I Can Hear You

Each of us enters life alone.  We wake up each day and walk, sit, crawl, or fall alone.  Even if we’re lucky enough to have a significant other who loves us, friends who will fight for us, and a family who’s there for us, we’re inescapably alone.  No one can take our challenges or face them. 

We cannot ever really feel another’s pain.  Even if we’ve been exactly where they are, we cannot feel what they feel at that individual moment.  We can see struggle on their face, but we can’t feel it. It’s for them alone.     

Our solitude makes life epic.  We must face everything even when shoulder to shoulder with loved ones.  We have to play our part. 

Reaching out for another will not end any hurts we have.  They cannot erase unkind words from another, nor change our past.  They can’t heal our scars. 

But when someone looks us in the eye and listens to us, really listens, we know it.  We understand they’ve crossed a line and opened the realm of their own world to enter ours.    

That’s why listening to another person is such a big deal.  We cannot leave our world, but when we hear another person, we give them our world. 

A complete human, with struggles and laundry, drops it all for those seconds, minutes, or hours, and is there for another.  Attention is the greatest gift we can provide because we’ve opened our doors.  We haven’t left our body, our hurt, our life; rather we’ve shifted focus.   The floodgates are open.

Through our own will, we give the greatest gift: we give our lives for that moment.  What could we do more for another person than surrendering seconds of the time we have left?

Maybe we don’t know what to say or do to help them; after all, we can’t really save them.  However, the very act of hearing the person we’re with is a way of saying, “I see your life, I see you hurt too, and I’m here with you.”

What do you think?  Share your thoughts in the comments. 

Where Would You Go?

If you had seven days to get ready for two weeks spent anywhere, and you could spend $50 a day total in each location, where would you travel?  Outlandish and local destinations are both highly appreciated.  Share your opinion in the comments section.    

Favorite Songs

Thanks so much to the folks who shared their favorite songs.  The following are videos of each of their favorites.  


*Edit: (apparently YouTube requires you watch the videos on their home website)

"Amoreena" by Elton John

"Fragile" by Sting

"Freebird" by Lynyrd Skynyrd

"Southern Man" by Neil Young

"Hanging By a Moment" by Lifehouse

I'd also like to add this song, "Indra" by E.S. Posthumus.  It's what I drive to work with.  

Got more favorites to add?  Post them in the comments section!

Songs We Always Love

This song, State of Grace, might be my favorite Seal song. 

I first heard it back in 1998, when the album had just been released.  I think it was my first Amazon.com purchase (and I paired it with a Final Fantasy VII strategy guide).  I can remember putting it in the player, lying on my bed, and listening to the CD all the way through.  To this day, it’s my favorite Seal album.

I was 12 when I first heard it, and I’m now 25.  I love it more now than I did that day.  Some music is apparently so good that it can transcend the change of 13 some odd years.

Is certain music timeless for us because we connect it so closely with our identity?  For as long as I’ve been a fan of music, I’ve loved Seal.

What is a song or album you always love?  Share your favorites in the comments section.  

The Opinionless Fight is a Dead Fight

Note:  This is a Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) specific article I wrote and posted on Bloody Elbow.

When I watch MMA, it’s in the company of a fairly even amount of hardcore and casual fans.  When sitting in Buffalo Wild Wings 3 hours before fight time, I often ask my friends, “Who are you rooting for in the _________ fight?”  Frequently I get a response I don’t understand.

“I don’t care who wins, I just want a good fight.”

I find it almost impossible to watch a fight based on that preference. 

If we enjoy MMA long enough, we typically become serious fans of at least a handful of fighters.  I could finally understand my Dad’s stomach pains when he watched his hometown college play.  I felt the same pain when I watched Evan Tanner fight.  Seeing your favorite win meant roars and leaping in the air.  Silence followed a loss.

If we all have specific favorites, those favorites can’t always be fighting; so inevitably, we watch cards we are less invested in.  I can enjoy these cards because I won’t have the powerful euphoria or dejection that’s not so easy on the vocal cords or blood vessels. 

But I cannot understand the enjoyment in just wishing for a good fight.  Not caring about the outcome would mean one hopes to see exciting things happen in a fight.  Breaking this down to a very basic level, this fan would hope for a flowing dance, exhilarating violence, two bodies trying to take out the vitals of the other. 

I see this philosophy applying similarly to the appeal of figure ice skating or gymnastics.  Both are about fluid and skilled movement.  Beautiful moves are not the reason I watch MMA.  MMA is about struggle and about one person not only winning, but beating the other person.  A defeated MMA fighter does not look at his opponent and announce, “You beat me in this fight, but I could out figure-skate you any day!”  The amount of a fighter’s personal safety and dignity invested in each fight is what separates a fight from a contest.

Maybe it’s easier to not invest in a fighter.  If you never pick a winner, you can never be a loser.  You also will never scream at the top of your lungs when Evan Tanner is announced champion or Anderson Silva latches the triangle minutes from a loss.

Come Saturday night, I’ll have a storyline for every fight.  I might hurt a lot, and I might have a lot to cheer about.

And I’m pretty sure I won’t have a voice by Sunday morning.  

The Friend We Don't Want

Habits, plans, and goals require us to move in some way.  The initial “high” we get from starting a new system might motivate us to continue:  We complete 2 days of the workout, cook healthy food for several meals, or go to bed early for 3 days.  Enthusiasm is born!

Then the 4:00 a.m. alarm sounds, waking us from 2 hours of sleep, or our friends are about to start a new movie when we’re committed to going to bed early.  My personal favorite is when I’m sitting down to salmon, lentils, and peas and the people around me are eating cinnamon rolls.

Now we face ourselves, and it becomes real.  Before this moment, we’ve talked and planned.  Perhaps we’ve made lists or shared our goals with others.

Writing, talking, and intending do not make change.  It’s not until we’re exhausted,  hungry, bored, or some other form of pain that we ultimately either enter a new path or keep with the same direction.  Positive thoughts and lists mean nothing when a headache or heartache is involved.  So what happens next? 

We either do it or not.  We either make the change or don’t.  So what inspires us to act?

Perhaps the very pain that forced us to consider change in the first place is our savior, the one thing that can prevent us from avoiding difficult but necessary transformation.  Even if we hate its entry into our lives, pain never deserts us.  Pain will not be apathetic to our lives, and it always has an opinion.  When we try to push it away by drinking more coffee or eating cinnamon rolls, pain leaves briefly, only to return at the most inappropriate time.   

We’ve finally made it to the weekend where we are safe (or so we think).  Then pain enters to show us what we’ve been avoiding, acting as a constant reminder of what we need to do.  Maybe we need to call our Granddaddy or scrub our shower.  Whatever the case, pain does not lie or try to trick us.  We know what’s going on, and we cannot hide from our friend. 

Rather than run from what might be considered a loyal friend, could we ask what pain is trying to show us and ask how we might serve it and thus serve ourselves?

Agree or disagree?  Post your thoughts in the comments section.

We Are What We Pay Attention To

Paying 14 dollars for fish and chips seemed like a bad idea, especially after receiving a head wound from the hills of Chatanooga.  I figured eating it couldn’t possibly be worth it. 

Then I looked at it.  Because I was spending so much on fish (I usually eat a Sam’s Club can of Salmon a day, and that’s the most luxurious meal in my life), I decided I’d pay attention to it. 

It was one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time.  I tasted every breaded flake of it, and it was truly delicious.  Lemon adds a lot.  It’s something to experiment with. 

French fries are so commonplace in a standard meal they’ve become synonymous with our American culture (in Germany, they put mayonnaise on them…ouch).  They might not be considered exciting when every fast food billboard has their own version (sea salt or not).  However, if you give special attention to each single fry, you realize how much you have on your plate.  Suddenly 16 fries is…..16 fries.   

I don’t ordinarily like slaw, but it becomes a good, spicy second fiddle to the fish.  Maybe even the things we don’t normally like become interesting when we really taste them.  The white side sauce, however, stayed on the side, the look of it was interesting enough for me.    

Maybe this meal doesn’t sound delicious to you, but everything in our lives, good or bad, may contain meaning.  When the soundtrack of everything around us fades away and we mindfully experience the plate in front of us, this experience can become epic. 

If a person doesn’t pay attention to the things they put in their body, what do they pay attention to?  I don’t always focus on what I eat, but I do think I’d be happier if I did. 

What is a meal you remember?  What did it include?  Why do you think you remember it?  Post your experience in the comments!

Agree or disagree?  Think I’m crazy for giving special attention to French Fries?  Post it in the comments as well!

P.S. The meal came from the Big River Grille & Brewing Works in Chatanooga.  Thank you Big River! 

Failure Loves You

Photo taken by Logan Cook.

Can goals be defined as things we don’t yet have?  Perhaps parts of ourselves provide us pain.  Maybe inertia is alive and well, and we’re comfortably floating in whatever direction is our life, yet a voice inside prods: “This needs to happen.  You need to be here.  You need to do this.”

So begins the process of making plans to lose weight, go to bed earlier, or feed the cat regularly.  In times of real discomfort with our current situation, we steel ourselves, making lists, marking calendars, and buying the appropriate products.  “This time I will do it!”

The switch needs to be flicked, and we only partially do so.  Maybe we follow our plan for two days.  Maybe the P90x DVD set doesn’t leave the box or the broccoli stays in the fridge and eventually spoils. 

 

Time continues and the memory of previous attempts to change resurfaces, bringing up potential angry conversations.  Actions needing to happen did not, and the internal voice is pissed, “You can’t do this, you never can.  You never change!” 

Maybe this moment is a friend.  The phrase, “Fall down seven times, get up eight” paints a portrait of continual perseverance, an aggressive attempt to never be rocked by life.  Yet life happens and does rock us.  The laundry piles up, the kids need feeding and Easy Mac can sit in cabinet for years while broccoli cannot.  We cheat on ourselves.  We fall down.

Meeting with this moment might bring pain, but could it be a way of getting closer to ourselves?  Intimacy with failure means knowing fully the patterns where we back away from what needs to happen.  Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me 1,000 times, and I might begin to see what’s going on.

Time and time again, we’ve fallen short, and we know all about it having paid attention.  This time we’re ready, there is no surprise.  We realize that a night of 3 hours of sleep means we’re hungry for Snickers. 

This time, we don’t pick up the candy bar because we know what will happen.  We’ve been here before and seen the story play out.  This time, we grab for broccoli, or spinach, or a jump rope. 

Maybe we fall down seven times but get up the eighth because we see life’s left hook and get out of the way---or better yet, we dodge the left hook thrown by ourselves.

What do you think?  Agree or disagree?  Join the conversation by writing in the comments!

It's Never Your Turn

“And she thinks ‘cause I’m saying nothing, that I’ve got nothing to say.”  ---Rob Dougan in “Born Yesterday”

A group of people are sitting around talking.  Maybe the tv is on, maybe it’s not.  These folks chose to be together for the sake of hanging out and there might be 5 people or more.  Voices soar.

As a person talks, it’s almost as if he/she has a 3 second window to speak because another member will follow up immediately with his/her message.  In this situation, I have noticed my own desire to have my voice heard, to get my turn.  More disturbingly, I have noted a tendency to sometimes interrupt others, talk louder than usual, or be interrupted.  What is this?

Perhaps this act of aggression is a desire to be noticed and more basically, to be loved.  Maybe if we can see that others equally seek attention and care, we can be less likely to cut them off, to snipe their voiced thoughts.

Can we listen and be speaking?

What do you think?  Post your opinion or thoughts in the comments section.  

Be Whose Self?

The quintessential solution for a young wayfarer of life trying to be cool might include, “just be yourself.”  Folks who have (perhaps) journeyed longer in life frequently present these words as a remedy for the shifting tides of human interactions and the rising and falling of a one’s personal and social image of themselves.  And this epithet is suggested with the simplicity of Nike’s motto: Just do it.

How do you do it?

Standing before the hordes of other human life, can we easily flip a switch and become “ourselves?”

The notion that one can choose to be themselves implies this dormant, true self is waiting, perhaps hiding behind the created self which we would rather portray ourselves as.

Yet, if choosing to be oneself is simple, why doesn’t this choice happen more often?  What keeps this prodigal son or daughter from actually entering our everyday life?   When I think to myself, “Just be yourself,” I then wonder how I would do that, because I’m still trying to figure out who I am.

What do you do to be yourself or to find yourself?

Why are people not themselves more often?

  Post your ideas in the comments.