peaking

We love the defying-the-odds stories, stories of second and third chances.

The true stories of athletes craftily finding ways to still compete (here, here, & here, for example). 

 

The true story of professional ballerina Wendy Whelan, who brilliantly kept on performing years past the typical age of ballerinas.

Or the true story of pro boxer George Foreman. He lost his boxing championship to Muhammad Ali at his peak physical condition of 25 years old...

then retired soon after, totally left the profession for 10 years...

...but regained the same boxing championship, about 20 years after losing to Ali.

 

Not just athletes, of course.

There's the true story of singer Mavis Staples, all of 71 years old when she won her inaugural Grammy ... even though she'd received her first Grammy nomination four (!!) decades earlier. 

I could go on with more examples. 

There's a reason we gravitate to these stories. It encourages us to hear examples of triumph with people who succeeded, despite not being at what we might presume is their peak condition.

For me, these true stories relieve me. I hope they relieve you as well.

 

They remind me that should an opportunity come my way, and even if I KNOW I'm not at my best, there still could be a way to work it out. It's a relief to remember that I can still have off days. 

 

You can have off days as well. Doesn't mean all is lost.

We don't know when our chances will come with whatever God would have us pursuing.

And yes, of course: we should try to make much of whatever chances we're given. But it's false to believe that we're gonna blow it unless we're at our absolute best.

Real-life examples remind us this isn't true. Real-life examples from ancient times and places remind us this isn't true.

So this is why I love stories of a near 50-year-old champ, a quinquagenarian ballerina, or a 71-year-old Grammy winner. No doubt they were not as sharp as their younger selves. 

 

Mavis's voice couldn't lilt about the higher notes like it once could. 

 

Wendy's joints required more upkeep than her 23-year-old self. 

 

Big George couldn't bounce around the boxing ring as deftly as his younger self.

They weren't at their peak. But they were still good enough for when the opportunity came. 

Whew.

 

you don't want your dream job (yet)

How we sometimes picture how our professional lives will roll out:

 

After graduating from college, we'll land a sweet gig/dream job at a company or organization we love and with whom our values wholly align. 

 

OR, after college, we have graduate school. 

 

BUT once we're done with graduate school, THEN we'll land a sweet gig at a company or organization we love and with whom our values wholly align.

 

Nope.

  

Sorry not sorry for bursting this bubble, but it needs to happen. 

Don't hear what I'm not saying. I'm not saying you'll never land that dream job. But right out after school? Odds are slim. And trust me: you would not want it that fast. Getting too much, too soon can often work against you.

So what'll it actually be like for you? You'll probably meander around in a few different roles, maybe for a few different organizations, before landing in a place where you can drop some roots. 

Like barnacles that attach to a ship hull, you'll pick up useful and random skills along the way that will help you to know. Some jobs won't be your dream setup, but for the time you have them, they'll serve some sort of useful purpose. You have more to learn. We continue gathering skills after college, slowly but surely adding to our professional (metaphorical) toolbox.

But why didn't your parents or family pass to you this nugget of reality and wisdom? 

 

It's probably a matter of innocuous timing. If your parents gave birth to you during this time of their lives, you were too young to remember its details and the grind. But ... if you came along after this time of their lives, then you grew up in the time of their professional journeys where they're a bit more settled; a bit less frenetic. Adult-ing comes in stages.

 

You don't want your dream job (yet) because you want to be ready for it when it does happen. You're not ready yet. You probably won't be ready for that job right out of school, and that's typical. The job will you have will have its fun parts and not-as-fun parts, and that's OK.

 

Having it too early would be like giving a baby an orange to eat. 

If they haven't yet grown teeth, they won't be able to enjoy the food.

 

The Biblical model of humans in life is NOT peaking in your 20's, and then a gentle downhill slope from there. It's growing slowly but surely, and peaking much, much later.

So please: adjust your mindset, and your pace. You're running a marathon -- not a sprint -- and you're only two miles in. Pace yourself, see what's around you. You've got a ways to go. You've got stuff yet to learn. That's how it should be.

a la carté kills

How I learned a valuable lesson about self-respect, dating, and relationships.

When I was in college (or shortly thereafter), this girl and I developed a friendship that, through time and conversations, became more. Talking with her on the phone once or twice a week morphed into talking on the phone every single night (this was before text messaging was a thing).

Texting on these phones took commitment.

 

We lived in different cities, but within easy driving distance. We'd confide about our life hopes, dreams, funny stories, day-to-day details, worries. We'd known each other for years, knew we had similar values and beliefs. We became each others closest emotional supports. 

 

It didn't take much for my heart to want more. She told me I was the best, someone she could trust ... someone she loved. "Wow," I thought. "This seems so good!"

 

And it was so good ... save for one detail.

She had a boyfriend. 

Of him she didn't speak much. 

 

What she did share with me: she knew they could never work out long-term. He wasn't much for meaningful conversation. He wasn't what she sought for her future. How she had all this time to talk with me while dating someone else, I couldn't figure. This unspoken question rattled around my skull: "then whyyyyy are you still with him?"

 

In my uncertainty, I never asked this question. I reasoned that if I showed myself to be an obvious step up, that she'd ditch her boyfriend.  Then, we could continue what we'd started.

 

So I kept on, with allowing myself to grow closer. Talking, sharing life, sharing laughs, sharing dreams. We poured more of our hearts out onto one another. I did my best to ignore the pesky "one detail" (that annoyingly remained a detail). Sooner ... or later, I reasoned, she'd end it with him if I kept giving pieces of my time, energy, my heart. 

How could I have believed this would work? I don't think hindsight is always 20/20 ... but hindsight can offer clarity and perspective.

Thank God for friends who love us enough to tell us the truth. 

 

Thank God for friends who love us enough to say hard truths we must hear. 

 

My best friend Matt's wife was (and is) wise beyond her years. In talking with them about this conundrum, and my hopes for how this would work out, she leveled me with a perspective I hadn't yet heard.

"You are a la carté-ing yourself," she told me. "You should not do this. You're gonna get hurt."

"A la carté-ing ... myself?? What does that mean?" I knew what 'a la carté' meant: it's a term often used at restaurants. It refers to a menu or list of items that can be ordered separately, rather than altogether. I hadn't yet heard it about dating, or relationships.

 

"Here's what I mean," she replied. "Right now, you're offering pieces of yourself, in hopes that she'll end up wanting more. But that's not how it should be. God made us to be loved completely, not piecemeal. None of us as whole people are ever too much for one person. Someone should either get all of you, or none of you. That's self-respect. As it stands, she's got you for emotional support and camaraderie, but then there's this boyfriend who's somehow still in the picture. Why would she commit to wanting all of you, and ditching this other dude, if you're offering just parts of you? Don't devalue yourself, do not a la carté yourself. Connection without commitment is not stable, and you're gonna get hurt."

This perspective changed my life, y'all. I'd never heard this from the vantage point of standing up for myself and my worth in an appropriate, respectful, and resolute manner.

It's been more than two decades since I heard this. I share this wisdom a few times a year with people in similar scenarios, and it's absolutely right. If it's true for me, it's gotta be true for you as well.

Don't offer a la carté versions of yourself when it comes to dating relationships.

You're worth way more than that.

make your bed, text a prayer, love the day

Committing to life changes feels so daunting. Where should I start? 

It's mentally, emotionally paralyzing to try to answer that question. 

For what it's worth, it helps me to think of the smallest possible change I could make until I figure out the bigger changes. 

Lord, I don't know what big changes to make just yet, but surely I could make a small change -- help me take a tiny step in that direction.

But sometimes, the most minute, minuscule of changes causes giant improvements.

The littlest rock, once removed from your shoe, will remarkably improve how you walk.

The tiniest smudge, once wiped from your glasses, remarkably improves your ability to see.

Sending a text you've put off sending will do wonders to improve how you feel about yourself and your productivity.

Moving your phone away from where you sleep  will remarkably improve how rested you feel when you wake up.

For me, I always feel like I could pray more. 

 

ALWAYS. 

 

Yet a friend of mine recently commented that when people asked Jesus about how to pray, Jesus gave them the Lord's Prayer. Which ... is not a long prayer. Jesus also talked to them about the uselessness of heaping empty words into a prayer. 

 

A longer prayer doesn't automatically mean a more valuable prayer.

So maybe short prayers are the point. Like text messages. When you text with close friends, you rarely send a verbose, gotta-scroll-down-a-few-times-to-read-it-all text. 

 

It's short statements. 

 

It's incomplete sentences.

So talk like that with God. Doing a short prayer beats doing no prayer. 

 

And it's a minuscule change to the routine. I could pray while brushing my teeth. Or pray while walking to my car, or stepping into a meeting. Or when I put shoes on, or take them off. Whenever and whatever keeps the dialogue going.

Anyway, adjusting the slightest little routine can alter the course for an entire day. Or week. Or month.

Or life.

I've done an experiment lately: I make my bed just after I wake up. Before I pour myself some coffee, I make the bed.

If only it was like this

And then: whenever I make or look at my to-do list for the day, I always write 'make bed.' And I strike a triumphant line through it to signal its completion. 

 

Just helps set a tone for the day, I'm told.

Commit to some incremental adjustment. It often precludes huge strides forward.

We all have giant, gargantuan dream lists of what we'd like to see be different in our life. To lose weight. Renew our faith life with God. Smile more when we meet people. Stop snacking after midnight. Talk back to our anxiety to let it know who's boss. Pursue the dream. Stop obsessing over perfection. Talk to the crush. 

It all seems so out of reach. Where to start?

Start by making your bed. Start with a short prayer. 

Also, what other little step(s) can you take?

boys don't cry (such a lie)

"In the clearing stands a boxer

And a fighter by his trade

And he carries the reminders

Of every glove that laid him down

Or cut him till he cried out

In his anger and his shame

'I am leaving, I am leaving' 

But the fighter still remains" -'The Boxer', Simon & Garfunkel

-----

Anyone can listen in; this one's for the fellas--

The ones quietly pushing against apathy, pushing against emotional muting, pushing against a hangover, pushing against their fathers or mothers (or both), pushing against the withering self-talk, pushing against overcorrection. Pushing against porn and its lies, pushing against checking out. Pushing against themselves sometimes.

Pushing against G!d.

Pushing for a break in the fog. How can it look to express emotional turmoil, as a man? Want to be authentic, do not want to inadvertently add to any cesspools of 'toxic' masculinity. Pushing for a way through. Squinting toward the horizon, hoping for some lived-in guideposts of what masculinity means, without that adjective 'toxic' in front of it.

[Before I say anything else, lemme say this: warnings about 'toxic' masculinity are entirely proper, wise, and warranted. Misogyny cannot ever be an answer. The fallout of sin taints everything -- in some way, for now -- about this world (Romans 8:20-22), including how we relate to one another.]

So some ink needs spilling about masculinity, not just as 'masculinity has to not be this', but 'a meaning of masculinity should include this [insert ideal].' Embodying masculinity has to reach beyond describing what it is not.

Just some observations about sloggging through emotional turmoil as a man:

1) Non-toxic doesn't equal healthy. As much as I love me some Cheetos -- and the snack does meet the FDA-approved standard of 'non-toxic' -- that doesn't mean my health would flourish via a steady intake of the enriched corn meal, garishly orange cheese seasoning, and maltodextrin.

So if you aim to be non-toxic with your masculinity, that's laudable! It's a swell start. Thankfully, there's more to it than that.

2) As many times as a torpedo sinks the cartoon-macho facade of the emotionless, stoic, never cries and never feels pain (except for kicks to the groin) masculinity, the image consistently washes ashore like a live grenade, ready to inflict pain.

We cognitively sense this facade doesn't work. It slowly corrodes from within. But where (and how) to start piecing together alternative ways to relate? Where can one feel safe enough to clumsily emote?

For me, my wariness to torpedo that facade stemmed from this: Once I blew it up, I had no idea what would take its place. At least with the facade, I felt some predictability (this wasn't actually true, but until I had an equally compelling narrative to counter this one, it was easiest to believe).

What did help me: observing up-close how other men dealt with this stuff. Wiser men, older men. Safe men who rooted for me, counseled me, laughed with me, didn't agree with me about everything, heard me through the rough emotional first drafts.

Choosing to spend time around other men showed me how they navigated emotional turmoil without either exploding, or stuffing it a million miles down into their chest. I could learn some by imitating these intriguing ways to relate. And by imitating, I could gain some confidence to continue onward. This still helps me.

2) Speaking of older men: a word on your father, or a father figure in your life. He may seem impossible to connect with, but he's walked some of these paths. Don't write him off prematurely. There's more there than meets your present understanding. It can be a frustrating, yet rewarding, exercise to unearth the long-ago person and lessons inside of him. It'll take you some time to do this.

3) Therapy can help. I've benefitted a ton in my life from talking my stuff out with a professional. Pragmatically speaking, it's meant that I don't assume the dual roles of participant and moderator to my internal nonstop dialogue. I can talk stuff out, and someone else -- professionally trained! -- can moderate, can assist to figure out how the puzzle in my mind might fit together.

If you need a more pragmatic reason in support of therapy: it's undoubtedly more budget-friendly in the long run than not going to therapy. If you're sometimes willing to drive 15-20 minutes out of the way to fill up on gas that's just 5-10 cents cheaper, then this mindset also applies for therapy > no therapy.

4) The end goal is not to show emotions just like the women in your life show them. So if you're concerned that emoting will make you appear more feminine, nah. It will expand your notions and range of how masculinity can and does express itself.

5) That being said, odds are quite good you have strong, wise women in your life that you trust (I don't only mean girlfriends, or potential future girlfriends. I mean friends. Co-workers). This is a gift from God. Of course you can learn much from their example, their counsel, their friendship, their observations, their ways of relating, their stories. In the Old Testament book of Proverbs, wisdom is depicted as a caring, street-smart, strong, supportive 'she'. That's not a typo.

6) You possess these capabilities already. So it's not like adding an external software update onto your hard drive. It's more like discovering some tools you already own buried in the bottom of your closet, figuring out their intended purpose, and how to use them well.

I do not write as someone who's figured this stuff out. HARDLY. But I write as someone who's been some of where you are, has tripped headlong on many exposed tree roots of similar trails, and knows something of the purposeful, resolute stepping needed to make headway.

So find the trails nearby that await your walking on them. It's near time to dump the puzzle pieces out onto the table; time to start to try to make sense of the larger picture. The fighter still remains.

(Thx J.N. for the prompt!)

fuses and matches

"By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going." -Hebrews 11:8 (underlining added)

We cannot always control what we start. Once we ring a bell, it can't be un-rung. Once we say the words, we can't force them back into our mouths. Once we light that fuse, it's lit -- we'd have to move quickly to put the fuse out before it ignites.

Independence Day brings the annual fireworks lighting in our neighborhood, and throughout our city. Not just the shows put on by municipalities -- also just regular folks spending their money to light gloriously gawdy fireworks. These fireworks usually have amazing names, such as Roman candles, bottle rockets, black cats, nuclear sunrises. If you're into fireworks, you have your favorites.

Lighting a bottle rocket -- it takes some faith. We light the fuse, and presume to point it in a general direction (hopefully straight upward!). It could make an arc. It could streak through a haze of previous bottle rocket smoke trails.

Or not. It could tip sideways, and stay low to the ground. 

Once, I unwisely stoked a bottle rocket battle with a buddy of mine when we were teens. In the handle end of some wiffle ball bats, there's this tiny hole that can hold the stick end of a bottle rocket. Load, light, and aim. It was a predictably wild and silly night (in hindsight, we should've worn gloves and goggles for, but alas ... most stories we repeat in life involve doing something dumb and somehow making it through OK).

So we light the fuse. Then we wait and see what happens next. It's like this with bigger steps and life transitions too. 

There's just no way to always know where a path -- once started -- will ultimately meander. We take a new job, with no way of knowing what doors it could open for us. We join a new club, not knowing who we could meet that might change our life forever. We can't know every ending before every beginning.  

This is not just a modern-day sort of challenge. It's been this way since ancient time. "By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going." -Hebrews 11:8. 

This helps me relax. 

I take begrudging and grateful comfort that someone following God STILL didn't know where he was going. And he still went out. And while it had its challenges, it turned out so well for Abraham and his loved ones!

It's the bottle rocket life of kicking some dust up, lighting some fuses, and seeing where they go from there. Live wisely and boldly. Take the chance on something good. Just because you don't know exactly where something's heading doesn't mean you're not following where God's leading you.

Future you will have more ideas of how to navigate what's ahead -- no need to figure out every last possible circumstance and contingency before you even get going. 

Time to step out, touch the lighter to the fuse, and see what's what.

late night talking

Some of us feel more at home in "deeper" conversations.

We prefer the late-night chats where we excavate the depth of life's meaning, of love, of music lyrics, of unicorns, of faith, of personality profiles, of political theory, of metaphysical aspects of trees and how they sometimes speak to us.

But it's that "small talk" many of us disdain. 

Small talk: the informal chatter about anything banal. It's the 'how's the weather', the 'how's your week going?', and 'how's you doing?' or the 'it wouldn't feel so cold without this wind' sorta conversation.

We think of small talk like it's the air in an unopened potato chip bag; it's not why anyone wants chips.

 

We regard it like it's that random filler paper stuffed in the toe of new shoes; it's decorative filler.

It's that little pocket on our jeans, you know ... the one behind the right front pocket. I'm sure there's a purpose for this pocket, but would I notice if it wasn't there?

This is not how God thinks of small talk. 

This is good news for us, even though we don't like small talk. It's not that God sees "small talk" as more (or less) important than 'deeper talk'. It's that our Lord regards everything about our lives as important and able to bring glory. There's zero delineation between 'important stuff' and 'non-important stuff'.

When we engage in small talk (even when we don't feel any good at it) we acknowledge and participate in this truth: God regards all aspects of our lives as worthy of his attention. Therefore, when we likewise show similar interest about the 'little stuff' in each other's lives, we reflect something of how God first loves us. And that's cool.

Think about it: the people you trust the most were, at one time, strangers to you. 

You shared a class in high school, or you worked together, or you went to the same church, or played on the same team. Eventually, you started talking about something "seemingly" trivial. Maybe you discussed about a mutual love of tacos, or why you love the smell of paint (admit it, some of y'all do -- there's no way that's just me), or your favorite music when you were a kid, or the particular way you eat a roll of Smarties (yes, there are particular ways).

The innocuous chats lead to deeper ones. We can't swim the ocean without first wading into the shallower water at the shoreline. We almost always learn to trust others with the deeper parts of ourselves by first disclosing the lighter parts of our lives. And it's not like our talks with trusted friends only stay at deeper topics once they reach that point: they meander from heavy to light, from sad to ridiculously funny, from plain to joyful, from amusing to predictable to endearing.

It turns out that small talk works more like the mortar between bricks. Small talk is the cartilage situated around the joints in our body. Small talk is the marinade for the steak. Small talk is the environmentally-friendly straw that stirs the drink. Small talk is the echo that comes after the blast of a joyful noise.

And we get better at it (and it gets easier) as we keep at it.

So, what plans do you have for this weekend?

RSV to the P

"Say not, 'Why were the former days better than this?' For it is not from wisdom that one asks this." 

-Ecclesiastes 7:10

A best friend of mine's favorite book in the Bible is Ecclesiastes. It's a quick read. If you enjoy figuring out song lyrics, you'd like Ecclesiastes. If you're someone who doesn't enjoy it when people try to be naively optimistic, Ecclesiastes is for you.

If you want to skim through it (and you have a Bible nearby), it's about one-third of the way in. Psalms, Proverbs, then Ecclesiastes.

This above verse has clanged around in my brain lately. The hourly deluge of 'What's Catastrophically Wrong Today In the World' (i.e. daily headlines, social media feeds, news of evils and injustices small and large) can make it feel like everything (everywhere, all at once), is uniquely worse than ever before.

And yet. And yet this sage verse -- "Say not, 'Why were the former days better than this?' For it is not from wisdom that one asks this." -- re-grounds my daily perceptions in enduring reality:

a) It helps me resist believing the lie that life will be worse tomorrow. That's crucial. But it doesn't help me resist this by minimizing today's evils, or by turning a blind eye. It widens my view. It reminds me that for so many, this sort of evil and injustice is an old, long reality. Tomorrow won't be worse, because...

b) ...Yesterday wasn't always better. "Why can't it be like it used to be way back when? Used-to-be way back when was so good, and simple." That just isn't true. It helps me to resist giving too much stock to 'the good old days'.

c) It helps me resist a particular shame. You know, the kind of shame that comes when we learn something new, and then feel like we somehow should've known this information all along. We're not the only ones to believe this. Knowing this helps me resist feeling shame for once believing the world was better.

d) It reminds me that there are others who -- while they've fought injustice -- have also lived with and endured with such evils for a long, long time. It's nothing new. Therefore, I can't become impatient when evils and sin don't immediately disappear. That seldom happens. The patience of those who've more directly struggled with evil inspires me to check my impatience to want everything all fixed, right this instant.

Where does that leave me?

It leaves me skeptical, but not (quite as) jaded;
resolute, but not (quite as) naive;
playing catch-up, but resisting shame about needing to do that;
faithful, but not (as) surprised;
distressed, but (more) hopeful that one day, all that's wrong will be made right;
overwhelmed, but not (as) no longer believing there's nothing I can do;
motivated, but not (as) prone to thinking I can fix this through sheer effort.

So thankful this verse is here ... that way, when I need reminding, it's still written down. It's not going anywhere.

"Let's just make this clear: I have no idea what I'm doing. I am stumbling through this like everyone else." -Dr. E. McCaulley

Blessings on your week this week.

did God just open (or close) that door?

Maybe you've heard about what God does with doors.

God opens doors. Or God closes doors.

 

We walk through doors that God opens for us. We walk away from the doors that God closes to us. Sounds fairly simple, doesn't it?

 

Perhaps. But not always.

 

For most of my life, I've heard this paradigm in the context of how to discern situations and life choices. And for most of my life, this made sense to me. 

 

But then I heard a talk once that challenged my reflex thinking, and I recorded the quote and wrote it down because it rocked me that much.

 

"Christians get a little too caught up in the open door, closed door thing. They say, 'Well, I'm praying about getting married, or trying some new job, or learning some new skill, and I'm going to see if the Lord opens a door or closes a door.

 

You know, sometimes the door is open. Sometimes the door is closed. And sometimes you need to tear the door off the hinges. 

 

Sometimes you have to say, 'This is a closed door, and God isn't going to make it easy for me.' You look at all the quest stories in the Bible, time after time, God throws up one obstacle, maybe two obstacles, puts people off, makes them face some barrier, and after they face that barrier and persevere, then God gives it to them." -Dr. DD

 

This continually encourages me.  

God's plans for life seldom fit so simply into a closed door/open door paradigm.

 

As I've accrued life and experiences, I'd rarely describe God's will for my life feeling as easy as waltzing through a wide-open door. In fact, few things in life are that easy (except of course, walking through actual doors, particularly supermarket doors that open as you approach). 

 

Usually, it feels like...

-building the door frame,

-securing the frame in place for the door,

-sanding the frame,

-pulling out the splinters accrued from sanding the frame,

-finding the tools to build the door,

-finding the lumber,

-and THEN getting to work on building a door.

 

A takeaway point from this?

 

Often, what's best for life and what God desires for me will involve actual struggle, because ... it's actual life. It will take real effort, and it'll rarely be as easy as walking through an open door. It'll require more of me (and of you) than that. 

 

Give this some thought. 

Luke 11:5-13

mood :: mixtape

 "The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps." -Proverbs 16:9

 

Moving from one life stage to the next life stage should have clearer boundaries than it does. If I had my way, it'd be like the silence between two songs on a well-crafted mixtape.

But that's not how it usually goes.

Changing of life stages seems more like listening to the radio or Spotify playlist. Songs sort of crossfade together, but the songs rarely share the same key, tempo, or backbeat. So the crossfade sounds clunky, jarring, disjointed.

In my younger years, I'd craft many a mixtape for friends, crushes, acquaintances. If I included a song recorded from the radio, I wanted the entire song without a radio person's voice (a similar annoyance is when the GPS voice talks over your favorite part of a song to inform you of your next turn in two miles).

So for crafting a song running order, that brief space of silence did my mixtapes much good. No voice intrusions, no crossfade.

A tiny bit of silent space to demarcate life stages would also do some good. But that's not usually how it goes.

-Before graduating from high school, most seniors have figured out post-high school plans -- which is a crossfading one life stage with another.

-If you're shopping for new clothes at a store in public, you're required (by law) to shop while wearing clothes you already own. No one shows up to the store in their birthday suit (what else can be said about this?? -- some life crossfades are a net benefit for EVERYONE).

-You never know (at the time) when is the first time you make conversation with a lifelong friend. 

-When graduating college, the crossfade can start so early. What's the next step? Landing a job, graduate school, internship, year or two of volunteering. Something. The ceremony almost feels anticlimactic; a blast of dissonant trumpets amidst the crossfade of the rest of life.

And with each stage, the paths of beloved friends, which for many years have walked side-by-side, now chart different courses ... oh so gradually. It can be a mixture of excitement at what's coming next, and slow-motion heartache at the good that slowly fades out of sight.

There's many ways to look at how life moves from one season to the next. One way is that you're forever fashioning for yourself a mixtape, quite the playlist ... and you're doing so while living your daily, ordinary life.

Sometimes the transitions from one song to the next glide so seamlessly, and you think 'wow, that was smooth ... I am awesome. I've got life figured out.' Sometimes the crossfade between songs sounds raw, messy and abrupt, because that's also life, and you're going through it.

Some songs get added to the mixtape by someone else ... because it's a collaborative sorta endeavor, after all. 

Some songs will always break a piece of your heart.

Many songs cycle back though the playlist again, finding new energy in different life stages. 

Some songs only sound good when you hear them alone, driving at night in the summertime. 

Some songs will revive your spirit, again and again.

Many songs will appear once on your playlist, and they stick to that one life stage: a marker forever frozen to a time, a place, a person, an event.

Some songs you'll forget even made it onto the list. 

Many songs you'll never forget, but until you hear them again after a long time, you'll forget how good they really sound.

Some songs endure, and age well with you.

Hmmm ... maybe just maybe, as much as it annoys me at times, crossfades help.

Maybe just maybe -- as much as I'd wish to have all my life mixtape songs tidy, easily labeled and crisply demarcated -- that's just not how it usually plays out.

boredom is a friend we need

 

Boredom kinda seems like that acquaintance/friend you’ve met once or twice, and the conversation kinda lagged. Then you’re both invited to hang with mutual friends, but everyone bails except you two … so you hang out, even though you don’t like spending time with boredom. You're not sure how it's supposed to go, how to keep the conversation going. And the passing of the time downshifts from the speedy hum of wireless ... to that clunkiness of analog.

Boredom kinda seems like that it recognizes that song that points out our aversion to it: “Why are you so petrified of silence … here, can you handle this?!? [SILENCE for a few seconds] Did you think about your bills, your ex, your deadlines, or when you think you’re gonna die / Or did you long for the next distraction?” Many of us seek out that next distraction … attending our eyes from computer screen, to smartphone screen, to computer screen, to tablet screen, to smartphone screen, all the day through. Raise your hand if this is also you (it's not totally your fault ... these devices are purposefully designed to perpetuate this behavior).

There’s this phenomenon where, during the night hours, we can hear AM radio stations much, much farther away from their signal source. It has to do with the refractive layers of the ionosphere being higher from the earth's surface at night than the daytime. I see this as a canopy over the earth, being lifted higher on cue every night ... to open the windows of the sky and let fresh air in, as it were.

I sometimes imagine our inner reality in this way ... when we're hustling to avoid having to hang out with boredom (because we prefer our familiar distractions) there's so much to find to attend to, and accomplish, to peruse. Deadlines. Projects. Catching up. Staying in touch. Watching that show. Deleting old emails {(then reading old emails you were supposed to be deleting). Cleaning your room. Cleaning your car. Responding to those texts. Checking back in with the parents. (Slightly) rearranging the closet. Such mundanities can keep that canopy from being lifted beyond where we prefer.

But when boredom lifts our inner canopy, there's this whole other kind of mulling, discerning, heart pondering that can occur. The questions tend to be less deadline-driven urgent, but just as important.

Is this relationship good for me and what I want, long-term? 

Am I doing what I'm doing because I'm trying to please (or appease) others, or is this what I want to do?

Why do I wear this shirt, even though I don't like it that much? 

Why did that friendship of mine fall away, and what role did I have in that? 

Whoa, where the heck is that smell coming from? 

How can I open myself up more to people, to make new friends? 

How can I relate differently to my family? 

How can I resist fear and anxiety from unduly limiting my life choices?

Seriously, what is causing that smell?? That's kinda nasty.

How do I tell my friend how proud I am of her?

What am I thankful for today?

Boredom allows space for these questions so we can meander about with them -- the canopy lifted so any weightiness isn't so compressed it's knocking us over. 

Boredom doesn't demand immediate answers, or immediate fixes. Boredom can help show us how to be around ourselves. It invites into the places of ourselves we don't often explore. It helps us get used to a more sustainable pace of living (because really, that life pace you're trying to keep up with? You know that won't work long-term). We're created not just to do, but to be. There's more to us than what we've done, where we've failed, where we've succeeded, who our parents are, where we come from.

So here's to boredom as a friend we need, among other friends.

With this, my hope and prayer for you is that when boredom sends that text that it wants to hang out ... you sometimes invite it over to hang out, and then set aside the screen in front of you for awhile. Y'all can kick around some of these important questions that life's deadline urgency always pushes aside. 

And while you're at it, figure out where that smell's coming from.