Window Watcher

A poem

From the window I see her

Looking sad, big eyes focused ahead,

Hoping that someone would come, soon

 

She hears something and sits up straight

Could it be them?

Restlessness sets in, when will the door open?

 

Anticipation builds! Soon they will be here

But. . . wait

Nothing happened

It must’ve been someone else.

 

  When that idea sat in, she slumped

Down in the chair, turning from the window

The room was dark, and cold

Sadness returned as eyes forlorn become.

 

Evening sets in as shadows cast an eerie light

Her head is low

Her mind is blank

Wearily she stays awake, for what else is there to do?

 

Being forgotten is a terrible curse

The world moves on, and yet she remains

All alone, as if locked in time

She tries to remain “happy”, but slides into herself

 

 

Then, the sound, the great sound has come

The door has opened and all become as one

Happiness returns and with it comes hope

The weathered storm is over, peace now is the rule

 

Hugging and kissing those whom she loves

It is easy to see how alive she has become

No more slumping and sighing or wistfully thinking

Her family’s returned, now joy is at hand

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sotto Voce

In music the Italian term “Sotto Voce”, is used to denote a softening of sound for effect. For example after a loud section is played, the conductor may tell the musicians to lower the volume or slow the rhythm. When this happens people notice, for the contrast is obvious and dramatic.

Though this term is used almost exclusively within music and the arts, I believe that it can be useful in describing the way that Christians should approach the world. Over 100 years ago, President Theodore Roosevelt famously opined, “speak softly and carry a big stick”.  He was arguing for a “sotto voce” international diplomacy.

The world today is very loud and chaotic. Everywhere people yell, belittle and mock. Those with strong opinions are placed on television “news” shows where they argue their positions. Too often a shouting match ensues. Though people are free to disagree, the arguments are cast in such a light that the disagreeing person is deemed untruthful. Echo chambers are the result, as all those who agree on a certain policy or idea or placed on one side of the debate, and those on the other side are shut out of the conversation.

At the same time Christianity seems to be attacked with greater ferocity than it has in a long time. Across the world, Christians are witnessing the rise of a violent type of Islam leading to an increased intolerance and hostility.  Atheists, no longer content to remain in the background, have become more assertive of their rights. Even those who profess a belief in God often have become critical of the perceived injustices committed by Christians, who are now often seen as judgmental and intolerant. 

For the ground has now shifted. The default position in America—and really for most of the world—was that God existed and was interactive. This was understood, by us as referring to the Christian God. Billy Graham exemplified this ethos: Protestant, evangelical, scholarly in its use of reasoned arguments while not overly intellectual, but instead having a mass appeal that promoted personal responsibility and civic engagement.

That is no longer the case. Increasingly today traditional religion is viewed either suspiciously or anachronistically. From its long-established positions on marriage and family to its theocentric understanding of cosmology – which lies with conflict with the prevailing “climate change” debate— established religion in America seems to be imperiled.

With the constant bombardment of social media everyone has a voice. The helpful and uplifting is being heard alongside the hurtful and degrading. In such a reality, the loudest, strangest, and most assertive voices get noticed.

Yet there is another way—sotto voce!

As someone who easily feels overwhelmed, I know the benefit that quiet can bring. It can bring calmness and alleviate anxiety and tensions. It can help in procuring peace.

Sotto voce is more than just a way of talking. It is a way of living counter-intuitively: calm, intentional and full of humility. A sotto voce person seeks harmony, for they relish the simple and beautiful, in much the same way that young children view the world with awe and joyfulness.

A Sotto voce outlook seeks permanence, and so it is more attracted to the sounds of birds and puppies, as these will always remain, than to those of cars and machinery, for in time they will pass away.

Sotto voce is not passive. It does engage the world. Yet it does so, in its own way. Somehow though  its message is heard

The inner child

Gotta squelch the inner child, for all he wants to do is play.

Gotta tell him it’s time to work, that I am too old for his “rebellion”

Gotta send him away, locked in the inner room, so I can work, and be as a man.

But

I want to play with him

I want to run barefoot through the mud

 I want to see how far I can skip a stone across the pond

I want to hop, and skip and jump for no reason whatsoever.

I do not want to be a man!

 

All work and no play makes one a boring sot

Life is short, live hard.

That is what they all say

 

For

I live in a serious world.

I must buy food and pay for rent

I need to “accomplish” this and “succeed” at that

For such is my stated duty

 

Time is the great enemy

Before I know it, life has moved into adulthood

 Though I do not know what that means

I strive, but the path proves hard

 

The simple joys fade out of view

To be replaced by adult sophistication

 

So, with suit and tie and cramped dress shoes

I play the part,

I act as the man

Serious and mature,

 I act that role well

And, when my boss looks away

I think of my inner child and sigh

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All The Same

All the Same

 What do native and Hispanic Americans and southern rednecks have in common? Each of these ethnic groups is considered others. Probably the most famous other in history has been the Jews, and for that distinction they have suffered greatly.  Yet, all of the above ethnic groups similarly have endured discrimination at the hands of the majority. Even today these ethnic groups – and the many that are like them—are portrayed in largely negative terms. Typically they are seen as uneducated, prone to laziness, drinking and fighting.

As someone who identifies in part as a southern redneck, I see how we are viewed in much of contemporary society. All that one needs to do is look at pictures on Google or some other search engine, and you will see people identified as rednecks, or hillbillies with teeth missing, long beards, old clothes, and so on. Rednecks are shown as rebellious, somewhat racist Southerners who love racing cars, making moonshine and fear outsiders.  Even though positive aspects like the ability to do manual labor, family closeness and a strong religious faith are often noted, these images too often lock this group into stereotypes that limit opportunities creating a double-bind.

On the one hand, if they fail to be proficient in those stereotypes, then they are viewed as a poseur and not a true redneck, even though they have may dress and look the part and live in the rural south.  On the other hand, if they are seen as matching these characteristics then the opposite is true. Though they are recognized as a true redneck, they could never be viewed as anything else, such as an intellectual, a company boss or a business manager. In short, rednecks are defined by others as those who work manually and live in the country, and are other.  This experience seems largely the same with the

Recently Saint Patrick’s Day was celebrated. For most people, it was a time of frivolity to celebrate Irish traditions. Yet about 100 years ago, Irish immigrants were treated contemptuously. They were portrayed as drunk, lazy people who were prone to fight—views that remain in place today.  Many had to live in the slums and work in jobs that others would did not want to do.  The ridicule that they witnessed then has manifested itself in the views that many have of Rednecks and Hispanics.

There has been much strife recently about racial tensions in this country. I am not disputing that. Often left out are discussions about the prejudice of ethnicity.  Thankfully we do see much violence perpetuated toward those of a different ethnic class, for largely these are vestiges of the past. Nonetheless these stereotypes remain, for they are entrenched with our collective psyche. The problem of prejudice is not only geared towards of another race, it also manifests itself as animosity towards those who look, act, and dress differently, especially if these are due to cultural distinctions.

The world is full of categories. It is easy to put people into a certain group that we feel defines them. All of us do it, yet each of us, to one degree or another resist those identifications ourselves. Most people have multiple dimensions to their personality. They may be very studious, and fit into a “nerd” stereotype, while also enjoying music and sports—two activities that are not identified with that subgroup. Or, someone may dress like a biker, with long scraggly hair, and multiple tattoos—a persona of toughness, while at the same time, enjoying reading or other quiet activities.

Racial differences are the easiest to recognize. Ethic, cultural or personality differences are much harder. These are the ones, that seem persist in defining our categories. Yet we need to resist. The world needs to recognize and appreciate more fully the non-racial differences that exist between people.

The Imago Dei! Usually this phrase is used by Christians to imply that all are made in God’s image, somehow though it seems as if it is largely confined to racial or sexist stereotypes. Yet, for it to be true, it must include the ethnic and cultural stereotypes.

Jesus does not fit into such a stereotype. He has been labeled as a pacificist, a socialist, a militant, a learned teacher—or Rabbi—and one of the regular unsophisticated commoners, for while he interacted with women and children, he could also go toe-to-toe with the religious scholars of this day.

First impressions usually fail. People are more than their ethnic group or personality. It is easy to categorize people. But to live in peace, we need to strive to see the person beyond—the one who is not other, but connected, for all are the same.

 

 

Worry

Worry

I’ve heard it said it’s wrong to worry

That it shows a lack of faith

A lack of hope

For it allows anxieties to mount

And fears to grow

 

“Let not your heart be troubled”,

For

“His eye is on the sparrow”

I hear them say

With helpful hearts

 

But with hand-wringing, heart-pumping,

 Quickened-breathing I worry

About this

And, about that

 

I worry that I worry

I worry that I should worry

I worry that maybe I worry too much

Oh, the cursed feeling, why must I fret?

 

“Have Peace!” Faith tells me

I listen, hoping . . .

That next, I will given a key

To solve my worry

 

Yet, no key arrives.

Only a soft Voice

From deep within

Calming yet bold

 

I worry that I may not have heard the Voice right

Was there more?

I worry that I will be told to give up on “worry”

I worry what I will do then!

 

The future needs not to be known

As it will be told in time

I need to relax and believe

That all will be fine

 

But, is ignorance truly bliss? Is it better not to know. . .

And go through life

Without plan, without purpose

Then, will there be nothing for us to worry?

 

Worry it seems, is a part of us

For we worry that others will be safe

When they leave us

Or when illness strikes

 

We worry because we do not know

We worry because we are afraid

We worry because we care

We worry because we are human

 

Doubt is worry’s cousin

They both rule this world

“We look through a glass dimly”

And seek the One beyond our Seeking

 

God made us,

And God . . .

Made worry to be within us

Why? I do not know. . .

 

But, that is not mine to worry about

Or is it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quandary

There is a Quandary

The hardest part of writing is the words

The hardest part of singing is the song

The hardest part of painting is the canvas.

 

It a gray day, I look for guidance, for inspiration

I am an Artist, you see

I take the mundane and make it unique

I tell you what to think and what to see

That that blue sky means happiness

Or that that tiny bug means hope

These things are there, but the Artist makes them live.

 

My toil is a difficult one.

For while I work alone

I hear my self critique

Loud and clear

 

To give you insight into the world

To show you something that is there, but hidden

We each need to look deep into ourselves

And find that special voice

 

Words on a paper,

Nothing more than that

By themselves they do not mean anything

Yet together, they give everything meaning!

 

The Artist lives in the quandary

Doubt and confusion are my friends

This way or that way, I do not know.

For there are no road signs.

 

There is no painting without a canvas

There is no song without a tune

There is no story without the words

 

How to put them together

How to make them see

How to make them live

 

That is the Quandary

That is the art

That is my fate. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sign-up woes

I often prefer to be alone, though I want to have friends. The problem is that I do not know how to get friends. I wish that there was a sign-up sheet where I could place my name. Under it, someone would write theirs and that would signify friendship. No worry about introductions. It would be nice, if we had something in common, but is that really necessary. This sign-up sheet would have a way for you to end the friendship. Just scratch your name out. And then sign under someone else’s name.
On second thought. . .
The sign-up sheet! Ubiquitous. Everywhere there is a form, a list, a cause to join. I want to participate, but, do I have to sign? The physical form, hanging on a bulletin board may be ok, but once it was put them online, it has become a complicated, exercise in futility.
At the top you are told to print your last name first, then your first name last. I do not use my first name. So now what? Do I use my first initial, and then my middle name, or do I write in my middle name, as if it were my first name, and just leave the middle initial blank. Does anyone really care?
I cannot imagine that there is someone with nothing better to do than to confirm that the name indicated is, in fact, the correct name!
Some sign-up lists end there. But others go farther. They become intrusive. “List three people who have known you for more than a year”.
Really. I was going to include my friend, Roy, who I just met while standing in this line.
But they do not want just those friends name, but their title, their phone number and address, and their relationship to me. To be honest, I do not have that many friends, nor even acquaintances. Of the friends that I have had, learning their name was one of the last things I did. Sometimes, I found out someone’s name by looking at their mail.
You see, I strike up a conversation, and begin talking. I do not ask their name, even if they ask me. Whenever I meet, I say “hi,” or “Hey” or something like that. I am good at faces, but names. Never really cared, so, when the form asks, I am tempted to make up a name.
Wong Fu. Everyone needs a Chinese friend.
Wong Fu and I go way back, we are close. But, you see, he has no address, nor phone. He works here and there. I could put him as reference, for he would vouch. But, technically since he doesn’t “exist”, the people in charge of the form would not approve.
Some forms go farther; they want you to write in a very small box, why you are interested in this position, or spot, or what your views are on a particular subject. I like to write---on paper, but not in a box. I do not know what to say.
On a computer I can write something somewhere else, then, paste it onto the little box. Yet sometimes it does not fit. Just the facts are all that they want. The box is very limiting. . .
Then there will be a sentence that reads, “ if you have anything else to add, include on a separate sheet of paper.”
Oh, Good; time for more indiscriminate writing. As if anyone will care. Don’t they understand I want to finish this form, not expand it? Are these the same people who yell, “ me first”, when volunteer assignments are sought?
Then finally the end of the sign-up sheet is reached. All that is needed is a signature. But first, you must read this disclaimer. Here is where lawyers have had too much free time.
The disclaimer, usually at least a paragraph long, and written in obtuse legalities, reminds you to be truthful in all your previous answers. If you are found to be in error, then the terms of this sign-up are voided, and so on. Now, they want you to sign your name.
Shouldn’t this disclaimer had come first, before I spent my time filling out this form? That now seems like a lot of pressure. I wanted to join this club, and now, because, my friend Roy, who I have known for only five minutes, gave me the number to the local beer joint instead of his home phone, I may be ineligible. Often you do not know that you have something wrong, or omitted, until you hit the “submit” button. Then it is too late!
I do not want to re-type everything because I got one thing wrong.
So once again the sign up has left me vanquished. It won. I slink away. . . Perhaps I’ll play Text Twist—at least I do not need a form. . .