I don’t often recall my dreams. In fact, I’m mostly uncertain what leads to the recollection of these things. I generally fall fast asleep, and before I know it, the alarm is going off to wake me to the new day. Sometimes, on a weekend, I’ll remain in bed without an alarm and that seems to be the best route to find myself experiencing the dream state.

Last night, though I went to bed at a fairly standard time of 10pm, and was likely asleep at 10:30 after some brief journaling, I found myself nearly wide awake at 3am. Deciding to go back to bed, I fell quickly back to sleep. It seems in the last three hours, my dreams were alive again.

For the most part, I don’t like dreaming. As a kid, most of my dreams were of the scary, nightmare’ish variety. I would dream of a world tied to reality in which I was trapped in some way. Recalling the steps at the Juneau Christian Center at such a size that I could only go down the concentric ring of stairs, but they were just tall enough and I with no tools could not ever climb out. It’s a feeling of entrapment that I could never shake. That sensation would sometimes come to me in consciousness, as recently as last Tuesday while receiving a massage. My brain begins processing things as enormous entities, dwarfing me and creating a sense of fear out of nothing. I perceive things to be a different engorged size which of course is both strange and terrifying, “for we were grasshoppers in our own sight” (Numbers 13:33) as even the people around me are recognized as terrifyingly large.

And then there was the memorable ongoing childhood nightmare of being trapped on a ferry (that had it’s own onboard dock) and throughout the vessel I was chased and continuously entrapped by a host of Cyclops. I’ll save that one for another day.

Last night, it was a dream of sex. I don’t know why they come about, and generally, I don’t particularly mind them at the time – there don’t seem to be consequences beyond my woken response of guilt & regret. Last night I think I recognized the woman initially as Rekann, but then eventually noticed that she was Helen. It was in a place small and rundown by time, reminiscent of a trailer like room just larger than my mother’s own bedroom through my childhood. I don’t often recall the acts themselves, more the circumstances surrounding them. My “suitor” preparing for the act, or other innocuous details of engagement (like her adjusting a piece of insulation on the wall which released a tarp which had somehow been connected to the outside of the residence).

Maybe this links into what I had written last night before bed. Maybe it’s some type of consideration of what the future would be. Guilt in engaging with another in a post marital state. If Heather were to pass on this mortal coil and I find myself alone, would it be okay for me to begin the courtship again? Frankly I have no clue.

I can’t tell if I would rather outlive Heather or if she ought to outlive me. I would like to save her the pain of having me die and leave her behind, but simultaneously, I don’t want to steal the joy she may have in subsequent years with our family and friends. Of course this is easily flipped to myself. Do I want to stick around years beyond her death? I recognize that I don’t really have any control over these things. When it’s our time, it’s our time… As I was just reading this morning “Thy will be done.”

There’s a mantra good to live by.

-cb

While I’ve titled this posting “refocusing” I’m not yet sure that I’m close to that result. Today felt better. I wasn’t as hazy as I felt I was last night, but maybe it’s because I slept in, laid with heather, and generally had a slow-paced & relaxed day with her. Other activities to note (for the grandchildren, someday): Superbowl 30(?) was today, Green Bay Packers won, though it was fairly unimpressive to me. Maybe it’s cause I didn’t start watching until late in the game, or perhaps it had something to do with not feeling connected with anyone in the audience. Perhaps that getting older thing certainly bears truth in the connections maintained as the student population rolls over.

We missed week two of the Love & War sessions at church today. I want to realize the premise of living more deeply and feeling guilt at one thing or another is not really facilitating that. I want to be present wherever I am, and I don’t want to feel guilty for wanting to stay at home with the most important thing in my life: my wife.

Another interesting thing that’s been kicking around in the back of my head as of late is what would happen if for some reason Heather was to die, or, if she were to live. But mostly, the thought is along the lines of if she were no more. I wonder about what the next step would be for me. In an effort to articulate the desire part of my life, or the dreams… here goes:

I want to be deeply in love with my wife. It’s not just about a feeling or a choice, but a deep soulful connection that cannot be severed by man, and which if ever broken by God leaves me with an immense brokenness that only time, and further commune with my creator could ever hope to salve. I want to love so fully that I am completely vulnerable… Something said recently (at the last Love & War session) was that the guy desired to be “Naked & not ashamed”. I find that phrase significant. I too want to be Naked & not afraid. I want to be so deeply connected that the inhibitions and fears are cast off to create a completely authentic, real, present, and altogether life altering love of each other.

So, maybe the question is: on a daily basis, how do I become more vulnerable and in need of her support and care?

Back to that “if she died” thing… Bill told me recently that John Wooden had outlived his wife by nearly 20 years, and in that time he made weekly visits to her grave in order to honor her, and demonstrate his love for her. Would or could or should I be that man too? If at 30 a wife is no more, the remaining lifespan is significant. If 60 and a partner passes, does that change the dynamics of the expected behavior of the remaining spouse? If I were to die, I think I would want Heather to feel confident in her capacity to go out and live her life, to meet another man, one who takes excellent care of her and who makes her dreams come true. However, if she were to die and leave me behind, part of me resounds with the idea of committing to a life in rememberance of her. Wouldn’t leaving her behind as a memory be somewhat akin to divorce?

Anyhow, things to ponder on indeed. I’ll keep grinding on those and get back to you at some point maybe…

Till next time,
-cb

I’m not really sure what I’m looking to communicate in a short passage written in a journal entry tonight. I feel like I’ve been considering all sorts of things lately, my mind a blur with all matters of considerations from the state of my relationships, to considering the explanation for why I might choose to overeat or otherwise not allow myself to be in the most optimum health (another way of asking why I might be self-sabotaging.)

And in my blur of thought, lately I’ve been finding that whenever someone asks me what I’ve been up to lately, I can’t bring myself to explaining the cornucopia of thoughts prancing through my mind… Somehow it seems subpar, or otherwise uninteresting.

What a strange response.

I know that others deal with the same questioning that I do. I know that we all seek to be and achieve and love and give and live and love and grow more, but simultaneously, I react, or more accurately, act with some disregard for the Truth at the center of my heart.

What are all of these thoughts? I have no real clue. I feel incapable, likely to be found out. Unsure what the next step might be in the realization that I feel woefully prepared for the tasks ahead of me. I’m to be a Diamond? Great. How the heck does that happen? Show the plan? Riiight. You know that people ask questions and state their positions in some sort of all knowing scenario… some times? You never can be too sure. There are lots of folks out there that could, and who’s to say the next person won’t be the one to follow up and ask me a question that I don’t kno wwho to answer. Or maybe that I just don’t feel that I can relate with them. While it might be something simple to you, it’s life or death for myself and others.

Well, while my thoughts haven’t yet caudeified themselves, my eyes are burning from the onion of dinner and the late night after the long day. I’m heading to sleep, but with any luck, I’ll be sure to sign in another time soon to keep pounding away at a keyboard in hopes that I can get these thoughts onto the page and that I can review them for validity & reflection.

G’night.

-cb

I’m sometimes perplexed by my reaction to certain comments. I wish that in a moment’s notice I can find the way to articulate the feeling that hits me. It’s different every time, but I find the bewilderment of why I’m frustrated or angered to be odd – why don’t I know what I’m feeling? Why is it that my horse even reacted in the first place? It wants to keep me as I am all the way to the grave, but why would I be prompted to react in such a visceral way, without any indication of what the feeling is of.

“I really wish you wouldn’t pick at your face.”

“Like I wish you wouldn’t chew your nails?”

Bam. Emotions are off and running.

I’m hurt. She’s right, it’s not in alignment with what I want to chew my nails. It’s not so much that it hurts me everytime, but it’s a constant nagging at the tips of my fingers to draw my attention closer…

[i ended there, distracted with the iphone poker]

It’s Sunday, March 28th.

Big week. Last Tuesday I had the idea to look for distance photography courses, and came across Hallmark.edu which is an intensive 10-month program suited to provide folks with the skills necessary for a career in photography.  My attention has been captured, and I have a new dream with all manners of energy pouring forward for it.

After pondering, talking and consulting, I’ve decided to apply. Now, this of course means that after applying comes acceptance, and after acceptance comes payment, and after payment means attendance. If you know me at all, you’ll know that I have made a concerted effort since my childhood to remain solvent. While I’ve done a lot of silly things and made a lot of rediculous mistakes, I’ve done OK for myself. But, even still, the tuition/fee of Hallmark rings at just shy of $60,000. That said, Heather and I will be leaving our employment income and pursuing school for 10 months, and our goal is to remain debt free.

So, now is when the rubber hits the road. I have around 3 months to execute something astounding; I will create a passive income to the tune of $1500-2500/month so that we can pursue the opportunity. I think it’s possible that I could liquify the assets that we have as well as receiving scholarships & grants in order to pay for tuition/fees. However, as we’ll be in a new place with no certain source of income, we will produce a business in the next three months that will finance our lifestyle.

It will be an amazing learning curve. We live in the USA, the greatest country in the world with the most amazing resources available to us. It will require radically altering our pursuits, but with the newfound motivation, my past experience, and the help of friends and mentors, it is absolutely achievable.

We’re still in the scoping stage to figure out how much money will be required to make the dream a reality. If everything goes to plan, orientation starts on September 8th with our departure on approximately August 25th.

The Risk Key, from You Were Born for This by Bruce Wilkinsen

Finally just picked up another book after what feels like months of absenteeism from reading. In reality it’s only been a couple of weeks or so, but when you’re in the dark for so long, it’s hard to say when you last saw light.

Anyhow, it was, as I had just articulated to Bill in a quick CommuniKate message, a divine appointment for me to read this passage at this time.

I frequently find messages from God sitting at my fingertips when I reach out to pick up a long untouched book. 100 pages in, where I happened to set it down months back, I find an answer today.

The Risk Key talks about how in order to execute a miracle for God, it requires a reaching, active faith which can be perceived as Risk. Simply stated:

p.96 The Risk Key is a purposeful action you take, in spite of discomfort or fear, to exercise your faith during a miracle delivery. Faced with an unbridgeable gap between what you can do and what God clearly wants done, you take a risk to act anyway, depending on Him to come through. When God supernaturally bridges the gap, He enables you to deliver His miracle and demonstrates His glory.

Chapter 2: The Big Secret of Dealing with People

c2p18:

“There is only one way under high heaven to get anybody to do anything. Did you ever stop to think of that? Yes, just one way. And that is by making the other person want to do it. / Remeber, there is no other way.”

This is an interesting concept to me. Not so much in it’s newness, but due to the fact that I wonder constantly about how this plays into altruism. I frequently see things with a interconnected thread that may not be readily visible to others. I think about the concern and compassion that comes with sharing, with being loyal, and with serving others. I tend to think I have a strong “altruistic” approach to life, but this passage nearly suggests that all of those altruistic efforts are actually, at their root level, a selfish action.

So, if the one way to get someone to do what I’d like is that you want to do it, well, what is it that you want!?

There were several examples offered in this short passage of the book. From Frued to Dewey and Lincoln (and more) it boils down to our basic need. The desire to be important.

The book outlines a few basic desires (c2p19):

“Some of the things most people want include:
1. Health and the preservation of life.
2. Food
3. Sleep
4. Money and the things money will buy.
5. Life in the hereafter.
6. Sexual Gratification.
7. The well-being of our children.
8. A feeling of importance.”

In the prior comments that I made about this chapter in the “quick” overview, I stopped briefly to ponder this list and what it means for us. I came to the realization that if EVERYONE is looking for these things, that who are we to forget that we’re all on the journey of life together, and largely looking for the same things. We don’t necessarily talk about the specifics of the process, but it’s always there, lying in wait under the surface.

What is fascinating is that while we all have these basic interests, we rarely dialog on them in our common day-to-day experiences. Why is that? Is it that we weren’t brought up with the self confidence to feel safe explaining that it’s something we want? In an interesting parallel, the WorldWide Diamonds are willing to talk about these topics from stage. What does this tell me? That the desire to be important, that the desire to have a particular set of results in my life is not unusual, but merely unspoken. And further: if I want to take my life to a next phase, talking about those things becomes incredibly important as I have need to focus both internally and externally on those items in order to necessarily gravitate towards them. It’s “the secret” of “the slight edge”.

c2p30:

“One of the most neglected virtues of our daily existence is appreciation.”

What a true statement. I wonder if the outcome of many people’s life is due to this lack of appreciation? My brother, Kimmy, Joan. All folks who have amazing latent possibilities and talents, but who opt to fight their own nature of greatness, all in search of this sensation of “importance” that is fleeting, at best, when chased.

How can I remember to pay heed to this concept in my relationships, most importantly the relationships with myself and my wife.

Let’s all remember this adage (c2p31):

“I shall pass this way but once; any good, therefore, that I can do or any kindness that I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.”

Principle 2:

“Give Honest and sincere appreciation.”

Chapter 1p5.

“few…regard themselves as bad men. They are just as human as you and I. So they rationalize, they explain. They can tell you why… Most of them attempt by a form of reasoning, fallacious or logical to justify their … acts even to themselves, consequently stoutly maintaining that they should never have been [imprisoned at all].”

It’s true, if we’re all carrying the human condition, we can all be quick to support and encourage through the process; and as much as when we’re attacked, we take a defensive posture to protect our ego, others will be doing the same.

Per the conversation last night: perhaps our interactions with the human condition can be best handled through offering grace to ourselves and others.

“Criticism is futile because it puts a person on the defensive and usually makes him strive to justify himself. Criticism is dangerous, because it wounds a person’s precious pride, hurts his sense of importance and arouses resentment.”

So, another question from this: how can I be careful not to react in a defensive, justifying way? How do I avoid having my pride and sense of importance hurt?

Perhaps the answer in their lies in knowing WHO’s I am, rather than what I am based on all of the external input I may or may not receive.

Lincoln had a fairly level response, c1p10:

“Don’t criticize them; they are just what we would be under similar circumstances.”

c1p14:

“When dealing with people, let us remember we are not dealing with creatures of logic. We are dealing with creatures of emotion, creatures pristling with prejudices and motivated by pride and vanity.”

Aha, the question of how to accomplish all of this comes to mind, and here on p14, one take on the answer is outlined clearly:

“…it takes character and self-control to be understanding and forgiving. / ‘A great man shows his greatness … by the way he treats little men.’”

And, recall the story of Hoover and the jet that nearly crashed because of the fueling accident. He responds with “character and forgiving” (c1p15):

“To show you I’m sure that you’ll never do this again, I want you to service my F-51 tomorrow.”

What a phenomenal way to help a person grow through the experience of mistake and correction. Many times, we’ll find that the person in error is already in a self-condemning place. Why not encourage, support and love them into a place of functionality. Further, if a person does not find fault in their own action, why would our efforts of criticism help them change their mind. Perhaps it would only raise the anger and bitterness of them and certainly wouldn’t enable growth and good feelings.

c1p17:

“Instead of condemning people, let’s try to understand them. Let’s try to figure out why they do what they do. That’s a lot more profitable and intriguing than criticism; and it breeds sympathy, tolerance and kindness. ‘To know all is to forgive all.’ / ‘God himself … does not propose to judge man until the end of his days’ / Why should you and I?”

Here’s another answer to to the question of HOW to handle this challenge of being gracious to others in our daily exchange… Sympathy, tolerance and kindness. So, an a word, perhaps Grace is the overarching umbrella of love to cover our friends, family and fellow fleshbags. 😉

The culminating principle: “Don’t criticize, condemn or complain.”

Heather: I want to remember to love, and cherish and communicate love and not concern. To grow the relationship rather than being concerned with appearances. To reach towards the special people in our lives to grow together in a deeper love.

The title is an adjustment on the original title as found in How to Win Friends & Influence people. The story is a meaningful reminder of building relationships rather than allowing life getting in the way. Here’s that short story for recollection farther down the road:

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Father Forgets
by W. Livingston Larned

Listen, son: I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blonde curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorese swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.

There are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, “goodbye, Dadd!” and I frowned, and said in reply, “Hold your shoulders back!”

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before your boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive — and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. “What is it you want?” I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding — this was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was not measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and find and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itslef over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: “He is nothing but a boy — a little boy!”

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.

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