I Believe In You

 

“We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty.”

~ Mother Teresa ~

One of my dearest friends recently posted the following personal story on Facebook: 

Jon and I shared some money with a homeless man yesterday. The man thanked me for being a 'good, Christian woman' and said he would pray for me. I told him that while I believe in prayers, I do not believe in God.

His eyes grew wide and he stood up and followed us to our car. "So what DO you believe in?", he asked.

I said, "I believe in you".

I spent the first 11 years of a career in the fire service working as a medic on one of the busiest rescues in town.  At the time, perhaps one of the busiest in the country.  The neighborhood I served was overpopulated with the "underprivileged", poor, and homeless.  Having come to Texas from a small town in the Midwest, the images I saw took some getting used to, to say the least.  It took some time and exploring many layers to understand the sadness of the downtrodden.

At first I was saddened by the large numbers of people who seemed to have had such rotten luck.  Over time (and I have no scientific evidence, merely my own experience to support this)  I learned that a VERY large portion of the homeless population where I worked were homeless by choice.  Or should I say, they STAYED homeless by choice.  For a long time this observation changed the way I viewed the plight of the homeless.  "If they choose to live that way," I would tell myself , "why on earth would I feel sorry for them?"  I used to give them money, then stopped.  I learned they usually bought alcohol with it anyway.  I started out treating them with gentle kindness, then stopped because they were "milking the system." 

Then one day, for no particular reason, a question popped in to my head that forever changed how I view the homeless and my fellow man.  "How many," I wondered, "of these homeless dreamed of this life as a child?"  I didn't interview any of them, but I don't have to to know the answer.  It's zero.  I feel certain that every single one of these fellow humans dreamed of being a doctor, lawyer, teacher, engineer, firefighter, police officer or ballerina.  At the very least they grew up believing they'd have a good job at the factory or mill just like their father's before them.  Not one.  Not.....ONE, woke up one day in the third grade and said, "Boy, when I grow up, I wanna be homeless and live in a box!"  

For reasons many of us can never fathom, each of them either made a bad choice or had an undesireable choice made for them that landed them on the street.  There are huge numbers of drug addicts, alcoholics, bi-polars and schizophrenics living in cardboard boxes under a bridge near you.  But they didn't plan it that way.  And whether or not they have the option of changing their situation isn't for us to decide.  The most important thing is that we remember how things were for us as children and remember...."there, but for the grace of (insert your own deitic choice here), go I."  

It's complicated.  It really is.  And how I've felt about those living in shelters and on the street has changed over time.  Maybe most of them could reinject themselves into "normal" society.  Maybe not.  But complicated or not, my friends Denise and her son, Jon, simplified how we should feel about, not just the homeless, but each other with four simple words.  "I believe in you."

How many of these people would have had a different path altogether if a parent, teacher, or some other loved one had simply said and then demonstrated, "I believe in you."  How many of them would find the courage to get off the streets if more people like my friends gave them a hand up and said, "I believe in you."   Not, "get a job, you bum" or "why don't you take a bath?"  or "just say no to drugs and alcohol."  Just....."I believe in you."  Because in the end, isn't that all any of us really want?  Isn't being recognized as a valuable human being and being validated by just one caring person what matters?  I know it matters to me.  And I know it matters to those living along side the railroad tracks in a box, too.

You don't have to be a Christian to be loving.  All we really need is just to believe in each other, warts and all.  I believe in YOU, Denise, Jon and all your family.  You're a shining example of what each of us should remember.  Look for the best in each person you meet, and that's what you'll find. 

Love and Light,

Matt





The Mighty Oak

“From the withered tree, a flower blooms”

“The infinite is in the finite of every instant”

~ Zen Proverbs ~

This morning I went to the Maria Kannon Zen Center to "sit" or practice Zen before my drive to Nebraska.  Although Zen is not something you just "get" overnight (it takes 10, 20 or 30 years to master), I do believe Spirit spoke to me this morning louder than he has spoken since I was in college, alone in the woods on a retreat. 

A "sit" at this center is generally 90 minutes long; 25 minute periods of Zazen (seated meditation) interspersed with 5 minutes of Kinhin or "walking Zen."  It was during this period of slow, methodical walking that Spirit spoke.....through an oak floor!!  You see, the floor of the center is made of the most incredible solid oak flooring.  But it creaks.  The first time I visited the center I was annoyed by the loud creaking of the seasoned floor.  It was a distraction and I found it hard to "become one with my breathing."  But today, as each person in the room stepped across the floor, those boards spoke to me and to each other.  No.  They sang!

It was then I opened my eyes fully and noticed the intricate shapes and colors unique to each piece of flooring.  Laced together by years of wax and polish, they created an artistic masterpiece that made me smile.  That's when it occured to me.  Each of these pieces of oak flooring had once been a tree.  They were once a majestic tower of beauty filled with wondrous branches and leaves.  Yet, the beauty of these fine pieces, there for me to enjoy, could only be discovered by cutting down the tree.  This magnificent oak was either cut down or it fell down.  From there, it was ripped and cut and sliced and planed and sanded until these fine ornaments were exposed. 

Sure, some of the tree was just leaves.  They fell to the ground each year to help fertilize the soil.  Other parts were acorns which fell and grew to be new trees; a process of renewal.  Still other parts probably became another floor somewhere, or a chair or a table or whatever!

The point is, the tree didn't complain.  It didn't whine and moan about it's bad luck in being cut down.  Each and every part had it's mission in the life of that tree and each did it without complaint.  The leaves fell.  The acorns grew (or were eaten by squirrels).  The trunk was cut and scattered everywhere in the shape of furniture or floors.  And it occured to me today that the boards of that floor we sat and trod upon, once a mighty oak, fulfilled their lot without complaint.  They are simply happy being a floor.  In fact, being a floor makes them sing.

This could easily be an amazing metaphor for how we should model our lives.  But in fact, it IS life.  Like that mighty oak, each of us will be cut down, ripped, planed and sanded in to something more beautiful at one time or another.  For some of us, it will be MANY times.  The question is, will we accept the new beauty in store for us or will we fight it and complain every step of the way?  I'll be honest.  I've been known to put up a fight regarding change now and then.  But after this morning, I think I finally get the message.

I'm being ripped and planed and sanded right now.  I was a mighty oak, but now I'm going to be something even better!!  And the best part of all is, just like the floor at the Zen Center which will someday rot or burn or otherwise be "destroyed", I too won't ever be finished.  When the floor rots away or burns someday, it will create the space and opportunity for NEW life.  It will become carbon which fertilizes a mighty oak.  And the circle continues.

We're never finished.  So today, I'm going to do my very best to follow the example of the mighty oak and that magnificent floor.  I'm going to become the most amazing thing I can be at the hands of Spirit.  And I'm going to do my best to do it without complaining. 

Namaste

Dancing Shoes

Dancing Shoes

Original Poem by Alex Leatherwood

Dancing Shoes,

The way they lightly flitted onto those feet,

Unaware of the changing of a life of a little girl.

Beaming, those chubby cheeks did,

When she realized the journey of movement would bring her the happiness craved.

Dancing Shoes,

Like life shown from them when those feet flew across the floor.

Twelve years of blissful torture,

Repeat, Repeat until done right and those shoes carried her on its wings,

The dream of completing the journey in her reach.

Damned Dancing Shoes!

Burning with regret, thrown into a closet

Remembering they had let the little girl fall, fall

Like a rock falling off of a cliff.

The dream, her heart, the shoes,

Gone, the End.

The little girl,

No longer hopeful, like when the sun comes out signaling a new day,

But now like a frail flower, that hasn’t been watered.

The girl, not allowed to put on her dancing shoes again,

Tries to find a new pair that kiss her feet softly,

Walking bare-foot everywhere, searching.

The girl,

Knowing the dream has been flung out the door,

But still opens the closet, looks down,

Picking the dancing shoes up, cradling them like a new born child,

Tries to see if the glass slipper still fits.

Her lonely feet, trying to shove their way in, failing.

The girl,

This time,

Builds a shelf for the dancing shoes,

Not throwing, but gingerly, kissing them slightly,

Puts them on the shelf, her last time to see them,

The end of the dream, the beginning of another.

It's Time Again

“Defer no time, delays have serious ends.” ~ William Shakespeare ~

“We don't have an eternity to realize our dreams, only the time we are here.”  ~ Susan Taylor ~

Almost every year I've taken time to write some quip about reflecting on a new year.  This year, I thought I wouldn't.   "What's the point?", I pondered.  Every day is the beginning of a new year.  This date we've set arbitrarily to allow ourselves a new place to start is available every day.  So why wait?  Every morning we wake up is an opportunity to start a new day....a new month....a new year.....a new life.  Sure, we assign these arbitrary periods of time numbers so we can keep track, but make no mistake, time can't be harnessed by numbers.

There seems a common theme for me lately.  Ok, so there have been several, but this one tiny item has kept me up at night.  This question of time.  The common sentiment has been this and it has come from a plethera of the most loving and well-meaning sources:  "Time is your friend here."  or "Time will be your friend if you let it."  I think not.

I'm 50 years old if you're using the modern-day Gregorian calendar.  But that number is arbitrary.  Like love, time just "is".  This friend of mine, Time, is a relentless foe.  He doesn't stop for heartache or a bad day or even a good day for that matter.  You aren't allowed to wallow in the bad nor bask in the good.  Perhaps that in itself is a good thing.  Time doesn't listen when you say, "Hey!  Time out!  Hold on just a minute so we can talk."  It ignores your request and marches on....relentless....unfeeling.

And unlike anything I would remotely consider a friend, time sets limits and expectations.  You only have so much time.  There's a limit.  Only so much time to do whatever it is you have to do, whatever that is.  And it's secretive.  You're never sure just how much time you actually have.  I'm blessed to have had more time than many, but I also won't have as much as some.  My clock continues to tick toward the end, and yet thousands today have a clock that has just started.  Yet I fully realize, and not without some resentment toward Time, that today many clocks have simply run out.

Now you can certainly argue that BECAUSE of time, we must live in the moment...not dwell in the past.  Without Time, there would always BE enough "time" to do the things that need done, say the things that need said, right the things you've done wrong.  But that simply isn't the case.  Time requires that if there's something to be said, or someone to be loved, the moment is now.  "Don't let this moment pass," it says.  And yet because Time is a foxy foe, it asks us to wait.  "I'm your friend," it whispers.  "Trust me.  All good things come to those who wait." And so we wait for an end with no promise.

Please understand.  I am a huge proponent of living in the "now".  I am, admittedly, not a master in its practice, but I do my best not to live in the past and not project a future.  But as much as I'm "spirit" and thereby not bound by time, I am also human and thereby subject to the frailties of that existence.  How do you fool this foe?  You can't, obviously.  Time has no rules or conscience.  Like any annoying pest, I can only do my best to ignore it by living fully in the moment.  But Time has a loud "tick" and only the most enlightened learn to completely ignore it's relentless nagging.

A Tale of Two Cities begins, "It was the best of times.  It was the worst of times."  There is no best or worst.  There is only Time.  And Time marches on.  As much as I'd like to embrace Time as my friend, every fiber in my body sees it currently as only my nemesis.  Oh I'll wait to see what each new day brings.  I'll wait to see what life unfolds.  But I'll do my best to ignore this gnarling beast who gnaws at my ankles by living in the now.  Because let's face it, Time sets the rules.   And it sets the amount for each of us. 

Time:  The entire concept seems such a waste and yet, you don't dare waste any of it.  Do it now.