Beginner's Mind

We have a tendency to become accustomed to our reality so that what is familiar to us becomes trite and boring. What we are familiar with is easier to ignore than something new and exotic. New surroundings grab our attention and draw us in. It's one of the things I enjoy about travel.

But every thing has beauty, regardless of whether we have seen it before. Our acclimatization to our reality does not have to lead to a devaluation. When we become used to something, we think we know it. And we see it through the lens of the mental model we have constructed. But actually, we cease to see it for what it is and only perceive the model of it that we have created in our minds.

We think we understand it, but we only know it at a snapshot in time and probably only at a surface level. We close ourselves off to the depth and dynamic nature of the thing, and it loses some of its magic.

We do this with relationships too. We think we know someone so we stop paying attention to who they really are. Instead, when we interact with them, we're really interacting with the reflection of them that we hold in our minds. I have often wondered why it is harder to treat the people who are close to us with the patience and kindness that we often show to strangers. I think this is part of the answer. Familiarity leads us to devalue the thing and abstract it away from reality. This phenomenon has led to aphorisms like "familiarity breeds contempt" (we devalue the familiar) and "absence makes the heart grow fonder" (spending time apart can make things less familiar, and the reunion feels more fresh).

There is a concept in Buddhism called Beginner's Mind. The idea is to let go of preconceptions and bring to every moment the simple curiosity of a child. Everything is new. Everything has something to teach us. We accept our inability to truly know anything, so we drop all preconceptions, and we enter into each moment afresh, letting it fill us and teach us. When we do that, we begin to see through the facades and illusions we have created (our static mental models), and we begin to touch the depth of reality in every moment.

Not all mental models are bad. Some are quite useful. They can help us make sense of things and make decisions based on limited information. The problem comes when we take those models too seriously. If we mistake them for reality, we're living an illusory life. We can use them as tools while always being willing to question them. And we can drop them whenever possible so we can see reality fresh.

Some mental models are less useful. My pride, fueled by fear and a feeling of insignificance, generates mental models of my world with me at the center. These models are a powerful mix of truth and lies that keep me from experiencing the fullness of reality. Pride is a tightening and a closing off. Humility is a release and an opening to what is. To be humble, I've learned I just need to stay open. When I do, I can drop the ego-generated mental models and, like a child, view my world with eyes of wonder. I think maybe this is what Jesus meant when he said, "Except ye ... become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." (Matt 18:3). Maybe we just need to stay open, living every moment like a child with eyes wide open.

Uncertainty in a Pandemic

Not long ago, I started a new job. This job was supposed to involve a significant amount of travel. Then the coronavirus happened.

My four kids, in four different schools, had been staying busy with friends and activities. Then the coronavirus happened.

Last fall, my wife and I booked a trip to Europe for our family. We have been planning this trip for years. We were supposed to fly near the end of May. Then the coronavirus happened.

Now all six of us are home, including our oldest who was at college until the pandemic forced his school to shut down. For the past couple of months, I have been faced with a lot of questions and relatively few answers. Questions like:

• When will our kids get to go back to school?
• How will I adapt to this new job without the ability to travel to see colleagues and customers?
• Will we be able to take our long-awaited family trip to Europe?

I'm sure there were other questions too, but you get the idea. I was working with a lot of uncertainty associated with the unknown nature of this global pandemic we've been facing. I'm sure I'm not alone.

In my desire for answers, I found myself turning increasingly to the news. I scanned headlines and read news articles, jumping from one to the next in search of information that would enable me to predict the future and answer some of these questions. Of course, it didn't really help. No one knows how this will play out. While I found some of the articles informative, and much of my search was useful, it didn't give me the answers I was seeking. Unfortunately, I also found myself increasingly unhappy as I bought into the negative tone of many of the articles. And, stuck on the idea that my search would help me answer my questions (which, of course, it can't), I became addicted to my search without realizing it.

There were a few days when I got sick of what my search was doing to me, and I swore off my phone, including the news. Taking a day off now and then proved very insightful. I was amazed at how tightly the addiction had woven its tentacles around me in such a short time. Multiple times within the space of an hour's meditation, I found myself watching the urge to reach for my phone arise and slowly fall away as I gave it my attention without allowing it to take over. At the beginning, the urge came up repeatedly, maybe five times in as many minutes, then gradually died down.

A minor addiction like this isn't the end of the world, but it was beautifully liberating to allow my awareness of it to grow and watch it dissolve.

Without any help from me, time has begun to give me answers to my questions.

• My kids won't be going back to school this year. Perhaps they will in the fall. Hopefully.
• I am adapting to my new job in unexpected ways, but the transition is going well. I expect I will be able to travel in a few months, and that will make me even more effective.
• It looks incredibly unlikely that we'll be able to take our trip to Europe as planned. We haven't canceled yet, but we almost certainly will. We hope we can take our trip next summer.

These are first-world problems, of course, not life threatening problems. But my desire for certainty in these areas has driven me to seek certainty in ways that led to a decrease in my happiness. While my certainty is slowly growing, there is still a large amount of uncertainty in our situation.

And that's ok. It gives me a chance to practice being at peace with that uncertainty.

Many people deal with serious uncertainties on a much more regular basis. How many people in the world are uncertain when they will have their next meal? How many are uncertain when they will see a loved one again? How many are uncertain whether they will live to see another day?

Uncertainty is a part of life. And a wonderful way to let go of our ego, release our need to control, and surrender to the flow of life. Becoming comfortable with uncertainty is a spiritual practice. And one that we are all becoming a bit more familiar with during this global pandemic.

It's natural to be uncomfortable when we don't know the answers. But maybe see what happens if you try embracing the uncertainty rather than fighting it. See if it doesn't feel a bit liberating to let go of the need to know.

My Response to the Coronavirus

It was Friday, March 13, and I was getting ready for a business trip to Los Angeles. I was scheduled to fly out Sunday and was looking forward to some great vegan food at a restaurant I found there a couple of weeks before. Then I got an email from my employer cancelling all non-essential travel.

Bummer.

I may have been a bit too confident in my immune system's ability to handle illness. And I definitely underestimated how contagious the coronavirus was. I certainly didn't have the foresight to see where this virus was taking us. I had been feeling cautious about the trip and was planning how to keep myself and surrounding surfaces sanitary to avoid exposure as much as possible. But I wasn't nervous about the trip.

I probably should have been.

Watching the spread of the virus in the United States has been sobering. Because of the virus' incubation period, our current understanding of the spread is, at best, like looking in the rear view mirror, giving us information about the true contagion from a week or two ago. But we're also underestimating the extent of the spread in the past because of the lack of ubiquitous testing today. So it's almost certainly worse than we know. Seeing where things likely were a couple of weeks ago when I would have been in LA makes me grateful that my employer was feeling more cautious about the situation than I was feeling. Friday the 13th turned out to be my lucky day.

Picture of a coronavirus from National Foundation for Infectious Diseases website

Who knows whether the travel would have exposed me to the virus. It certainly would have increased the probability. Instead of traveling, though, I have spent the last two weeks isolated in my home with my family. This is both awesome and frustrating. Cabin fever is tough. I'm finding it harder to exercise, which makes me physically weaker and puts a strain on my mental health. And the isolation takes a toll on me psychologically. It has been a challenge to adapt.

But being forced to share the same space, with little variety in our routine, has led to some awesome times together as a family. Earlier this week, we had a family music night where people played piano, guitar, ukulele, requested and sang songs, and laughed together as we made music. We have had family dinners together every night, talking, joking, annoying one another, and getting to know each other better. We have had family game nights and solved puzzles together. We have had family movie nights, with last night being the culmination of stupidity when we stayed up playing video games and decided to start a movie at 2am. It was so much fun.

I feel like this virus is forcing us to slow down, forcing us to reconnect with loved ones, and giving us space to dig inside ourselves and discover who we are and what we're made of. It is a gift. Packaged in horrific wrapping.

I feel so much sadness for people in Italy and New York who are struggling, suffering, and facing difficult choices of who to treat and who to abandon to their suffering and possible death. I feel such a heavy weight when I contemplate the spread of the virus across the world, and increasingly in the U.S. We may all soon be where New York is now if we're not careful. Or maybe it's too late, and we'll get there no matter what we do. I feel so sad when I think about the economy and its impact on poor people, who were living paycheck to paycheck and have now lost their jobs.

Coronavirus spread from Johns Hopkins interactive map (3/28/20)

I have no solutions to these problems. But in spite of the heaviness and sadness, when I quiet my mind and look inside, I find a place in me that is beyond the chaos. A place of peace. A place of quiet joy and delight in the miraculous complexity of life in this world. I like to visit that place regularly to remind myself that we will be ok. We will struggle. We will suffer. Many have died and many more will die before it's all over. But we will be ok.

Every challenge is an opportunity. A chance to look inside and decide whether we want to grow or shrink as a result of the challenge. A chance to decide what's important and to focus our attention and energy on the things that bring us joy and fulfillment. A chance to move beyond the masks and the fake veneer that sometimes cover the deep authenticity of being - and to decide to live more fully, more authentically, "and not, when [we come] to die, discover that [we have] not lived" (Thoreau).

Most of us will survive this challenge. Most of us will be forever marked by the experiences we're having right now. Most of us will forever remember the coronavirus and how it changed our world. We have an opportunity now and in the coming months to decide what that world will look like. I hope, whatever we choose, that our world may bring a little more light, love, and compassion into our lives and the lives of those we love.

May you all be well. Here's to us.

Some of My Spiritual Experiences

I wrote the following a few months ago in response to a request from my youngest daughter. She was working on a project for her youth program at church, and she asked family members to share stories of personal faith experiences. This is my attempt to capture some of the spiritual experiences I have had up to this point in my life.

Childhood

When I was really young, I used to sometimes sit by myself and sort of zone out. I'd think about anything and nothing. I remember one time sitting in the car by myself while it was parked at our house. I was in the passenger seat, waiting for my mom to drive me somewhere. I remember staring out the window, letting my thoughts go wherever they wanted, when I saw little dots of light racing around my field of view. I realize now that what I saw was the shadow of blood cells in my eyes projected onto my retina while staring at the blue sky (yes, I am a geek). But at the time, it seemed so magical. Like I could see into a special, hidden world. And I remember feeling a connection to something. I often felt peaceful when I was alone with my thoughts, but I couldn't really explain why I felt that way or what it was that I was doing that caused me to feel that way.

A simulation of the 'blue sky' effect I talk about above

Look closely ... white dots are moving through the blue background

Teenage Years

When I was a teenager, I had some powerful spiritual experiences that were very formative for me. One of these happened at a youth camp called Especially for Youth (EFY). I think this was the summer I was 16 years old.

The whole week had been amazing. I remember during check-in, I gave up my room twice because each time I got to my room, my roommate-to-be had a friend with him, and they wanted to room together. So both times, the pair of friends asked me if I would mind swapping rooms. I was in Indianapolis. I knew almost no one there. I had nowhere I needed to be, so I said sure. Both times.

I could have felt exasperated the second time it happened, but somehow, I just laughed and went with the flow. Each time, we had to go to the registration desk to swap keys so they had a record of where everyone was. The second time I did it, the people at the desk laughed when they saw me. But I didn't mind. I laughed too.

That initial experience was indicative of the entire week. Somehow, I had an incredibly good attitude about everything that week. I had no prior attachments molding my behavior. I was out on my own, with none of my friends around. And everything was new. Like I was a brand-new baby. I could choose whatever I wanted. I could choose where I went, who I talked with, and what my attitude would be. And I talked with everyone and had a really fun time. This feeling of having no attachments, no prior history, and total freedom to choose my response was incredibly liberating. And it gave me a lot of confidence that I could be whatever I wanted to be. All I had to do was let go.

When I got to my third room, I met my roommate, who, thankfully, let me stay, and I started to get to know the other guys in my group. There were about 20 or 30 boys in our group, and we were led by a counselor who was pretty animated and fun. We had a great time. We played and laughed and flirted with girls. Every night, we'd hang out in a lounge area at the end of our hall. I remember we entertained each other with something called "helping hands" where two people would make up one character. One person would be the character's body and face, and the other would be the character's arms. In another 'game', we drew upside-down faces on our chins and, propping ourselves upside down with a hat covering the upper part of our faces, we'd mess around, telling jokes and stupid stories, and generally acting like idiots. Watching someone's upside-down chin-face try to frown to simulate a smile, then break into laughter that looked like the weirdest scowl I'd ever seen, was hilarious. We laughed a lot in that lounge. In fact, I don't think I had ever laughed that hard in my life up to that point. A lot of this stuff was instigated by our counselor, but we all got into it. We ended up doing a skit at the talent show later in the week, recreating some of the stupid stuff we had done as a group in that lounge. It was a crazy fun week. And we grew really close as a group.

At the end of the week, all 20 or 30 of us were sitting in a small classroom, listening to a devotional given by our counselor. It was the lead-in to what was supposed to be the spiritual highlight of the week -- a testimony meeting. I don't have any memory of what our counselor said. But I do remember sort of sinking into myself and, looking around, I watched the world around me change. I seemed to be listening to an inner voice that week. A voice that had always been there, but that was largely drowned out by my fears and insecurities. When I found the courage to be completely and authentically myself, the voice became clear, and I listened to the voice and accepted it without question or doubt. Now, at the end of this magical week, I found myself transforming in a deeply profound way. And the world itself was transforming. Or perhaps I was beginning to see it clearly for the first time in my life.

There was a subtle shift in the air. Or in the way the air looked. Like I could see ripples in the air that were distorting my vision. But those ripples had always been there. I had just never seen them before. Now that I could see them, I could sort of see through them. And the world seemed more clear. And vibrant. And alive.

I looked around at my friends. I hadn't known any of them before the week started. But we had had some great times. And I considered them friends. And as I looked at them, it seemed to me that I could see into their hearts. Or their souls. I kind of saw through them. I know this all sounds mystical and magical. And probably unbelievable. But it's what I experienced. Maybe I was deluded. But it seemed to be one of the most real things I had ever felt. There were three of the boys in particular whose hearts/souls stood out to me. As I looked at them, I got the distinct impression that I knew them. Not from the week at EFY. But before. Before any of us had been born.

I raised my hand and asked if I could say something. I told the group a little of what I had just seen. And I told them that I had the distinct impression that some of us knew each other before this life. I mentioned the three boys by name who had stood out to me. I don't know why I had the courage to say what I did. Normally, I would have balked at the idea of saying something so bold and outlandish. But I was listening to that inner voice that week and somehow, I felt no fear. I just said what I felt I should say.

When the devotional ended, I went to a drinking fountain in the hall to get some water. When I looked up, those three boys were standing there. Each one of them told me they had felt the same thing. Whether they felt that way before I said anything, after I said something, or simply felt pressured into saying they felt it, I don't know. But I took it as a confirmation of what I had felt.

I had many other spiritual experiences in my later teenage years. These experiences made me feel connected to something larger than myself. Magical experiences that took me out of myself and, at the same time, made me feel more truly myself than any other time in my life. Some of these experiences made me want to laugh and shout. They filled me with energy and excitement. I felt a fire inside me that seemed to make everything beautiful and joyful. Other times, the experiences were peaceful and calming. They made me want to just sit quietly and soak it all in. But they always connected me to something. Something big and beautiful. Something loving and accepting.

One of these experiences led me to decide to attend college at Brigham Young University (BYU). The decision was based on a feeling I had during a campus visit in my senior year of high school. A feeling that I was coming home. I felt like BYU was the right place for me. And so I went.

Young Adulthood

And BYU was a great place for me. I grew into adulthood there and really began to find myself. I had some wonderfully supportive people around me, and I learned a lot. About myself. About my future profession. And about my religion. And after graduation, I took those lessons with me and continued to learn about all three of those areas of my life. In fact, I have never stopped learning about them.

In the middle of my education at BYU, I went on a mission for the LDS church in Germany. Serving a mission was one of the hardest things I have ever done. It was painful at times - physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I was physically ill quite a lot. At one point, I thought I would be sent home because of my illness. But with some help from my parents, my Mission President, and my companions, I worked through the illness well enough to continue my mission for two full years.

During those years, I had some awesome spiritual experiences. One that stands out in my mind happened during a really rough time near the beginning of my mission. I had been in Germany almost four months, and I knew my companion was going home soon. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed because a lot of older missionaries were going home, and a lot of new missionaries were coming. The mission's cohort was becoming younger and younger. And even though I had only been there for four months, I felt like I was going to become a senior companion to someone younger than me and possibly train someone brand new.

It turned out I was right. On both counts. And it was hard taking on that much responsibility with so little experience. But even before it happened, and before I knew for sure that it would happen, I felt really inadequate about the possibility. I spoke the language pretty well, better than most my age, but not well enough to train someone. I didn't even feel competent to be the leader in a companionship, having someone else rely on my language skills and my knowledge of missionary work to guide the work we would do. But I felt strongly that it was coming, so I struggled with my feelings of inadequacy.

One night, I was feeling particularly despondent. I don't know if something specific happened that day that prompted my feeling. It's very likely. But whatever it was, what I remember most vividly was the despair I felt and the hopelessness that seemed to envelop me. I knelt down next to my bed and began to pray. I poured my heart out to God and told Him how weak and hopeless I felt. I asked Him for help. I don't remember what else I said. At some point, in the middle of my prayer, I felt this intense release. Like the tension that had been building in me had suddenly found an outlet and, like a dam breaking, the pressure was gone almost instantly.

Into my heart poured a light that was so incredibly peaceful and relaxing. I seem to remember kneeling there and suddenly feeling every muscle in my body instantly relax. I seemed to hear a voice that calmed me deeply, but I don't remember if there were any words to the voice or what it might have said. And, though I felt nothing physical, I could have sworn there was a hand on my shoulder, like an angel was there, giving me strength.

I have come to believe that sometimes, we simply slide into a spiritual connection. Other times, we unknowingly fight it until we're so overwhelmed that we crack, like I did that night in Germany. We protect ourselves from connection by building a cocoon around ourselves. Most often, I think this comes about by fear, though maybe there are other motivations that cause us to try to protect ourselves. But when we do, the world begins to bear down on that cocoon until we reach a point of desperation and we finally crack. Then the light begins to pour in and we find what we were looking for, but were unknowingly avoiding. Connection.

We sometimes have powerful spiritual experiences as we're pushed to the limits of our endurance. But I find it much more enjoyable to slide into that connection voluntarily. Humility and vulnerability go a long way here. We have to move beyond our own egos in order to experience that connection in a deep and fulfilling way.

Mature Adulthood

As I grew older in adulthood, having married and become a father, I found my spiritual experiences coming less frequently. I could sometimes feel a connection to something during quiet times while reading scriptures or praying. But the weight of the world bore down on me and seemed to drive away the magic. I think this came from the stress of providing financially for a family and trying to give my wife and kids the best of me. I was often stretched thin and, burdened by stress and fear, I found myself longing for the connection I had often felt when I was younger. Church, which had previously been something of a catalyst for those experiences, more often felt like a burden than an asset. And though I clung to it for many years, I eventually came to see that what had once helped me find so much connection to God was now limiting me.

I didn't fully realize this until I found my connection again. But when I found it in the spring of 2014, it felt like coming home. And I learned to let go of what was holding me back.

Experiencing the connection felt very familiar, but it was facilitated by a different method than I was used to. And the fact that this method was so powerful caused me to question many things I had previously held inviolate. The method was centered around meditation, but I realize now that it was very similar to what I had experienced during my most powerful prayers. And it was similar to what I had experienced as a young child during quiet times of reflection. A new world began to open up to me where even the most ordinary things could be infused with life, luster, and beauty. The whole world seemed to be teeming with life and light and love. And love seemed to be at the foundation of it all. But the oddest thing of all was that I experienced all of this without any reference to God, or any calling upon a Deity.

The process of accepting this new method for experiencing a spiritual connection was long and challenging. It involved transitioning away from the church, which was probably the most difficult part. But as I did when I was young, I found my inner voice. And I found the courage to follow it. And in doing so, I found the strength to explore my new landscape. And I found greater clarity than I had ever found before in my life. I think that clarity was facilitated by a rare authenticity and sincerity. Something I have experienced to a large degree at various times, like that week at EFY, but probably not quite as fully as I experienced it a few years ago as a fully grown man.

It's difficult to pinpoint a specific spiritual experience during this time of exploration because my life became a string of powerful experiences, one day after another. No single day stands out among the rest. But on a typical day, I would enter into a state of calm reflection until my mind became completely placid, like the waters of a calm lake. I would feel a deep connection to something beautiful and expansive. Something that seemed to have infinite love and patience. And as I connected with it, which happened consistently and reliably, some of that love and patience distilled into me, and I became more and more like the thing I was connecting with. Days would go by where it seemed my patience was infinite. Nothing could rattle me. I was at peace with myself and the world around me. And I felt a love inside of me that started with me (I accepted and loved myself just as I was) and gradually extended to encompass everything around me. And this love, which I seemed to be swimming in, also became a powerful source of healing for me, both physically and spiritually.

Like many things in life, my spiritual practice peaked, then fell off again as the stress of life began to crowd out my time of meditation and reflection. And as the practice fell away, old habitual thought patterns began to reassert themselves, and I lost some of the spiritual high I had achieved.

Then, about a year or two after my transition, I took a business trip during which I had a lot of opportunities to reflect. As I meditated that week, I began to lean into some uncomfortable feelings and emotions. The feeling that stands out most in my mind is loneliness. I began to see that I was terribly alone. Being away from my family, I was naturally missing them, but there was something more than that. I had once been connected to something incredible, and I had lost much of that connection. As I leaned into the feeling of loneliness and separateness, opening myself to the sensations and sorrow associated with those feelings, I found that connection re-established in a very powerful way. It was almost instantaneous. As if my vulnerability had been the key that unlocked the door separating me from this loving, expansive something. And my soul expanded like it hadn't done in several months. Maybe a year. It felt like whatever was out there was right there, always within reach, accessible anytime I woke up and realized who I really was and how I related to the world. When I began to breathe in the love that was all around me, I became connected to that love. And I remembered that love was my true home. My origin. The essence of my being. And I came home.

I have since cycled at least once more through a spiritual high and low. And I'm happy to say the lows are getting higher over time. I feel like I have no idea where I am headed, but I'm very happy about where my path has been taking me. I don't know where it will take me next, but I feel a deep sense of faith and trust that the path is good. And though I can't see very far ahead, I feel like I'll know where to step if I just pay attention.

Based on my recent experiences, I think maybe that's the essence of spirituality. Attention. Awareness. Consciousness. Built upon a foundation of love and compassion. And all of that leads to connection.

Love is central to it all. And I think maybe it's who we really are. If God is love (1 John 4:8,16), and we are children of God, then ... maybe we are love. And if love is all around us, then we're all deeply connected. Much more deeply, I now believe, than I had ever supposed as a child or a young man. If we are all made of love and we're all surrounded by love, then we're all swimming in the same stuff. And it's the same primordial stuff that makes us who we are. So we're all connected. And that connection, which already exists, seems to be the only thing the soul really craves.

So we already have everything we need (connection). We already are everything we need to be (love). All we need to do is wake up and see it.

The Problem of Evil

In Christianity, and any monotheistic religion that worships an all-powerful God, there is a philosophical problem known as The Problem of Evil. It asks the question: if God is benevolent, all-knowing, and all-powerful, how can there be evil in the world? The debate calls into question the existence of such a God.

It's an old question, and I don't have anything new to add, so I'm not going to argue either for or against the existence of an omnipotent God. But I do have a slightly different take on the Problem of Evil as it's typically formulated.

The Problem of Evil

I used to see things almost entirely in terms of good and evil. Everything was colored by that paradigm. Running beneath everything I experienced, felt, or thought, was an ever-present conflict between good and evil. Naturally, I pictured myself on the side of good most of the time. Occasionally, I would recognize that I had done something wrong, feel a bit guilty, and try to get myself back on the good side as quickly as possible. Everything outside the little bubble of what I defined as good was tainted with a twinge of evil. And a few things were just purely evil. Deeply dark and horrific.

Recently, I've discovered a new problem of evil. One that doesn't have anything to do with God. One that simply recognizes that the concept of evil itself is problematic. Not that evil is a problem. The concept that evil exists is a problem.

In recent years, I've begun to see the world through a different lens. One that doesn't require the existence of evil. This probably seems crazy. It did to me for a while. And sometimes, I still think I'm a bit nuts. But I'll try to explain my thinking, and you can decide if it makes any sense.

When I try to imagine the most evil thing possible, I think of acts of hate. Murder, whether on an individual or a massive scale, seems pretty horrific. I can't think of anything darker than that, so let's use that as an example.

Murder

When someone kills someone else, my tendency used to be to judge that person. I would wish for justice and its associated pain so the murderer couldn't be said to have gotten away with it, and so he/she could feel just a bit of what his/her victim(s) and their friends and family must have felt or are still feeling. That seems just.

But now when I think of a murder, I think less of judgment. My tendency is to ask why.

Why did they kill that person?

• It could be rage. There could be a history between the murderer and the victim. That history could be complicated, but rivalries and grudges are rarely one-sided. Perhaps there was some offense given by the victim that would allow us to make some sense of the rage.
• It could be mental illness. The murderer might be psychologically unhinged. How did that happen? Mental illness is complicated, but it likely comes in some measure from some painful experience(s) in the person's past.
• Or maybe the act came about through some twisted philosophy. Some belief system that justified the act in the murderer's mind. How did that philosophy get stuck in their head? Were they the victim of some intellectual abuse or cultural momentum that was itself a product of abuse or pain?

Maybe there are other reasons, but in all of my musing, I fail to find any motivation for murder that I can properly call evil. Maybe I'm just missing something, but I'm inclined to think that the murderer must have suffered in order to bring them to the point where they were willing to take someone else's life. I'm pretty confident that no one is born with the inclination to kill. And if that's true, that the murderer suffered, then the appropriate response is compassion, not judgment.

Of course, it's natural to feel compassion for the victim and their friends and family. That's where the suffering is the most obvious. And perhaps that's why it's easy to judge the murderer. Clearly, that suffering wouldn't exist if the murderer hadn't acted. But perhaps there is hidden suffering in the murderer's past that could evoke some compassion if only we understood it.

Judgment

Feeling compassion for a murderer doesn't mean I condone the act. Society has a right and a duty to hold people accountable for actions that take away the rights and freedoms of others. So I'm not saying there shouldn't be justice or accountability. The proper response is likely to imprison or otherwise punish the crime. If nothing else, this should hopefully deter future crime of a similar nature.

Lady Justice holding the Scales of Justice

Unfortunately, our punitive system of justice doesn't seem to do much good for the criminal. Shutting them out from society and placing them in a prison subculture typically doesn't do much to reform an individual. They often feel justified in further acts of crime as they probably feel that society has cast them out. Maybe there is a better way of dealing with crime, but I don't know what it is. Until we find a better way, I think society must step in to stop and/or punish such acts as best it can.

But as an individual, I don't see any value in judging the criminal. To label someone, or even the action they took, as evil seems unnecessary. There is pain. There is stupidity. There is horror. But I don't think there is such a thing as evil.

Stopping the War

The biggest problem I see with the concept of evil is judgment. For me, judgment naturally follows evil. When I label something as evil, I can't help but judge it. If that evil wasn't here, things would be better. But when I judge anything, a person, a situation, or something inside of me like a thought or a feeling, I quickly become exhausted by the mental conflict that ensues.

Because all judgment implies conflict. When I judge something, I find myself thinking things like: I don't like that. I wish it were different. Why does it have to be that way? And eventually, I find myself in the unhappy position of fighting my reality. And guess who wins that fight ...

In my opinion, the problem of evil isn't that it potentially disproves the existence of an all-powerful God. The problem of evil is that it exists only in our minds. As Hamlet said, "there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so". Allowing the concept of evil to occupy our minds and remain a part of our reality is unhealthy, both for the individual and for the larger society.

Acceptance

Something that has brought me profound peace is the ability to quietly and gently accept the unacceptable. This is something I was not taught in my religion. In a world full of good and evil, with those forces led by God and the devil, with militant teachings (found in scripture and in the teachings of living leaders) about a spiritual war being waged for the souls of men -- how can one accept the opposing side?

I wasn't able to find my deepest peace fully through Christianity. I imagine there are those who can, but I could not. It was not until I gave up on the idea of evil that I was able to fully enter into the opposing side and find it populated with friends. By submitting to the universe tugging at me, I learned to accept the demons in my life, both inward and outward, and understand them better. I learned to see the world as a complex interplay of many types of forces, which, when balanced, create a beautiful, colorful tapestry of life.

It's not in battle that we find peace. It's in acceptance. And balance.

When I began to truly accept everything at a deep level, there was no more room in my mind for the concept of evil. And no room in my heart for anger or hatred. Without these, there was nothing left in my soul to foster conflict. And the natural result was a deep, abiding peace.

But without the concept of evil, what does sin mean? Without sin, why the need for a redeeming sacrifice by God's Son? This shift in my soul tore the foundation out from under Christianity for me. All that was left was love. And that seemed like enough.

So a few years ago, I walked away from the religion I had known and loved. And it was difficult. More difficult than I know how to describe. But it was the right choice for me.

On Judgment

Recently, I posted about my experiences in learning about a simpler approach to life. Part of my reason for moving away from my religious heritage was the recognition that there was a more effective approach to life than the effort-based model I grew up with.

While this is true, I think a more important concept that helped me move on in my spiritual path was the concept of judgment. Or rather, the total abandonment of it.

I tend to forget this concept on a regular basis as I get pulled back into old, deeply entrenched patterns of thought. So I think this post has two purposes. I want to share an important principle that differentiates me from my religious background. And I want to document my thinking here to help remind me when I forget.

I remember several months ago my mantra had become something like, "There are no enemies, only friends I haven't yet come to know." This applies to people when they cut me off in traffic. It applies to situations that cause me pain or inconvenience. And most of all, it applies to my own thoughts, emotions, and impulses. By making friends with what I used to consider 'evil' or wrong, I have come to see that there is no evil. There is imbalance. There is illness. But nothing is truly malicious. And that is especially true of the various parts that make up my 'self.'

I have found that regardless of what's happening around me, I can create a state of heavenly peace inside of me by being at one with myself. By accepting what's happening around and inside of me without judgment.

For the parts inside me, I accept that they are what they are, but that doesn't mean I have to act on every impulse I feel. It just means I give them all attention. I seek to understand them without judging them. And slowly, their masks peel away to reveal ... myself. They are me. They are my friends. And having experienced this many times now, I am becoming convinced that there simply are no enemies. Just friends we haven't yet taken the time to get to know.

For the external world, I found that when I fight reality, insisting that it be something other than what it is, I create conflict inside of me, and potentially with those around me. Most of what occurs outside of me is completely outside of my control, so it's best to offer the serenity prayer and simply let go of judgment. When I do, the enemies I have made all around me tend to transform into friends.

It was in letting go of the need to judge that I was finally able to stop the war I had been waging with myself and the world around me. Or it might have been the other way around - when I stopped the war, judgment vanished. Either way, when I stopped fighting that war, I found peace.

Growing Up

When we're young, we rely on our parents. For everything. They protect us from the dangers of the world. They provide for our needs. They give us comfort, solace, and answers to our questions. They seem to know everything.

As we grow older, we realize they don't know as much as we thought.

Some of us tend to swing the pendulum a bit too far in the opposite direction. Sometimes we think our parents are idiots. Sometimes the doubt that comes in through a realization of their finite power makes us discredit their power completely. We begin to become independent in our thoughts and our actions.

But some of us enter into that independence a little more gently. Our parents become equals. Or we become our parents' equals. Maybe even a guide to them at times.

I have four kids. I'm not a kid anymore. My transition to adulthood happened a long time ago. Now I'm on the other side of the deal and I'm watching my kids go through this transition.

My oldest son has already become my equal. His life has become more complex. His studies, his relationships, his questions - I don't have all of the answers anymore. And he knows it. I'm honest with him about my lack of knowledge. And most of the time, when he asks me a question, I tell him I have no idea what the right answer is. But thankfully, he still talks to me anyway. And we talk together as friends. As equals.

We muse together. We hypothesize together. We simulate possible futures. We philosophize. But there's very little parent-child teaching going on anymore. He only recently left home, but even before he had left, I had already reached the limits of my parental knowledge and influence.

My second child, my oldest daughter, is reaching that same point. In our discussions lately, I'm finding fewer and fewer opportunities to teach her with solid answers. When she asks me questions or confides in me about her concerns or worries, I find myself answering her questions with more questions. With suppositions. With philosophical statements that lead to no concrete action or even a recommendation of what to do. I just don't have the answers or solutions to their problems anymore.

My youngest two children are not far behind. Their lives are not quite as complicated as the oldest two. But they're often flirting with issues that are too difficult for simple answers.

I see my children growing up and it's a wistful experience. I'm both happy and sad to see their progress. I have loved watching them go through various stages of life. And I sometimes miss some of those stages when they pass. But I'm happy for them to become the wonderful men and women that I see them becoming.

In many ways, even the simple things they struggled with when they were young were too complex for simple answers. But I gave them answers anyway. I don't know if that was for their benefit or mine. I wanted to have the answers. I wanted to make them feel safe. But maybe I was only holding on to my own ego. Maybe watching my kids grow up has forced me to look beyond my ego and to see life more fully, in all of its wild beauty and complexity.

Maybe I'm finally growing up.

Who Am I?

I think of myself as a pretty average guy. But in my quieter moments, I know that's not true. I am not average. I am not typical.

But when I try to describe myself, I find it very challenging. I am many things. And none of them. The best description I can come up with to convey my essence is simply:

I am me.

If I try to use other words, I find myself floundering. I am a man. But while that's probably pretty useful information, it fails to capture the essence of me. I am an engineer. Again, useful. But ultimately, not me.

I am often quiet, sometimes gregarious, usually kind, sometimes annoying. I am sometimes weak, at times full of energy. Sometimes ill, but typically healthy. I am tall.

I am a husband. A father. A friend. A coworker. I am full of thoughts and passions, emotions and memories. I have a house and a car. I like to work with my hands. I love to learn. I love books and movies.

I love the way my sheets feel when I first lay down to sleep. I love to wake up early after a good night's sleep, when my mind feels sharp and my creativity is at its best.

I love people. I love life. I love what I have become.

But what exactly is that? What am I? Who am I? I know my name. And I know many things about myself. But none of them really get at the core of my being. All of them are just appendages.

There is a Buddhist concept of "no self," which I take to mean that what we think we are is just an illusion. I believe what the Buddha meant is that our ego, our collection of ideas about who we are, is ultimately not real. And the essence of who we are is something else. But what is that essence?

Is it like a flickering flame, ever changing, but manifesting as a more-or-less consistent entity? Is it like a lump of clay, slowly molded and reshaped over time? Is it something else entirely?

These analogies are useful for pointing my mind toward the truth. But I don't think the essence of who am I is something my mind can grasp. I have no name for it. Maybe there isn't one.

But when I am quiet, I think I sort of touch it. I experience something that feels ... authentic. Real. More real than anything I see in my physical world. Sometimes, I feel like I connect with something bigger than myself ... and sometimes I feel like I connect to my inner self. And sometimes those feel like the same thing. I touch the thing for which I have no name.

Am I delusional? Possibly. I might be crazy. But this connection seems to light a fire inside of me. It seems to make the world deeper, richer, infusing life and color into everything I see and do. It makes everything come alive. It makes life beautiful.

Is this God? Am I connecting with Him? I don't know who or what God is, though I used to think I did. When I am quiet, is it God that I'm connecting with? Or life itself? Or the universe? Is there any difference? Am I a part of God? Like a cell in a larger organism? Or am I just nuts?

I have no answers to these kinds of questions anymore. I used to think these kinds of questions were crucial. And answers must be found. And have been. But life feels more full when I sink into uncertainty about things like this.

I am not average. I am not typical. I don't think any of us are. I'm fairly sure there is no such thing. I am me. And I don't know what that means. And somehow, that acceptance makes me happy. And peaceful.

A New Path

Imagine you have lived your whole life searching for something. Something magical. A spiritual experience. A connection to something. You’ve had a taste of it now and then. Once in a while, you’re sure you’ve had a rich taste. A taste that goes so deep, it changes your entire perspective on life. It changes you. And you’re so sure of the experiences, that they set you on a path that dramatically alters the way you live your life, influencing everything you do. Creating for you a powerful identity that forms the basis of your thoughts, words, and actions.

But no matter how powerful the taste these experiences give you, it always feels like it’s just a hint of the real thing. Like the real thing might not be accessible, at least not in this life.

Now imagine that your world is turned upside down. And the method by which you were seeking for that spiritual connection is seriously called into question. And you stumble onto something that delivers the spiritual experiences you seek more powerfully and more consistently than ever before. And imagine that instead of feeling like a hint or a shadow of the real thing, this new path you’ve stumbled on seems more real than anything that came before.

What would you do in a situation like that? Would you follow your heart and continue along this new path? Could you abandon what you had known and loved, knowing it would hurt friends and family? That you would lose friendships? That you would be misunderstood? That you would be judged? Or would you stay with what was comfortable and familiar, knowing that your heart wasn't quite in line with it anymore?

I found myself in this position a few years ago. And as my journey unfolded, for me, the choice was clear. Although it would be painful, I knew I had to follow my heart. I didn't feel like I could do otherwise and maintain my integrity.

I was raised in the LDS Church. From the time I was young, I had had a number of powerful experiences that seemed to point to the possibility that the LDS Church was the true church of God on the earth. And that through its teachings, priesthood authority, and ordinances, I could draw nearer to God than by any other method. The logical chain ran on to many other beliefs that shaped my worldview, but I think that’s the core of it. The LDS Church was it. I had found the pinnacle of religion and spirituality. All that remained was for me to stay on the path and become the man God wanted me to be.

And I was on that path for several decades. I served a full-time, 2-year mission for my church. I was married in an LDS temple. My wife and I started a family, trying our best to teach our children to live by the principles that were taught by the church through its scriptures, leaders, and most importantly, through what we called the Spirit of God – a direct connection to God from which we could receive inspiration.

I served in many different volunteer positions in the church. I lived my life according to the church’s teachings the best I knew how. And I was consistently striving to better understand those teachings and underlying principles so I could become more and more the man I believed God wanted me to be.

Then I entered a period of darkness that refused to be dissipated by the teachings and principles of my church. And I stumbled onto some teachings from eastern traditions that led me to a powerful practice of meditation that turned my entire world upside down. This practice rapidly dissipated the darkness, bringing a powerful sense of light and peace into my life that rivaled anything I had experienced previously.

I began to experience a connection with something that felt very familiar. Previously, I would have called it the Spirit of God. But these connections weren’t precipitated by prayer, scripture study, ordinances, or anything directly related to an external Deity. At least, not that I could tell. They were precipitated by meditation and a series of teachings, independent of God, that I gradually internalized, leading me to let go of all judgment, clinging, aversion, self-loathing, and a whole host of other unhealthy thoughts and emotions. The experiences were completely self-driven. No reference to God. No calling upon Him for Grace. Just a simple looking inward and a consistent, powerful healing process. And, independent of God, these experiences were more powerful and consistent than anything I had ever experienced during those many years where I was directly calling upon God.

How was it possible to have deeper spiritual experiences outside the church than I had ever had in decades of searching for them inside? Was it possible that I was using the wrong method? I can’t adequately describe the torturous path I embarked on as I began to question my deepest, most cherished beliefs. But as I began to truly open my mind to the possibility that the church was not the right path for me, the light began to pour into my soul even more. If there is a God, I must conclude that He led me away from the faith of my childhood.

But why? The short answer is: I have no idea. And I’m not sure it matters. What I do know is that the path I’m on is good. But my experience has taught me that I don’t need to cling to it. Maybe my path will change again. I would be fine with that. I’ll follow wherever the light leads.

I appreciate my religious background. The LDS Church is a really good organization. It helped prepare me to live a good life and to embark on this new stage in my journey. I have no bad feelings about my past. Some things could have been better. Some ideas that were pounded into my head as a child might not have been the healthiest. But that accusation could be brought against my scholastic education as well as my religious education. That’s just life. Everyone was trying their best to help me along the way. It wasn’t perfect? Bummer. As my perspective broadens, I shed the unhealthy over time. No big deal.

I have no idea where my path will lead. But I am grateful for my past and my present. I think the future will be wonderful too. I have many friends and family whose faith still lies with the church I left. For them, I’ll offer up the possibility that my future will bring me back to the church. I personally don’t think that’s likely, but … if the church is what it claims to be, I’m sure the light will lead me back. Maybe God just wanted to take me on a different path for a while to teach me some things He couldn’t teach me in any other way. And when I’m done, I’ll find my way back.

But maybe I’ve simply found something better. At least for me. For right now. By soaking in the concepts and practices of eastern traditions, I think I’m becoming a more well-rounded man with a broader, more open, more inclusive perspective than I had before. I was raised in a very western culture. Balancing that with a bit of the east has been really good for me. I don’t think either culture has all the answers. But as the concept of yin and yang shows how to bring together what seem to be complete opposites, perhaps the way to peace is to raise our perspective, to see the unity among what appears to be dichotomy, and to find light and joy amidst the chaos.

Becoming One

Almost a year ago, I wrote about a spiritual transition I went through recently. In that post, I described some of my spiritual experiences that had led me to that transition. I have wanted to write more about those experiences, but it has been difficult for two reasons:

1. Life has been very busy, like always.
2. Describing these experiences with words is very challenging.

Both of those reasons still hold, but I had some experiences recently that I've taken the time to capture and would like to share.

A few weeks ago, I found a teacher who has given me something to consider … or maybe reconsider. His name is Osho and he was an Indian teacher who spoke in the vein of various eastern spiritual traditions. I came across him in the context of Taoism. One of the things he said really struck me. He said that each of us is a multitude of personalities, more like a crowd than an authentic individual. And at any given time, we are liable to have one of those aspects of ourselves assert itself, and a part of us that should be our servant temporarily becomes our master. It occurred to me that this state might be said to be the essence of unconsciousness as spoken of in eastern spiritual traditions. I think many of us live unconsciously like this for most of our lives.

Osho

In this same address, Osho spoke of our deep-seated loneliness. This is an aspect of life that I’ve become pretty familiar with, but it was strange to hear a teacher of eastern philosophy speak about it like he did. As I thought about what he said, I focused my attention on my own loneliness and realized that it is a part of me that, sometimes hidden deeply, occasionally drives me to unhealthy thought patterns and behaviors. But as I focused on it, without wishing it away or judging it as undesirable, I experienced a slight welling up of joy from somewhere deep inside.

That seems kind of weird, right? Finding joy in loneliness? But oddly enough, I didn't find it as surprising as I would have a few years ago. In fact, this experience seemed very familiar to me. It felt much like some of the experiences I had shortly after I began meditating. At that time, it felt like a whole new world was opening up to me. A world that prior spiritual experiences had hinted at and given me glimpses of. But through meditation, I was stepping into it more fully than I had ever done before. And through this more recent experience a few weeks ago, I came to see that I have been missing something lately. In recent months, I have allowed the stresses of life to lull me back into a state of unconsciousness. The awakening I experienced a couple of years ago was fantastic and I think I am better off now than I was before I began this journey. But I have certainly lost something compared to what I had shortly after I began meditating.

So, encouraged by the result of giving attention to my loneliness, I continued to examine it. I dredged it up. I watched it unfold and blossom inside of me. I watched it with no aversion and no judgment. I just observed. And by piercing the cloud inside with what I have sometimes heard described as “the light of my awareness,” I found the loneliness became a bit less menacing, a bit more familiar, and a bit less powerful. It was almost like I was looking at an illusion and, powered by my attention, the illusion could no longer hold its form and began to dissolve.

I then spent time doing this with other emotions. Fear. Anxiety. Insecurity. Shame. Regret. Anger. All of these have some place in me and each dredged up memories that were uncomfortable and imagined situations that were equally undesirable. But as I faced them squarely, without wishing them away, I sensed a deepening of that small wellspring of joy inside, and each of them seemed to loosen its hold just a little.

It does seem a bit counter-intuitive that I found joy in focusing on the negative aspects of myself. But it was oddly liberating and somehow brought me increased light, joy, and peace. And since then, I've continued. And I can tell that my patience with myself and others has deepened once again. So now it seems I have an odd, new pastime – to focus on the negative inside of me. And to enjoy observing it deeply and dispassionately, without judgment or aversion.

I think that maybe that’s what Osho was encouraging when he spoke about loneliness. Yes, we are alone. Deeply alone. No one and nothing can ever truly touch us. As Joseph Conrad so poignantly wrote, “We live, as we dream – alone …” And yet, as we move past the illusion of what we think we are, we may find that we are deeply connected to everyone and everything. And loneliness will be revealed as the ultimate illusion. I don’t know that that’s true, but it seems right.

So it looks like I’m on a new stage of my journey. I feel like the objective of my current spiritual practice is to bring a greater awareness into my life. Perhaps, as Osho suggested, this will help to bring about a unification of my many little selves into one, with that one, my true self, the unnameable essence of who I am, as the master. And from a deep place of authentic being, I believe I can more readily bring light to the world and encourage others to do the same. Not by anything I say. But just by being who I am.

Transfer at Work

A couple weeks ago, I transferred to a different division at work. My old group was full of really good people, but the larger organization was a bit unhealthy. It had really worn on me and I had become so burned out that I felt I needed to do something radically different. I am SO HAPPY to be in a new group with a bunch of people I know and respect. I've worked with many of them off and on over the years and I'm really excited to be part of their team.

Since the transfer took place, I've been taking some time off to regroup, refocus, and reconnect with my family. It's been really good so far. I've done a lot of cooking, exercising, thinking, meditating, sleeping, and talking and playing with my wife and kids.

As I've been thinking, I've discovered that I like many of the things I do at my job, but I think what really gets me going is the idea of being an architect. I enjoy gathering requirements, technology gaps, etc and coupling them with capabilities. I like architecting solutions to customers' problems. I probably need to find a way to do more of that.

I'm grateful to have a job that gives me the flexibility to take so much time off. It has been really helpful to have a break to decompress and spend time with my family. I think family is the most important thing in my life anyway.

Happier

I found a new app and I really like it so far. It was shared with me at a seminar I attended yesterday as part of a youth conference for my church. I'm a youth leader, so I attended to help out, and although the seminar was supposed to be for teenagers, it was actually for me. :)

The seminar was about stress and it was REALLY helpful for me. The lady is a therapist with LDS Family Services and she shared a lot of good insights, coping mechanisms, etc. She defined stress as the perception that the demands placed upon us exceed our resources for dealing with them. The word 'perception' is key there. And she discussed the opportunity that stress offers us to grow and expand our capabilities to become more valuable to ourselves and others.

So stress isn't necessarily a bad thing. It can be an enabler. She also discussed 'blessings', defining blessings as things that contribute to true happiness, well-being, or prosperity. Stress, seen as an opportunity for growth, can lead to greater blessings. And during stressful times, we can find blessings while we're struggling. Blessings and challenges usually live together, so it can be fun to seek out the blessings in the midst of challenges.

To that end, the speaker shared an app called 'happier'. It's a social media forum like Facebook where the goal is to share things that make you happy. Of all the things I took away from the seminar (and there were a lot of great things I want to internalize), the idea of seeking out blessings and focusing on the positive things resonated with me the most. So last night, I got the app and started sharing things that make me happy.

Here are the things I've posted about so far:

1. After the seminar, a woman came up to me and asked if I was Brett Walkenhorst. Uh ... I think so. She told me her name and I was so excited! We attended the same church when we were teenagers and it was so cool to catch up with her! It had probably been 20 years since I had seen her. That was really cool.
2. This morning, I woke up really early and enjoyed the quiet of the house and a beautiful scene outside. The clouds were so beautiful.
3. Later, my youngest daughter woke up and cuddled with me on the couch. I love that!

I think I need to keep up this habit of gratitude. It's very therapeutic. I've been working on my physical health lately and as it has improved, I've found new sources of energy and more glimpses of happiness. After practicing identifying happy moments for about half a day, I already feel a bit of a surge in the happiness factor. That's pretty cool!

If you're interested, check out the happier app. Or check out the associated website. I really like it so far! And let me know if you use it; I'd be happy to connect with you on it.

If you want to know more about the site/app, the founder of the company has a pretty cool story. She gave a TED talk about finding happiness that I thought was really insightful. Check it out!

And if you need a quick little uplift and a sample of what this company is all about, check this out: smile.happier.com.

A minus

Emily and I had a long talk last night. I learned to be a perfectionist at a very young age. I demand a lot of myself and of others. And I demand more than I should from my children. As we discussed my problem, we talked about school. All of my kids feel a lot of stress about school and Emily pointed out that we need to adopt a model somewhere between the two extremes of demanding the best and demanding nothing.

As we talked, I realized that for most of the time I was in school, I didn't worry too much about my grades. I did my best, I worked hard, but I was cool with less than perfect grades. In fact, it was almost a point of pride for me that my GPA averaged around 3.7. I knew some people who consistently got a 4.0, but I decided I didn't want the stress associated with that. I wanted to focus on other things in my life besides academics and I considered my 3.7 a badge of honor that meant I was more well rounded than I might otherwise have been if I worked hard enough to get a 4.0.

Somehow, as the weight of responsibility to provide for my family settled on my shoulders, my attitude changed. As we bought houses, as our expenses grew, as I watched my budget continue to mushroom, I felt the pressure to keep growing professionally to keep that budget in the black. With that pressure, which I felt starting with the purchase of our first home and the crushing weight of a massive amount of debt, I began to feel that there was no room for error. I couldn't afford to make mistakes because I had a huge responsibility resting on my shoulders and I couldn't let my family down. The perfectionism that I had learned as a child began to manifest itself and I'm afraid it has been a rare thing when it takes a break.

And so I demand perfection of myself in my professional life, my personal life, my spiritual life, etc. And I demand perfection from others at work and at home. And it has made me extremely unhealthy, both physically and mentally, and it has made my children miserable.

I realized last night that I had employed a model for combating this tendency in my schooling and had been successful in doing so for many years. My attitude was that A minuses are ok. In fact, B pluses are acceptable. And I can even tolerate the occasional C plus. I never had patience with less than that and even the C pluses I received a couple of times made me a bit uncomfortable. But I forgave myself and moved on, telling myself that although I could have done better, I hated the subject matter and focused my energy on those things I was passionate about. This rationalization was true, by the way, except for one math class I took a few years ago that I should not have taken. Oh well. I moved on anyway.

This model I used for school should be applied throughout my life. I don't want to stop striving for excellence. It's important to me that I work hard and contribute value at work and at home. But I need to give myself and others permission to be less than perfect. An A minus is ok. In fact, it might be good to make that my goal. Let someone else work for the A.

Stress is NOT the Enemy

My mom sent me the video below a couple days ago. I thought it was so inspirational. It is fairly long about 14.5 minutes, but please take some time to watch it.

Takeaways for me:

1. Stress doesn't kill, but our beliefs about stress do, so change your beliefs. Faith is powerful.
2. Trust your body's response to stress. This leads to courage instead of avoidance.
3. Seek to connect with people when going through challenges. Our bodies prompt us to do that, so pay attention to those cues. Sharing our burdens with loved ones and helping carry theirs is a lot more fun than trudging through life alone. Caring creates resilience.
4. When making big decisions in life, pursue meaning first and then have the faith that you can deal with whatever stress follows.

I think the video is wonderfully inspirational. I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think!

Vulnerability

Emily pointed me to an absolutely fantastic TED talk. If you have about 20 minutes, please take a look and let me know your thoughts. I am so struck by the profundity of what this woman has taught me, I don't really know what to say. Except that she pegged me pretty well. And she has given me a lot to think about.


Embrace vulnerability as the birthplace of joy, belonging, and love?

Believe that I'm inherently worthy of love and belonging?

Believe that what makes me vulnerable is what makes me beautiful?

Stop controlling or predicting my life?

What kind of crazy talk is this? And how can I internalize these ideas and become what she's talking about?

I'm just like her ... before her breakdown. I want to be like the wholehearted people she describes.

Love and Lust

I believe God speaks to man. Ok, and woman, but I was going for a succinct intro there. I believe that, in part, because of my own experiences. Sometimes I feel impressions that impart ideas that are surprising to me, but afterwards, prove themselves to be full of wisdom. Here's an example from a couple of years ago.

I remember talking with God one day (usually that's just me talking, but sometimes I feel like it becomes two-way communication, which is really cool). I can't remember my exact line of questioning, but I remember an idea forming in my mind that was very foreign to any thought process I can remember having before. I was talking about the beauty of my wife, the beauty of women in general, love and lust, and a bunch of other things. I think I must have said something to the effect that I felt like I was supposed to avoid lust except as directed toward my wife.

The idea came almost immediately that I should avoid lust even toward her. That I should love her, be close to her, allow myself to be wrapped up in her and let her consume me, but not to lust after her.

I'm not sure I represented the idea quite right, but that's what I remember right now. It confused me. I didn't understand how I could be consumed by my wife, how we could have a thriving, healthy sex life, and I not feel lust toward her. I think, a couple of years later, that I may have just figured it out.

I have, for a long time, been attempting to understand the distinction between appreciation for beauty and lust. I've come to the conclusion that lust represents a desire to own, to use, to consume, and often in inappropriate ways. Appreciating a beautiful sunrise doesn't imply that I want to own the sun; I simply enjoy it and feel refreshed by the natural wonder of it. The same applies to women.

I appreciate the beauty of women. In fact, I don't think there is a woman alive who isn't beautiful. Women, as God's final element of creation in this world, are among his most elegant creations - perhaps his most elegant. I don't believe I have ever seen anything quite as lovely as woman. Men are just ugly - sorry fellas. I look in the mirror and I simply don't see what my wife sees. Thank God she has a perspective that is different from mine.

And I enjoy seeing beautiful women everywhere I go. I was on a business trip yesterday and I saw many lovely women. I go to church and enjoy being among so many beautiful women, some of whom are more beautiful to me because of the beauty I see on the inside as I've come to know them. But I don't desire to own, to use, or to unite with any of them. Their beauty is simply refreshing and I enjoy being in a world with such beautiful beings.

But my relationship with my wife is a little different. Many times in my life, I have wanted to own her, to use her, to unite with her, and I realized that 'lust' as I've defined it, is an unhealthy disposition in my marriage relationship. I have come to see that even in marriage, lust is inappropriate. It is love that we're after and love can lead to a perfect union of souls, of which the physical, sexual union is simply an outgrowth, a symbol, a culmination. I don't want to minimize the importance of sex; rather, to point out that it is even more wonderful and more powerful when it flows from a motive of pure love rather than physical attraction.

I'm still physically attracted to my wife. And if you've seen her, I'm sure you understand. Pictures don't do justice. My wife is gorgeous! I was looking at her last night after seeing so many women during my one-day trip yesterday and thinking how perfect she is for me. Taken as a whole, no other woman compares to her. I really believe she and I were made for each other, our complementary strengths and the challenges we've posed for each other that have helped us to grow individually and to grow together as a couple.

One aspect of my wife I thought about last night was modesty. Some of the women I saw yesterday, beautiful as they are, weren't dressed very modestly and I thought how sad that they felt the need or desire to share so much of themselves with the world - or at least with anyone who happened to look at them. It almost felt like they were cheating their husbands from something that should rightfully belong to them.

I'm so grateful that my wife is careful to preserve her modesty and while she allows everyone to see her beauty, she preserves much of herself just for me. That aspect of her demeanor makes our relationship even sweeter. I think the women I see at church look just a little more beautiful than many others because they also, or the vast majority of them, are dressed neatly and modestly.

As we talked about our day last night, I was struck more and more by her sweetness, by the way she gives of herself and serves everyone around her. She begins with our family and moves outward, rarely giving thought to her own comfort. She has had selfish times in her life, but most of the time, she sweetly seeks to bless others. And I love and admire her for that.

As I have come to love my wife, on the inside and outside, I've come to see the wisdom of the impression I had not to allow lust to be part of my marriage. I hadn't separated the idea of lust from sex in my mind and I couldn't see how the idea was logical, but I stored it away and thought about it. And now I think I understand. Sex is about so much more than physical attraction. The attraction is a nice part of it, but the real essence of the act is a union of souls. When that union is based on love, appreciation, mutual respect, etc., it is so much more fulfilling than when it is based on attraction.

I think this separation of concepts (sex and lust), though forming in my mind for years, was really cemented by the post I read recently from a homosexual man. Funny how it took a homosexual man's explanation of love and sex to help me realize the wisdom of a divine impression that I think will continue to improve my relationship with my wife. I think everyone we meet has something they can teach us and I'm grateful that so many people are willing to share their wisdom with me.

The Emotions of Politics

I almost titled this post 'The Insanity of Politics', but I realized it's really about emotions. It isn't really insane; it's just ... well, ok, maybe it is.

My wife told me of a semi-celebrity who posted a supportive comment of Mitt Romney on her fan page the other day and, while there were some supportive comments, the feedback quickly degenerated into a childish fight. People expressed support for Obama, then for Mitt, then for Ron Paul, and then they started throwing insults at each other. There were some attempts to calm the rhetoric, but it was mostly silly.

I don't know exactly why people get so charged up about politics, but I think it's an unfortunate commentary on human nature. I see that kind of discussion going on and I just sigh; I laugh silently at the circus; and I long for some semblance of sanity to return to public discourse. That may be wishful thinking, but I do occasionally hear rational discussions in the public sector.

I actually think all three of those guys the fans talked about are pretty decent. I strongly disagree philosophically with a couple of them and I'm sure they're all far from perfect, but at the same time, I see good in all of them. But for some of the supporters of any one of them, all other candidates appear to be demons.

My approach in times of campaigning is typically to stay away from the news completely. I'll check out headlines and occasionally read a story, but I often feel disgusted after that and I go back to my old ways.

Another trick I've tried off and on is to turn on the talking heads and mute them. Try it sometime. It's pretty amusing and very therapeutic. I can't do it for more than a few minutes or I get bored, but it's a nice little diversion.

Religious discussions sometimes devolve into the same kind of childish spat. Maybe that's why religion and politics have become taboo in certain social settings. It's just too easy to make people mad. Which is a shame because both topics are pretty important and well worth discussing. I don't bring them up at work very often, for example, though I try to live my life such that people can see my philosophy in both domains shine through my actions.

When I find people who can keep a level head while talking about those topics that strike so close to the heart, I really enjoy sharing my ideas and hearing theirs. But I think rational debate requires us to adopt the mindset that we're not out to prove our point, but rather to share with one another in an attempt to jointly arrive at a better understanding. This philosophy of debate seems rare. Maybe that's what I find so sad. Maybe our public debate is a reflection of the arrogance that seems so inherent in human nature.