Twain … February 28, 2013

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And the two shall be one flesh …

Words describing relationship and marriage.

Actually, that’s the easy part–skin to skin, tissue to tissue, body to body. That comes naturally–so naturally to our species that we can perform it multiple times with different partners without too much difficulty.

What we have trouble with is the process of becoming one in the other three parts of our being–heart, soul and mind. It is further complicated by a culture which greatly emphasizes sexuality as a primary ingredient in marriage while setting a temperature and climate for interaction between the sexes to be frigid.

It’s a mixed signal. We are told that marriage is so sacred that it dare not be redefined. Yet we are constantly changing the definition of the roles of men and women and the playground rules by which they interact. It is rather difficult to believe that a man and woman riding across the United States in a Conestoga wagon in 1872 were actually having lengthy discussions about how different they were. In that particular environment, difference was their enemy and finding commonality was their only salvation.

The last remnants of chauvinism in our society exist in the manipulation of facts concerning the discourse, conversation and lifestyles between men and women. For after all, there are two ways to keep women in subjection and men in dominance: you can dress the women in dark clothes and make them cover their faces or you can pretend that they are just so beyond comprehension that it’s really not worth the time to fuss about it.

When Adam decided he wanted Eve, God relented. God called them BOTH Adam and established them in equality. It was at that point that they decided to create emotional, spiritual and mental chasms between each other while still enjoying one another’s flesh.

It just doesn’t work.

If the primary relationship in your life is an attempt to disguise your true feelings so as to maintain peace and quiet, then the most important thing you’re doing is a failure. Is it possible that society could be completely wrong on an issue and that we’re merely waiting for someone to come along and expose it for its inadequacy?

Of course.

Historically, society has been perniciously erred. Why? Because if you get enough people to say something loud enough and often enough, it starts sounding like the truth. It isn’t. It’s just overwhelming.

So what makes up a good relationship? What would truly make marriage sacred instead of a moody throw-away? How do we find what was originally intended in the Garden of Eden? How can we climb up into that Conestoga wagon and gain insight into the community that was created between a husband and wife on such a precarious mission, and still maintain our I-phones and I-pads?

There is a way to be twain (two) and still be one person with one mind.

Let’s talk about it tomorrow.

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Remembering…

February 27, 2013

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I love because it’s important and not easy

I am a father because children came along and needed someone to appear like he knew what he was doing

I am creative because repetition is the wallpaper of hell

I believe in God because sometimes a fruit basket is not enough to comfort my friends

I chase dreams to outrun the nightmares

I welcome strangers because they are related to God

I laugh more than I cry because tears are messy

I limp on ahead because my knees gave up too soon

I challenge others, hoping they will return the favor

I exhort because effort and excellence give me a thrill

I perform because I have not yet been adequately replaced

I keep traveling because the road, and need, never stop

I live and breathe because air is available, hopes are alive and God is patient

I die because the story continues with a new cast

I think, therefore … I’m remarkable

I remember why so I won’t judge this world by the present solitary moment

 

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It’s Me… February 26, 2013

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I just stepped out for fifteen minutes to go get ice, chips and dip during one of those frenzied moments when you realize that you just can’t live without them.

My two sons, one twelve and one seven, were settled in, watching a TV show, so I felt fairly confident that I could leave, pick up my supplies from the local convenience store and be back before they even broke the trance, staring at the magic screen. I told my oldest boy that I was going to the store.

Upon arrival, I was not in the establishment for even two minutes, browsing, when a young man at the cashier stand called, “Is there a Mr. Cring here?”

Keep in mind–these were the days before cell phones, so it seems that my oldest son had tracked down the name of this store and called, apparently in desperation, to get hold of his dad. I picked up the phone and was assaulted with a nervous, excited and frightened jabber. Through the spurts I was able to figure out that my guy thought there was somebody at the back door, trying to get in the house.

Obviously, I was alarmed. I told him to lock the door and ran out of the convenience store (sans supplies). I drove to the house, parked the car and came around to the back door, where my son had heard the noise. There on the doorstep, banging its nose against the door for some inexplicable reason, was what seemed to be a very angry opossum, with some sort of bizarre agenda.

I could understand why my son was so frightened–it was really quite loud. Upon careful inspection, the possum, through determined smackings, had bloodied his own nose, and it was obvious to me that this was one crazed animal which I certainly did NOT want to deal with.

The possum turned, scowled and growled at me. Not knowing what to do and not having any weapon handy, I duplicated the scowl and growl, adding my own human flavor to it. To my delight and surprise, he turned on his paws and scampered across the back yard, out through the hedges and into the woods.

I was relieved. I was not an excellent possum fighter. Fortunately, I was not required to prove my prowess by disemboweling this creature. When I was sure the possum was long gone, I quietly knocked on the back door. There was a pause, followed by a wee, tiny voice barely resembling the first-born that I knew and loved.

“Wh-wh-who is it?”

“It’s me.”

That’s all I said. Suddenly the door flew open and gangly, awkward son leaped into my arms, hugging me and praising my role as his savior. I hadn’t identified myself in any way except through my voice. But because he knew he had called for my help, and I said I was on the way, he was not surprised when I arrived. He was not afraid to let me in. He was overjoyed.

It happened one night on a lake. Fishermen and good seamen, who should not have been terrified by a storm, were suddenly overtaken by uncontrollable anxiety. In the midst of that turmoil and anguish, a voice spoke through the darkness.

“It’s me.”

The very relieved and overjoyed fishermen received their friend into the boat … and the storm went away.

That night when I returned and was blessed by NOT needing to go on a possum hunt, I still was able to create an even deeper connection with my children because they recognized my voice, I came to their aid, and the danger disappeared.

I do not understand why we would think that teaching people to be afraid of God is a way of creating better humans and more devoted disciples.

Isn’t it preferable to believe, deep in your heart, that “Daddy’s home” … and all the bad things have run away?

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The Sun is at the Center of the City… February 25, 2013

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There was a time when folks were shocked to discover that the sun did not revolve around the earth. It may be central to our egomaniacal natures–to think that even powerful objects like Helios have to submit to our earthly will.
Likewise, just about the time I think I’ve become a well-rounded individual, having freshly knocked off a corner of one of my prejudices, I suddenly realize that I am still in the infant states of understanding, crawling towards comprehension.

It happened to me yesterday morning at Sun City Center. First of all, you will never meet a more delightful group of people, shepherded by an intelligent, competent woman possessing a tremendous world vision. But as I sat at my book table conversing with the departing folk, a dear lady came to my side and explained to me why she attended this particular house of worship.

“I used to go to a Baptist church because I like my worship a little more lively. But I was just never able to tolerate the indifference and even hostility they had for women. It culminated one Sunday when a young couple scheduled to sing a song for the Offertory had to be separated because–the male part of the duo was allowed to sit up on the platform and the female had to sit in the audience until it was her time to play the singing bird. I was outraged by the injustice. I was ashamed to be part of a country that still allows such backward thinking while pretending they’re pushing the world in a forward, democratic direction.”

I listened to her carefully. It struck me. I’ve always been a believer in equality between men and women, enacting it in my dealings. But I realized that the United States of America is stuck in specific timelines on various issues:

• Racial relations–I think we’re still in the 1980’s. In other words, “people of different races should have rights-=I just don’t want to hear about it.”
• Equality for all citizens despite individual preferences? though some folks think we’re progressing, we’re still a decade or two behind the rest of the world.
• But on the issue of women–their rights, place and value–it might as well be 1892, with corsets and button-up shoes.

There are no equal measurements available. If a woman is organized, gregarious and commanding, she gets labeled with the “b” word (even though we feel no compulsion to not use the entire extent of the term). Women in this country have to accept the fact that they earn less money. Women are instructed that if they become assertive at all, words like “annoying,” “nagging,” “motherly” and “nasty” will impugn with character.

It just struck me that as we pursue Afghanistan, bringing the “gospel of America” to these unfortunate natives, to free them from the Taliban, we need to be careful that we do not maintain some of the tenets of the vicious enemy in our own daily discourse and interaction between the sexes.

Especially in Christianity. What would the church of Jesus of Nazareth be without Mother Mary? Mary Magdalene? Joanna and Susannah, who donated to his ministry out of their substance? Not to mention the countless women who opened their homes to the early church as sanctuaries for believers?

It is going to be very difficult for our country to overcome racial bigotry, social stigma, bullying and intolerance as long as we think it’s a comical punchline to portray women and men as natural adversaries. It is one of the few things that conservatives and liberals share in common–a standing joke that women and men are incompatible except in the bedroom.
I want to thank that dear soul who came to my table and prickled my conscience with an even greater revelation of the topsy-turvy philosophy we promote through all of our media. As long as comedians, entertainers and even last night’s Oscar presentation invoke a feminine mystique to keep women from equality, we will be a nation that fails to practice what we preach.

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Crazy Larry… February 24, 2013

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I think it was about eight years ago. I had begun to write screenplays for independent movies, was composing some symphonic works for a regional orchestra, was working on a couple of novels and traveling across the country doing my presentation in churches.

It was an excitingly varied life, which brought one piece of information to the forefront of my mind: everyone is basically looking for a central mission in their journey, but are often reluctant to name that yearning by using one of the conventional terms for God or spirituality.

I found that both intriguing and comical. The thought in my mind is, once you find out where faith has its nexus, the name you come up with for this precious sense of peace of mind is not nearly as important as remaining passionate and fervent.

So I wrote a book called Living a Legendary Life, and in a very tongue-in-cheek style I proposed that rather than fighting over religious vernacular, we should just go ahead and call God–Larry.

I thought it was quite funny. I wasn’t actually suggesting that we start the First Church of Larry or the Holy Order of Larry. What I failed to realize was that I was trying to be humorous, off-the-cuff and clever in a world that does not particularly favor those presentations.

I immediately ran into the conservatives and the liberals. The conservatives were upset because I suggested that the name of the Divine God of the Universe was one of the Three Stooges. The liberals, on the other hand, were dismayed because I portrayed a God named Larry (which they didn’t have much problem with) but that this Deity expected people to be involved in their own lives and not cop out on their responsibilities.

Little did I know that I had placed myself directly in the center between these two houses of philosophy, and was in danger of being shot by both sides.

It made me think of the words of Larry’s son, Jesus, who once noted that he was very happy that truth is “hidden from the wise and prudent.” The wise consist of those more liberal individuals, who contend that they’re more intellectual and scientific than their backwoods brethren. And the prudent are the conservatives, who think the only way to be acceptable is to retreat into former times, when everything was supposedly just hunky-dory, and you could actually say “hunky-dory.”

This experience has not deterred my effort to maintain an autonomy from both camps. The wise are too smart to learn and the prudent are too careful to be blessed.

So both of them thought my idea was a rather “crazy Larry” concept–and my satire escaped them. But for those who are not bound by the restrictions of either world, who still believe that God loves us all, and keep good cheer in their lives because it is their favorite survival tool, my writings are still appreciated–and even occasionally comprehended.

After all, faith needs two very important parts: (1) it needs function. It’s got to be practical enough to be of some earthly good. (2) And it requires fervor. If it doesn’t energize you, it is a faith without works … which is dead on arrival..

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Terkel… February 23, 2013

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On the third day I decided to stop.

Sprawled on the gravel near the dumpster behind the convenience store, sitting out in front of my motel, was a man who certainly conveyed that he had lots of time on his hands and not too many places to go. I guess that’s a quaint way of saying–homeless.

I passed by him in my van the first two days, waving and smiling. On my first passage, he seemed a bit bewildered by my friendliness but on the second day he returned my greeting with the vigor of a long-lost friend watching his confidante fly off to Siberia on a secret mission.

But on the third day I decided to stop. I rolled up, eased my window down and said, “How ya’ doin’?”

Stumbling to his feet, staring into the distance and refusing eye contact, he replied, “Zeus has given me the light.”

I paused, recollecting my Greek mythology. Zeus was the top-dog god on Mount Olympus. I continued. “Zeus, huh? How’d you get an appointment with him?”

The question obviously baffled him so he continued his runaway train of thought. “Mercury gave me wings,” he proclaimed, still staring off into the distance.

It seemed we were going to run the entire roster of Hellenistic deities.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

There was a long pause. I decided not to repeat my question. I felt it would seem as if I were insensitive or impertinent. I just waited. At length, he responded.

“Terkel. T-e-r-k-e-l.” Each letter grew in pitch of volume and intensity.

“I would have guessed Brian or Kenneth based on your age,” I replied.

For the first time the trance was broken and he glanced at me with a crinkled brow. Noting his coherency, I asked, “So what are you doing out here behind the convenience store?”

He yelled, ‘The policeman said I could be here as long as I didn’t lean against the building and sat on the gravel. It’s public property.”

I obviously had struck a nerve.

“You misunderstood my question,” I explained. “What I’m asking you is, what’s your story?”

“Zeus gave me…” he began.

I interrupted. “Listen, Terkel. I don’t know whether you believe in Zeus or not, but let’s just pretend for a second that you don’t. If you’d like me to stop bothering you, I get it. But really, it’s quite simple. I have passed by you for two days and waved, and I thought i would stop this time–just to see if there was anything human that could happen between us.”

This time he paused, recollecting human manners. “Do you have any money?” he asked.

“You know I do,” I replied. “You see, they don’t let you leave the back end of the convenience store and roam around if you don’t have it.”

I think he smiled, which led me to believe there was a little bit more inside of him than just a supernal messenger from Zeus.

“Do you have any money you can give me?” he asked more pointedly.

I reached for my wallet, pulled out two one dollar bills, and as I was beginning to hand them to him he added, eyeing the cash, “Breakfast tacos are three dollars.”

“You  mean Zeus left you out here without breakfast?” I probed with a smile.

He smiled back, as if mirroring my image. I reached into my wallet and added an additional one to my offering. “Breakfast tacos it is, then.”

He took the money and inquired, “What’s your name?”

“This is gonna be weird,” I said. “My name is also Terkel. T-e-r-k-e-l.” I mimicked his previous bravado.

He chuckled in spite of himself. “You’re not Terkel,” he said.

“Neither are you.”

He chuckled again.

“You see, this wasn’t so bad. We talked for a minute, we got past the lineage of the Greek gods and you ended up with money for breakfast tacos.”

I reached down to close my window, finishing up the conversation. He stepped forward, and for the first time, looked me in the eyes.

“Thank you, Terkel,” he said. Then he stepped back and stared in the distance as if perched on the deck of the Santa Maria, peering for the north star. He mumbled something about Zeuss and collapsed onto the gravel in a giant heap.

I drove away. I do not know if I did a good thing or a bad thing. Such determinations, in my mind, are deliberated by foolish souls who pursue levels of divinity instead of acquiring the true depths of their humanity.

What I did was something different. And without difference, we are stuck with what and who we are … believing that nothing can change.

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Emotional Cabbage… February 22, 2013

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I had to laugh. The slender young woman on the television set was explaining that the key to weight loss was portion control.

Of course, dear friends, if I could control my portions, I wouldn’t be a big fat boy, now, would I? If I was able to put less food on my plate and convince myself that I was satisfied, I would certainly be slim. Unfortunately, I can’t do that.

So the key to my weight loss is to trick my body into believing that I am eating just as much as I was before–but making sure that all that food going into my mouth is much healthier and has many fewer calories.

Casseroles help–just taking a baking dish and throwing in a whole bunch of stuff that looks delicious, cooking it up together and knowing that you will be able to fill your plate up just like you used to, but with about one-third the calories.

And one particular thing to add to that goulash is cabbage. It is a great filler, it is absent calories and aside from adding a little gas to your diet, it makes your plate of goodies look robust and full.

Yes–the key to weight loss is to change the amount of calories without changing your desire to enjoy good food.

Of course, the body is not that different from the human emotions. Everyday of our lives, we need confirmation of our status, reinforcement of our ego and encouragement of our pursuit of happiness. If we don’t have this we will start getting depressed, fussy and critical of other people who seem to be improving their lives while we are standing still.

So just as you need cabbage in your casserole to make your dinner seem like bounty, each and every one of us needs emotional cabbage added to our everyday, repetitive chores, to make us feel full of passion. Without this, we start feeling starved and cheated, stealing dignity from other people to make ourselves look better.

So what is emotional cabbage? Every day we need:

1. An opportunity to use our talent. That may sound silly, but most individuals work a job and perform duties that have very little to do with their actual talent. It is something they have learned to accomplish to make a living, but their heart’s desire lies in other areas. If your quest is not being pursued daily in some kind of opportunity you have created for yourself, be prepared to go to bed feeling a little emotionally empty. Each and every twenty-four hours, we need an opportunity to use our REAL talent.

2. To keep that emotional cabbage churning, you also need a challenge to that same talent. Repetition–even of good things–often makes us believe we are spinning our wheels, going nowhere. We require a challenge–because a challenge gives us two very important things. It puts our abilities to the test and secondly, it gives us the chance to celebrate our victories and correct our mistakes.

3. And finally, to have emotional cabbage in your life, you need a good, hearty, DAILY cleansing laugh. It may sound silly, but I will tell you this–if you are seeking an opportunity to use your talent and you are challenging your talent, many funny things will come your way. Laugh. Good cheer is when your whole being confesses that nothing is too serious to ever bring you down.

I call it emotional cabbage. Without it, we feel hungry for more, even when we’re too exhausted to do anything else.

• An opportunity to use your talent
• A challenge to your talent
• And a good laugh

It will keep you pure in your heart. It will make you believe that good things are possible. It will create a loving spirit.

It will make you valuable to your fellow-man.

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