beautiful and people might not notice them if I didn't emphasize them."

That's the way it is with gratitude and letting go. It's easy to see the problems in our lives. They're like mountains. But sometimes we overlook the smaller things; we don't notice how truly beautiful they are.

If you're going to make anything bigger than life, let it be the power and simplicity of these two tools: gratitude and letting go.

God, teach me to use gratitude and letting go to reduce the size of my problems.

Saturday, October 27, 2007

Autumn Reflection...A Fulfillment Of The Promises

The entire summer passed without an entry in this blog. No reflections, musings or meditations. It was not that I was lacking content or too busy. The fact is that I was celebrating summer and early fall, celebrating life…just celebrating. My wife, Bonita, and I were able to take two of our grown children to Maui for two weeks. My business grew and promised to expand beyond my dreams. We went to an October Chicago playoff game at Wrigley Field. These things would not have been possible seven years ago.

In October 2000, at age 49, I had just completed a four month residential alcohol and drug treatment program at Talbott Recovery Campus in Atlanta. My addictions had ravaged my life and the lives of my family for more than twenty years. I lost everything more than once in that time…my first marriage, the relationship with my children, jobs, finances…and on and on. My counselors told me that I would never work in my field (addiction services) again. It was a time of starting over. But things get better and miracles happen in recovery. Sometimes quickly and sometimes slowly…healing occurred in every facet of my life. Family reunited and happy…financially secure (if there is such a thing)…career restored...it all came together.

There we were, sitting in the famed bleachers at The Friendly Confines of Wrigley field in October. I am a life-long fan of The Chicago Cubs. My daughter Courtney, wife Bonita and I sported newly purchased Cub clothes as we gazed out at the bright green newly planted turf towards the historic home plate where Babe Ruth defiantly “called his shot”. We could almost see Ron Santo in the announcers booth, animated and thrilled…as we all were. The rowdy bleacher bums, plump delicious hot dogs, perfect weather and post season baseball on The North Side…Priceless. In the words of Harry Carey and my counselor Jim Weigel (he is also Commissioner of The Northern League of Professional Baseball by the way)…”Whoda Thunk It”.

The Promises that they talk about in Alcoholics Anonymous seemed unreal to me. Unimaginable! They may have been written in good faith, and someone might have experienced such recovery but I was sure that they would not happen for me. I include them here for all who believe as I did. They are written for you.

If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through.

(1) We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness.
(2) We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.
(3) We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace.
(4) No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others.
(5) That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear.
(6) We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows.
(7) Self-seeking will slip away.
(8) Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change.
(9) Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us.
(10) We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us.
(11) We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.
(12) Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us—sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them.

Recovery is rich and rewarding. It restores and enriches life. I highly recommend it.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

A Midsummer Dream of Celebration

Today marks the first day of summer…known as the summer solstice or Midsummer. It is a time of the celebration and the triumph of light over darkness. The sun is at it’s peak in the Northern Hemisphere. It is a time of picnics. My family would gather at these annual events and afterwards reminisce that loved ones “ came from far and wide with well filled baskets, and a good time was had by all”. Traditionally this is a time of life and love…in appreciation of the certainty of today. Shakespeare wrote “A Midsummer Nights Dream” with these famous lines:


"I know a bank whereon the
wild thyme blows,


Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows


Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,


With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine:

There sleeps Titania some time of the night,
Lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight"


Have we forgotten the celebration of life amid the tragedy of war and fear of others…news stories that proclaim the insanity of the day? It is time to reclaim our Midsummer victory over night! One of my favorite visions from Hollywood is that of an elegantly dressed Rosalind Russell giving instructions to the timid Miss Gooch in the 1958 movie Auntie Mame. She is standing on the stairway and bellows “Live! That is the message! Live...Live...Live...Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death."

Let’s take today and cast out the darkness of gloom. Get a basket and fill it up. Grab up some friends and go for a drive to the park. Count your blessings and give thanks. Live…Live…Live!

Thursday, May 17, 2007

You Are Loved ~ A Story In Three Parts

There is so much wisdom to be gained in life. The teachers present themselves all along the pathway. Sometimes we pay attention and sometimes we don't. But the lessons continue. This three part story is written in an attempt to tell you about the most important information that I have ever received and the one who imparted it to me.

Part 1 ~ Michael's Struggle

I have a friend and teacher named Michael Sessom. There have been many times in which I considered the possibility that he was an angel sent to provide light for my journey.

The first time I met him was at Bridgeway, a hospital based treatment center for alcohol and drug dependence. I was the Clinical Coordinator there and made it a point to get to work early so that I could go to the cafeteria and have coffee with the patients. Michael had been admitted the day before and was sitting at a table looking much the same as people who were struggling with the first twenty four hours of alcohol withdrawal. He was alone and I sat down next to him. He agreed to stop by my office for an assessment later in the day. It turned out that this was not the first treatment episode for Michael. His disease of addiction was complicated with Muscular Dystrophy, he had periods of deep loneliness and depression and was an “out of the closet” gay man. His hands trembled visibly from withdrawal. He just seemed pathetic and my prognosis for him was not good.

I arrived at my usual early hour the next day. There was laughter coming from the cafeteria at 6:00 in the morning. Real belly laughing. The patients and nurses were all sitting around tables and Michael was holding court. He was in the midst of telling a tale that had everyone in stitches. I got some coffee, sat down and enjoyed the spell that he had cast upon what was usually a somber time of the day. From that day on, he led the other patients like the Pied Piper. Everyone loved him including the staff. The joy and laughter that he spread were unbelievable. Not only that…he was a deeply spiritual man with great insight. His words of wisdom were often profound and his counsel was frequently sought. The exploration of his own difficulties was equally intense. He spent long sessions with Corinne Gerwe, his counselor, looking in to the cause of his destructive behavior patterns. His graduation from treatment was touching. He received the Bridgeway recovery medallion and made a wonderful speech to us all. I was amazed at his transformation.

A year or so later I got a phone call from Michael. He experienced a relapse and had just completed another addiction treatment on the other side of the state. He said that he had found the answers that he had been seeking and asked me a question to which I could hardly agree. He had nowhere to go and wanted to move in with me so that I could be his spiritual counsel and director. I balked and asked him to call me back later in the day. The executive director, his former counselor and I got together to discuss the matter. They said that there were no ethical reasons that he couldn’t move in since it had been more than a year since his treatment at Bridgeway. I was surprised to get an approval from these folks on Michael’s request. The “risk” of rumors and assumptions that would be made by living with a gay man somehow seemed irrelevant. Michael moved in to my mountain cabin called “Touchstones” several days later. Muscular Dystrophy and alcoholism had caused serious wasting. His clothes practically fell off of him and he looked terrible.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

You Are Loved

Part Two ~ A Course In Miracles

Miracles happened at Touchstones. Michael followed an enriched nutrition program that I prescribed. He spent long hours on the deck which stretched out near a musical little stream that flowed through our woods. He read, wrote in his journal and recovered. He gained weight and his strength fully returned. Within only a few weeks I found Michael working in the gardens and landscaping. Muscle tone was returning to his arms and legs. This is not something that usually happens with Muscular Dystrophy. One day I came home to find him carrying large rocks (Michael called them boulders) that weighed at least 40 pounds. He began working at Bridgeway as a “fifth step” volunteer and assumed an important role in my regular spiritual retreats for patients and alumni. Counselors were calling him to meet with patients who were deeply distressed and difficult to reach. Michael became active in weekend “Gatherings of Men” at Touchstones that I had been leading for some time. It was not long before he had a rather large following of people who were moved by his deep spiritual messages of love, hope and forgiveness. I was fast becoming his student rather than teacher. The beliefs that he passed on were entirely inclusive. They mixed his Baptist upbringing (Michael’s father was a pastor), Catholic teachings (he converted to Roman Catholicism), Native American spirituality and Buddhism. He had a deep belief in angels and a sense of connection with eternity. He spoke with such conviction that people were immediately drawn to him.

Months passed and I began to long for my personal space, privacy and solitude that Touchstones had provided prior to Michael’s arrival. He was doing so well and it was time to move on. We had some discussions about the subject, and ultimately, he moved to a mountain retreat where he was an assistant to a local minister. I soon relocated to a small house in town closer to the treatment center and life went on.

Michael became an occasional visitor. He spent some time at Corrine and David Gerwe’s home in Saluda, NC. He and his parents had reconciled after years of misunderstanding. Michael left the mountains to spend time at home with them in order to heal family wounds. The truth is that his health was beginning to decline. He called one day to ask for a weekend with me and I agreed. Several of his followers had been asking for him and it seemed like a good time to make connections with them. I was surprised when he said that he was too weak to see them. One of the young men was so desperate for his counsel that I pressed him. Michael was very fond of the boy and agreed to have a session. His arrival at my house on Friday was sobering. Michael was practically skin and bones. Most of his weekend was spent sleeping on my sofa. We talked about Touchstones and how well he had recovered there. His voice was weak and his limbs were shaky.

I went to another part of town to pick up Jason, Michael’s student, on Sunday. Jason was excited about seeing Michael and had developed what seemed to be dozens of spiritual questions for discussion. I explained that Michael was not well and tried to prepare him for what he would find when we arrived at the house. Jason was undaunted. Michael was sitting on the couch with an Indian blanket around his shoulders when we arrived. He glanced up at Jason and smiled. We exchanged some greetings and Michael remained silent. Jason began to ask some questions that were important to him. Michael gestured with his hand to stop and then put his finger to his lips. He struggled to his feet and Jason rose with him. Michael put his shaky hand on Jason’s shoulder and said “the only information you need is that you are loved”. He sat back on the couch, lay down and covered himself with his blanket. He said “Goodbye, Jason”, and we left. I immediately began to apologize to the young man who had expected deep conversations filled with wisdom and direction. Jason stopped me and said this…"Michael's right, Bob! That IS the only information I need…and it's the only information that you need too”. Nothing else was said. I dropped him off and returned to my place. Michael was asleep. I had to leave early for work in the morning and when I came home for lunch he had already left for his parent’s house. He left a short note thanking me for the weekend and asked if he could come back in a couple of weeks.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

You Are Loved


Part Three ~ Angels and Eagles

I called Michael several days after his visit respond to his request for another weekend. Frankly, I was not all that receptive to the idea at that point. His parents were out of town and a neighbor who came by to help him in the morning answered the phone. She said that she came by to make some breakfast for Michael. She had summoned 911 responders just minutes before my call. “I didn’t know who else to call” she hesitated. “Michael is dead.” This kind of news is so terrible to receive. I was stunned, guilty and sad. I went back to Bridgeway and telephoned to let people know what had happened. Several of us went to the funeral. His words and wisdom had helped so many people. There was a profound sense of emptiness and unfinished business. Michael had often told me that he would find a way to communicate with us that the messages of angels, love and forgiveness were true when he made it “to the other side”. He would send an eagle or an angel to bring the news. It was easy to believe him when he said things like that. There was no doubt in his voice when he delivered these kinds of statements and he taught with complete conviction. How I wished right then that such an assertion could be true.

I was conducting a Bridgeway retreat weekend two weeks after Michael’s death. One of the women who registered for the event became upset during the greeting session. She told me that this was not a good time for her and that she was going home. Hours later she called to say that everything was fine and that she had been instructed to call and tell me what had happened. Her journey led her through the Chimney Rock community and she was feeling drained and depressed. She stopped at a Native American store that sold relics and souvenirs made by local Indians. This is what she told me.“

I had to stop at the store and I wasn’t sure why. When I stepped in the door a mild sweet odor of incense greeted me. There was an Indian man who seemed in charge of the store that said hello to me as I wandered around. He walked over and asked what was troubling me. For some reason I began to weep and could only sob out a few desperate words. He put his hand on my shoulder and told me to go out the back door and walk down the steps that led to the little stream below. He said that I would find my answers. I did what he told me and sat there for almost an hour. A calmness overcame me and peace seemed to flow in. It was hard to leave but I thought that it was time to go on. I started up the steps and when I looked up there was a figure standing at the top with his arms opened in an inviting gesture of embrace. For some reason I just fell into the loving arms of the man who told me to go to the stream. He said this. “The only information you need is that you are loved”. Then he told me to call the one from whom I came and tell him the story. Call Bob? I asked. He smiled and said yes. He didn’t say, but I am sure that his name is Michael."

How do you explain such thing? You cannot. There were other “Michael sightings” reported to me in the following weeks. I was somewhat miffed that I had not personally received a visit. I mean...After all! I was taking a teenaged boy on a ride through the mountains so that he could present his “Second Step” to me. The step says “We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity”. He was a wounded child who had suffered terrible abuse. The work had not been easy for him. He was recounting his new feelings of hopefulness as we drove down the beautiful mountains south of Saluda when a gold eagle dramatically swooped down at the car barely missing the windshield and soared off into the sky. There wasn’t even time to hit the brakes. My breath was restored and I uttered a “Wow”. The kid looked at me and said “That was Michael”. He had heard some stories but had never met him. “Do you think so?” I asked. He stared at me and replied with the incredulous tone that only a teenager can summon “Well…Yeah”

I could go on and on with this. But I will say it as clearly as I can. Michael told me to tell you. The only information you need is that you are loved.

Friday, April 20, 2007

Tragic Losses

April has delivered a sobering reminder of our frailty. It takes only a moment to shift from celebration to mourning. The events of last Monday at Virginia Tech are impossible to comprehend. I was also reminded by Matt, a student who is fast becoming a teacher, that we were approaching the anniversary of the April 20, 1999 killings in Columbine.

There is little solace in times of such tragic loss. How sad it is that such things happen. I read the profiles of each of the victims in Blacksburg. Their pictures showed people so filled with life. I was especially taken by the grin of a young man named Jarrett Lane. Jarrett, his classmates and teachers, were taken in horrific fashon and the shared grief of strangers throughout the world cannot bring relief. This community of compassion presents those who loved him a sense, at least. that they are not alone in their suffering. Jarrett’s infectious smile reminds me of a poem by Robert Louis Stevenson called “In Memoriam”. It is my offering to all who mourn this young man and those who died with him. May peace be with you.

YET, O stricken heart, remember, O remember
How of human days he lived the better part.
April came to bloom and never dim December
Breathed its killing chills upon the head or heart.

Doomed to know not Winter, only Spring, a being
Trod the flowery April blithely for awhile,
Took his fill of music, joy of thought and seeing,
Came and stayed and went, nor ever ceased to smile.

Came and stayed and went, and now when all is finished,
You alone have crossed the melancholy stream,
Yours the pang, but his, O his, the undiminished
Undecaying gladness, undeparted dream.

All that life contains of torture, toil, and treason,
All that life contains of torture, toil, and treason,
Here, a boy, he dwelt through all the singing season
And ere the day of sorrow departed as he came

Sunday, April 8, 2007

New Beginnings


Twelve years ago my wife Bonita and I left the office of our friend, Fr. Carl DelGiudice. The words that he gave us were powerful. “You are now as pure as the driven snow”. This spiritual affirmation guided us to our marriage ceremony at the beautiful outdoor chapel called "Pretty Place" at the Eastern Continental Divide with views of the Blue Ridge Mountains and lush Spring valleys of the Carolinas. We retraced our steps this weekend, attending Holy Saturday services in Brevard with Fr. Carl and then visiting Pretty Place this morning. It is Easter and we begin again. It is an illusion to think that anything else could be true, really.

The promise of new beginnings is that they are introduced at every turn. Not only do they shine in the morning sun but also emerge from the shadowy places. We have only to reach out and seize the opportunities that they present. Easter confirms this reality. The tomb is empty. Everything is new. The music of the flowery April sings in every moment that we live. When we fully comprehend this, even in a bleak December, we can embrace the fact that we are...as pure as the driven snow.

Saturday, April 7, 2007

The Darkness of Pathless Places

One of the people that I serve in my addiction recovery center said “I have won all of my life. This is not supposed to happen to me at 56. I should be getting ready to retire and live the good life”. These words are so familiar to me. I uttered similar ones several years ago. I was 49 and my life was falling apart. I had been there before. How could this be? There are experiences that bring us to the place where we are lost…lost in pathless places without visible or invisible means of assistance. We are alone. Facing ourselves and afraid of what we might find. It is dark and we are baffled, confused and disoriented.

We have come to believe, in our modern culture, that this is an aberration. We think that we are somehow intended to start achieving when we begin school, lift off the ground when we graduate, and soar to greater and greater heights throughout our existence. It is the American Way. Never has there been a more mistaken perception. All of the religions, all of the mythology and all of the fairy tales are filled with stories that deal with the subject of the downward spiral. The familiar accounts of Moses, Muhammad, Buddha, Elijah and Jesus clearly tell the tale of being comfortable in a predictable life, being somehow drawn into the unfamiliar, struggling and dealing with the situation and then coming out the other side with a new message, ministry or epiphany. What had been is no more. The same is true in mythology and fairy tales. There is someone who becomes lost and eventually there are guides to help them find the way. The hero vanquishes the dragon or the foe and then lives a different life adventure that benefits humankind.

This is also the message of Holy Saturday. The fulfilling lives of Jesus followers have been torn away. Nothing is the same. Everything is ruined. They have gone into hiding and fear that they meet a horrible end. But out of that darkness and despair, grief and emptiness, come light and new life. This mystery is unfolding for each of us. At some point we are drawn to a place where we would rather not be. It may be brought on by stress, tragedy, illness, death of a loved one, or addictions. It may happen at 15 or at 60 but it will occur. We are called to find out who we really are, to struggle, to deal with it, and then to emerge as a new person with a broader and more compassionate vision. What had been excruciating becomes exhilarating. Nothing will ever be the same.

Friday, April 6, 2007

Good Friday

The name Good Friday always confused me as a child. The word “good” is attributed to this day in the Christian calendar to connote the paradox and wonder of the day. The prelude is a dinner celebration that ends with the lesson that leads the followers to become humble servants. Jesus of Nazareth tells his friends "If I, your lord and teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet." The stage is set for grueling hours of loneliness, abandonment by friends and family, incredible pain and suffering at the hands of others and finally death. This downward spiraling grief then, miraculously leads to new life and fulfillment. That which was bad becomes good. That which is filled with regret and bewilderment with no chance for redemption is transformed from darkness to light.

This story should ring so true for recovering people. The metaphors that point to "pairs of opposites" in our own lives are unmistakable. Our celebration somehow ended up in all of the loneliness, and torture that anyone can imagine. We actually died a kind of death to ourselves and to those who loved us. Then, by some unseen hand, we are lifted from our tombs and raised to a new life. Recovery is a miracle. Today is a perfect opportunity for reflection and re-dedication. Our lives have been restored.

How can we become the humble servants who bring light and comfort to those who still suffer? This, after all, is the meaning and pupose of life.

Thursday, April 5, 2007

Servant Leadership ~ The Path To Freedom

The idea of a humble servant who provides inspiration and leadership is paradoxical and difficult to fully comprehend. Not to be confused with the public servant or civil servant who lends magnanimous support to an organization, the true servant is regarded as one who performs domestic chores. The servant is retained for substandard wages to perform tasks that the employer would rather not perform. The position is regarded as a lowly one and the servant is someone who does not have the skills to do more lofty things in life. How could a servant be a leader? How could a servant provide insight or encouragement? Can a servant be taken seriously?

It is important to understand that the concept and fad of corporate servant leadership in which the “priority needs of others are being served” is a way to improve the bottom line. It is not the spiritual challenge that is implied in true servant leadership at all. The servant leader is one who is compassionate and who embraces suffering, who loves without conditions, who shares power freely and recognizes, claims and proliferates our unique and individual identity as the beloved children of God. They seek forgiveness, healing and liberation for themselves and for others so that we may all grow into God’s vision for the world. They create loving communities and institutions where peace and social justice are paramount. They nurture and embolden others. They follow the path of the one who washed the feet of the disciples. They serve without expectation of compensation.

Wouldn’t it be transforming if we could begin to practice these principles in all of our affairs? Such change would create a world in which we would no longer strike preemptively at supposed enemies. We would become empathetic, practice diplomacy and treat each other with dignity. We would listen attentively. We would share our resources. We would finally be at peace. Starting today…let’s love our neighbors as ourselves. It is the path to real freedom.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Waging Peace

Our national and international attention has been on war for the past four years. It has been said that everyone desires peace. I am not sure that the evidence would support such a claim. The war that we wage in Iraq has resulted in so many negative outcomes. We have given up freedoms in hope of greater security. This hope has evaporated as The Patriot Act has stripped us of civil liberties and violent attacks and threats have increased around the world. We have believed that our show of force in Iraq would stabilize the Middle East. Instead, we have enraged the Islamic world and created instability throughout the region. We were told that we would liberate the powerless. Rather, our show of force and violence has only unmasked US as the powerful against the powerless. We were told that a limited amount of national treasury would be used to overthrow our “enemy”. The monetary price tag has almost reached a trillion dollars. The price tag in human life is staggering. More than 600,000 civilians have been killed. As many as 200 Iraqis die every day. More than 3,000 American soldiers have given their lives. The number of our wounded men and women is far more than the official 24,000 reported to us. There are no numbers to estimate the number of wounded Iraqis. It is time to abandon the violence. We do not have the right to continue. We do not have the right to kill. Easter is approaching. It is time to listen to the words of the one who said "How blessed are the peacemakers". We are called to bring harmony and reconciliation between those who are estranged. We must seek to create understanding and produce loving relationships where there was hatred.

It is time to wage peace.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Scattered Thinking

“There is so much to do and so little time.” Words like these could be the mantra of current times. We take ourselves and our work so seriously that entire days are consumed by urgent tasks. When we finally come to a halt in the evening our minds often remain with a job on which we are working. Our passionate and excessive work ethic is dangerous. It seems financially necessary to be so wrapped up in what we do. Thoughts sometimes are racing and scattered. Sleep is disturbed or difficult.

It is important to develop a habit of quieting your mind. Nothing good happens when your thoughts fly from one thing to the next. We are worried about what there is yet to do or what might have left unfinished during the day. The real cause for this is worry. St. Paul wrote in his letter to the Philippians: “Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” This is good counsel. Prayer, meditation and becoming centered have the power to bring calm to our thinking and put us back on the right path. It is important to find a quiet place for quick retreat. Even the bathroom will work. But it should be known that you are not to be disturbed for twenty minutes. Start by listening to your breathing. The rhythm of the in and out begins to block out other noise inside your head. Think of the most serene and beautiful place that you have ever seen. Drift to that place and begin your prayer. Give thanks for your life, your family, friends and vocation. Ask for peace and perspective. Smile. You are safe. There is nothing to worry about. All will be well. Now you can go out and receive the ones who love you and give them the attention that they deserve. Your mind will no longer be scattered. You will be attending to what is REALLY important.

Wednesday, March 7, 2007

Paying Attention

I remember being a little boy and being told to “Pay Attention!”. This command was always given by a teacher, a parent, or some older person who thought that I should be listening to what they had to say. I occasionally drifted off, like most children, to someplace that was not so mundane or boring. They sometimes called it daydreaming. The truth is that kids don’t find everything that adults offer up as vitally interesting. There are more important things like a bug crawling toward Sally’s elbow, butterflies dancing in the window, fish and frogs that are waiting at the pond for me, forts in the woods, a pie cooling on Mom’s windowsill. Now those things command attention! Like most people, though, I grew up and away from the daydreams, the fantasy and the anticipation. My focus became the work at hand, problems to solve and tasks to complete. And the world slips by in the process. I don’t even see bugs very often except the kinds that I should spray. Butterflies get smashed on my windshield on the way to work. Ponds are stagnant and need to be cleaned. The woods are in my back yard yet rarely even get visited. Mom has been gone for a long time…there are no more pies on the windowsill.

It is important to take some time during this season of renewal prior to Easter. I was reminded by a patient of mine that “I’ve never seen a U-Haul behind a hearse”. There are so many interesting details buzzing around us every single minute of every single day. It does not take much discipline, but does require a desire, to take an opportunity to notice what is REALLY going on. Forget about the war, politics, the market, work, duties and responsibilities for just a while today. Walk outside and look around, take a deep breath, sit in the grass, and celebrate God’s gift that is before you. It’s free! Then take it with you and then daydream about it here and there. Someone might say “Pay Attention!”…you can respond “Oh, I Am!”.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

A Lenten Thought

“Look closely when you feel the swell of joy within, or the tightness as your throat closes up in sorrow. Live in that moment.”

The busyness of life often rushes us past all of the miraculous things that are happening all around us. We rush from activity to activity, from crisis to crisis and fall, exhausted into our beds to gather enough energy to do it all again the next day. Even the vacations that we anticipate and plan can be frantic. We pack up the family and drive long distances or forge into the daunting airports to be processed for travel. We arrive at our destinations, see all of the important sights, hit the hot spots, and head back home. Lots of vacationers take their business cell phones and laptops with them wherever they go so that they are always on task, always available. Where (or when) do we draw the line, stop running so hard, and slow down to witness the real beauty of it all? Most of the religions have integral periods of retreat and renewal. They make sacred certain seasons of their calendars so that people can reflect, meditate, pray, fast and become centered. Most spiritual disciplines call for daily ritual that brings the faithful into the realm of devotion and peaceful reflection or prayer. Such is that time called Lent, which is the 40 day cycle prior to the Christian celebration of Easter. It is a sacred time of introspection and review. It is a period of sacrificing some self indulgent habit and creating or enhancing some positive contribution to the community. It is a really good time.

What indulgence or bad habit can I give up and replace with a good deed today?

Monday, February 12, 2007

Forgiveness: Freeing Oneself From Resentment

A wise man bestowed wisdom upon me back in 2000. I was wrestling with problems in my life that existed in my past but that were seriously affecting the way that I related to other people in the present. I respected him very much. My decision to ask for help, however, was postponed several times with a variety of excuses. Finally, I found myself sitting in front of his desk. I felt more like a 12 year old boy than a 49 year old man. My words spilled out for several minutes. He listened patiently. There, it was done. The barbs and foibles, miscues and mistakes, lies and disguises all summed up in a blubbering mass of emotion. His response was heartfelt and brief. He said “If you don’t forgive yourself, you have missed the whole point.” That was it. No lecture, no judgment, no pontificating over my dilemma, just those few words. I thanked him and took them back to my apartment. Nothing has really been the same ever since.

Dr. Doug Talbott’s words have guided me in my personal and professional relationships for almost seven years. They taught me to afford myself the opportunity to heal. I had to stop punishing myself for my mistakes and begin living gently and constructively in the present. I have learned that forgiveness is a key to happiness. I must offer it to everyone in order to be free from resentments. This letting go of resentment has proven to be a touchstone of life. I have learned that there is absolutely nothing that I can do to change the past. All I can do is learn from it. There is no point in holding grudges, bearing resentments or harboring ill will. All of those are heavy burdens that I (and only I) choose to carry. Their weight is too much for anyone to bear. Putting them down allows me to focus on the important mission of living well today. I can do the next right thing. I am never a victim. Life is good!

Saturday, February 10, 2007

Listening For An Awakening

Most of us long for a "new awakening" in out lives, a transformation from who we are to who we dream of being. But what kind of action is needed in order to achieve such change? There are so many self improvement books and articles on the subject that one could almost spend a lifetime reading and studying. The list of seminars and speakers, internet blogs and sites go on and on. The truth is that these epiphanies are elusive. They seem to come to people at unlikely times.

Bill Wilson, a co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous, was incarcerated for the fourth time at Manhattan's Towns Hospital in 1934. He tells of a spiritual awakening, a flash of white light, a liberating awareness of God. This experience led to the founding of AA and the gift of 12 Step Recovery. He was sedated, detoxified and hopeless. Bill prayed, "If there be a God, will He show himself?" He said this of his life altering experience. The result was instant, electric, beyond description. The place seemed to light up, blinding white. I knew only ecstasy and seemed on a mountain. A great wind blew, enveloping and penetrating me. To me, it was not of air, but of Spirit. Blazing, there came the tremendous thought. 'You are a free man.' Then the ecstasy subsided. I found myself in a new world of consciousness which was suffused by a Presence. One with the Universe, a great peace stole over me."

Thomas Merton, the great writer and spiritual mentor, was at a point of complete disillusionment and on the way to a dentist appointment in Louisville, Kentucky. He was on the corner of Walnut and 4th Street when he was overcome with a new awareness. He wrote, "Yesterday, in Louisville, at the corner of 4th and Walnut, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness. The whole illusion of a separate holy existence is a dream. Not that I question the reality of my vocation, or of my monastic life: but the conception of "separation from the world" that we have in the monastery too easily presents itself as a complete illusion. I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun." Merton went on to be a voice of peace and social justice. His life and work were never the same. Countless people were and are influenced by his transformation.

There are many other similar stories. A common thread seems to be that a person must be in a position in which there is a desperate need to listen. Karl Menninger describes this listening as a force that creates us, unfolds us and expands us. The process is difficult. We are always ready to respond. Always ready to give advice. Always ready to talk. The idea of being quiet is foreign to us. But this is, indeed, what it takes to be a vessel for a new awakening. Active listening and reflection are a discipline that can be developed or it can be thrust upon us as it was for Bill Wilson and Thomas Merton.

We must listen for our new awakening, our personal epiphany. How can I become a quiet listener?

Friday, February 9, 2007

Living A Life Of Inspiration

“No one is as capable of gratitude as one who has emerged from the kingdom of the night." ~ Elie Wiesel

I was pondering the person that I might quote on our website “thought for the day” and remembered one of my favorite authors, Elie Wiesel. He was one of the children of Auschwitz…one who survived that which is unimaginable to most all of us. The boy who witnessed the murder of his entire family lived to become the conscience of our remembrance. He was appointed chair of the Presidential commission on the Holocaust, awarded the Congressional Gold Medal of achievement, and the Nobel Peace Prize. His emergence from the kingdom of the night has proved to be a guiding light for thousands of people over the years. So, my choice of subjects and quotations was, perhaps, more important today than others. How do we emerge from our own darkness, from our own kingdom of the night? Do we become beacons for others or do we transmit even more darkness? Do we offer gratitude or do we offer bitterness? We are wounded in our life’s journey.

It is impossible to live without such wounding. There is no way to avoid it. It is more obvious for some than others. Those who are victims of terrible abuse, horrific experiences and tragic loss are everywhere. But what about those who are not exposed to such things? We each suffer rejection, disappointment, sadness, grief, loneliness and fear. No one is unscathed. We must make a choice in dealing with our darkness. Our life lessons and experiences can be used as gifts that reflect the richness of living, gratitude for survival and thanksgiving for our many blessings. It is a choice to make. We can either be an inspiration or a discouragement to those we encounter. We can leave a legacy of wisdom and love or one of disillusionment and hatred.