Passion

I tend to get too many books going at once. A friend of mine from Seattle suggested that I read a book called Killing Sacred Cows. It is a financial book. I have read some of those in the past but not for awhile as they are not what all that interesting to me considering all the other philosophical stuff out there, but my friend used one of the magic words in describing it, “contrarian.” I really love contrarian, not in a rebellious sense but in a re-examining sense, looking at things differently, considering traditional ideas differently (much like Pagan Christianity),  and examing for truth. And after just reading the introduction I can tell I will not be disappointed.

The author, Garret Gunderson, in the intro, among other things, discuses passion. The terminology he uses is “Soul Purpose” and defines it this way: “…your unique set of talents, abilities, and passions applied productively and effectively, making tremendous impact upon the world and bringing the highest levels of joy and fulfillment for you and everyone you touch. It’s the mission you were born for….” That’s good stuff. And it speaks to me. It does this because I have not ever really felt like I was there in that place of my Soul Purpose. Maybe that is one reason why I am always searching so much, doing something new so often, changing all the time. Maybe I’m, in the end, trying to discover that place.

Briefly, I decided on medicine in junior high because of a knack for science and math and fixing things. And I cannot remember anybody ever suggesting anything else to me. But after being in medicine for 18 years with 10 of that out on my own away from school and in 3 different venues, it is rather obvious to me that I am not doing my passion. I have found a niche where it is livable, where I can tolerate it, but I haven’t found what I love. I can recall probably 10 instances in the last 10 years where I had an interaction with a patient that I would say I truly loved. I will bet that the cumulative time of those 10 encounters is about 2 hours. Out of 10 years. 2 hours.

I don’t want to get to the end of my career and retire because I finally can afford to quit doing the thing that I got stuck doing, the thing that I didn’t like, the thing that I at times hated. Does that mean that I just throw medicine away? I don’t know to be honest. I have a lot of knowledge and time invested in it and am fairly good at it much of the time. But I don’t want to miss my passion because I was too afraid to venture beyond the traditional, too afraid to consider how I might blend this thing and the parts of it that I like with another thing, whatever that thing is.

I have known this stuff in my heart for a long time. My friend from Seattle called me a few days ago and mentioned that I had been on his mind a great deal. He thinks that I might have something to offer his company and suggested that I read this book. We have a meeting via a teleconference scheduled for April 7th. I don’t want to be delusional about my current place, making it worse than it is. It’s not bad. I’m comfortable. But I don’t want to miss out on discovering my passion, because while I am comfortable, I am not thriving. I am not in my passion.

There a few things that I can name in life that I love, and maybe they will come out in the discussion that emanates forth in the comments if that happens with this post. Thanks for reading.

Pagan Christianity

Started a new book today. Pagan Christianity by Frank Viola and George Barna. It explores how most of what we hold sacred in our Christian practices is actually taken from pagan rituals and customs. After delving into the first chapter, I think it will be good. I wanted to share a poem from the first section. This poem is by Sam Walter Foss and is entitled, “The Calf Path.”

One day, through the primeval wood,

A calf walked home, as good calves should;

But made a trail all bent askew,

A crooked trail as all calves do.

Since then three hundred years have fled,

And, I infer, the calf is dead.

But still he left behind his trail,

And thereby hangs my moral tale.

The trail was taken up next day

By a lone dog that passed that way;

And then a wise bell-wether sheep

Pursued the trail o’er vale and steep,

And drew the flock behind him, too,

As good bell-wethers always do.

And from that day, o’er hill and glade,

Through those old woods a path was made.

And many men wound in and out,

And dodged, and turned, and bent about

And uttered words of righteous wrath

Because ’twas such a crooked path.

But still they followed–do not laugh–

The first migrations of that calf,

And through this winding wood-way stalked,

Because he wobbled when he walked.

This forest path became a lane,

That bent, and turned, and turned again;

This crooked lane became a road,

Where many a poor horse with his load

Toiled on beneath the burning sun,

And traveled some three miles in one.

And thus a century and a half

They trod the footsteps of that calf.

The years passed on in swiftness fleet,

The road became a village street;

And this, before men were aware,

A city’s crowded thoroughfare;

And soon the central street was this

Of a renowned metropolis;

And men two centuries and a half

Trod in the footsteps of that calf.

Each day a hundred thousand rout

Followed the zigzag calf about;

And o’er his crooked journey went

The traffic of a continent.

A hundred thousand men were led

By one calf near three centuries dead.

They followed still his crooked way,

And lost one hundred years a day;

For thus such reverence is lent

To well-established precedent.

A moral lesson this might teach,

Were I ordained and called to preach;

For men are prone to go it blind

Along the calf-paths of the mind,

And work away from sun to sun

To do what other men have done.

They follow in the beaten track,

And out and in, and forth and back,

And still their devious course pursue,

To keep the path that others do.

They keep the path a sacred groove,

Along which all their lives they move.

But how the wise old wood-gods laugh,

Who saw the first primeaval calf!

Ah! Many things this tale might teach–

But I am not ordained to preach.

Honesty In Suffering

Love to read. Mostly nonfiction. Categories include philosophy, religion, some history, some biography, science. And there is one other little bit that I dabble into now and then, adventure. Guys like John Kakauer with Into Thin Air and Into The Wild (have read all of his stuff and am hoping for more) and Laurence Gonzales with Deep Survival are great examples. This interest prompted me to subscribe to Outside Magazine a few years back, and my most recent issue,  April 2009, had an interesting passage that I want to share.

It’s by Dean Karnazes. He is a freakish runner. Runs about 25 miles a day when he is training. Has done the Western States, Badwater, and others. All insane distance races of like 50, 100, 150 miles across mountains and deserts and has won most if not all of them. At age 46 in 2008 he won, not ran in but won, the 621 mile “Four Desert Challenge,” a race across the Atacama, Gobi, Sahara, and Antarctic deserts. I’ve read his book, Ultramarathon Man, also a part of my adventure category, and it is a truly inspiring story of how he discovered his ability to run like freak of nature. Outside ran a piece in this issue on “What inspires and adventurous mind?” in which they gave explanations from 15 of what they call “eminences” of adventure. From Dean Karnazes:

“A great run definitely involves suffering. I think any adventure athlete will tell you that there’s honesty in suffering. You feel more alive than when you’re just cruising along. There are moments where you have very lucid thoughts. On day four, running across the Sahara last year, I nearly passed out at mile 23 of a 28-mile stage. I was dehydrated, it was extremely hot, I had exhausted my salty foods, and I was rationing my electrolyte tablets. My ears were ringing. My head was spinning. I was seeing stars. I finally sat down in the sand and just looked around. There was no one there. And I sat there for probably 15 minutes and got in my own head and said: Don’t get ahead of yourself. Be in the moment. Don’t think about the race you have to do tomorrow. Just take one step. Do your best on the next step. There’s magic in misery. I talked to God out there.” Outside, April 2009, pg 32.

To me, that is an amazing statement, “…honesty in suffering….magic in misery….I talked to God out there.” I don’t know what his spiritual beliefs are, but he obviously “gets it.” He doesn’t sit around and wallow in obesity, seeking out constant comfort and ease of life, and then wondering why God doesn’t relieve him of his suffering when it comes. He goes out and seeks suffering, understanding that if he is willing to see it, this is the place where he is most honest with himself, learns the most about himself, and meets God. And what an amazing correlation between his desert race and Christ’s 40 days in the desert. Could it be that Christ went there to meet God? To prepare for what was to come? To prepare for the immediately subsequent confrontation with evil? It think it is. I think that is exactly why he went to the desert. He knew what Dean Karnezes has figured out. Honesty in suffering. Magic in misery. Where you really, really talk to God.

And this is why I do triathlon. I meet God there. I don’t meet God at church so much. And this is why I left my fundamentalist theology-in-a-box roots. Because I meet God in the wrestling, in the questioning, in the doubting, in the searching. I meet God in the suffering.

Kingdom Of Heaven

The boys are in bed and Karmen is OOT. I took the chance to again watch one of my all time favorites, Kingdom of Heaven. Historical accuracy aside, there are some deep messages to be discovered. As I go further down this path which I am on, I uncover more as I pick through this film. Again tonight, something stood out in a new way.

I won’t go into depth on the story leading up to this particular moment. If you don’t know the work, rent it. Balian stands on his commitment to “defend the weak” and finds himself as the defender of Jerusalem against Saladin of  Syria when the king in power, Guy, betrays the inhabitants of the city in his lust for war and his misguided and arrogant belief that “the army of Christ cannot be defeated.” Jerusalem has just withstood the first wave of attack from Saladin’s army and both sides are collecting their dead. Balian finds himself continually advised by the Christian bishops in courses of action that seem contrary to the truth that he knows in his heart, that Jerusalem should be a place for all faiths. He stands firm despite wondering if “God has abandoned [him].” One such moment is presented Balian as he has made the decision to burn the dead. They are walled in with nowhere to bury the bodies. The bishop informs him that there is no resurrection from the dead until judgment day implying that burning the bodies is against God. Balian states that if they don’t burn the bodies they will all be dead of disease in 3 days. He says, “God will understand. And if he doesn’t, then he is not God and we have nothing to fear.”

I’ve had quite a few people in the last 10 years tell me what God wanted from me. And for too long I followed right along, never questioning, never doubting, never discovering truth for myself, allowing their shame to plague me. Balian affirms for me that the search for truth is worthy. It is sometimes lonely. It is never easy. God is not threatened by it. And it often goes against what the masses and the leaders of the masses say is true. When the bishop yet again advised Balian as he prepared to go out and talk terms with Saladin, he suggested that they all convert to Islam and repent later. Balian’s response, “Monsignor, you have taught me a lot about religion.”

Crazy For God – Again

I’m back. Sorry for the unannounced hiatus. At the end of my last post I indicated that I would be back last week. That obviously did not happen. I was on call as I said, but then my wife and I flew out to San Diego for a weekend with her aunt and uncle who live in Hong Kong most of the year but have a place on Shelter Island right on San Diego Bay when they are in the states. So I went surfing. The ocean haunts me, and I am given life there like nowhere else. We also went up to Beverly Hills for lunch and walked through stores that I wouldn’t buy anything at ($500 jeans is just stupid). We had drinks at Shutters on the beach in Santa Monica. I visited the Nytro triathlon store in Encinitas. We went to movies and ate at good restraunts. I ran along the harbor one morning. It was great. We drank coffee and talked. Just great. Since getting back I’ve been training hard. And now Karmen is OOT to Kansas City. So me and the boys (on their Spring Break) have embarked on a painting project during the day here at the house and then watching Harry Potter movies at night. Plus we have been going to Tae Kwon Do. It really has been some great days with those two boys. I am in love with them. And I am in love with Karmen. I took 11 days off from work to do all of this, and it has been glorious. Nothing like surfing, training, and being with the people I love most in life. No better “vacation” than that. And Karmen gets back to top it all off on Sunday. Can’t wait.

On the plane to and from San Diego I finished Crazy For God. It really is an awesome book, and I may post a lot on it over the next few weeks and months. If you didn’t happen to notice, the author, Frank Schaeffer, commented on my last post about his book. Wow! That just cements in my mind what I already thought, that he is a good guy, and I am tremendously appreciative of what he wrote in this work because it helps me to understand that I am not crazy. Someone else out there, and actually probably a great deal of people as I have learned from people like John and Jason and Luke and Yael, understand the thoughts and confusion that I have found myself within over the last 10 years. I even think I have discovered, after a good amount of emailing, that my Nazarene preacher father understands and shares some of the same challenges. I know for sure that my wisdom infused wife understands. What I feel that Mr. Schaeffer has done is validate all that stuff. The craziness that seems to be there really is craziness on a lot of levels. I want to thank Mr. Schaeffer for his honesty.

I would like to share a passage tonight that made me nearly laugh ridiculously and impolitely out loud on the plane to San Diego after we connected in Dallas. As it was, I contained myself and just let out a snicker. On page 325 and the preceding few pages, the author is describing how he felt he was essentially leading a bit of a double life, saying one thing to massive crowds of the religious right which he and his father would speak to with regularity, but then living a bit of another. Something such as ordering bottle of wine at dinner or commenting that he liked a certain “godless” movie were things that he had to guard against like a hawk. This sort of dishonesty became more and more conflicting for him. On page 325 he is describing how he knew “The Speech” so well that he could give it while thinking about something else. One of those something elses makes me laugh because I know it all to well myself. With just a touch of sarcasm he states: “…for instance, about how I wished God had never made any men or women with a ‘ministry in music.’ I wished he’d strike them all down so I’d never have to spend another minute listening to another fat lady (even the men were ‘fat ladies’ to me) sing another Jesus-is-my-boyfriend song to synthesized violin playback.”

I mean no disrespect, but picking this bit out, to anyone who is a “minister of music.” In fact, I am aquainted with several individuals who fill that role and are very genuine and talented people, believing deeply in what they are doing. But I don’t know how many times I have been a part of something that looked or felt more like a performance more than anything with any sincerity to it (like putting on a huge Easter pagent because it “reaches so many souls” when what it really does is completely and utterly exhaust the participants. I have no problem with Easter pagents. Only the reasons we say we do them. Put on the pageant, but just be willing to say that you are doing it because you like to put on the show.). One time I saw a man who sang at church looking at pornography at the local bookstore. Now I’m not judging (I know I have plenty of skeletons for which I could be stoned) nearly so much as I am saying that I am tired of the faking and posing and of “the show” that church is and has become. I’m tired of hearing “Jesus is my boyfriend” when it is more about performing. Frank Schaeffer was tired of it too.

Lyrics: “Interstate Love Song”

Sorry for the lack of posting, specifically to the canon for not being present on your blogs much either. I’ve been on call again for the 8th freakin’ week out of the last 16. Not supposed to happen, but it did, and I’m done. My schedule those weeks is so goofed up that I find I only have room for my work, my family, and my triathon training. One thing that I have to do followed by two things that I love to do. Everything else gets left behind. Now I can catch up a bit. Thursday Karmen and I leave for 4 days in San Diego. No children. Just us and her aunt and uncle whom we adore. Then I have the entire next week off to spend with my boys while Karmen goes off to do something else that she loves with people she loves. 11 days off total. And boy do I need it.

I want to get a more significant post down tomorrow, but tonight I thought I would just put some lyrics down. The Stone Temple Pilots with “Interstate Love Song” are taking center stage tonight.

Waiting on a Sunday afternoon

For what I read between the lines,

Your lies.

Feelin’ like a hand in rusted shame

So do you laugh or does it cry?

Reply?

Leavin’ on a southern train
Only yesterday you lied.
Promises of what I seemed to be
Only watched the time go by.
All of these things you said to me.

Breathing is the hardest thing to do.
With all I’ve said and
All that’s dead for you,
You lied – good bye.

Leavin’ on a southern train,
Only yesterday you lied.
Promises of what I seemed to be
Only watched the time go by.
All of these things I said to you.

So rumor has it that this song is about the writer telling his girlfriend that he was not doing heroine while all the while he was continuing to use. Maybe it is as simple as that. But I can get way more out of it than that as I sit here listening.

I think the song is about relationships. Relationships with people. Relationships with God. Relationships with things. Relationships with the church. Even with drugs. And how we break them. We lie. We are lied to. We shame. We are shamed. And if we are smart, in the end we are honest about what we have done and what has been done to us. And we forgive and we ask for forgiveness. And we move on.

I think that is a much better message. And even if the song is about heroine, sometimes at our worst, when we pour out our souls, the thing that comes out of us has a much deeper meaning than what we assign to it.