The Evidence Will Show

Whilst (that’s a word -- look it up) painting dining room walls with a good friend a couple weeks ago, we were discussing “paranormal” phenomenon. He related a few recent personal stories of unexplainable happenings. For example, things he knew would happen before they did, and that knowledge somehow assisted in the development of the related events.

I recalled my experience weeks prior to 9/11/01 – not that my knowledge assisted anyone, but I have reluctantly seen this type of thing first hand. Jeanne related a story about the disappearing door. Was it really missing the first time around?

I think 99% of the time there is a rational explanation for these types of things. We are intuitively in touch with connections in our surroundings. Our minds perceive far more than we are aware of. For the sake of survival and sanity, we filter out most of what goes on around us and zero-in on what we believe relevant. This partly explains why people in crisis often describe things going in slow motion: surroundings and perceptions suddenly become more “present”. We never really forget anything. We just conserve our mental (and emotional) energy by spending it in places we believe will provide the greatest safety.

On the flip of that coin, we probably don’t pay attention to a huge amount of this sort of thing. There are times when there is absolutely no rational explanation. Something super-natural has happened. I’m one of those that believe the universe is far bigger than our instruments can measure, and I’m not referring to the literal size of the cosmos. Science itself points beyond science. I think most probably acknowledge this. After all, to believe that daily life-as-we-understand-it is all there is – that’s quite a leap of faith.

What I think is most interesting is that there seems to be just enough evidence. Just enough to either deny or believe. If you want to toss this stuff aside, it’s not so hard to do. If you look for the unexplainable (or in my case, the activity of the Creator), there’s plenty to be found.

I think it’s a shame: there are plenty of examples where we too quickly give in to either side. We don’t like to be caught with our categories down. The rationalist makes just as silly a mistake as the paranormal-addict. “There is a God! Look! I have him here in this box!” Rubbish. If there is a God, he’s far larger than our metrics in columns and rows. And he is.

Broken

Been home with the flu since mid-day yesterday. Ack. I’d forgotten how much fun it can be. Everyone in the house save my 74-year old mother-in-law, and 4-year-old daughter got socked in the gut. Little CindyLou Who wanted to climb in bed with us, but she just got, “We don’t want you to get sick, Avery.” Her answer: “Ok. I won’t.” She didn’t … at least not yet.

The place has finally settled a bit. The Christmas tree is mostly upright, walls are painted, mother-in-law has moved in. I could live without the flu, but there are worse things.

We recently acquired a photo of my father-in-law:

Don left the family when my wife was 5, and shot himself in despair after the “affair with the secretary” proved (I assume) less than fulfilling about 10 years later. What a horrible tragedy … that has lead to other tragedies. I do wish I could have a conversation with him. There’s too much that doesn’t fit. He was apparently often great as a dad, even if he had a hot temper. He’d take the family on daytrips and vacations, they decided to adopt a child together, he loved taking the family out to eat, they sang songs in the car, and got generally silly. Something of an artist, he went right up the ladder at Westinghouse. Somewhere along the line, something went wrong. I suspect it was small and slow at first, each step building on another. I may never know exactly.

Things like that seep back into my thoughts around the holidays. Life is not as it should be. The world is askew. It wouldn’t be so bad for the world to be askew, if I (we) didn’t have this sometimes-overbearing desire for things to be “right” – there is a “way things should be”, and we all know it. I suppose that’s why we get angry and frustrated when we see things go wrong, even if it doesn’t have a direct impact on us.

All this makes me think I need to keep myself in check, and figure out how to see the world as good, even though it is clearly broken in half -- kind of like a family that the father has abandoned. I need to remember that my imperfect sense of “should” probably exists because the target is real. I will give up pretending everything is ok. I will give up abandoning the world as completely lost and ruined. I need to do the difficult work of redeeming the broken-ness of the word, because the world -- that is, other people -- matter, and they are valuable. And my own brokenness is fixed as I go.

I think this is why it is a good thing to be alive.

Merry Christmas

La Fille du Fromage

Our littlest has earned a reputation as the "Cheese Girl" among her siblings for her penchant for cheddar. I found myself referring to her fondly by another blogger’s title. Cute, eh?

Mr Superior

Today I have effectively mocked Pat Robertson, Irish, Swedes and drunks. Some of my favorite people!

Still Looking For Those Marbles

Pat Robertson is ready to call down fire on your town should you vote incorrectly. Beware!

Yoga

Indian vs. Irish. Can you see the subtle difference?

A man walks into a bar

... with a slab of asphalt under his arm and says, "A beer please, and one for the road."

Sweden's Other White Meat

More True

Today at work I had to tell an older gentleman that he was “probably not a good fit”. He’s perhaps 65, has done very high-level computer work in the past, including network admin. The things I am asking him to do are below his (former) level of functioning, but it seems painfully obvious that he’s just not able to catch on after a couple weeks on the job.

It feels like I’m firing my father. Like my dad, he’s forgetful and scattered -- not quite present when you talk to him. Giving signals that he’s not quite telling himself the truth.

This made me wonder if I’m not simply moving in that direction unaware as time marches on. Am I really all that different? I imagine that it’s just some generational thing (“They were all like that back when.”) … What will my kids say about me?

I was lamenting all this with a peer afterward, and began (as I do) to make broad statements about why things are as they are ... you may recall that I am a good former-fundamentalist. I said that I thought emotional health boils down to telling ourselves the truth, and dealing with that truth reasonably. My apologies for recycling post material.

Why don’t we? What are we afraid of?

(enter bearded therapist with notepad)

I often fear loss of control. I want to do things my way, because I do not trust. I fear what I don’t know. Death. Loss. Loneliness. Rejection. Insignificance. Hemorrhoids. Damn, my list could get long quick.

I see why the only way out is to forget about my miniature problems as frequently as possible, and give myself away to help somebody else. There is no fear of death when you have already died.

instant

I am now displaying mid-life crisis symptoms. I have discovered IM. That’s the thing teenagers do since they cannot speak without mumbling. I need to learn all the relevant terms. Apparently the IM world speaks in acronym. Find your favorites here.

RTFM
TAFN

True

"Truth is our friend."

I have chosen to reveal to my spouse a secret that was painful for her to hear. I am tired of this seemingly small issue having some sort of control over my life. Anything we keep hidden controls us. I believe this now.

So that sucked. Not exactly well received. She thought everything was just fine in our world, but she was mistaken. My revelation frees me, but it burdens her.

I am fortunate enough to have friends that can bear this truth, and not be burdened overmuch with feelings of betrayal. They hear, and it is what it is. Our friendship is unshaken.

My wife, bless her, does not have the luxury of separation. She has bound herself to me, and so, to my mistakes. This is hard.

I see that life itself is a choice of honesty or no. We have many subtle ways of keeping hidden. I don’t want to be hurt. I protect myself. You don’t really see me, since what I am for you is often only a shell that keeps me safe. The real me is carefully guarded.

Perhaps this sounds trite. I don’t really care about that. Are you really yourself with those you care about? Freedom is found in being able to be genuine in all circumstances. This includes your problems and pains. That means that people will have information about you that can hurt you. And they will. Are you willing?

Almost a Post

I promise to write soon. Aaarghh! I'm jus a lazy som-ov-beetch.

As you were!