Namaste, Houston!

December 7 was my mother's birthday, and since we live a few hours away, now, I had to put the gift I got for her in the mail on the Wednesday morning before. I drove in to downtown Houston and parked at the public library, where I am working, and wandered through the streets in search of a UPS Store. I found it and had another hour to kill before I was scheduled to work, so I just wandered the streets and enjoyed the architecture and cool morning air.

Downtown is a frenetic place on a Wednesday morning before nine. People pour in by the bus load--literally!--and everyone walks at a pace seldom seen outside of an early-morning suburban mall. People are in a terrible rush to get past one another, to grab coffee and to get to work. Some are already doing business on their mobile phones, their eyes fixed on things only they can envision. The sidewalks are a blur with motion.

All of the stereotypes are represented on the streets. You can see the perfect professional lady and gentleman, dressed to kill, briskly maneuvering through the crowd; You can see the entry-level executive in new clothes, with carefully-messed-up hair, with eyes the betray his outward confidence. There's an Assistant who has been on the job for nine years--she is no longer excited by being downtown, but she no longer has to work so hard to try and impress her boss.

I walked for a half hour, wondering what it is that she knows, before turning back so I could hopefully find my way back to work. When I got to the busy part of downtown, something that we talked about in Shambhala Meditation a week or two back popped into my mind: namaste.

Namaste is a common greeting in India--basically, it means something like, "I salute your form." But that form points to the formless part of us all, so Namaste is a way of acknowledging the divine in others. So, I started thinking namaste inside, making eye contact with everyone I could. "God loves you," I told them in my head. After passing by maybe 50 people, these two thoughts had become something of a mantra for me.

By the time I made it back to work, I was in an amazing state of mind; when you remember that God loves each and every person you meet, regardless of their membership in this group or that, you begin to remember that He loves you, too. The truth of the fingerprint of the divine within the people rushing to and fro is the truth for you, too, whether you know it or not.

We are all on the same journey, heading to the same destination, even if we, ourselves, have no idea where the trail ends.

But, it is all good...

It seems I have some apologizing to do. Thanks to having time to think (between episodes of Curious George on Netflix), I have uncovered some tendencies of mine and begun to make reparations for them a little. 

For instance, I called my friend Chris after ignoring him, outside of weddings and funerals, for several years. We are busy, so there are no hard feelings, but I was not being true to my beliefs about the value of people when I didn't call or write to Chris, so it is right that I finally spoke with him. I have also called Tim and Leigh Ann, who were foundational friends to me while growing up, and had a great conversation with my friend from when we were three-years-old, on, Justin (he instigated that call, but it was good). Just today, I posted some old photos of a girlfriend of mine from OU on Facebook and got to pester her a little. 

Since 1972: Super Schmuck!

And there are many more people I need to say big truths to--my sisters, my mother, my father, other friends. They all deserve an apology because I have walked this pebble for long stretches with my head firmly implanted in my asshole, my mind focused solely on whatever I preferred on any given Wednesday, with my own interests set as primary regardless of repercussions.

I just didn't know, didn't see, and often didn't care, that I was selfish.

Years have passed swiftly, just as everyone always said they would, as though my life was a leaf I dropped into a flowing river. I look backward when I speak with my good, old friends, and I remember more of them that I see before me. And I feel ashamed because I was rash and selfish, because I withheld love from them when I should have loved, and because I just didn't take time to show them that they have enriched my life in ways that I can't explain in words.

But, it is all good. 

See, I am not going to randomly call up everyone I have ever slighted and waste their time with a long, mushy monologue--it would be great to have a party where the guests were all people I have slighted and neglected, because I would get to see everyone I have ever loved, but the next day I would likely start a new list. 

The thing is, people don't want or need big apologies like that would be. Those conversations feel good for maybe fifteen minutes, but then shit moves on and things feel much as they did before because all of our contexts have changed and we just don't mean as much to one another, now, as we once did, at least not as much in our day-to-day lives. And that is as it should be.  By itself, confession can be really selfish.

About the best thing we can do is just understand our bad tendencies--really own them--make amends when given the opportunity, but then really do better as much as we can. I don't want to excuse myself from my sins by claiming that we all fall. I know they are me, anyway.

If you read this, please consider yourself apologized to. Then, call me up and let's take care of one another the way we should have all this time! :o)

Welcome to the Fall Out

I have written three separate posts telling the story of how Stacy and I came to move our little family to Houston, a move we made in early August. The thing is, that story is not really interesting! Yes, the move meant huge, dramatic changes--we sold our house, we left friends and family in Tyler who we love and who we depend on for our (well, my) sense of security, and I left a job that I was okay at doing--and all of these changes happened quickly. In a way, that story should be told. I should certainly try to explain how that sort of thing happens.

But all of that is eclipsed, for me, by things as they are, now.

I am not writing to whine. I knew before we ever committed to move that moving would make for some strange changes. I knew that my people would be three-and-a-half hours away, but I have friends I love who live thousands of miles from Texas, and I have little idea of what their everyday lives are like, and the love persists. To me, that permanent bedrock of love is beautiful, and I fully expect that my dear ones will remain close.

One of the effects of this move that I (wrongly) thought I was prepared for is being unemployed. I honestly thought that I would be snatched up quick by the "job that I was meant to do," or that I would be able to use my time without a job to finally do some of the things I have always meant to do, like regular exercise, more reading, more meditation. I imagined finding a place/group of people where I would be challenged and examined and valued. But the thing is, relationships and jobs are not thrown together quickly, if they are really valuable! I know this is true, and I know that the time I am getting to spend with Anna and with Mia (after school) is amazing and valuable! My dad never got to literally be THE MAN who took care of Donna, Suzy and me when we were little, and I get tons of time to play and cuddle and feed and walk with my girls (I don't always want the responsibility, but that's another blog post).

I mentally know this is good time. I am not a guy who thinks his total worth comes from some job. Still, deep inside, I feel isolated and useless, like I need to apologize to strangers for taking up space--I am not contributing. I feel vulnerable, I feel unattractive as strangers walk past without a glance, and I feel sidelined from most of the people I love. As I said, I am fully aware that I am the one who moved away, so please don't take this as me resenting my friends and family in Tyler--in fact, the distance gives me time to think pretty full about everyone.

There are a lot of positives, too. I am closer to Stacy, to Mia and Anna, and to Kelly; they are all I have in my everyday life, so I should be closer to them. We have also been able to join Kelly at Ecclesia at a time when they are making tons of big changes, and that is good to be part of, even if from the fringes. I have been able to exercise at this great YMCA each day, and Anna gets great childcare there, and there is Yoga (though I have not made it to any classes, yet). And, I have had one interview for a job at a beautiful downtown Books-A-Million, though it looks like Anna's childcare might cost nearly as much as I would make--it is still good to be considered, and to meet some of the employees.

But, I don't want to pretend that I am in some kind of great place. I want to remain open to this new vulnerability, and to come to feel the truths that I believe, that my value is not determined by who I can serve or be valued by, or by some job. I want to cultivate the internal qualities that I value, already. I'm thinking of this time as time in the desert--a comfortable desert very near the Galleria, but a time to purge. 

I hope I can become as courageous as Rick has been with his internal searching. I will likely goof off a lot, but maybe good things will come to shine from this time apart.

Tyler, TX and fog

Driving the old, brick streets downtown. The fog makes you look at everyday things in a whole new way.

Marvin UMC in the morning fog.

Looking West down Erwin Street