"It's a topsy-turvy world, and maybe the problems of two people don't amount to a hill of beans. But this is our hill. And these are our beans! "

FD, once again, my thanks.

Sara and I usually have good chats. Sometimes she'll do a lot of talking, and I'll do a lot of listening, and other times I'll talk and she'll listen, offering more insights than I think she gives herself credit for.


But I found myself thinking as I went to bed last night, that there are people living not 30 seconds from our door who couldn't care less about the things that we deemed necessary to talk about that night, or any other time for that matter. And half a world away, there are people who I'll never meet, who will never meet me, who aren't affected at all by the things that keep me up at night. They have their own worries and fears.

And that's just it, isn't it. We all have things that seem to consume our thoughts, we all have problems, we all have issues with SOMETHING in life. And maybe it doesn't amount to much in the grand scope of things, in the macrocosm of life here on earth. But in the microcosm of OUR lives here in OUR little corner of earth, these beanhills are enough to engulf us.

This is our hill, and these are our beans.

And over there, that is their hill, and those are their beans.

And all these little beanhills, tiny in the big picture, are enough to be devastating to one person.

Here is where I make a point that ties this whole thing together : If you agree with me that this is true, how about being intentional with me about not adding to anyone's beanhill anymore? People got enough problems on their own - why add to it. I mean, it'll happen anyway, because we're all humans and no one's perfect, but I think we can do a better job collectively about finding ways to voice our praise as quickly as we voice our criticisms, of being as free with our love as we are with our scorn, of being as comfortable to be around as we want others to be. What's that? Be the change you wish to see in the world? Sounds good to me.

Sidenote - I've taken it upon myself (and w Sara's encouragement) to use as many FD quotes as I can as subject headers in this bloggy thingy AND still make it pertinent to my thoughts du jour, as it were. Should be fun.


G

You take a chance getting up in the morning, crossing the street or sticking your face in a fan. . .

Frank Drebin, human quote machine, and the source of the today's titular musings.


I've probably talked about this before, but you ever notice how much of our life is spent minimizing risk? I'm not talking about needless things like seatbelts (not that needless, actually) and school zone speed limits (honestly, just stay off the damn road. That's what I was told growing up. Look both ways and stay where you are.) But we have hand sanitizers at every building entrance, we have Lysol that can kill 99.9 % of germs ( yes, ALL germs are deadly and will probably eat your flesh at the first chance), we have insurance for EVERYTHING (apparently in Alberta your car has to be insured to operate it on the road. Go figure.)

All kidding aside, it bugs me that we are such safety freaks as a society. Maybe it's the only way for a large number of people to be living in such close quarters, but then maybe that's the issue right there. Regardless of whether or not you take the Genesis account of man's early history to be literal or figurative, or if you believe that some half ape descendant of a mammal fish reptile hybrid is your ancestor, it seems to me that cities (and the seeming safety they provide) are not necessary for humans to live, to really live.

If so, why the fascination with nature? Is there anyone who detests a garden? Anyone who despises the sun, the sky? Even good city planning allows for plenty of green spaces, because we all know how much we love them. And it's like we can handle nature provided we can tame it, maybe because we are trying so desperately to tame ourselves. We applaud people who are level headed, who are self controlled, and well we should. But that doesn't mean tame, docile, borderline narcoleptic.

I want to applaud more people who took a chance and failed. And I know how cliche this may sound, but the only real failure is not trying. So go ahead - dream big, take a chance, and if you fall flat on your face, well, I've been there, and it's a great place to start planning again.

There is nothing in my life that I (or others) would consider a failure that I would want to do over, because everything has made me who I am today. On the flip side, there ARE things I have yet to do that, should I fail to do them, I may always wonder "What if . . . ?"

Valentine's Day . . .

Yes, thank you. I realize it is not February 14th.

The V Day I allude to in the header is the film, one in which everyone ever appears in, and one which made me cry a little ( big surprise there). It also made me want to get to know this cat called Rumi a little better . . .

If you want what visible reality

can give, you're an employee.

If you want the unseen world,

you're not living your truth.

Both wishes are foolish,

but you'll be forgiven for forgetting

that what you really want is

love's confusing joy.

- Rumi

I like that - "love's confusing joy". Is anything more confusing than the joy love brings? Hear me out - we get told to excel, to do our best. So far so good. But perhaps less directly if not more importantly, we are told to carve out our own little kingdoms, our own little empires. We're told to find what is ours and hang on to it for dear life. The message behind most ads (and really, the only way the ad industry continues to exist) is that I DESERVE THIS. I NEED THIS. THIS SHOULD BE MINE.

We are so fond of this thing called independence (and the ownership of stuff that accompanies it) that we have even mistakenly associated it with freedom.

I know, right? Freedom and independence NOT being one and the same? Yeah, it had me for a bit too. I think we'd all agree that no man is an island, right? That our actions are significant, have meaning, carry weight. And that those actions affect those around us, be it for better or worse. And then THEIR actions affect us and others, and so on and so forth. Well, we are so dependent on each other, and more significantly, on our Maker, for life to have any meaning at all.

Come up with something worthwhile that does not affect people. And please, if you find it, let me know. Because anything worth doing is going to affect someone other than us - there's no escaping it. And I'd go even further, and say that anything worth doing and devoting time to is going to better the lives of people around us ( and those who seek to argue that bettering the lives of flora and fauna around the planet miss my point - I'm not saying we're just dependent on people. No, we depend on everything living here.)

So in short, anything worth doing is going to stem from love.

And the things not worth doing? Well, they stem from something that is not love. I'm not sure exactly how to define it, but selfishness, greed - these come close. So living JUST for your own pleasure, living JUST for you, living JUST for that raise or promotion or self improvement or self confidence or self worth or self assurance or self love or self awareness or anything else is going to be devoid of joy.

So really, the things that seem to be so important? Trivial. Empty.

What we really want is love's confusing joy, this deep sense of everything being alright in the world that stems from living in a way that seeks to better those around us, and seeks to allow them to better us as well. It's confusing because it goes against our nature. It is joy because it is a positivity that does not depend on emotions. And it is love because it embraces the need for others and celebrates this interdependency in a non exploitative way.

Inglis Falls & the Beauty of Rain

Going back to the theology of place . . . I'm so blessed to have lived in Owen Sound. If you know anything about the OS, allow that to sink in for a second, because most people I went to school with there couldn't wait to leave it.

When we first moved up there, I was 18, and we lived near a little gem of a place called Inglis Falls.

Here's the catch though - I don't think of any of the houses we've lived in in OS as home.

Nope. It's the woods surrounding the falls that feels the most like home to me. In thinking about places that have deep meaning to me, the trails in the 200 plus acres of woodland around the falls is so familiar to me, even after all these years ( I went for a hike there in 2008, so maybe it's changed a little . . . ). The way the wind talks through the trees, the markings left by deer, the way the air feels minutes before a storm.

It started to rain a little today, and I got homesick (keep in mind I consider these woods to be home). One of my favorite memories of home is walking through the woods as a storm was brewing, and if you've ever experienced a Southern Ontario thunderstorm, you know how you can just TASTE that creation is about to explode in some kind of primordial symphony. I love how very small and very ALIVE it made me feel to be walking through the trees ( walking? I'd CLIMB them - not intelligent, perhaps, but that was more a heart decision than a head one) and tasting the rain and FEELING the thunder deep within me and being dazzled by the lightning . . .

I hope there is a thunderstorm tonight. Calgary's air doesn't feel the same to me, so I can't tell as well, but I'd love to feel a good thunderstorm soon . . . to say nothing of the rain.

Rain just makes everything feel clean to me. And the fact that it rains most in the spring, a time of rebirth and renewal, is just perfect . . .

Sky Diving and Theology of Place . . .

You ever have the wind whip through your hair as you stick your head out of a moving car? Ever CLIMB out of a moving car and perch on the window sill (not quite sure what else to call it; also, don't try this while driving. It doesn't work. Also, maybe just don't try this and take my word for how awesome it is.)

It's awesome.

And, since you can't discern tone when reading a blog, it's less a surfer dude and more a little boy with eyes wide open at the world around him . . . intelligent, but awestruck.

Or . . . what about these :

• watching the sunset over Lake Erie / Ontario / Superior / Huron, the calm breeze wrapping its arms around you, the dying embers of the day reflecting in the mirror of the water . . .
  
• reaching the summit of the biggest hill / rock / mountain you've ever been on, and turning to look at seemingly familiar terrain with new eyes from a new vantage point . . .
  
• plunging into the depths of a cave / crevasse, the fear of the unknown and the fear of the dark no match for the rush of adventure . . .
  
• the way time stands still as you ponder your decision to jump from a perfectly good plane, all the while coming face to face with your own mortality . . . the wind taking your breath, and the view take away whatever breath you might have left . . .

It's that last one that has stuck with me for a long time. Skydiving feels like the perfect analogy for my relationship with God - jumping from what seems to be safe, into what seems to want to take my life, trusting in what I cannot see yet to do what has been promised. The instructor promised me, profusely, that my chute would open. And that there was a reserve chute, should anything happen. And that all I had to do was jump properly from the plane.

Which I didn't.

That also feels a lot like me and God . . . like, all he asks of me is this one little thing, and he's doing all the real work, I just have to do what he says. And I can't even do that.

Now, normally, my need/want to excel and achieve would kick into overdrive, and I'd ramp up the effort to try and prove myself when it feels like I'm failing, but sky diving taught me something else . . .

Absent the chute, no amount of effort can stop your fall. Skydiving is NOT about your ability to stop your fall, it's about your ability to jump and trust.

Since then, the sky has been a holy place for me. I've wanted to go back. And I get physically sick (actually) if I go too long without basking in wide open expanses. I think we all have places that are significant in our lives for whatever reason, and going near them, being reminded of them, it brings us somewhere, be it good or bad . . .

I think maybe the list of places I wanna go that I've been working on? Perhaps for now it'll be less exotic, and more familiar. Maybe I need to following this ridiculous urging to jump and trust that I won't fall . . . more on that later though.

G

I ended up sleeping last night instead - go figure. Now I'm nursing a bit of a shoulder owie from squash today. I'll get it here this week sometime.

Amazing Race

So.

I usually don't get into reality TV too much - my idea of Survivor being to have 16 constentants start on a deserted island with nothing but a bell or something on the beach that you ring / whatever to indicate you want off (c'mon, Jeff Probst, it'd be KILLER TV) - but since moving, my friend Sara has kinda got me into the Amazing Race.

Side note - perhaps it's that something is made enjoyable to watch due to the company you watch it with . . . hmmmm.

At any rate, the show concluded it's 15th race tonight.

And now I want to travel.

I actually can't sleep right now - the thought of gallavanting across the globe is in the forefront of my mind . . . . so, tonight, I'll be dreaming / falling asleep thinking of me doing my best Phileas Fogg . . . and tomorrow, I'll let you know what the trip would look like.

Places defo on the short list - and all of them have a reason - include Iceland, Israel, New Zealand, Australia, Irelan and all of the UK, and Easter Island, just for shits and giggles.

AND - I'll be looking for a Passpourtout (spelling?)