Discomfort - Life in 2020

If I had to choose a word to best describe this year for me so far, it would be discomfort.

I am a planner by nature. I love to have a plan for almost everything: my work day, my summer break, the road trip I'm taking, or even the difficult conversation I need to have with somebody.

There's nothing wrong with creating plans. It allows us to be productive and to accomplish our goals. It's one of the things that sets us apart from animals - our ability to anticipate and prepare for the future. It's why we were just able to send two men into space last weekend and why we'll more than likely find a vaccine for COVID-19.

What I've realized, though, is that my planning doesn't just help me to prepare for the future. It's also my attempt to try and control the future and, thereby, lessen my worry about what may come. Planning, by necessity, means living in the future which means less time living in the present. When uncertainty makes planning difficult, if not impossible, it creates anxiety.

I wrote this post back in November after attending a professional development seminar focused on anxiety. I heard the same presenter again last week and the events of the past few months have made my thoughts in that November post even more true and relevant today. I just finished reading Alan Watt's book The Wisdom of Insecurity and there were a number of things in his book that stuck with me. Most importantly, his point that we can only live in the present moment. By wishing and waiting for future happiness, we are robbing ourselves of experiencing life now while chasing something that is never guaranteed.

If there have ever been times that I tended to live in the past or the future, the months of March, April, and May of this year were certainly among them. So many times I've wished that things could go back to how they were before the coronavirus hit us or, likewise, that we could skip ahead to when we have defeated this virus and can resume our "normal" lives. For so long, we have managed as a society to suppress some of the biggest issues that need addressing. People had warned us about the possibility (rather, the inevitability) of a global disease pandemic, but we were caught largely unprepared. Now, in the midst of this pandemic, the problem of racial inequality has again been brought to light. Many are making it impossible to continue ignoring, and rightfully so.

There are many other issues that need to be addressed in our society. Global climate change, poverty, and inequality are a few that come to mind. While we as humans have great capacity for serving others, we are also great at serving ourselves. Because of this, we often don't change our ways until we are forced. My hope is that we're learning from current events that it's better to tackle these issues out of choice rather than necessity. We need a plan.

Plato said that necessity is the mother of invention. While that may be true, we are seeing now that necessity often comes with pain and suffering. When faced with something difficult, we scramble to find relief, comfort, and happiness as quickly as we can. In other words, we try to live in the past or the future. Rather than plan for and deal with the situation, we avoid or deny it. We want anything but to sit in our present discomfort. The reality, though, is that we cannot live in constant pleasure and happiness. Watts says that "the more we are able to feel pleasure, the more we are vulnerable to pain." In relationships, "the more we are able to love another person and to enjoy his company, the greater must be our grief at his death, or in separation."

We have two options to respond to this. We can either close ourselves off - to the world and to others - as to try lessening pain and suffering, but also sacrificing the possibility of joy and intimacy. Or, we can be present in every moment, good or bad, fully experiencing the pain or joy that comes in each. If we want to experience happiness, we have to be willing to experience pain as well.

This concept is helping me to better understand what St. Paul meant in Romans:

"We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope."

These last few months have been uncomfortable to say the least. For some, they have been unbearably painful. To some degree we have all had to deal with uncertainty, loss, separation, isolation, and grief. It is not easy and it is not comfortable, but we cannot spend the time longing for the past or living in the future. Neither can we simply plan away our anxiety or skip over the difficult parts of life. We have to be present - even rejoice in - these times knowing that we will come through with more endurance, character, and hope. We will grow from this. We will come through this. When we do, if we were willing to fully engage in the discomfort, we will then be able to fully experience the joy that comes after.

How Do Lobsters Grow?
(Another beautiful analogy shared in last week's presentation)

https://youtu.be/dcUAIpZrwog

Are we there yet?

It was almost exactly two months ago today when I realized that our world was about to change drastically. I had heard about the coronavirus and even some of the predictions about how widespread it would become. I think that my denial is what kept me from letting that reality sink in. That, and the fact that this is something that most of us have never experienced in our lifetime. We didn't know what to expect. It wasn't until school was closed, Ramón was sent home, and the "stay at home" order took affect that I fully grasped the severity, and the longevity, of this pandemic.

What I've realized over the past two months is that there are two feelings that recur the most and are the primary reasons for this situation being so difficult: grief and uncertainty.

Whether or not we realize it, we have all been grieving during this time. There is both a collective grief and individual grief that can be hard to process. For some, there is grief over losing a loved one to this disease. For others, there is grief over losing a job or a business, being separated from others, missing out on important events like prom and graduation, or having something end prematurely. Hearing the words "cancelled" and "closed" has become routine and expected. All of these things add up to the collective grief that we are experiencing globally. What adds to the difficulty of dealing with our grief is that we're having to support each other from a distance. We cannot be there for each other physically the way we normally would. The important ritual of burying those who have died has been denied or postponed for so many and new things to grieve are being added on daily.

The other part that is so difficult in this situation is the uncertainty. I would call it fear, but I don't feel that's specific enough. Uncertainty is a more specific type of fear that better describes what most of us are feeling. We don't know if we will get the disease. If we do, we don't know how bad it will be. We don't know when or how this pandemic will end or how much damage will ultimately be done. Our calendars are blank and we're not sure when we can start to add to them again. I understand the push from many to get things opened up again. We all want to get back to normal as fast as we can. We need to have our routines back, at least partly, in order to deal with the grief and uncertainty that we feel. For all of us, we need it for our mental health and for many, we need it for our physical and financial wellbeing, too.

I realize how gloomy this post is so far, but that's okay. I think we all need to call this for what it is and recognize that we're all feeling the same thing. This is a rare moment when almost everybody on the planet can empathize with one another. We're all experiencing this first-hand.

I watched this interview from The Daily Show with Ricky Gervais and they describe both of these things - uncertainty and grief - perfectly.

Ricky: I think that the big thing is, apart from the risk and worry about your family and self and everything like that, I think people wish they could have a date. It's like it's turned us into kids. We keep going "are we there yet? Are we there yet?" And no-one knows. No-one knows when it will be over. We don't know what will happen. Will it come back? We don't know. Can you get it twice? No-one knows anything... If someone said "it's over on September the 1st", people would go "okay, fine, see you September the 1st." But it's just not that easy...

I realize that everyone's grieving. Everyone's grieving. Recently, or now, and you don't get over it.

Trevor: It feels like that's what we're all experiencing on a larger level. For the first time in history, we're all experiencing a shared grief in a way that even world wars didn't create. Everyone in the world is experiencing some effect from lock down, some effect from losing somebody, some effect from losing their life, the way they live, their family.

Ricky: I think that most people have started realizing what the most important things in life are. I think it also makes you appreciate the mundane things in life... Those things save you.

What usually helps me through difficult times like this is to think about something coming up that I am looking forward to. Something stable. Something reliable. When uncertainty causes me anxiety, things like my routine can provide some comfort. There are a number of things that I am excited about in the next few weeks, months, and years but, based on what the experts tell us, this virus will likely still be with us and it may impact any and all of these things that I am hopeful for:

-Summer, my favorite season, is just around the corner. I can go outside, sit by the pool, go for a hike, take my camera, and enjoy nature.
-My sister and her family may visit this summer. I will get to meet my nephew, something that I missed out on in March, and spend more time with my whole family.
-I can see my friends, play a round of disc golf, meet at a coffee shop, or take the train to Denver for a Rockies game.
-We will go back to school in August, at least partially in person, and I will get to see my students and colleagues face to face.
-My next exchange student, Filip, will be coming at the end of the summer and we'll have a whole new set of adventures. I will also get to see Ramón again, hopefully sooner than later, here or in Spain.
-I will be taking a group of students to Panama next Spring and maybe still get to do our trip to Australia and New Zealand next summer.

It's hard not knowing what will happen. While this new daily routine may be less exciting and less fulfilling while we wait out this virus, at least there is still a routine. There are some things, small as they may be, that I can rely on and look forward to each day. Just like Ricky said in the interview, we have to appreciate the mundane things in life, especially right now.

There are plenty of mundane things in my new routine that are saving me: making my favorite coffee drink each day, having my cat curl up in my lap while I work, watching a favorite TV show at night to have a laugh, having a good conversation with a friend over text or video chat, or getting my thoughts out by writing in a blog.

Tonight, I sat on my balcony and listened to the sound of heavy rain and thunder as a storm passed through.

It's calm outside now.

Like that storm, COVID-19 will also pass. We don't know when, and that's hard, but it will pass.

A Thousand Words

40 Years of Family Photos

It's said that a picture is worth a thousand words. If that's true, then I could now write an anthology.

I have been staying at my parents' house since this pandemic began and it has given me a chance to do something I have wanted (and needed) to do for years. I have been sorting through closets and drawers full of things from my childhood: clothes, photos, receipts, souvenirs, toys, videos, school work, and more. I've thrown away a few bags worth of things, but I've also kept some items that still have meaning. My collection of PEZ dispensers, my Jurassic Park Giga Pet, and my Walkman and cassette tape collection (Ace of Base was my favorite) bring back great memories of the wonderful decade that was the 90s. However, the things that bring me the most joy are the photos that remind me of the significant people in my life and the times I've had with them.

After going through my own things, I decided to tackle the cabinet full of family photos going back to about 1980. These photos were piled in boxes, many of which hadn't been looked at for years. I wanted to be able to see and share them so, after going through and sorting them (probably close to 10,000 photos), I scanned and uploaded 2,834 of them into Google Photos.

My sister and me with our grandparents

What I love about photographs is that, while they only capture a single moment in time, they remind me of a whole experience - an event, a trip, a person or group of people, a time period, or a feeling. That moment will never happen again in the exact same way, but the experience can be relived in your mind over an over and photographs make the memories so much more vivid. Some of the photos I found were of events that happened when I was too young to remember them, but seeing the photo makes me feel connected to the person or place. My mom's parents died when I was only five years old so I don't have many memories of them. Seeing photos of me with them, though, helps to fill in the fuzzy memories that I do have and I feel closer to my grandparents.

What's also great about photos is that they allow us to invite others into our lives and our experiences on a much deeper level. While that may seem obvious, it's so much more remarkable than we realize. Modern photography wasn't invented until the 1820s and those photographs were nothing compared to the ones I can now take with my DSLR (or my new iPhone for that matter). Before that, people could get some fairly realistic portraits painted, but they had no other way to record themselves in time besides their own fleeting memory. A photograph is just light being captured on film or a sensor in a certain way, but it has the powerful ability to bring back memories, inspire awe, and trigger strong emotions. That is one reason why I have always loved photography since I took my first class in high school.

My friend Brett shared this poem a couple of weeks ago and it made me think about some of the places I've been and the experiences I've had with others.

Child of Mine, come
as you grow in youth
you will learn
the secret places
the cave behind the waterfall
the arms of the oak
that hold you high
the stars so near
on a desert ledge
...the important places. 

And, as with age, you choose
your own way
among the many faces
of a busy world
may you always remember
the path that leads back.
...back to the important places.
-Dad to Forest, 1986

Grand Canyon c. 1990

Photographs take us back to those important places. Looking through old photos has reminded me of many people, places, and experiences I've had. I found one photo of me at the Grand Canyon when I was only about five years old. I didn't even remember that I had been there but I found out that our family stopped on the way home from a trip to Arizona. Having just visited the Grand Canyon again in November, it made me think about how much different I am now and how many experiences I've had since I was that five year old with my Ninja Turtles t-shirt and my jean shorts. There is no way for me to remember every experience I've had in life, but photos can help me remember at least some.

While we deal with this virus pandemic, I don't know how soon we will all be able to visit our favorite places with our favorite people again. For now, the memories of both will have to do. Since most of us keep our photos on our phones and social media now, it's easy for us to go back, remember those times, and share with others. If you haven't looked for a while, scroll back in time through your photos on your phone (or your Facebook or Instagram page). I did that this week and it brought a smile to my face many times.

Here are some of my favorite memories and significant people from my life that I found in my photos:

Click here to see this whole album and see the photo descriptions.

I challenge you to find a photo or two of an important place, person, or event from your camera roll or social media and reconnect with somebody from that experience.

If there's a photo in the album I shared above that you were part of (or even if there isn't), I would love to hear a memory you have of that experience or another experience you and I had together in the comments.

The Great Pause

Back in January, I wrote a post called Presence and I talked about how, in the age of technology, smartphones, and social media, it is so important for us to put those things away at times and be physically present with others. The irony is that, less than two months after I wrote that, our world is in a place where those technologies are the only things allowing us to connect with others and maintain some level of presence.

My appreciation for these technologies has grown substantially in the past three weeks because, despite having not left the house in a month except to get food, I have been able to stay relatively connected to many of the people I care about. I've been able to continue doing my job (sort of) supporting students and helping them learn even when they cannot go to school. I've played some of my favorite games on video chats with friends. I've attended virtual meetings for groups and clubs that I am part of - classes that I wouldn't have had time to attend during my normally busy schedule. I've been able to stay in contact with my exchange student even though he is back in Spain and thousands of miles away. Although these interactions are not the same as being physically present, I cannot imagine how much harder the past three weeks would have been if we were completely isolated without those technologies.

I've written a few posts about the coronavirus epidemic already. I've reflected on how this time has forced us to slow down and how that's a good thing. I've realized the importance of checking in with others, even if it's just a quick message to let them know you're thinking about them. And I've realized how much I take things for granted.

The next step for me is deciding how I want to come out of this situation. We cannot get back the last two months of our lives or the things we missed out on, but this interruption is a great opportunity to reset and to do things differently going forward.

Several of my friends have shared this article from Forge by Julio Vincent Gambuto that describes this very opportunity. Here is my favorite part:

From one citizen to another, I beg of you: take a deep breath, ignore the deafening noise, and think deeply about what you want to put back into your life. This is our chance to define a new version of normal, a rare and truly sacred (yes, sacred) opportunity to get rid of the bullshit and to only bring back what works for us, what makes our lives richer, what makes our kids happier, what makes us truly proud. We get to Marie Kondo the shit out of it all. We care deeply about one another. That is clear. That can be seen in every supportive Facebook post, in every meal dropped off for a neighbor, in every Zoom birthday party. We are a good people. And as a good people, we want to define — on our own terms — what this country looks like in five, 10, 50 years. This is our chance to do that, the biggest one we have ever gotten. And the best one we’ll ever get.

My fear is that we won't take the opportunity; that I won't take the opportunity.

It is so much easier, and more comfortable, to go back to exactly the way things were. We can simply put our blinders back on and only choose to see the things we want to see. We can fill our calendars back up with our business (and busy-ness), go back to our routine of convenience, and kick the can further down the road when it comes to dealing with global, and personal, issues.

There are some glimmers of hope, though.

Maybe congress passing a $2.2 trillion relief bill almost unanimously is a sign that we (liberals and conservatives) still have some things in common; that taking care of each other is more important than getting what we want.

Maybe the improvement to the air and water quality in many cities and carbon emissions at their lowest point in years as a result of us all staying home and shutting things down for a while is the catalyst we needed to start taking better care of our planet.

Maybe I'm naive.

On a personal level, I need to use the time I have remaining stuck inside to consider what I will do differently; to decide what I want to put back in my life, and what I want to leave out. I need to figure out what things make me happy and give me purpose, and what things just keep me busy.

Here are some things I know are in the first category:

1) Visiting with my family. I've been at my parents' house for the longest amount of time since graduating high school which I didn't expect to happen. I've made the cookies that my mom taught me how to make in middle school (yes, the Nestle Tollhouse recipe). I've done the dishes, "debated" with my sister, watched some Jeopardy, and played way too many rounds of cards. I've even had a chance to go through old photos and other things from my childhood. I can't take for granted that I had the option to do this rather than sit at home by myself. I missed out on visiting my other sister and her family last month, but that will happen soon enough.

2) My job. Middle school kids are a fun, unique, and insightful bunch. I didn't realize how much I get from being in the presence of their awkwardness until now when my interactions are only through emails and virtual classrooms. I certainly don't feel like I make a profound impact on kids everyday in my job but, on the days when I get to leave school knowing that I helped a student navigate this tough stage in life, it definitely gives me a sense of purpose.

3) Investing in others. Being a mentor with Big Brothers Big Sisters is one way I can continue to do this. I stopped leading Young Life this year which was a good decision for me, but I knew that I needed to find a new way to invest myself in others. Hosting an exchange student this year was that opportunity. I knew going into it that it was only for 10 months and I wasn't sure how it would feel to say goodbye. Having that time cut short because of the coronavirus made it even tougher. The eight months that Ramón and I did have were so much fun, though. I got a small glimpse into being a parent and all of the things that come with it. Although it was only 8 months, it was well worth it. I have agreed to host another student next year and I am both nervous and excited.

4) Friends. This is an area that I need to focus on. I realize that I have kept myself so busy with other things for many years that I have failed to maintain some important friendships.

5) A cause. Over the past few years, I have learned a lot about climate change and other impacts that we as humans are having on our planet. It seems like such a daunting task to try and address it, but I know that, at the very least, there are many small things I can do to reduce my impact. If I'm going to continue investing in the next generation, it would be hypocritical of me to not at least try to live more sustainably and leave the planet a little bit better for them.

We're at a turning point. What we do with it is up to us, individually and collectively.

Also from Julio Vincent Gambuto:

Well, the treadmill you’ve been on for decades just stopped. Bam! And that feeling you have right now is the same as if you’d been thrown off your Peloton bike and onto the ground: What in the holy fuck just happened? I hope you might consider this: What happened is inexplicably incredible. It’s the greatest gift ever unwrapped. Not the deaths, not the virus, but The Great Pause.

Live Deliberately

I have been wanting to read Henry David Thoreau’s Walden for a couple of years now after listening to a discussion about it in a podcast. I finally started reading it about a month ago and I think it is somewhat serendipitous considering the situation our planet is experiencing with the coronavirus pandemic. The book describes the author’s experience living alone for two years in a cabin he built in the woods (near Walden Pond) and he makes the case for living a more simple, intentional life. Living deliberately.

Seeing what this global pandemic has done already to our social lives, our work lives, and our economy, my perspective on life has shifted a bit in the past two weeks. I re-read a passage in the book that stuck out to me the first time. This time, it felt even more on point.

I went into the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion… 

Our life is frittered away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb-nail. In the midst of this chopping sea of civilized life, such are the clouds and storms and quicksands and thousand-and-one items to be allowed for, that a man has to live, if he would not founder and go to the bottom and not make his port at all, by dead reckoning, and he must be a great calculator indeed who succeeds. Simplify, simplify. Instead of three meals a day, if it be necessary eat but one; instead of a hundred dishes, five; and reduce other things in proportion… The nation itself, with all its so-called internal improvements, which, by the way are all external and superficial, is just such an unwieldly and overgrown establishment, cluttered with furniture and tripped up by its own traps, ruined by luxury and heedless expense, by want of calculation and a worthy aim, as the million households in the land; and the only cure for it, as for them, is in a rigid economy, a stern and more than Spartan simplicity of life and elevation of purpose. It lives too fast. Men think that it is essential that the Nation have commerce, and export ice, and talk through a telegraph, and ride thirty miles an hour, without a doubt, whether they do or not; but whether we should live like baboons or like men, is a little uncertain… 

Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life?

While Thoreau chose to live alone and distanced from others and we are being forced to do the same out of necessity, he seems to have come to some of the same conclusions that I have in a much shorter time.

Most of us live at such a fast pace with a “thousand-and-one” things to do. We live too fast and we cannot keep up. Maybe it helps us feel important. Or needed. Maybe it helps us to avoid feeling things like loneliness. What’s ironic for me, though, is that, because I keep myself so busy all of the time, I don’t always find time to maintain the things that should be important and meaningful: friendships, connecting with family, learning something new, pursuing a passion.

The last few weeks have forced us to slow down. My calendar has been cleared and, as Thoreau encouraged, I can count things I need to do on my ten fingers. There is no question that this time is hard and the source of much suffering. Our world will be different because of this. People are losing loved ones and livelihoods. Our global economy has shrunk. It’s not always easy to find the silver lining. In this case, if nothing else, perhaps we will all start to slow down, discover what is really important, and live more deliberately.

In short, I am convinced, both by faith and experience, that to maintain one’s self on this earth is not a hardship but a pastime, if we will live simply and wisely.

-Henry David Thoreau

Social Distancing

Six feet or thousands of miles. They both can be tough.

This morning, I said goodbye to Ramón, my high school exchange student, two months early. The coronavirus pandemic made it necessary for all of the students to go home now. I wrote a couple of weeks ago about how our plans for spring break were impacted by this virus, but I never expected this drastic turn of events. Rather than meeting my eight-month-old nephew, celebrating my niece’s 8th birthday, and seeing my sister and the rest of her family in Pennsylvania, I’m stuck at home. Today, Ramón and I would be driving from PA to Washington, D.C. to spend a few days being tourists but, instead, he’s on a flight back to Spain. I am so grateful for the months that he had here and the fun adventures that we had. What’s hardest about the situation is that he won’t get to see his friends for a while when he gets home and I won’t be able to do my usual things to keep me busy now that he’s gone. I know that we have all been impacted by this epidemic, some much more so than I have been. Seeing the airport empty this morning was eerie. Going into a usually busy coffee shop and seeing the tables and chairs all blocked off is sad. I realize that this is temporary but the impact it will have, that it is already having, is unimaginable.

Our state went into a “stay at home” order this morning. We continue to see the number of sick people increase and the death toll is also rising. I completely understand the necessity for the measures that are being taken but the cost is so great. The words that keep being used are “isolation” and “social distancing”. We are all being asked to stay at home and, if we have to go out, stay at least six feet away from others.

I’ve talked before about how I am an introvert. I need time to myself to decompress and to process. I often like to write my thoughts more than speaking them (as you can clearly tell). I’ve seen jokes and memes on social media about how this current situation is an introvert’s dream. While I appreciate the humor of it, I have to say that, as an introvert, this is not what we’re looking for. Introverts and extroverts alike want and need connection with others, we just find it in different ways. As humans, we are wired for connections with others. Video chats are nice and social media helps a little bit, but they are no substitute for true human connections.

Ramón and I have been watching one of my favorite shows, Boston Legal, for the past several weeks. One episode was timely in that it talked about this idea of isolation. Jerry, a socially awkward lawyer with Asperger’s syndrome, is defending a teacher who was fired from her job for hugging an upset student. I’ve never been much of a hugger, but I do appreciate it in the right moments and I definitely understand the importance of the physical presence of others. This is what Jerry said about human connection:

Perhaps with the continued evolution of smartphones and emails and video conferencing, we’ll find a way to keep people from ever being in the same room together… won’t that be wonderful? Years ago, they did an experiment with an orphaned baby monkey. They gave it two choices for a surrogate… one which could provide milk, the other a hug. The monkey chose the hug. I grew up with various social disabilities. I had no friends. I got a job that only required I write memorandums. I lived a life, basically, with no real human contact. I improved through the kindness, compassion, and yes, physical affection of others. The human touch cannot be quantified. It cannot be analyzed with statistics. We can’t place a number on it. It’s the best, the most direct, the most lasting way of affirming another person’s humanity. We are living in such an increasingly isolated world. We IM and text message and have virtual relationships online – it gets lonelier and lonelier while teenage and adult depression continue to rise. There are, perhaps, many things we can do about it… banning the hug can’t be one of them.

One way that I find connection is through keeping myself busy – with work, volunteering, trying new things. Right now, even those things are impossible. The Denver Zoo, where I have been a volunteer for six years, is currently closed and staff are losing their jobs because of the lost revenue. I don’t know when I will be able to go back to volunteering. My school will continue to do “remote learning” for at least the next three weeks; probably longer. We are all experiencing some isolation and it’s not good for us.

As I said earlier, I realize that this is temporary. This too shall pass. The uncertainty is what makes it so difficult. We all need to take care of ourselves and take care of each other through this, even if we have to do it from a distance for now. For me, I know that being alone for the next three weeks or more will not be good for my well-being. Because of that, I’m heading to my parents’ house this afternoon to have some company. Do whatever you have to do to take care of yourself through this time. When it’s allowed again, give somebody a hug.

I keep having to tell myself that my goodbye this morning was just a goodbye for now. I know that I will get to see Ramon again. I also know that I will get to see my sister’s family and meet my nephew soon enough. My hope is that, through this difficult time, our whole world will come through it stronger and more appreciative of the things that we have. We’ve learned how quickly those things can be taken away.

Stay strong, take care of yourselves, and wash your hands. Thanks for letting me process in my introverted way.

Pandemic

Okay COVID-19, you have my attention.

Until today, I’ve been in denial a bit that this coronavirus will be as bad as some predict. Now, with everything shutting down and events being cancelled, I realize that we have to take it seriously. It’s easy to think “I’m not going to get it” and go about my routine as usual (with extra hand-washing and avoiding touching things) but, with a 14 day incubation period, it’s hard to know who I’ve passed that may already be infected.

It’s hard to see coworkers devastated that the special trip they have been planning for years will no longer happen. I’ve had several of my plans cancelled already and will likely not get to take a trip with my exchange student over spring break. My trip to Australia and New Zealand that I’ve been planning with students for a year and a half may be no more, too.

I have to put things into perspective, though. The fact that the largest impact this situation has had on me is to cancel a trip and force me to work from home speaks to how lucky I am to live when and where I do. So many students are worried about how they will get lunch now that school is cancelled. Parents are scrambling to find care for their children while trying to still work so that they can afford their rent.

I don’t know when or how this ends. I hope it’s sooner than later. It is certainly reminding me to not take things for granted.

On the Road Again

I’ve never really been a huge fan of Willie Nelson, but his song seemed fitting for the title of this post.

I’m coming to the end of another road trip with Ramon; this time to South Dakota to see The Badlands (with the obligatory visit to Wall Drug), Mount Rushmore, the Crazy Horse Memorial, and tomorrow, Wind Cave National Park. Having an exchange student has been a great motivation for me to explore new places. Doing so has made me realize how much I enjoy these kind of adventures.

While driving down the Badlands Loop road yesterday on a beautiful, sunny February day, we had the realization of how few other people were around us and how we were almost the only ones to experience that place at that time. The sense of freedom that happens in the middle of these vast open spaces is difficult to know until you’ve experienced it for yourself. I’ve done a lot of reading in the past few years about how beneficial it is for us – for our souls – to spend time outside in nature. It’s true. Maybe more for some than others, but there’s certainly something about exploring creation that you cannot get elsewhere.

Visiting Crazy Horse and Mount Rushmore today, we were also lucky to be one of only a few visitor groups. At dusk, I was standing outside looking at the faces of four past presidents on the mountain and I realized that there was nobody else around. The air was perfectly still and there were no voices around me. It was a cool moment.

One thing that struck me about both memorials we visited was how much the men who designed them dedicated their lives to these projects knowing that they likely would not see them to their completion. They had vision, passion, and dedication and, because they were willing to look beyond their own lifetime, they were able to create these projects that have inspired millions and will continue to do so for many more generations. They had to trust that their children and their apprentices would see their work through to completion.

While eating a hamburger and fries at Wall Drug yesterday, I couldn’t help but notice the older gentleman at the table across from me with his worn out cowboy hat and shirt drinking his 5 cent coffee and talking to his buddies. I wondered what he has experienced and how different his life is than mine. To me, the suburban tourist, this was a novel experience. To him, it was just part of his Saturday routine.

I feel lucky to have the means to visit new places. It is good for my spirit to get away from the routine. I need to be able to drive down an open highway occasionally rather than be stuck in traffic on I-25. I can’t wait to get on the road again.

Presence

pres·ent
/ˈprez(ə)nt/
adjective
fully focused on or involved in what one is doing or experiencing

I had a conversation with a student at the end of the school day today that reminded me why I do what I do for a living. Often, I go too long between these conversations and I question what I’m doing and whether or not I’m making a difference. This student recently lost his grandmother. There was nothing profound about my conversation and I didn’t have any sage advice for him. I only listened to his story and learned about him and the tacos his grandma used to make. He thanked me as he left my office.

I was reminded today of how important it is to be present with others.

When I look at how much technology has advanced in the last few decades, it blows my mind. I believe technology has huge potential for positive change. But, as with anything, technology has its downsides. To me, the biggest negative consequence of technology is that it has robbed us of our ability to be present. I will be the first to admit that I am guilty. I often take my phone out of my pocket – almost reflexively – to see what’s new. Sitting in a waiting room for a doctor’s appointment, standing in line at the store, or riding in a car, I can’t help but check.

We don’t just do this when we’re alone. How often do I sit at a table with a friend for a meal or a coffee and, almost immediately, our phones are placed in front of us? It’s as if we’re saying “I’m listening to you but something more important may happen at any time and I’ll need to attend to that.” Even if we don’t mean that, or we know that the other person doesn’t mean it, we can’t help but feel that our attention is split.

I was recently talking to coworkers about the Jewish tradition of “sitting shiva” when a family member dies. Shiva, which means seven, is a period of seven days when those who are mourning stay at home and others come to sit with them. They recognize the importance of others’ presence as they mourn – their physical presence. This is a time for the bereaved to talk about their loss and for others to listen.

Simon Sinek describes the cultural trend of technology addiction in the video interview linked below. Although he is talking about “millennials”, I believe much of what he says is true for all of us. At least, all of us who own a phone or have social media accounts. The effects of it may be amplified by younger generations because they haven’t known a world without the distractions of technology and social media. The reality, though, is that we’re all enticed by the fact that we can be in many places at once, in multiple conversations, and we forget to be fully here. We’re afraid of what we might miss.

This whole interview is interesting, but watch from 3:12-7:18 and from 12:07 to the end.

I need to take his advise more often. I need to leave my phone at home, in the car, or in the other room and be present with those who are with me. Yes, getting a “like” on my social media post may release dopamine and make me feel good, but I think that truly engaging in a face to face conversation with another person, being fully present, can create the same effect. Maybe now more than ever because we’re often starved of this type of interaction.

My challenge is to be present with somebody this week. When it gets uncomfortable, when there’s an awkward silence, don’t leave. Don’t check your phone. Stay present, fully engaged, and see what happens.

You don’t build a bond without being present.
-James Earl Jones

The Irony of Intimacy

Reposted from March 21, 2011

I, like most people, don’t always want others to know everything about me. I’m afraid that, if people get too close, they will see my flaws and not like me anymore. I think this is one of the most common fears of all humanity.

Over the past couple of months, I have had some amazing conversations with some of the people I care about the most. I’ve gotten to know some people really well and I’ve taken some superficial relationships to a deeper level. In the process, I’ve learned some hard things. I see that other people have shortfalls and that they screw up often. Sometimes big. I’ve learned that people are not always honest, even when you think they are. I’ve heard nasty rumors that occasionally turn out to be true. I’ve seen others get “caught” in their mess and suffer the consequences.

Here is the part that surprises me: when I learn about other people’s mistakes, poor choices, failures, and flaws, I don’t like them less. In fact, when others’ shortcomings are exposed, it makes me want to know them even more. I won’t lie and say that I don’t get angry or frustrated sometimes, but in the end, I find that seeing others’ brokenness makes me want to love them more.

When I was growing up, I had a “My Buddy” doll. The pocket on his overalls was sewn upside down. This was clearly a mistake that was overlooked in the factory. The funny thing is that this particular doll was probably more valuable than others with the pocket sewn on the right way. And, I wouldn’t have traded that doll for any other, even though it was messed up. The flaw, the “mistake” on the My Buddy doll is what made it unique and is the reason why I liked it more than the others.

I don’t like seeing other people mess up. It’s hard to see somebody you love fall. However, if truly knowing somebody’s heart means knowing the bad parts, too, then I wouldn’t trade that for the world. The best relationships come from knowing the best and the worst in another person.

For those of you whom I have had the chance to get to know well, I am grateful that you are willing to share your lives, even the ugly parts. I want to celebrate with you when life is good, but I also want to cry with you when life is hard. If nothing else, I can be the one to say “me too”.

Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot

One thing I like about social media is the ability to look back on posts and pictures from years ago. I’ve found a few recently that have put things into perspective for me: a photo of my empty apartment six and a half years ago, the day before I moved in; a photo of the 1988 Dodge Caravan that my family had and I drove for several years in high school and college; photos of trips to Washington, D.C., San Diego, Scranton, Spain, Wisconsin, and more; and photos with many of my old Young Life kids who are now adults, married, and have their own kids.

Today is the last day of 2019. It hadn’t even occurred to me until recently that it’s also the end of a decade. I realize that days, months, and years are just arbitrary time stamps that we have created, but they help us to bookend different stages of our lives and to categorize an otherwise endless stretch of time. I remember the hype of Y2K twenty years ago and then the realization that it was just like any other New Year. Even so, I think it’s important to reflect on our past and be grateful for our experiences. The end of a decade seems like a good time to do just that.

Normally, on New Years Eve, I think about what I’ve done over the past year. For me, this year has been exciting. I’ve traveled to new places including Belize and Hawaii, I’ve seen the Grand Canyon and several other National Parks, I went rafting on the Oregon coast, I’m hosting my exchange student, Ramon, and my nephew Gabriel (who I will get to meet in March) was born. However, when I look back on the past decade, it is astounding to think about how much has changed.

Ten years ago, I had not even met most of the people who I have spent the most time with over the past several years. I had just moved out of my apartment (next door to where I live now) and would live in three other places before coming back to where I am now. I had not starting working as a school counselor yet and, in fact, I was only half way through graduate school (for the first time). I had not started volunteering at the zoo yet. Only one of my three nephews and nieces was born (and he was less than a year old). I wouldn’t be diagnosed with Crohn’s disease for another three years. I didn’t have my cat Simon yet. My hairline hadn’t started receding. I was only six years into my 16 years as a Young Life leader. I was still using an iPod for music and an LG Voyager with a keyboard as my phone. Instagram and Snapchat didn’t exist yet and Barack Obama was less than a year into his presidency.

I couldn’t predict ten years ago where I would be today and I have no idea what the world will look like in another ten years. It’s hard to imagine what new inventions there will be or what version of the iPhone will be out. I don’t know if I’ll be working at the same place or doing something completely different. I know that there will be some great times and some hard times over the next decade and that creates a variety of emotions for me. If I had the choice to see ten years into the future, I don’t think that I would. But it’s nice to look back and see all that can happen in ten years – the good and the bad. It helps me to remember two things. 1) If times are good, cherish it. Change happens quickly. 2) If times are hard, be patient. Change happens quickly.

What has changed for you in the past ten years? What are you looking forward to in the next decade?

Seven Years

Seven years ago this month, I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease after dealing with several months of pain, weight loss, and intestinal problems. On Thursday, I go in for my 4th colonoscopy since being diagnosed (sorry, too much information). While I am not excited about having to do the preparation for it tomorrow, I am anxious to see the results. Long story short, I have felt better in the last year than I have felt since my diagnosis. That is due mostly to the fact that we have finally found a medication that seems to be working fairly well. Recent blood tests have shown that my disease is likely not in complete remission but, if my symptoms and my general wellbeing are any indicator, I am optimistic that there will be some good news on Thursday.

I wrote a facebook note back in April of 2013, four months after being diagnosed, that I found recently. What I said then still holds true today:

I have come to realize how much my happiness, motivation, and attitude can be influenced by how well I feel physically. I can feel great one morning and be ready to go out and change the world and, within an hour, I can be laying on my couch wanting to quit everything and find an excuse to not go anywhere or do anything. When I don’t feel well, I can tell that my productivity goes down and I am constantly preoccupied with a disease instead of living life.

The only thing I would add now is that it’s not just physical health that can have this impact, but mental health, too.

I am grateful that I am in much better shape than I was in April of 2013. Since then, I have tried about 8 or 9 different medications for my disease. I got a new gastroenterologist who genuinely wants me to be better which makes a world of difference. The medications I am taking now are weekly and monthly (rather than multiple times a day), and I no longer have to go to a clinic to get a two hour long infusion every six weeks. Even more importantly, I have been able to live my life the last year without having to constantly worry about how I am going to feel. I’ve been able to travel out of the country, fly on planes, and go places without needing to find a bathroom all of the time. I know that my condition may get worse some day. Or it may get better. Or a cure may be discovered. Whatever the case may be, I am happy to know that, at least for now, I am in a much better place than I was in April of 2013.

I mentioned that – if I could edit my original post in 2013 – I would include mental health as a factor of one’s wellbeing. I see with my students everyday, and even with myself sometimes, that mental status can change so quickly. Our perspective on a situation and even our overall outlook on life is always seen through the filter of our physical and mental status. I feel fortunate that my current physical health is relatively good and that I haven’t really experienced any significant mental health problems. These things allow me to have a fairly positive outlook which I know is not true for everybody.

The past seven years with Crohn’s disease have challenged me. They’ve forced me to grow as a person. They’ve given me a different perspective on life and allowed me to empathize with others. There have been some embarrassing moments and some frustrating moments. Some days were really difficult and some really great. Our experiences can’t be separated from our physical and emotional wellbeing so, the more we take care of ourselves and others, the better off we will be.

Now, off to eat my last meal until Thursday.

Right This Moment

Tomorrow and plans for tomorrow can have no significance at all unless you are in full contact with the reality of the present, since it is in the present and only in the present that you live. -Alan Watts

I attended a day-long professional development on Friday for all of the school counselors in my school district. I was expecting to gain some resources for helping my students (which I did), but I was not expecting to be challenged personally in the process.

Our keynote speaker gave a couple of presentations throughout the day, one of which was on the topic of anxiety. This is something that my colleagues and I see with students on a daily basis. It is no wonder, though, with the pressures and expectations that our students face – many of which did not exist when I was in middle and high school.

I have never particularly struggled with anxiety. At least, not with more than the things that would typically (and should) cause anxiety. I have always valued in myself the ability to stay calm in most situations and to have an easy-going personality. However, a few weeks ago was an exception for me. On several occasions, for the whole day, I felt a sort of underlying uneasiness, but I wasn’t really able to pinpoint the source. I felt it both physically and psychologically and I wasn’t able to get the feeling to pass. This is where the presentation on Friday struck a chord with me. One of the first things Nick (the presenter) said was that emotions really only last a maximum of 90 seconds. After that, everything we experience is our thoughts and the narrative we create about our emotions. I believe he took this claim from Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor who studies chemical reactions in the brain and the effects they have on us. When I thought about this idea, something clicked. I realized that the uneasiness I felt in the weeks before was lingering mostly because of the thoughts I had about it. My mind was in the future – wondering if this feeling would go away and worried about what was to come.

Anxiety – or at least a healthy dose of anxiety – has a purpose. Our discomfort is what causes us to move. It’s like sitting on a rock. It’s only comfortable for so long, but eventually I’m forced to shift. I talked in my last posts about recent changes in my world and wondering what is next and I believe those are the source of some of my discomfort. Although it’s hard to step into that discomfort, it’s ultimately what allows me to grow.

The other thing about anxiety is that it’s usually an indicator of future thinking. On Friday, Nick recommended several readings by Alan Watts so, naturally, I had to check him out. The quote above stuck with me because I realized that I often rob myself of happiness because I’m worried about the future. We can only live in the present and, if we try to live elsewhere, we will miss out on what’s here and what’s now. Being mindful and being grateful help us to be present. Each morning at work, we take the time to do a “1-5 check in”. Each person shares our current state of wellbeing on a scale of 1-5. I like this practice because it has helped me to realize that, more often than not, things are okay.

I want to keep learning how to live in the present. I saw a quote from a friend on social media recently from Lao Tzu: “if you are depressed you are living in the past. If you are anxious you are living in the future. If you are at peace you are living in the present.” While that may be a bit over-simplified, it often rings true for me. We shouldn’t forget the past, especially the good things, and we shouldn’t fail to prepare for the future. But let’s learn to live in the present and to take it all in.

A Way of Travel

Remember that happiness is a way of travel – not a destination.

-Roy M. Goodman

October, which has been for several years my least favorite month, has just ended. I don’t exactly know why October is so difficult for me. There have been a few negative experiences in October that have contributed to it but, on a bigger scale, October represents for me the end of summer, cold weather, less daylight, and less travel. It signals the beginning of the long winter where restlessness and loneliness can so easily creep up. The leaves have fallen, the birds have gone to warmer climates, and it’s harder to spend time outside. For the next several months, I will be forced to slow down. My biggest travels will be wherever my mind takes me and, while not a bad thing, my wanderlust will likely emerge.

I’ve had the opportunity to experience several new places in the past couple of years: Barcelona in 2017, Costa Rica in 2018, and this year Belize, the Rogue River and Oregon Coast, and Hawaii. These trips have confirmed my suspicions that I feel at home in tropical, biologically diverse places. Nothing makes me more excited than to walk through a rainforest or along a sandy beach, camera in hand, looking for the next critter to show its face. Don’t get me wrong, Colorado has more than its fair share of beauty and adventure but, given the choice, I’d rather be exploring a rainforest or coral reef.

So, here we are. It’s November and, rather than packing for the next trip, I’m drinking coffee on the couch while the sun struggles to melt the snow from last week’s storm. I realize, though, that I like the comfort of my couch, too. Being home is nice. I’m able to relax and reflect and I don’t have to be anywhere. I can choose to be content, happy even, in this moment, knowing that the next adventure will come soon enough.

Ramon and I are taking a road trip to the Grand Canyon and a few other National Parks during the Thanksgiving break and I am excited for us to see new places and experience the American West. It’s fun having him with me this year and realizing that there is plenty of adventure in my own backyard.

Next summer, I have the opportunity to go back to Australia and to see New Zealand for the first time. I think that I first caught the travel bug when I got to visit Australia in high school and see a rainforest and coral reef for the first time. Before that, it almost seemed as if those things were imaginary. Maybe those who live on flat land feel the same about the mountains. I’ve seen the Grand Canyon once before, briefly, and I remember my disbelief with how large it is. I imagine I’ll have the same feeling again later this month.

Although the places I’ve visited have brought me much joy and amazement, I know that they are not the source of happiness. For me, travel and adventure brings life. For others, a lazy day at home is the best way to spend time. I’m learning to appreciate both. I know that it is difficult to experience happiness all of the time but, the more we can learn to appreciate the slow seasons in life, the more enjoyment I think we will find.

What's Next

If you’ve followed me on social media for a while, you know that I used to write blog posts occasionally (originally on MySpace to give you an idea of timing). I’ve been processing a lot of things lately and I’ve been wanting to start writing again. I’ve always liked writing and, when I do, it helps me to process and to better understand myself. I always like to hear others’ perspectives, too, so I’m making it public.

Anybody who has known me for a while knows that I like to keep busy. I’m always up for trying something new. Whether it’s having multiple side jobs, going back to school (again), volunteering at yet another place, traveling, or pursuing a new interest or hobby, I’ve always got more than a few plates spinning. And, while I’ve experienced some of the typical big transitions in life (going to college, getting a first job, living on my own, changing jobs), I’ve felt lately that I’m in another transition period and that’s what’s been making me think (and eager to write).

In May, I stepped down from being a volunteer Young Life leader after 16 years of mentoring middle school kids. While I am completely confident that was the right decision for me, it sparked a thought in me of “now what?” Young Life requires a large time commitment so parting ways has freed up my calendar significantly. Fast forward three months and I welcomed my Spanish high school exchange student, Ramon. I am really enjoying the experience, the great conversations we’ve had, and the fun things we’ve done so far. I feel lucky that we have clicked and I’m learning the new role of being a “parent”, even if it is only for 10 months. I’ve also been a mentor (Big Brother) for two and a half years and it’s been fun getting to know my Little Brother and see him mature into now a high school student.

It wasn’t until after these recent changes that I realized how comfortable I had been.

The last time I felt the uneasiness of a big transition was when I started working at a new school. I had to take a risk and trust that it was time for me to move on. I didn’t know if my new job would be permanent or if I’d be happy when I got there (I am, by the way). That was over four years ago and this has now become the longest that I’ve worked in the same school. I’ve settled in and things are comfortable. It’s so easy to want to leave them that way and not stir things up.

I’ve heard the words risk and vulnerability used in a few different settings lately and, in my job as a school counselor, I’ve been talking to a lot to kids about managing stress and anxiety. I just finished reading the book iGen that describes the most recent trends of teenagers – one of the biggest being the amount of time spent on devices and social media, and the consequences that result. Kids are feeling more disconnected from others and depression, anxiety, and loneliness are going up in many cases. I agree that this trend is happening and I’ve seen it firsthand, but I believe it’s happening to adults, too. Genuine, intimate, face to face relationships seem harder to come by. It’s so much easier to keep people at an arm’s length (or screen’s length I suppose). It requires less risk, but it offers less reward.

The recent changes in my life have forced me to think about my relationships. Many of the people I’ve spent the most time with over the past several years are connections through Young Life. Now, having stepped away from that, I’ve had to be intentional about staying connected with some, reconnecting with others, and making new connections. As an introvert, I’m not one to let people in easily. If the relationship feels shallow or inauthentic, I won’t spend much time working on it. While I value that trait in myself, it certainly makes for a smaller social circle. I love having deep, meaningful conversations with friends and I want to do the counseling, parenting, and mentoring thing “right”. Those things require risk and they can be uncomfortable, but I love when I get to experience the pay offs of taking those risks.

The “now what?” question that has been on my mind is a bit of a source of anxiety. I don’t know what will be next for me. I don’t plan to go to school again. I’m not doing Young Life anymore. My exchange student will be gone at the end of the school year. I know that I need to live in the present and I know that worry doesn’t change anything. I am thankful for what I have now and lucky for the opportunities I’ve had and am having.

I need to take to heart what I told a friend earlier today: keep pressing in.

My discomfort is pushing me to act and to risk. That’s a good thing.

Here’s to what’s next.