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Good Friday

My prayer this morning was learning how people connect with God and church.  It is a tradition to pilgrimage on this day.  Many New Mexicans use today as a walk, meditation, and sacrifice.  I was sharing understanding this morning, and recognized the importance of subtle and unseen sacrifice.  I think there have been numerous explanations of God's teaching.  There are numerous versions of Jesus' life explained.  There are countless numbers of living expressions past and present of what might be a faithful person.  I think today my sacrifice is not to seek pain or suffering but to acknowledge the creative sacrifice that others exhibit out of hope for, fear of, love of, and belief in Divinity.

My pilgrimage will be different today.  Today is a walk with my doubt, through my treacherous terrain of my mind.  Today is a pilgrimage with my selfishness and spoiled existence.  I meditate on how easily I lose faith.  I recognize how I lack integrity.  I do this today here online with vanity, because it embodies the energy in which it comes from, my self concept, conceit. I express myself, mostly, out of narcissism.  I write this today to bring my own awareness and yours to the understanding that we continue to search for greatness with our eyes and mind, despite the simplicity of purity, which turns on the heart's site.  I write today with guilt, appropriately wanting to appear spiritual, faithful, and holy.  I want to leave behind a memory of a metaphorical pilgrimage that announces my arrogance and need to be seen.

The greatest way to pray is to be a prayer.  I was reminded this morning to live out my faith.  I am judgmental.  I am also aware that in my judgement I have found a vanish point for my hearts vision.  My heart is using my ego and insecurity to project the imprint of my unconscious faults.  I pray today to be forgiven for believing I am different, blameless, innocent, virtuous, pious and free from chastisement.  So this expression wrapped in vanity and decorated with pride has a morsel of spirituality tucked inside.  That morsel is appreciation that you continue to love me despite the blisters I point out and create while thrashing and flailing in my own suffering.

This Lent has not been a humble one for me.  It has been lazy, enjoyed, and slightly ignored.  The profit from this haphazard acknowledgment of this symbolic time, might be a greater embracing of loving.  I am in love, surrounded by grace, and capable of compassion, so as we share in sin let us also share in forgiveness. 

Father goodbyes...

make today's a hurdle

My father and I have had a distant or maybe hovering relationship.  It has been a challenging relationship to feel, think through, and come to terms with.  I love him deeply, but at times have realized that love doesn't always come in shinny, joyful, or tender ways.  I have at times believed that if I had not been born he would have lived his dreams of playing professional basketball in Mexico.  Why I have these thoughts are possibly a reflection of my love for him, but I know he wouldn't trade me for that dream. I felt like he might have had the time and concentration to practice, train, and study the game more if I wasn't in the equation.  It is a hard story to tell myself.  It is hard to undo the feeling that I am an accident.  It is partly the truth.  I had to share my dad in space described as loneliness. 

My childhood has some memories of hard good byes with my dad.  I am from a divorced family and I didn't get to spend a lot of time with my dad as a child.  The reasons are probably reasonable but regardless unfortunate.  It was always a tragically sad event when I had a short visit with my dad and then had to say goodbye.  I can still remember he smelled of cologne.  I remember his aviator glasses and tight fitting T-shirts.  I would sometimes kiss is smooth shaven, stern, strong and warm jaw.  My dad was a hero to me.  I would hug my dad as tight as I could every time he'd pick me up for a visit.  I loved hugging him.  I would follow his footsteps literally trying to mimic his gate.  There are so many of these memories.

I anticipated visits with my dad.  He would often take me to his practices.  This is where I learned to love the smell of the gym.  I loved the sound of the leather slapping hands, the rip of net, the bounce off the hardwood, and the screech of sneakers gripping the floor.  I had to visit my dad, when the typical story includes a dad day in and day out.  Well not my story.  It doesn't sound or seem right, and I am barely now trying to reconcile the tragedy of having to experience the longing for my father at a young age and without explanation.  Longing leaves the spirit vulnerable to the shock of goodbye.

For many years I dealt with the pain of these goodbyes with resentment and confusion.  It was difficult because a big part of me admired, longed for, and desired my dad.  I grew up watching my dad workout.  I have my ethic from seeing this.  I remember how he would sweat, zone out, and breathe each breath with agony.  I loved it.  I knew that it meant progress and it taught me that not all pain was bitter. I learned to be a hustler, he never took things lightly and he expected the same from me.  I only could watch, but really wanted to participate.  These are the parts of my dad that built my admiration.  These interests keep me appreciating my father, despite learning reasons for my dads absence.

Along with these memories are the painful memories of weekends that came to an end.  When I was a little boy, I had to say goodbye on a Sunday evening.  It was one of the first times I remember feeling that huge knot that swells in the throat when withholding a good cry.  I don't know why but I always felt ashamed for crying when I had to say goodbye.  I remember being overwhelmed by that knot in my throat as we turned onto my mom's street, and wondering why life was the way it was.  In my mind nobody else had to visit their dad.  I remember the tears being so strong that I would lose my breathe and have the hick ups for hours afterwards.  I would cry myself to sleep, head berried in my pillow.  I am remembering this pain now, maybe cherishing it for what it can teach me about saying goodbye today.

In reflecting on why it is so difficult for me to say goodbye today, I recalled the memory of my dad.  I have never really shared this pain nor given it the focus I have here.  I recalled crying together, me maybe 7 years old, him young and strong, both stretching out biter moments before that dreaded farewell, in my mom's gravel driveway.  Today this memory flooded my chest with sadness and caused me to ball like if I were still sitting meekly in his lap.  Why do I have to always say good bye?  I longed for my dad always.  The pain I am feeling right now is tiring.  I feel like a boy, but wiping my tears from my beard reminds me that so much time has passed, years, decades, since those south valley good byes and I still have not overcome the sadness felt then.  

So several weeks ago, on the morning I am having these thoughts about my fatherly goodbyes, coincidentally, i see my dad randomly on the freeway.  What are the chances?  Driving into work, I looked up ahead on the interstate and saw a little green Toyota truck that looks like my dad's.  In a prayerful like way I said, "I love you dad".  As I got closer to my exit, I came up on that truck and it was my dad.  I honked and there he was looking as handsome as i remember.  He gave me the stoic and typical one arm up, hand open, salute, no smile, one glance, and off our separate ways.  We are both men now, yet I feel the boyish desire to be held and told things are going to be alright.  I am still processing the pain, and by the grace of God I get a chance to work with my dad.  I get to be closer to him.  I'll be interning at his school this spring.

This semester for my group counseling internship I will be facilitating men's groups at the school he is working. I have had a spectrum of attitudes towards my dad, all loving but not all have been peaceful.  I look at this opportunity as a chance for me to see his gold.  I get to see him passionate, again.  I get to try and mimic his gate, again.  All those years of watching other kids with their dads and wishing I had mine, are being rewarded by having the opportunity to be next to him in the service trenches.  I love him.  I have failed him.  He has failed me.  We are a lot alike and we have grown so different.  All of this has helped me understand what it means to feel like a boy, be in a mans body, but be in a father's role.  

My dad is not openly a sentimental person and does not publicly express his love, but when he is in a trusted place he lets me know how much I mean to him.  It reminds me today that the hurt caused by a goodbye is not a bad thing but evidence of strong love cleaved.  I can also trust that it led to new hellos and deeper understandings of sadness.  I am proud to remember how much it hurts to say good bye to him.  It makes this new hello so much more meaningful.  He has loved me in his own way and often from a distance, not necessarily how we would prefer, but the way it is.  I am cherishing how life taught us both the sadness of letting go.


Life is more than what gets done...

I am learning how important it is to recognize those things that don't get done. I could make this post really intimate and explain clearly what this means for me. But simply hinting at the fact that I concentrate so much on what gets done in my daily activities I lose site of those activities that I have dismissed. Try not to apply stigma to dismiss because for me dismiss has a rejecting quality. But I hope you can see dismiss as leading to information and situations that let you encounter without judgment. I am struggling things in my life that aren't getting done and forgetting to be thankful for things that aren't being done anymore.

The philosophy on non-judgement is so merciful. I love myself for my disappointments for the first time in my life. When I let someone down I know it will serve a purpose that will lead to something new in their lives. I have learned to trust that we have the will to take adversity and overcome. I have a foolish belief that if I am failing without malice, then I am living with risk. The next question is to be better aware of unintended malice because intentions don't justify consequences.

So as I think about my life, I tend to remember the things I've done, and have not spent a significant amount of time reflecting on the things I haven't. It doesn't mean that I create a bucket list. I mean that I must be reflective of the void. I don't want this post to be about the regret or hope. I am describing a non-judgmental inventory of the beautiful void, absent, or replaced. I am becoming aware of the faith in knowing I am spiritually contributing to life everywhere despite my energy only being shared in the things that get done.

A generation of change and wellness

I think one of the greatest gifts my parents have given me is their mistakes, so to speak. They aren't even mistakes, but rather experiences interpreted from the eyes of their greatest critic outside themselves...Me! I think because of the progress my parents made in dealing with their parents dysfunction, a generation escaping the depression and racism, I am able to understand my own the idea of awareness, balance, and wellness.

I have grown to believe that my parents look outside themselves for answers versus trusting their own insight. I am capable of critically thinking about my lifestyle for the first time in a few generations. I have the liberty to do what I am passionate about versus having to do what society will allow me to do. I am educated enough to understand how to make healthy lifestyle decisions. I am informed enough to discern propaganda and marketing that does not fit my values and beliefs. I am at liberty to question authority, participate in systems, and invent my own. Because my parents had the courage to survive, scrape, and crawl through their generational dysfunction I have the freedom to be critical, thankful, empowered, impactful and loving.

I am proud of my parent's choices, healthy and unhealthy, because both have helped me make choices today. I belong to a generation that is realizing that convenience served its purpose but is not always the best choice. I see this in the organic trending, dietary innovation, environmental awareness, and the emphasis on sustainability. I recognize that my parents taught me to belong in my communities and this belonging has resulted in my taking ownership of how and which to belong to. The corporate model has grown too large and I am part of a generation that will balance the globalization of economies back into a balanced ecosystem of shared communities, sustainable trends, applied research, and reasonable comfort. I see the change from pursuing convenience at the expense of values to the adjustment of values with the assessment and examination of convenience. I see progress! Yes the cynic is smiling, but not ignoring suffering.

Can we "Alford" it?

We spend money where we don't put our minds.  So it is more like putting our money where our asses are.  I recently watched a talk on education spending (not the one below, a different one).  I recently heard about the bonuses that Steve Alford is piling up as a basketball coach.  I also understand that education seems to be an important arena for Americans.  But is education really a priority, or is basketball the priority.  Steve Alford is a happy contributor to the University of New Mexico.  Does he promote education?  Is he worth his weight in bonuses.  Is paying our coaches the most effective strategy for improving education?

"... more than $625,000 in bonuses even after his base salary and other compensation package pays him more than $1 million ($324,200.04 in base salary, $600,000 in “other compensation” and $100,000 annually in deferred compensation paid into a retirement account)" - Grammer, G; Albuquerque Journal; Jan. 20, 2013 Alford's Bonuses
What would our education system look like if we had the same pay mechanism for teachers as we do for coach's.  What if we gave bonuses for small success that a typical hard working person would consider part of the job.  Steve gets a bonus for winning certain games, seems like this is what his core job objectives might expect.  Do we give bonuses to teachers for teaching in schools that are considered more challenging.  Steve gets a bonus for making sure his team is passing their classes.  Do we pay janitors bonuses for keeping the school reasonably clean.  These appear to be job objectives that might fall under meeting expectations versus going above and beyond.  By the way the man manages a game, not a cancer research team.  He makes a salary that most engineers don't even gross.  He has an opportunity to make more money than our school's president.

Is this unfair?  Depends who you ask.  Personally I think it is a propagation of the Jock vs Nerd paradox.  I think it demonstrates this country's shadow.  I think it reveals our stupidity.  Is Steve Alford the kind of man I would invest in.  From the information I have, I wouldn't go to war with him or for him.  Does he win?  Yes!  Is he effective? Sure, but at what expense and at what consequence.  Two huge unknowns.  Is  he humble?  Is he a man with integrity, patience, commitment, and modesty?  I don't think a man who was would find his coaching role a productive part of the University mission.  He would see himself for what he is, a manager of human resources.  What he is to me is an overpaid exploiter of athletes, in a system designed to ignore the human need to educate all members of society, not just the ones who can "Alford" it.

Is the only way for our students to be interested in our University is to see our school in the NCAA tournament.  Is the best form of marketing to pay one of Bobby Knight's psychological spin offs an insane amount of money.  Is education a priority for this country?  As I watch some of the NCAA tournament I can't help but be frustrated with the economy built around the student athlete. As I see and hear about more and more highly skilled employees being imported than exported I wonder if we as a society really value learning, education, and teaching.  From the looks of it we truly have a preference for coaching, strategy, and entertaining.  We might even be a society addicted to competition with a phobia of intellectualization.

Medal Of Honor Awarded

To the women, on Women's day

You bring us into this world, what a gift.  And our masculine thanks might be felt at times, but mostly I recognize how we forget to be grateful.  Today I am grateful because you have taught me most of the important things I need to know.  
You have taught me how important it is to never give up despite the pain.  You have taught me that education is not power but a strategy to thrive among the power dependent.  You have taught me that love is not found between the legs or in a bra, but in the heart, eyes, and actions.  You have taught me about loneliness and how clinging to you keeps me from becoming a man.  You have taught me to cherish by being so attractive that it hurts not to have you around.  You have taught me how insecure I am by your intelligence, wisdom, resilience, and independence.  You have taught me the importance of adjusting, by refusing to accept my dysfunctional qualities.  You have taught me to pray.  You have taught me how to be a  man, because my desire to be a good man is driven by my desire to be grateful to you.

Please forgive men who have still not recognized how important it is to appreciate what you bring to our lives.  Please forgive me for the marginalizing, my prejudice, and my carelessness displayed by my adolescence.  Please continue to know that your understanding and perspective on life, us men, and our future is critical to the symbiosis of our existence.

Thank you...to name a few:
Francesca
Margaret
Bernadette
Elizabeth
Julie
Josie
Michaela
Carmela
Alyson
Michele
Catalina
Jennifer
Cristina
Stephanie

for being extraordinary women.

Crossfit Games 2013

I have replaced NFL Sundays with Crossfit Games because weekly during the open a WOD (Workout of the Day) will be posted that demonstrate to me how amazing the human body can become.  It also gives me a chance to play the game, measure up, and have some experiential fun. I get to experience what the game is like versus simply watching it on TV...for the most part.  Here are a few of my admired athletes from the Crossfit Games.

Just good men, with healthy minds, bodies, and spirits.  Modern day gladiator comps start today.

Mikko Salo - Firefighter

Chris Spealler - Trainer

Josh Bridges - United States Navy

Endures all

It is always one thing to hear the word endure and believe its possible. It is completely different when I face the discomfort and antagonizing feelings that push me to the point of enduring. My comfort is always a critical component to my decision making and when it comes to pain, I think I like to rationally avoid it. When it comes to love, the philosophy I have aligned with asks me to disregard my comfort and to expand my tolerance for pain. This might include physical and emotional pain. I don't want to be misunderstood in that I am buying into a philosophy that asks me to be irrational. Maybe qualifying pain as reasonable pain and suffering might make it more clear. A healthy self is critical to being a loving person. Learning how I like to be loved has put a spot light on how I love. This has inspired me to really take some risks and investigate through action what it might mean to love in an enduring way.

So far it has meant listening. So far it has meant listening and absorbing messages that help me adjust my habits, reactions, and responses. It has meant change. It has not been without failure or breakdown. Importantly there has been some endurance on the other end as well. Enduring love needs an enduring partner to work, or otherwise I would need to be perfectly enduring on my end. Enduring does not mean love gets received or love is returned. As I grow this naive and young understanding of enduring love I realize that it is all the components of peace seeking. It is not so much "you win", but more like "this is for you, it seems like you need this and I am willing or unwilling to contribute it". There is not a disregard for the healthy narcissistic health. I have found that it is still important to care for myself, otherwise my ability to lovingly endure fails and the ego takes charge and I tend to defend, attack, and withdraw. Enduring love has started out as listening. Listening is helping me learn about what others can say, want me to know, and limits what I distort.

Love endures all, as long as the recipient does not withstand the lovers willingness to love. Being human means I have thresholds and breaking points. My love is capable of perfection, but only God can sustain a perfect love.

You can’t assassinate closeminded-ness, only heal it

 As much as I have worked through hate for Donald Trump I have not reached the depths of wanting him to suffer.  An attempt on his life was ...