Coming home

Life can be hectic. My wife's blog, Navigating Hectivity, is a great catalog of all the things we have to deal with as adults.

Work, school, chores and projects at home can be, in combination, quite a challenge. Sometimes, quite overwhelming.

As such, we hadn't, for some years, had the chance or ability to skip out for a weekend alone together.

Tight finances and busy schedules sometimes preclude romantic getaways.

We do our best, from time to time, to use our room or screened in porch as refuges from business, just to reconnect a little.

But, both of us longed for a bit more, knowing it was very unlikely to happen any time soon.

When we received a long awaited invitation to our niece's destination wedding, things worked out that it would be the two of us who got to go.

When future exciting events are on my calendar, I just put my head down and focus on the current activities. I try to not get so excited, because it distracts me and makes me anxious.

But, as time does go on, it was time to begin packing and readying the house for our departure.

Short of a weekend trip to visit my brother for his birthday, late last year and our usual summer family reunion, I hadn't been out of state very much in a few years.

Travel is always stressful for me.

But we departed and after a long day, found ourselves nestled high in the Rockies.

We soon found that it was an agreeable place. And even more, found out how lovely it was to be together, just the two of us.

Yes, we did mingle with family and make new friends and that was wonderful. But the time we spent together was magical.

We took long walks, ate wonderful food, rested and read quietly, or watched cable TV (a reality that reassured us our choice to cancel cable was the right one) and just hung out.

The wedding events, like the pre wedding cookout and the rehearsal dinner and the wedding and reception were beautiful and fun and wonderful.

They were, after all, our reason for going.

But still, we managed to reconnect, find our romance and friendship still intact, and enjoy some much needed time as just a couple in love.

Our journey home was long and exhausting. We got back early enough to inject a little normalcy into the evening: crashing on the couch and watching our favorite crime drama on Netflix (with no commercials or channel flipping necessary) and snuggling with our furry family members.

But now, the new week looms large. Checklists replace plane tickets and wedding events. Deadlines replace departure and landing times.

Chores and projects put on hold for the weekend away, are now once again in focus.

Autumn is here and it is time to begin to focus on the coming winter months.

We are once again parents and adult children. We take up again the mantles of CEO, Grounds keeper, CFO, Teen Librarian and Web Facilitator.

Morning routines replace snuggling and watching dawn break in the high places and adventuring for a place to eat breakfast.

We will both miss our proximity to our beloved nieces and their wonderful, beautiful personalities. We will miss our new friends and family.

We will greatly miss the beauty of life at high altitude (if not the shortness of breath or the potency of adult beverages up there) and the quaking aspens and lodgepole pines and the black beaked magpies.

We will never forget our time there, reconnecting, falling in love again, bonding, and experiencing the glorious beauty of a new love and newly spoken vows.

Now it's time to get back to our regularly scheduled programming. Time to catch up on laundry and laundry lists at home and at work.

Life is good. Routine is good. There is a distinct earthy pleasure to be had in the mundane everyday things.

But behind the scenes, are two people who feel renewed, refreshed and reconnected.

As the jet lag and the oxygen content normalize and return to normal, it is good to know that we both came home knowing that we are much stronger, more deeply in love and closer in so many wonderful ways.

The war for truth

I am becoming famous, or perhaps infamous, for using Snopes.com and other factual sources to determine whether content shared on Social Media is factual or spurious.
With quotes, especially, I tend to hunt up citations that meet my standards.
Quotes that do turn out to be accurate never see more from me than a like or a here, here. Quotes that do not turn out to be accurate, on the other hand, often get a link in the comments.
I know that this seems trollish. Especially when, like in a very recent case, it was a harmless sentiment that was actually honorable in its foundational ideas.
Why should I presume to correct a misquote shared by a friend, when there is no apparent harm done?
Because we are in a silent war with an ideology that uses all kinds of misquotes and misinformation to sway a whole lot of people into believing things that are patently not true.
And while I support everyone's right to follow their own way, it goes hard with me when someone that I respect falls into that same whirlpool.
If we are going to change this world, we have to do it by being as verifiable as possible. Those who don't want to see the truth, never will see it. But we all have a responsibility to make sure that what we read, share and put out there for the rest of the world to read is factual and sourced.
I know of no one who wants to be willingly mislead. If we are, that is the worst state of affairs.
So, I become a well meaning troll. I try to make sure that, regardless of whether the sentiment is noble, the source is accurate, too.
I mean no offense. I only mean to keep us all on the footing of truth and honor.
That said, please cite your sources, double check before you share. In a moment of weakness we could be responsible for leading someone down a path to dangerous ideas.

Theology is a science, not a 'feeling'.

I sometimes read a passage or a paragraph from a book that makes me think that the author must have been inspired. Possibly even divinely inspired. And there is no doubt in my mind that the art of writing, once perfected, is as close to the pure act of creation described in so many mythologies.

We are often given gooseflesh by reading that one line, or quote or proverb, because it somehow speaks to us at an intimate level that we ourselves do not understand. How can that be? How can authors, long dead, say something in their works that hits us in the bullseye of our heart?

Perhaps, one of the reasons this is possible, is because each of us, for the most part, are provided with the same range of feelings or emotions and experiences. Many of us know the agony of unrequited love, or the loss of a dear friend or loved one. We also know the joys of watching our children grow or of holding a newborn. Those things, when we write about them, touch within us a place of commonality. They are the things that make us human.

Mythologies, developed as a means to identify with our ancestors and with our heritage, often touch us on similar emotions. We feel an intense sense of belonging. This is our history.

However, there comes a point when no matter how much something speaks to us, we must remember that those feelings are subjective. They are deeply personal and they mean something to us, but they are not universal in the purest sense.

This is why there is so much danger in making claims that what is written down in a history or mythology is literally (I mean this in every sense of the word) divinely inspired. It is dangerous because if we believe that we are obliged to obey those mythologies because of the inspiration, we fall into the trap of trying to get everyone on board with our way of seeing things.

This is most especially true with Biblical scriptures. It is fine to believe that the Bible is divinely inspired. It is not fine to try to convince everyone that they should believe the same thing, as well.

Theologians, whose sole job is to break down the historical, theological and mythological aspects of scriptures will agree that the works themselves are wonderful and full of wonderful things. However, secular theologians, those whose study is not influenced by any inherent divinity in the texts, will also warn that those same scriptures can be misused by applying to them a general divinity that must be obeyed.

However, a deep and lifelong study of scripture is a fine thing to attempt. And if, within those scriptures, one finds a mold into which they can pour themselves, for their betterment, there is nothing wrong with that.

Sadly, we often find that a person's theology is frightfully thin, when they've come to believe that the essence of the scriptures are perfect and unerring truth.

After a lifetime of study, until recently, I cannot dig beyond a small shred of doubt within myself that while beautiful and not to be missed, the writings are not inspired. I can take it one step further and say that I believe that the Gospels, for instance, are the more likely to be inspired, because their combined message is so good. However, speaking historically, Paul's writings came before the Gospels. To me, being absolutely subjective, I do not see Paul's writings being inspired at all. They are clever, well written and even deeply important to the faith as a whole, but I do not see them as being inspired.

To make this theological break from Paul, for some, would seem the worst thing possible. And yet, the faith is not about Paul. It is about Jesus. Even Paul writing about Jesus is not Jesus himself.

Since Jesus is the prime point of the Gospels, and the stories are directly dealing with his ministry, it makes sense that we would think them divine, since the Gospels claim Jesus' divinity. However, it seems to me that Paul's ministry was about Paul, and we are never made to believe that Paul is divine, accepting that he is doing what he believes is divine work. That is an entirely different concept.

When we delve into the mysteries of these scriptures, we must be wary enough to discern our feelings and desires from what we read. Just because it agrees with us, or gives us comfort, does not make it universally true to all.

Doubt and Belief

Many of us are convinced that the things we believe to be true are true regardless of whether there is any evidence to support the beliefs.

Some of these beliefs are related to concepts that are difficult to quantify.

I know my wife and sons love me. I believe that they do. The evidence is difficult to procure, because the evidence isn't really tangible. If you ask me how I know for sure, I would be hard pressed to give any real examples.

And yet I still believe they do.

Belief, in this case, is basically in a healthy state. It helps me to believe that they love me.

Sometimes, though, belief can be challenged by many examples of tangible evidence as in when I believe something that is really not true, can be disproved with evidence and yet still believe.

This type of belief is often very harrowing to the one who has it. And very often we need to realize that we each hold these kinds of unhealthy belief.

That is why it is important to keep doubt as a part of our arsenal. Doubt provides a gap for evidence that we might otherwise choose to ignore.

A few days ago I was having a conversation with a family member and they were telling me about a legend that circulates in the reservation in our state. The Indians there tell of a group of smallish woodland warriors that harry the tourists and kidnap children.

The Fox Mulder in me wants to find some explanation that supports this: long list tribe of pigmy Indians, and so forth.

But the reality is, it is probably just a legend. And legends are, by their very fabric, both believable and unbelievable at the same time.

To hold such a belief, though, is harmless, but it is the symptom of a mind that rejects doubt.

My first reaction to this tale was skeptical laughter. My family member reinforced the truth of the tale by claiming he knows some folks who know for sure.

Regardless if there are pigmy tribes in the mountains around Cherokee, we need to temper our innate gullibility with doubt. It may be true, but we had better seek to prove or disprove it. By blindly accepting this, and making it part of the fabric of our world view, we threaten to burden our ability to be incredulous to any and all claims.

If in doubt, it probably isn't true and that's why I always hang on to doubt.

How to not care enough to actually care PT 2

I read recently that it has been scientifically proven that there are two types of people in this world. Those who can be swayed to change their minds with evidence, and those who cannot be swayed to change their mind, regardless of the amount of evidence presented to them.

That is a very disheartening thing for me.

I am sometimes amazed by the fact that I'm surrounded by people who seem to have no ability to think clearly about things that are totally and obviously wrong from my perspective.

I think the thing that affects me so is that most of these people I love and respect deeply. They're either close friends, or close family. How is it then, that they can allow themselves to follow terrible ideologies?

Well, first, I think we need to provide some context.

First of all, in my line of work, I spend a lot of time researching things. I look for facts. I try very hard to make sure the information I give someone is the closest it can be to factual and actual. That can be very difficult, of course, bu one gets the hang of it.

This developed in me a sense of skepticism. I doubt everything, until I can get something that corroborates what I'm being expected to believe first hand.

So when someone tells me that they get their news from a certain TV show, or that they think that This or That is the worst thing ever, my knee-jerk reaction is to take them to several sources that correctly indicate what's actually going on. Which in many cases is exactly the opposite of what they believe.

Oh, I could be a crusader for Truth among my friends and family. And I would quickly alienate everyone.

There are two problems, here. First, I'm entitled to my own opinions. And so are they.
I don't have to like it, but I cannot do anything about it.

The only thing I can do is love those folks, like I have been and continue to be their friend or family. I have no righteous calling to sway them to my side of the boat.

Now, I may be one of those who will change his mind with enough evidence. I suspect that, in some cases, I may be quite stubborn to the evidence, if I don't want to acknowledge it. Who will correct me? No one. They will simply love me for who I am and wait for me to see the light.

I'll return the favor.

It's not important that I think folks are deluding themselves, or are just plain silly in their personal beliefs. It doesn't change a thing, except me. All I can do is try very hard to be accepting of them and support them and wait for them to see things differently.

We really can all get along if we simply don't care enough to actually start caring.

How to not care enough to actually care PT 1.

A friend wrote me recently lamenting how old friends of ours had changed. Mainly one, who, at one point had been a believer and has changed to an atheist.
My wife encouraged me on the matter saying that, regardless of where I was in my own life, I needed to help my friend, if he needed me.

In relaying to him my thoughts on the matter, I found that the best way for me to deal with things like that, like when people who you know and love believe things that disagree with my beliefs is to just not care.

I don't care if my friend is a rabid atheist. I don't care if a friend is a conservative. I don't care if they're slightly racist. I don't care if they want Donald to win for president. I sometimes struggle with the opinions or lifestyles that people have, sometimes, but only out of an inability to reconcile the things in my mind. It has no bearing, no effect on my friendship with them. So I just don't care.

By not caring, I can forego all the internal dialog and get right to being a friend. I simply do not care.

Another friend of mine spent some time trying to win me over to his way of thinking. Gently, but yet with enough force that it was obvious to me. He, of course, knows that I disagree. Nevertheless he continued to try to do what I think he sincerely meant to be helpful.

This tore me up, from the onset, because I had no intention of ever adopting his particular way of thinking. To me, it was outdated, slightly hypocritical and very obtuse. (His way of thinking about this subject, not him).

So I agonized about it. But then I realized that I just didn't care. I realized that I had it within me to let his ideas pass into my head and then back out again. I could smile and say "I never thought of things that way" and let it go. Just to acknowledge another person's ideas doesn't give them strength over me.

And once again, I realized that I didn't care enough to let it really eat at me.

And when I realized that by not caring what a person believes, it actually freed me up to care about them, I suddenly realized that I had been putting the emphasis of my daily interactions on what other people believed or thought, rather than on them.

Suddenly, I was able to care about them.

I realize that certain beliefs or lifestyles may be threatening to you or to your own beliefs or lifestyles. I know that some may just be concerned for dear old friends who have changed a lot.
No matter what, the best and most efficient way to be a super friend, is to just not care and get right on to caring for them.

The things that matter most

Over the last few weeks, we have allowed our regular routine to be disrupted. You wouldn't suspect two people who are not quite middle-aged to be so set in our ways, but eons of getting up in time to make sure that not only both of us were ready, but that our boys were ready for school as well, leaves an indelible mark on one's circadian rhythms.

We jumped off of this schedule in order to share in an annual family reunion in some other part of the country, roughly equi-distant from all of us spread across the right half of the nation. We had fun, and it was remarkably good to see everyone, as always. It was diverting too. We take off work, and so, the regular morning shuffle to get the dogs out and fed, ourselves clean and fed and off to work on time, vanished.

After all too short a visit, some of the family came home with us, too and stayed with us for a few extra days. This not only gave a pleasant feeling of extension to the holiday, but it made for an opportunity to spend some real quality time with people that we love a lot. It is often difficult to spend a nice candid evening on the porch having a discussion among twenty people, though we tried.

And then, before we knew it, our family was on the move again, departing on the first of several legs to get home.

We were on the verge of settling back into our daily routine, when my wife's cousin called to say they would be coming back through from Florida and would we mind if they stayed. Of course not. Fate had managed, over the past few years, that we were in their neck of the woods each summer and suddenly, it was our chance to host them. With two wonderful kids and a sunny weekend, they made our weekend fun, happy and a wonderful memory.

Suddenly, however, it seems that the two weeks of bliss are over. We are now faced with the regular grind of summer mornings, again.

That was what I thought. A few days ago, I went to get the paper off the front walk and I noticed a back to school flyer advertising all the things that students in public school usually need. Pencils, notebook paper, three-ring binders and calculators were all on sale. I remember feeling as though a weight of stress was crowding in on me. I hate shopping for school supplies, above all things. The atmosphere of the supercenter buzzes with the kind of thick tension that one must feel on a battlefield.

But, suddenly, and oddly in unison with a bright beam of early-morning sunlight that broke through the clouds, I realized that we had gone for school supplies for the last time, last year.

All three of our children had made it through public education. We were no longer obliged to get into a tug of war battle with a lady over No. 2 yellow Faber Castell pencils.

The relief was, I'm sure, palpable for the squirrels and crows in our old oak out front.

I shared the news with my wife, who had already come to that conclusion, herself.

With our youngest shipping off to college in another county, we would be free from the burden to pack lunches, wake grumpy teenagers, bustle them out the door on time, and so on.

Not only did our routine change when the school year ended (as it always has) it stabilized into a new norm. One that will mostly likely be the case for us, for the next few decades.

And so, I suppose that while it may feel as though we're getting back into the same old routine, in actuality, we are embarking on a new leg of our family journey. And while it was wonderful to be with friends and family over the last few weeks, the thing that matters most to me, is that we appreciate every single aspect of our lives together, because routines shift and change, and we often don't realize they're done, until it's too late.