Worst Practices

Worst Practices

by Philip Siddons

Joseph still hasn’t shown up.

a-jpg“Of course” says the pageant director flippantly. “Gabriel? Where’s Gabriel?” she calls to the back of the church over her shoulder. “Gabriel” she musically calls again as if she’s calling her child for only the second time for dinner.

“Oh” Gabriel says from the back of the church as he stumbles hurriedly down the aisle.

“I was showing her how to keep her ribbon on” he explains with more earnestness than the task would normally command.

The director comically tilts her head sideways and says “Ya? . . . ya?” as if to mock him for his failure to be up with the other angels who are, at this point, rolling on the stage floor with the shepherds who are supposed to be asleep on the hillside but have somehow missed their morning dose of Ritalin

As speakers number 4 and 5 rapidly mumble through their lines, it’s clear that once again, nobody in the church will hear anyone say anything from the front. The fact is, they’ll be cute and it won’t matter. It’s the doing of the pageant that makes Christmas.

bJoseph is still not here and a couple of the angels are missing in action. How many had to show for the original nativity scene? Did God have to have a last minute rehearsal and sit them all down, barking out, “Now during this scene, you can’t talk to the person next to you. And don’t pick your nose. And if see any Gameboys® I’m going to take them away from you and you won’t get them back. So take that back to your parents or you’ll never see it again.”

The director rattles through the order of events once again, obviously confident that their photographic little minds will methodologically and nimbly string the coming sequences of pageant segments together with the precision of Microsoft’s latest video editing program.

The mid-teen Joseph slowly waltzes down the aisle. “Joseph is finally here” the director says with some relief. “We’re glad you made it” she says, softening even more. Perhaps her real life experience of the male absence or unreliability has taught her to work with what she’s got.

Suppose the original Joseph hadn’t shown up and Mary would have to go through the birth alone in the stable? Who would have wiped off the cow drool? Would she have screamed at the weird little drummer boy to go practice anywhere but in the stable – “like go play in the DMZ of the West Bank or something!” she could have blurted out.

OK, so no little drummer preadolescent or any a-rump-pa-pa-dums in the original production.

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They should really make this last-minute pageant rehearsal THE pageant. Most of the parents are here anyway and the director’s expectation that this production will be anything other than what it is now (only without her prompting everything and everyone across and off the stage at the right time) is the most spectacular act of faith in the history of Christendom. “Come see a faith that can move mountains” the bulletin board outside of the church should say. People ought to get out of their beds and come here to see the futility of this rehearsal.

cThe children are herded back to the Sunday School classrooms to change. We expect more of the same to happen only back out of sight. But we know that with the addition of costumes, the in-the-wings nervousness of their peers and a sanctuary packed with their family clan and a host of unknown adults grinning, the volume of their spoken lines will dive down to zero, the prompters’ shouted whispers will be even more embarrassing and the pauses before the hoped-for movements of groups of bathrobed or haloed children will seem painfully strained.

So when central characters didn’t enter stage right in the original production, what did the Almighty do? Whisper little prompts in their hearts? Did Joseph suddenly snap to attention out of a distracted moment and say “Oh yea” after hearing an inner prompt just before lurching over to stand by his wife who had creatively used the cow’s manger for a cradle?

How much stage whispering did the Cosmic Producer of this first nativity have to do to remind Joe and Mary that these overworked and rambunctious contracted sheepherders are supposed to be crashing their barn encampment in the middle of the night and just after the baby finally got to sleep?

“Mary, stop breast-feeding – there’s a bunch of guys coming in here!” Joe probably said.

And later on, not long after their boy would ace His bar mitzvah at the temple and be offered an internship as the youngest teaching assistant in the history of the temple’s education department – why did Joseph disappear?


Did all the pressures of being the parent of a icon drive him to drink?

Maybe Joe had a gambling problem and when the young Jesus started turning angry bully’s thrown rocks into birds before they hit their victim, Joe started making bets.

“I bet you my boy can out-argue a member of the Supreme Court” he’d wager and win several hundred shekels. Maybe Joe, one day, got a little cocky and bet the whole wad and lost to some pretty heavy hitters and ended up at the bottom of Lake Galilee wearing clay overshoes.

Whatever happened to Joe must have been a major embarrassment to the Apostolic Fathers for them not to even mention him after a certain point. Maybe Joe got Alzheimer’s and the gospel writers couldn’t figure out why Jesus, Who could raise the dead, couldn’t or wouldn’t bring clarity of mind to His mom’s husband.

But with all the botched lines, absences, miscues and frankly inappropriate behaviors, there was a first nativity scene with inattentive and clueless characters.

e“You work with what you’ve got” the Almighty must have mumbled to Self after every scene in the Messiah’s life.

Just before the pageant starts, the Reverend comes to the podium and announces to the congregants that “whoever has come in a blue Ford with a license plate that starts with NAZ has left their lights on.

This brings predictable and comfortable laughter among the assembly. With all of our life’s struggles and our obvious failure to be the next Dali Lama of our own faith expression, church is the one place where we can forget to turn off our car lights. Perhaps all of life is like one large Christmas pageant through which we stumble, forgetful of our parts or relevance to some unknown overriding theme.

The pastor flees the podium, just after expressing gratitude to all the children and the beleaguered director for what they are about to present.

As narrator number 1 begins to mumble through her hurried description of the scene where Joe is turned down by the inn keeper, (who has the Gameboy® in his bathrobe pocket), I think I hear something. It’s a voice but is it behind me? Perhaps a child speaking to their parent?

No, it’s internal. It’s within me. It’s like a quiet thought that suddenly comes to you like an almost forgotten matter that comes to you in a special and profound moment.

And the voice within me says, as if it’s my clue to the meaning of my life today and forever, “… and don’t pick your nose.”

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As I Transition Out of Your Care …

Dear staff members,

Today is the last of my 45 treatments for prostate cancer. The Maker should have recalled these defective parts centuries ago but a successful class-action suit has yet to be achieved. One out of six males – one out of four on African American models.

Then there’s the design flaws. The main fluid draining conduit runs right through the middle of this walnut-shaped little part but integral to one of the higher orders of human experience. Location, location, location. If you get any swelling or irritation in this flawed part, you’re stuck with the ridiculous drama of having  to know the location of every public drainage facility for miles around. Clearly Google and all of silicone valley partners should have resolved this problem by now.

The same should be said of breast cancer and those who blithely and casually dismiss the worthiness of 99% of the rest of humanity who don’t measure up, in their judgment, to their station in life. Didn’t society move beyond the 19th century classism portrayed in PBS’s Upstairs Downstairs?

But you work at Cancer Care of Western New York and you are doing significant things to resolve these parts of the problems. You serve on a team of gifted individuals who are successfully battling cancer.

Now all of us are compensated for what we do in our careers. No matter where we go, they’ve got to pay us to work there. What is different about what you do is that you are called to be present in healing encounters. Those of us who come through your doors come with some brokenness. We are in transition, having learned that something in our bodies is in need of repair. Surgery, chemotherapy, radiation or a combination of them all.

We come into your office, as you well know, with a the waterfront of fears, unknowns, anxieties and sometimes depression being expressed by all the personality types of humanity.

The cancer, with which we’ve been diagnosed, lingers on like a giant outdoor billboard plopped down on our front yard. It says YOU HAVE CANCER! To our dismay, the giant billboard also appears in our living rooms, kitchens, certainly our restrooms, our cars and at work. CANCER no less. . . . Me, for cripes sake.

So your patients are jumping in and out of all of Kubler-Ross’ s stages of On Death and Dying. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. Regardless of our grasp on reality, everything is temporary. No matter how many years we’ve enjoyed the comfort of our personal lifestyle and all of its familiar coffee shops, dollar stores, local pubs, favorite shopping malls and TV shows, ‘we’re just a passin’ through.’ Everything changes.

As patients, we also carry into your office a real sense of loss. As we are jolted into realizing that we are in the ever-shortening last stage of our lifetimes, we sense that our lives are going to change. Our lives will never be the same as before.

What we all don’t immediately realize, after our biopsies, is that while you provide care and services for us, we become part of the Cancer Care of WNY team. The closer we follow the play book (the protocol advice of each module’s specialist), the smoother and more effective the results will be in bringing about our healing. But we’ve got to become team players ourselves.

In any spoken or printed words of what would help us, we are not quickly seeing all the work that has produced it. Unless we have benefitted from medical training, we don’t see the thousands of research and practice hours behind each aspect of treatment. We don’t know about the published and collegial-scrutinized research papers, the doctoral dissertations, the measured and evaluated clinical trials, the blind and double blind tests that thousands, before us, have undergone to determine the best courses of treatments. We don’t hear any of that but in a way, we trust that all of those things are behind everything we experience.

Trust. That’s something all of us patients cling to with a lot of motivation. Your white coats are actually not necessary. You’ve got 5 million dollar IMRT machines buzzing their merry way around our bodies like R2D2 on steroids. So we know your competence must precede your responsibilities amidst the mammoth financial investment in this life-sustaining infrastructure around you.

Hope is the holy grail of the healing process. Every one of us is looking for hooks on which to hang our hope for our futures.

By now, we know life will not be the same from this point on. Our frantic but unrealistic hope for lack of change always must yield to reality. “Life is what happens when you’re making other plans.” Reality always trumps and holds all winning cards. With whatever cards we hold, we optimistically call the other side of our transitions “the new normal.”

At Cancer Care of WNY, you are essentially working in a battle zone. You see a lot of suffering and pain. You see, on our faces, the fear, the pain, the depression. Sometimes the brokenness. You see some of us shuffling in and wonder how it is that we are still ambulatory. In nanoseconds, you can sadly see other eminent medical problems that will necessitate care in other clinics.

The other day, in the waiting area, an elderly woman was brought in for therapy in a wheelchair. Shortly after arriving, she began to cry. She was weeping from her unbearable pain. Whatever was the cause, the enormity of her internal pain could not remain silently contained in her frail body.

Fortunately, your staff colleagues rushed to her side and helped her into an examination room for immediate pain support.

Despite all the suffering you see in your patients, you stay focused and resilient. Your energy and fortitude in the midst of the suffering is remarkable. You are thoroughly professional and somehow you remain personable and caring.

But here is where you shine, not only here at the Cancer Care Center of WNY but on into your future.

Not only are your patients in the midst of transitions themselves, all of us experience transitions throughout life. You already have and will definitely undergo changes of your own. You’ll experience transitions in your relationships, in your careers. You’ll change your thinking on some of the things you once valued above all else. Some of the things you pursued will be left behind for other matters you will come to value as more important. As the old Simon and Garfunkel song said, “When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school, it’s a wonder I can think at all.”

As much as we like to embrace our seemingly unchanging world, it changes and we simply can’t control most of it. As do those of us who are patients, you, will go through transitions in your life.

Most of us already have migrated through changes, however old we may be. But when you think back through your transitions, you know there were some difficult ones. But who were the people who helped you most during those transitions?

Significant others. It was a friend or relative who was particularly present in your life when things got out of hand and were most scary. They listened to you when you made no sense. They stayed with you to help you get more information. They were there for you to take in and absorb your frustration, your denial, anger, bargaining, depression and ultimately your acceptance of the way things landed. They were “your person” as the Christina and Meredith characters portray in ABC’s Grey’s Anatomy.

As the same time, that’s not what your job is at work. You have a very medical, technical or clinical responsibility. Certainly the pain and uncertainty you witness on a daily basis causes you to sometimes leave work with your batteries totally drained. You’ve undoubtedly experienced burnout. You may have seriously wondered if there is another line of work that would call forth from you yet untapped yearnings and dreams without leaving you emotionally shredded and run through the wringer.

I was a Protestant minister for fifteen years. I loved the work. The teaching, the counseling, the writing and the many opportunities to be creative were at the center of my academic, intellectual and emotional career life for 60 to 80 hours a week. But I was burned out. I had to get away from the endless hours amidst funerals, crisis counseling and the usual petty skirmishes over which color to paint the lavatories or whether investments on the youth groups should triumph over architectural repairs.

One year, I changed careers. I went into marketing, advertising, writing, technology and videography.

At first, people were utterly shocked that I’d make such a change. Early on, though, I discovered nothing had changed in me. I found the obvious truth that customers (seeking my marketing or technological support) needed the same focus and caring as those who were once my  parishioners. Obviously different contexts and delivery of services but the same focused listening and human caring is needed.

So how is that relevant to your truly brief daily interactions with those of us who are your patients?

It’s clear that your patient encounters are not lengthy sessions on helping us sort through the problems and hardships of our lives. Your job is to empower the therapy and to teach how how to make adjustments that support the therapeutic protocols for our healing.

Your presence in the tasks at hand is the same as how you and I relate to a neighbor when we’re handing them a poorly aimed newspaper. It is the same when we exchange a few words with our mail carrier or a clerk at the store. We’re looking them in the eye and relating to them in an unconditionally accepting and open way. We are taking them fully in, in the moment, however brief the exchange may be.

Your patient encounters all seem to transpire in brief moments. It’s not the duration of the exchange. It’s about how present you are in those moments, even though there are many moments and many of us patients who interact with you throughout the day.

It can, and should, become routine because of the limitations on time and the narrow focus of your work. But the magic ingredient in every one of your patient encounters is you.

The magic that is taking place is in your extending of yourself. Your non-verbal communication. Your tone. Your full presence in those moments, as short as they may be.

In each of these moments, you have been genuine and friendly. It’s when you are being kind and patient with the guy who feels woefully inadequate because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to retain the water he consumed in order to suspend his bladder up out of the way of the soon-to-be radiated prostate. It has been years since he was frantically waiving his hand in second grade to get the teacher’s permission to go to the rest room. The feelings are still the same.

In each of your patient encounter moments, you are being flexible and open for any question that might come your way. When you use your energy and focus beyond your job task to be responsive in these moments, you are being truly present in the moments in this transition period of your patients. You’re putting your personality and humanness into the mundane acts. That makes our experience here, with your team, transformative and healing.

The way you are responding in these moments makes us feel that we are not just in a drive-through medical center, ordering up a cancer cure to go.

Instead, we feel that we are fortunate to be a part of a greater team that is committed to our personal healing. It makes us feel more whole, even though the hand we were dealt is not optimal. You make us remember that however brief the moments we are with you, we are part of something that is much bigger and more embracing than the smaller concerns that are just contained in ourselves. You are making us feel, and reminding us always, that we are all intricately connected to and part of the wonderful human race. You are doing this with your presence.

That’s what I want to thank you for. For what you do, I am grateful. But for who you are and have been, in the 45 days of treatments, for your personal presence in this segment of this transition for me, thank you.

Cherish the abilities you possess and are using in this current career. They are embodied in in your DNA. And nobody, no transition, no circumstance, can ever take away from you the unique aspects of who you are.

Thank you for your presence. I’m sure that many others will feel the same gratitude from your presence in the years to come – wherever you choose to live and work. It is in being mindful of this sense of presence, that you possess, that you will find the meaning of your life. Cherish it.

 

 

It’s a Wonder We Can Think at All

“When I think back
On all the crap I learned in high school
It’s a wonder
I can think at all
And though my lack of education
Hasn’t hurt me none
I can read the writing on the wall”
[ from the Simon And Garfunkel 1973 song “Kodachrome”]

Remember our priorities back in high school? The things we did to achieve recognition or our own self-worth? We’ve forgotten the very people we tried to please in order to fit in and be accepted.

By our thirties, we had grown out of our myopic high-school view of the world around us. It was like a now too-small suit that our parents had given us, in which we wouldn’t be caught dead. Those adolescent world views and judgments on large swaths of humanity. All these opinions and pronouncements are now gone – vanishing like someone else’s overheard burp from another room. It’s like the vicious radio talk show host who is forced into retirement after society, and all his former show’s sponsors, have moved on with other, more enlightened value systems.

What caused us to disregard what had once been at the center of our values?

Certainly it was exposure to new people and their broader perspectives in life. Likely, it was the pain of suffering – ours and theirs. The test of time ground down the inadequacies of oversimplified religion and ideologies. It was, as Simon and Garfunkel’s song suggested, a transition of our minds from black and white to ‘those nice bright colors and their greens of summers, that make us think all the world’s a sunny day.’ Most of us emerged from a childhood where we are shown the world through a black and white lens. Perhaps out of our parent’s exhaustion and inadequate teacher credentialing, they did the best they could but wanted to keep it simple. They wanted to control things, or at least appear to be in control. To them, there were the good and the bad; the angels and the demons – “them” and “us.”

By the time we found ourselves in college, we were truly embarrassed to discover that we had actually believed what we had been told. Those millions of people, labeled as “Communists” by our parental units, turned out to just like us – only with a different political system. We discovered that everyone who is poor had not brought it upon themselves (from their lack of adapting, in a Social Darwinist scheme of ‘making it’). To our dismay, the people and institutions, in whom and in which we were taught to trust for our religion and spirituality, were sometimes false idols themselves. They actually believed that they were the only ones right and everyone else was wrong and headed toward hell in a hand basket. We discovered, in time, that the values we have been carrying around, as if precious and holy, were woefully threadbare – contradictory to the core teachings of all of the world’s wisdom traditions.

“Is that all there is?
If that’s all there is, my friends, then let’s keep dancing
Let’s break out the booze and have a ball
If that’s all there is”
[Pebby Lee, 1969 ‘Is That All There Is’]

“Seargeant O’Leary is walking the beat.
At night, he becomes a bartender.
He works at Mr. Cacciatorre’s down on Sullivant Street,
Across from the medical center,
And he’s trading in his Chevy for a Cadillac, lac, lac, lac;
You oughtta know by now,
If he can’t drive with a broken back,
At least he can polish the fenders.
And it seems such a waste of time,
If that’s what it’s all about…
Momma, if that’s moving up, then I’m moving out.”
[Billy Joel, 1977 ‘Movin’ Out’]

“Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Make everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It’s easy to see without looking too far
That not much is really sacred
” [Bob Dylan’s 1965 It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)]

When we did begin to pull ourselves away from “all that crap we learned in high school,” we probably spent a number of years proclaiming what we don’t want for our lives. We expressed our dissatisfaction with the bigotry, prejudice and the painful social injustice. We did it with the clothing we wore, the language we used and our lifestyles. For some of us, we are lucky to be alive from risking drugs, alcohol and Californication. We were hell-bent on stating, with the canvas of our lives, that we were not our parents. We did this with our lifestyle, language and how we spend our time. We were defiantly not what we were raised to be. Or so we thought.

But we were busted. In the course of every day conversation, work-place exchanges and patterns of how we actually did things, we ended up becoming not that different than our parents. We found ourselves riddled and driven by the same fears as our parents. We overused the personal strengths that served us in the past in compensating for our fears. Tara Bennett Goleman (Emotional Alchemy) provided us, and our therapists, our task list of schemas which get us caught up in some of the same unhealthy over-compensations as those who raised us. This is not your father’s Buick but it’s a Toyota .- so what?

Genetics? Probably not, except for our body types. But fear drives us to it. We write off people by the millions who approach life differently than us. We fear them and we fear change. We fear the kind of learning that forces us to set aside the old and pick up the new.

Consider how they used to catch monkeys for zoos. They carved out a coconut, attached a chain to one end of the coconut and the other end to a tree. Next, they put fruit in the coconut. When monkeys come along, they’d grab the fruit inside the coconut but refuse to unclench their fist that is holding the fruit inside. Unwilling to let go, they remained stuck to the coconut, chained to the tree.

In potential teaching moments, we are somewhat like the monkeys. We won’t let go of what we know and believe. That’s because it requires us to do the work of stopping and reflecting outside of our usual patterns of interpreting and compensating for our fears. It requires the work and energy to empathize with others – embracing their experiences and perspectives. We aggressively surround ourselves with people who look, act, dress, think and speak just like us. It’s fortunate we all don’t become hermits and wall ourselves away from society – refusing to talk with or read about anyone else. Some people, we guess, actually die of stubbornness and ignorance. We all have bouts with it.

If you enjoy developmental psychology, reflect on what we did with ourselves during our twenties. The school degrees. The striving for certifications. We climbed up rungs up the corporate ladder. The PTA meetings and how we drove our children to “succeed.” Like lemmings, we flocked along, trying to get our self-worth out of our careers or who we are married to, our money or power. We insured everything in sight so that we can replace anything.

But when do we stop talking about what we don’t want for our lives and pursue what we want? At what point, in the short linear path of our lives, do we get down to the business of pursuing what is truly most important to the core of our being? What is most important to our life? What is the meaning of our life and where are we headed? Who and where is our source of learning how to pursue a life of greater meaning? Is there an app for that?

Maybe you’re in the process of discovering that now?

About

Not counting the criminally insane psychopaths, each one of us has at least one thing in common. We go through much of our lives firmly believing and living as if everything we have and do will continue forever. We can’t picture losing anything we have or not always doing things the way we are. That’s exactly why we are so quick so say, in a judging way, “But we’ve never done it that way before.”

Paradoxically, we are fascinated – if not mystified – in reading stories of “famous” or “wealthy” or “powerful” people meeting some sort of demise. They lose their careers. They lose their fortunes. Eventually they can’t hit the high notes they once did when they were at the top of the charts. They lose their spouses or lovers. They lose their lives.

No matter how much we believe in ultimately “making it” in life and eventually getting and doing whatever we want for as long as we want, that ain’t reality. We should know this every time we read about a change of fortunes – but we don’t seem to get it. No matter how many times we read the headlines, there’s this recording going on in our heads that says “it only happens to others, not me.” “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end!” (Closing Time, written by Dan Wilson) But we live, from day to day, as if there will always be a new beginning – whatever it is that needs a new one after it ends.

This writing space is about learning to let go. Yea, I know, this is America where we’re supposed to maximize our potential. Where ‘if we’re not pulling ahead, we’re falling behind.’ America, the land of milk and honey and iPhones, gated communities and tour buses regularly passing the mansions of the rich and famous. The land where we can dance with the stars in some enchanted evening. The band “The Tubes” got it right with their “What Do You Want Out of Life” song:

“What do you want from life
To kidnap an heiress
or threaten her with a knife
What do you want from life
To get cable TV
and watch it every night

There you sit
a lump in your chair
Where do you sleep
and what do you wear
when you’re sleeping

What do you want from life
An Indian guru
to show you the inner light
What do you want from life
a meaningless love affair
with a girl that you met tonight

How can you tell when you’re doin’ alright
Does your bank account swell
While you’re dreaming at night
How do know when you’re really in love
Do violins play when you’re touching the one
That you’re loving

What do you want from life
Someone to love
and somebody that you can trust
What do you want from life
To try and be happy
while you do the nasty things you must

Well, you can’t have that, but if you’re an American citizen you are entitled to:
a heated kidney shaped pool,
a microwave oven–don’t watch the food cook,
a Dyna-Gym–I’ll personally demonstrate it in the privacy of your own home,
a king-size Titanic unsinkable Molly Brown waterbed with polybendum,
a foolproof plan and an airtight alibi,
real simulated Indian jewelry,
a Gucci shoetree,
a year’s supply of antibiotics,
a personally autographed picture of Randy Mantooth
and Bob Dylan’s new unlisted phone number,
a beautifully restored 3rd Reich swizzle stick,
Rosemary’s baby,
a dream date in kneepads with Paul Williams,
a new Matador, a new mastodon,
a Maverick, a Mustang, a Montego,
a Merc Montclair, a Mark IV, a meteor,
a Mercedes, an MG, or a Malibu,
a Mort Moriarty, a Maserati, a Mac truck,
a Mazda, a new Monza, or a moped,
a Winnebago–Hell, a herd of Winnebago’s we’re giving ’em away,
or how about a McCulloch chainsaw,
a Las Vegas wedding,
a Mexican divorce,
a solid gold Kama Sutra coffee pot,
or a baby’s arm holding an apple?”

If we stop and reflect, for even a nanosecond, while we are multitasking ourselves from one productive activity to another, we have to admit it. Our ever-consuming, polluting and hoarding dominance on this planet is not sustainable. And, although they’ve come up with some pretty great manuals for this model of human body we are indwelling, it is headed for the scrap yard with all the others. We are all circling the drain. [Term used in medical circles to describe a patient for whom death is impending and yet continues to cling to life” (Urban Dictionary) or A rather grim and morbid term for people, generally elderly, who are living out their last few weeks of life, generally in a painful and sad state. (Jargon Database.com]

Now as soon as you get that out there, the Norman Vincent Peal devotees of the powerful positive thinking start grabbing their hats and heading for the door. Sooner or later, though, whether it takes a near death or significant emotional experience, even they have to face the music. Sooner or later, we all must deal with the temporariness of life. But why wait until near death to learn about these crucially important aspects of meaning?

The redemptive and enriching thing about being mindful of life’s temporary nature is that it quickly changes our values. The brevity of life makes us more appreciative of the present. We can stop getting caught up in the past. We can stop leaking energy over worrying about the future. If anything, we can become more alive to what is in our lives now. We can become more alive to everything we are taking in through all of our senses.

If the Dalai Lama were reading this, I suspect he might laugh and say ‘Of course. Because when you are focused on the present moment, you are less distracted and this moment becomes richer for all that is embodied in it.’

The thousands of years of the wisdom of the Eastern philosophies and all the major world religions are saturated with the teachings about true contentment. The compendium of wisdom teachings suggest that happiness in life has to do with less striving, grasping and longing and more about fully living in the moment. (“Excuse me but give me a minute so I can move my avatar up to the next level so that I can get an extra 500 points.” See what I mean.

This writing space deals with letting go of a lot of the temporary things in our lives. It also has to do with embracing the present. It’s going to be dealing with what we all must face: the temporariness of almost everything in our lives. It will try to ask the questions we all must face about the meaning of our lives. Our sense of worth. The worth of all others. About how you and I spend our energies and talents and for what end. It will be, in a way, a collaborative quest where we can hopefully learn from one another.

It’s not going to be about creating a moral or spiritual manual for life. Rather, it will hopefully be a place where you and I can be more present with how we are doing with the temporary aspects of our lives. Perhaps, from what transpires here, we will be able to be of support and encouragement in times of suffering. I hope we can make one another laugh.

This will be a moderated Blog but do jump in here. We are all circling together but even though we forget this so often, we have so much in common. We are in this together, for a while, anyway.