Category: The Writing Life

#Trust30 Prompt: “When good is near you, when you have life in yourself, it is not by any known or accustomed way; you shall not discern the foot-prints of any other; you shall not see the face of man; you shall not hear any name;—— the way, the thought, the good, shall be wholly strange and new”. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Can you remember a moment in your life when you had life in yourself and it was wholly strange and new? Can you remember the moment when you stopped walking a path of someone else, and started cutting your own?

Write about that moment. And if you haven’t experienced it yet, let the miracle play out in your mind’s eye and write about that moment in your future.

Thirty-three years ago, on a cloudless July night in Nebraska, I was walking along the Platte River. It was the night before I was married and the wedding party had just broken up. It was late and my groomsmen had seemed half-asleep already as we said our good night. Tonight, however, was my night and I couldn’t sleep. My thoughts raced. I thought about my own father and what a night like this might have been like for him. I thought about my life’s role as a youngest son and kid brother and how I felt that my birth order had something to do with not being taken seriously. I thought about my courtship and how much it had been a time when I became truly alive. The last year had started with such promise, but fear and uncertainty had entered when my fiancée was diagnosed with a serious, debilitating illness that required six months of hospitalization and emergency surgery. It was an awful experience, but she had made it through and now we were to be married. She had nearly died on several occasions. She had suffered and so I had suffered with her.

I was here along the river more than ten miles from the nearest town of any size. As thought about the juxtaposition of suffering and feeling misunderstood I prayed. I prayed that I would be a faithful and loving husband, and I thanked God that we were privileged to suffer in a small way so that we could perhaps be present and available to others who suffered. These last words surprised me because I had never really thought about suffering except as something to be strictly avoided. It now occurred to me that it was a vital refining ingredient in the crucible of growing up, of becoming truly human. My fun-loving adolescent self seemed to rise up at this moment as well, unwilling to let go quite so easily: “Hey buddy! Get a grip.”

I opened my eyes and looked at the sky. I had consciously expected for a fraction of a second that I would be encountering the blackness of a midnight sky observed from a remote rural place. But I was wrong. The sky seemed so ablaze with sharply-defined constellations it was as if I had never looked at the sky before. I was incredulous that there could be so many stars and galaxies hovering above that I had never beheld. I laid down and stared in wonder until I fell asleep, and slept until the chill of dew on my bare arms awoke me in the dark, illumined morning.

As I made my way back to shelter and my bed I realized that for me the wedding later that day would be the commencement of leaving my parents and cleaving to my wife, but that a differentiation–from my parents, my childhood, and my adolescent self–had already taken place. For the first time I had an inkling of what love was; I was filled with anticipation of growing in it and sharing it. She was one who would be a faithful witness to my life.

I was grateful for those stars and for the suffering. A generation has passed since that starry morning, and suffering has made all the difference. Ad Astra per Aspera.

#Trust30 Prompt:Do your work, and I shall know you. Do your work, and you shall reinforce yourself. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Take a moment, step back from your concerns, and focus on one thing: You have one life to achieve everything you’ve ever wanted. Sounds simple, but when you really focus on it, let it seep into your consciousness, you realize you only have about 100 years to get every single thing you’ve ever wanted to do. No second chances. This is your only shot. Suddenly, this means you should have started yesterday. No more waiting for permission or resources to start. Today is the day you make the rest of your life happen. Write down one thing you’ve always wanted to do and how you will achieve that goal. Don’t be afraid to be very specific in how you’ll achieve it: once you start achieving, your goals will get bigger and your capability to meet them will grow.

Another ‘one thing you always wanted to do’ question, eh? I wonder do we keep getting these questions because no one ever does what they want to do, or because we all have so many things we get to do we are afraid we will miss one of them? I may be addled–and I probably am–but it seems we live in a world where people indulge themselves for themselves all the time. Is extreme altruism the real problem here? My guess is there is an epidemic of narcissism, and the creative question would more properly be one about the self-discipline needed to do not what would be really self-indulgently cool, but what would be the most noble, virtuous, or just plain human.

I don’t mean to judge anyone else. This is self-talk that wants to postpone the self-soothing.

So the thing I have always wanted to do is lead an overseas tour of Reformation sites. I am willing to go to AIDS stations in Zimbabwe, help with relief at a disaster site, or remodel homes in the urban core (though I should not be trusted with a hammer or saw). But since I am asked what I have always wanted to do, my answer is lead the tour. Noble, virtuous, or human? Absolutely. I am passionate to share the true story of the reformers because it is a narrative that will so inform and inspire those of us who have lost our way on a truly unmoored and drifting planet.

My plan: Contact a tour service, establish a cost, publish the info, and invite others to join me. Will you?

#Trust30 Prompt: When good is near you, when you have life in yourself, it is not by any known or accustomed way; you shall not discern the foot-prints of any other; you shall not see the face of man; you shall not hear any name; the way, the thought, the good, shall be wholly strange and new. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

The world buzzes about goals and visions. Focus. Create a vivid picture of exactly where you want to go. Dream big, then don’t let anything or anyone stop you. The problem, as Daniel Gilbert wrote in Stumbling Upon Happiness, is that we’re horrible at forecasting how we’ll really feel 10 or 20 years from now – once we’ve gotten what we dreamed of. Often, we get there only to say, “That’s not what I thought it would be,” and ask, “What now?” Ambition is good. Blind ambition is not. It blocks out not only distraction, but the many opportunities that might take you off course but that may also lead you in a new direction. Consistent daily action is only a virtue when bundled with a willingness to remain open to the unknown. In this exercise, look at your current quest and ask, “What alternative opportunities, interpretations and paths am I not seeing?” They’re always there, but you’ve got to choose to see them.

[Dear Friends–stick with me on what follows. I promise it will go somewhere.–LA]

Do you ever imagine Rod Serling emerging out of the misty night, lighting a cigarette, and just holding it as the wreaths of smoke curl around his face? And he is smiling with his half-Bogie look. And then the spooky Twilight Zone music begins to play. When it’s time for the bongo solo the percussionist just goes on and on in a kind of eerie bongoese Wipe Out. And all the time Rod says nothing and smiles a wry smile, and you think…this is about me…I am the one who is going to be caught between space and time. Rod talks about you to the audience, but when he is facing you, the lab rat for this episode, he just grins as the ash on the end of the cigarette gets longer and longer. Did you ever experience that?

No? Well, I did right after I read the prompt for today.

I am not seeing any alternative paths right now because I am in the twilight zone. What kind of a question is this anyway: “What paths am I not seeing?” Perhaps it would be better if I asked “what if” questions. Like, “What if I were a painter instead of a writer? What would I paint right now that would provide a better forecast for my life?”

If I were a painter I would execute a portrait. The subject would be my unemployed neighbor because, well, he has plenty of time to sit, but mainly because he is not famous, or handsome, or athletic. He sells hot dogs and beers at football games, but if I painted him at the stadium your eye would be drawn to the field or the children in the stands. In short, he is not the kind of person who would be noticed by, say, a photographer who was looking to capture the essence of a vaporous moment. Now, he is just the kind of person Franz Kafka would notice, and I think perhaps Rod Serling as well. In fact, Kafka would turn him into a bug, but in this story he would be turned back–thanks to Rod. And I think Rod would say that he is debugged because he is not vermin. He is the meek who is to inherit the earth. I am sure my Bud-toting friend has secret ambition, but if I missed him in pursuit of my own ambition then of what value is my ambition when I cannot even see my neighbor? All I will have accomplished is to use the word “ambition” three times in a sentence and that cannot be good. So I will paint his portrait and one day someone who needs to know she is not alone will see his face and recognize her own.

My guess is that when I pursue my own ambition I fail to see my neighbor. When I hold others as more important than myself I actually do more than notice my neighbor. I become present and available–able to respond with readiness. No longer is he a minor character in my story, I see the truth that he has his own story, and it is just as important as mine. No one needs Rod Serling or Franz Kafka to speak for them if a guy across the street (me) makes him come alive by being perhaps the first non-family member to notice that…hey! He looks like Norman Fell!

The alternative path to the one I have beaten on my own is the one you are on. Wherever I go I want to go with you. Let’s invite Rod to join us and walk the new path together. But, “Put it out Rod, those things will kill ya!”