Coordinated Falling

Although most people would never suspect this, my brother, Chase, and I watched television together when we were younger.  Not much, we couldn’t stand the each other very long, much less the other’s choice of programming; but, nevertheless, we did see a few shows peacefully in the same living room.

One day that I remember particularly clear was when we were watching a documentary.  In the course of this program, an expert was talking about walking and he said, “You know, the amazing thing is that walking is just coordinated falling!”

I looked over to Chase on the couch and exclaimed, “That is such a neat way to look at it!”

Chase, however, grimaced and looked at me with a smirk and said, “Oh great, now you’re going to go around and start saying that!”

Turns out, he was wrong.  I never used that expression, until now, but his teasing me never let me forget this idea (haha Chase!).  As I was thinking on this memory, fondly, the other day, I thought about this idea of “learning to walk.”

See, when I think of good parents describing their children on their path to “learning to walk” I think of little tots doing something wrong over and over again and finally…. They get it right, and before you know it- they’re moving! 

This idea, this “walking is just falling” contradicts this idea of wrongness.  It is not that these little guys and gals are doing it wrong; they are learning how to do this action well.  They are practicing the right behavior!  So when little babies become toddlers, it is not that they finally understand walking… it is that they have finally understood falling. 

When we look at this, we see the same thing in our life.  The terrors or failures we face are most likely neither terrors nor failures… they are the pathways to success.  Succeeding, therefore, is not finding the one right way of doing something after trying all of the wrong ways first… succeeding is mastering what looks difficult, or wrong.  Succeeding is therefore learning how to coordinate falling, and then to do it better and better each time. 

Church on Sunday

For some odd reason, my dear friend Belle occurs in my blog more than any other person besides myself.  This is probably because she is quite memorable, or perhaps because when anyone is with Belle, s/he is bound to have an adventure.  Whatever the case, this is another blog that heavily features my crazy New Zealand friend, and I hope that she does not mind the extra attention (she won’t ;) ).

This past Sunday came and I was not really looking forward to the prospect of church.  The morning was dreary and there was still snow on the ground.  I wanted to go to Peoria for church, but I was not sure about the weather.  I don’t do very well on icy roads (the only time I have driven on an icy road, I got rear-ended.  More like rear-bumped, but still).  The roads were supposed to be clear, but this is from my Illinois friends, who think that two inches of snow is nothing to blink over.  So… I was nervous about taking an adventure with Zelma, my white Saturn. 

I decided that the adventure was feasible and I was going to attend the First Christian Church of Peoria, and I would be early to boot! (Normally, I arrive fifteen minutes late to the churches I visit). Just as I walked up to my car, my phone starts ringing.  “That’s odd,” my conscious grumbled, “no one calls me at this time on a Sunday morning.  What bozo could this be?”

Well, that bozo was Belle, who was sick and needed a ride to the hospital.  Let me quickly stick a disclaimer here, the “hospital” is the Eureka advocate, and feels more like a clinic.  It is a hospital, but it is a very small, very rural hospital.  Eureka students go there for health care as the College is too small to employ full time health care providers on campus.   

We get to the hospital and we get Belle checked in and she asks me to accompany her to her room.  As we are waiting for the nurses and the doctor to come and start checking her out, Belle apologizes for dragging me out with her instead of getting to go to church.  I told Belle that it was more than fine and that any time she needed a ride in the ‘ambulance,’ all she had to do was call.

However, as I thought more and more about the idea of church and what I was missing… I realized that accompanying a pal to the hospital was a perfect example of church.  What was more potent than helping in the healing of a friend?  In its own way, setting in that room with Belle was a very powerful worship to the Divine of the universe, and I was able to commune with my beloved God and my beloved friend. 

There is not much more that can be said for a “good service” on Sunday.  So, Belle, thank you for taking me to church Sunday.  I thoroughly enjoyed it. 

Cultivating the Unlikely

Have you ever thought what roots are set in?  Naturally, roots of plants are (most often) set in dirt or soil.  This is good, for the water and minerals, mixed with sunlight, lets the plants grow strong and mighty.  Eventually, with hope, the plant can reproduce or feed a consumer like a human or a goat.

But…. That soil the plant is placed in is just really small rocks, mixed in with other minerals and a bit of organic matter.  But rocks!? Something that seems so… inhospitable, so incapable of growing anything!  Rocks only serve two purposes in my life: to stub my toe, or if the rock is big enough, to sit down on when I fall tired.

Yet, these small rocks help create life.  From the most unlikely of places, we find life… we find hope.  It reminds me of the wisdom I once gathered from Gary Mitchell.  The story of most good things comes from the most unlikely candidate. 

Culturing the “unlikely” in my life is a challenge when life is so fast-paced.  I place all of my eggs in the “likely” basket, so much that I often miss the true incubator of hope, peace, and change.  What all have I missed for not investing in the “unlikely”?

One day, even all that Mount Everest is today will become soil, and the soil will turn over to life.  It is a long time in the future, and it seems so unlikely, but one day…. one day….

Yearning

I am insane, according to most people.  Why?  Because when I drive my 702 mile trip between homes, I generally wake up around three or four and take off while it is still a long way until morning is even thinking about breaking.  I enjoy the car rides, but I particularly enjoy driving in the early morning.

While I was coming out of Tulsa, the sky was starting to lighten.  I kept looking for the sun, hoping that it would make an appearance.  I looked to the eastern sky for over an hour, guessing where the sun would come up. 

The sun looked like it would come up right outside of my passenger window.  The colors seemed to radiate from that particular point.  Then I looked to the passenger’s corner of my windshield, and it looked like the incoming sunlight was the strongest right over the hill.  I was not sure where the sun would come up.  I would look over every couple of minutes and change my mind. 

Mile after mile I would look and think, “There!”  Then I would go back to driving (I’m sure the other drivers were thankful), then soon, I would look out the right side of my car again.  At one point I felt manic, almost like my soul was demanding the sun come up now so I could determine where it would rise from on the horizon.

Then the sun did come up.  It came from between the two spots I thought it would come out of.  It rose quickly and it was a beautiful ball of light.  I stared at the shimmering sun until it hurt my eyes, and then I turned back to the road, thankful for the lack of cars on this cold Sunday. 

It is not often that the sun is not nearby.  Generally, I am asleep when the sun is rising, or technically the earth spins around to greet it. However, it was borderline scary knowing that I didn’t know where the sun was.  I knew it was out there… somewhere, and I knew it was coming.  But when?  Where?  I did not know, so I was anticipating anything and hoping for everything.

Remember the sojourners in your life who are desperately seeking the sun.

Anticipation of a Different Sort

The start to this adventure feels different than the last time.  I’m a real college student now so the nerves aren’t hitting like they did in August.  The fear is gone… the unknown is suddenly known… My feeling is simply ready- ready to start the next chapter in my college career.

What is surprising to me is that I miss the novelty I felt last August.  Normally I hate the unknown, and I despise the butterfly-in-stomach feeling.  However, I like squelching that feeling more than I detest it, I suppose, and I miss my old adversary.  I wish I was a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed first semester freshman at the moment, ready to tackle anything with my new pens and college-ruled paper.  Now I’m a second semester freshman and things aren’t scaring me.

Perhaps that is why I am slightly uneasy about tomorrow- I am too relaxed!  Not that I am just horribly nervous or depressed (read: I don’t need any phone calls or checkups- I’m fine.) I simply feel off guard.  Not unprepared, just as if  I’m waiting to see from which direction traffic is coming and there is not a car in sight to indicate the answer.

So this entire ramble was to say this.  I’m almost too comfortable about tomorrow, but at the end of the day, I know I will do fine, because I have confidence in something, probably confidence in confidence alone, to quote one of my favorite movie-songs (five points to whoever figures it out).

Oh, and it is nice to be back.

Clott

New Year's Resolutions

What are we resolving to, anyway?  This time of year seems to be a magnet for broken promises, which by February is what many resolutions will become.  That idea of uselessness particularly compounds the depression, especially when we stop and consider that many New Year’s Resolutions are valuable, worthwhile, and should be made!

However when I look out and see what everyone is resolving to- better health, happier times, smoother living, I realize that all of these decisions and feeble promises points to our more optimistic side.  As human beings we desperately want to do the best and to see the best and on untarnished, almost virginal New Year’s Day, we can be whoever we want to be.  Suddenly, we control destiny; we are the helmsmen of our fate.

Why do we lose this personal resolve in one night’s sleep?  Tomorrow, when many of us awake, the morning will not feel the same as this morning, but in so many ways tomorrow is the same as today.  If life is to be a happy experience (and for your sake, and mine, I hope it is because, hey, it’s an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity) then we have to remember daily determination, that key of doing the hard things, which brings so many rewarding moments. 

Wake up tomorrow and keep the promises you made today- and even make a few more.  See tomorrow as a blank slate, just as you saw today.

And I will try to do my best, as well, to keep my New Year’s Resolution:

Stop preaching at people!

;)

I hope that all of my blog-o-sphere has kept healthy and wealthy in my absence.

Much heart,

Clott