Holiday update: My tech dieting

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I read a post….called…wait for it…

One Month with No Phone — How to Go Phoneless in a Major US City

at Tim Ferriss’ site that made me want to laugh and cry and then shake my head and then sigh…and now…confess.

So, it’s like this…

A whole generation can’t imagine what it’s like to live without a mobile phone and miraculously guest writer, Lane Wood…(sounds like a bowling alley product, right?) managed a whole month without one. He got around it with tons of technology and had to acquire a lot of patience. But, he’s still alive and everything.

But…Um. We do remember that just a few years ago most people didn’t have smart phones, right? Yes? Even you youthful Millenials?

Duh. Not even ten years ago we had stupid phones. Now the phone have a distinct intellectual edge, obviously.

I’m not a ancient relic, but I remember when “communication technology” was finding a creepy phone box thing that eat quarters and held you hostage with its strong metal cord. I would tell the operator, or the computer, my name was “Pick Me Up” so my dad would fetch me from Volleyball practice. The only people who had mobile phones were doctors, and most of them still had pagers. (If you’re clueless here, Google it up, okay.) Things have changed so much in so little time. I can barely remember a time that I wasn’t somehow attached to tech like I am now. CRAZZZZY.

Having no money makes you creative apparently, and now Lane’s an evangelist warning us that tech is cramping our lives and making us less human. No, it’s not big news, but I’m glad it’s getting more “air time” anyhow. Seriously.

I’m not posting now to pass judgement. Nope. I have changed to adopt the norms this guy has (seemingly) only ever known. Guilty. as. charged. Lane, I thank you. But, it is sort of sad, all of it.

Now to the good news:

In the last few days, because my kids have been on vacation, I have gone on a major diet…not with food…I was bad on that front. No, I haven’t used my phone, Facebook, twitter, Buffer, on been on my blog or or anyone else’s almost at all.

It’s been…NICE!

It’s like being able to breathe again. Lane, I’m with you!

Have you been on any sort of diet this season?

How long could you last without technology?

And I’m curious…what did you think of Lane’s article? Let me know.

On concepts of communal Redemption

First, let’s start with the word deem.

The word deem has to do with regarding and considering.

Also, we often connote this word with giving something worth. It’s a verb after all.

The monarch deemed the knight fit for duty.

That’s the power of redeeming too.

Redeeming something puts the worth back in.

There is hardly anything that won’t improve with some redemption.

How does it happen? It’s not magic at all.

It pivots on the one offering redemption. That can be anyone, king or not.
Individually or communally.

Redemption reaches out. The reinstitution of worth happens after the deficit is noticed, and after the choice to correct it has been made. I should rather say put it right, but more on that in a minute.

In redeeming merit is given, or rather given again. This would presuppose that everything has inherent worth at the onset, no matter what. That’s a salient point.

Sometimes redeeming happens without the prerequisite merit–and that is grace. Redemption and grace make a lovely pair.

You may have noticed that we go around deeming things all the time.

You will deem this short article helpful or a waste before you even get to the end of it, for instance.

The real genius of the concept comes when we realize that deeming and redeeming is always available. Offering it and attaining or receiving it. It more commonly found than you think, but you have to be ready to act. You have to be more than ready, but willing too.

So, one more big point:

There is a mutuality in redeeming. And that first smacks as counter-intuitive.

Redemption benefits both parties involved. It’s a communal because of the fact that is it a restorative act. And because it is restorative, it is just.

Want to start spreading redemption? You can help by sharing this on Facebook and letting it loose in your own life in little ways.

(Don’t forget to sign up for the next post-in the sidebar.)

2nd Sunday of Advent-Peace

A short Advent reflection today!

At my church we light Advent candles during the four Sundays before Christmas. It’s a tradition I’ve embraced and enjoy.

The first week stands for Hope, the second stands for Peace, the third for Love, and the fourth for Joy. (Various places do it in different ways.)

I’ve been thinking about peace. How to get it. How to keep it. Does it exist in a way that matters?

Advent is literally about a pregnant pause. We think about what is not yet here, like the girl Mary waited for many things expecting the Christ baby. Waiting.

It’s amazing how un-peaceful this time of year can be. There’s a lot to do, there’s bad weather to get around, there’s extra cooking, baking, and wrapping. And plenty more. The blitz from media alone is enough to get you ornery and want to opt out.

We’re are watching various Christmas themed family movies lately on the ABC Family Channel and the 8 minutes bombardment of commercialism propaganda in the commercials after every ten minutes of movie time gets me pretty frustrated!

So what about PEACE?

The peace that comes from the Spirit of peace really is inclusive of many others words, isn’t it?

The word peace is closer to Shalom which is a full-bodied concept. It included a fullness, a well-being, an “all will be well” over-arching attitude and sense. Provision. Rescue. Comfort.

Shalom is not contingent on circumstances but endures and carries an abiding joy (sturdy happiness).

It’s a lack of discord too.

There is a generosity to the word. There is a mercy there.

When Jesus offers peace to his followers in troubling times, he says the words, “Peace be with you”. It’s to bring comfort and stillness–ease of breath. Relief and placidity. Peace feels like coming home to a home you somehow remember but have never quite found.

“Peace on earth, goodwill to [humankind].”

It’s something you buy into. It’s something you put on and do things with.

Carry a bit of that with you today. Better yet, do something with it, and spread it, too!

(Start by spreading this article)

A Blessed Advent to you.

Now a question to ponder or reply to here: What else is peace (to you)?

Advent Reflection

In past years I’ve focused on Advent here at the blog during this time of year.

Celebrating the season this way has been a recent addition. It’s something I didn’t know about when I was growing up and have found it a rich inclusion for not just me but from my family also. It has added to my spiritual awareness and created a way to better prepare the manger of my heart for the gift of Grace personified.

To find some other previous reflections that may interest you further, please do a search in the sidebar search field for “Advent”.

Although I will not be writing too many public reflections here related to Advent this year, I will be doing a personal Advent retreat and gathering up those things in my heart.

For now, I want to share a quote I found that seemed to have significance for me and I hope that you will too.

This is the perfect time to awaken.

Be blessed and may gratitude sustain your joy all through this season.

“Our spiritual life depends on [God’s] perpetual coming to us, far more than on our going to him. Every time a channel is made for him he comes; every time our hearts are open to him he enters, bringing a fresh gift of his very life, and on that life we depend. We should think of the whole power and splendor of God as always pressing in upon our small souls.”

–Evelyn Underhill

Is there something specific you can do to make this time of year more spiritually rich? If you can think of something, please share it in the comments.

Here’s a surprise for you.

Soul Care for Creators and Communicators is on special for just a tiny bit longer. Get the download. (It features Inspiration, Soul Care, and guidance if you making a habit of creating and communicating as a way of life. It will fill up your tank.)

Something about a Labyrinth and Surprises

This time the weather was the coldest I’ve ever experienced in Wernersville. Until now, my times of retreat at the Spiritual Retreat Center were during Spring or Summer.

Stripped of leaves, color, and warm weather, the place seems monochromatic outdoors, but is still restful and precious to me. There are many prayer room options, a beautiful chapel, plus rooms for things like creating art, music, reading, or for meeting with others. Each place seems to wait for your arrival. Anyone can go there for the day without notice. I love that about it. That’s true hospitality. You are always received and welcome. You don’t need to be Catholic either. God is there in a special way and it’s a sacred place created solely for the purpose of divine communion and renewal. To me, that sounds just like Heaven.

Unless you get run over by a jet-powered lawn mower, but I’ll get to that in a minute.

The Center has recently added a prayer labyrinth (shown above). Many people aren’t familiar with labyrinths–their purpose or their gifts. They create the opportunity for reflection and spiritual awareness. Some (Evangelical) Christians bristle at the copious statues, candles, prayer mazes, and other unfamiliarities about a Catholic environment. I suppose I’m post-Evangelical: the richness of the Christian history and the solidifying sense of the sacred draws me toward the transcendent in a place like this. Every time in an unexpected way.

That’s what happens when you go there. You find God. You find God at the center. The center of you…in your core where he’s always been, because he’s everywhere-present and boundless in love. He’s been whispering things of love to you and smiling but you thought it was just bad pizza leftovers or something you made up to make yourself feel better.

Life is like a puzzle. A labyrinth is a puzzle. It’s a tool too. You can study a labyrinth before you walk the path through it, but while you are walking through studying it can make it far more confusing. Usually, you stop being stupid and cease trying to decipher the pattern precisely and just follow it like a child might do. This way, a labyrinth can be a lovely stilling and spiritual experience, not because of its own woo woo mystical powers (it doesn’t have that), but because it invites a traveller to concentrate and focus–to place her steps carefully. Most importantly, it forces one to slow down.

We don’t realize how fast our thoughts buzz until we get these sorts of opportunities to be careful. If you walk a labyrinth things mentally wind down and simplify to, “Stay on the path. Follow this narrow way. Pay attention.” Some enjoy walking very slowly and praying as their heart grows hushed.

Searching for the puzzle
I saw a photo of this newly constructed prayer walk inside the Center and I started to search for it outside. It was actually in plain sight but I hadn’t been looking for it, so I didn’t see it. (In case you haven’t figured it out by now, this true story doubles as an allegory.)

When I spotted it, a man driving a zero turn radius lawn mower was zipping and roaring around it, back and forth; expertly, but fast enough for me to wonder about his judgement. Crisp leaves shot into the air and the wind whipped them into little showers of bullets.

“That won’t work,” I said. “What am I suppose do? Have a peaceful prayer time as Zippy here shoots me with leaves and the mower engine drives me to distraction?” I crossed past the paved puzzle a small stretch to a gazebo with park benches set in a circle.

It was still noisy there, but the mower sounded duller. I would wait him out. I tried to settle my mind. Maybe I could do some warm-up praying. No. My thoughts swam. “Who’s Zippy now?” I thought.

Instead of waiting, I went on a short walk in the wood nearby over a little ridge. The path looked to have been crudely bulldozed recently and massive tree parts and 4 inch thick vines were crammed in piles. It was other-worldly–so many thickets covering whole sections like umbrellas, even though most of their foliage was missing. Surreal yellow leaves on the ground seemed day-glow bright. I felt like a zombie putting one foot in front of the other as I made my way around the wet earth and wild terrain. The humming mower served as a beacon to orient me. It was comforting and ironic.

Then a church bell snapped me back. It chimed 11, and I recalled how church bells were auditory calls to prayer and attention. It felt like a call to go home…to something. I immediately wanted to get my bag from the gazebo and look at the church more carefully in a peaceful and maybe prayerful environment. I managed a shortcut straight up a bank after a brief bout with prickly plants. I got my things and trekked toward the church. When I got there, guess who was on the grounds too? Zippy, or some other diligent lawn guardian, was tooling around the church grounds. The noise was worse now because it was bouncing off the stone structure and echoing off the parking lot asphalt.

I decided to double back and sit on a bench near a garden path that featured the Stations of the Cross. (If you’re wondering about the Stations of the Cross, visit again soon, because I’ll be detailing that in a future post.) I munched on some snacks, journaled a few things, prayed some (kinda-sorta), and enjoyed a few sunbeams that momentarily bested the clouds. It felt nice to be there, but, then I started to feel really cold. My nose had a ice cube quality and the sun had ditched me.

I headed toward the large main building. An ancient woman was being rolled toward the main entrance in a wheelchair. Rather than getting in their way, I decided to walk through the covered colonnade and flank out to the door on the right. I passed the prayer garden on my left. It was filled with statues, fountains, and newly manicured hedges and remembered how pretty it had been in full bloom that Spring. It was much warmer then too. I was getting colder by the second. But, then I got to the door–relief.

Except that it was locked. The metal handle sent a shiver to my backbone straight through my arm. But, “No matter,” I said to myself. I’ll just continue around the building and try the next door just around the corner. There are probably no fewer than 25 exit doors to the place. I’ve exited a number of them and try to find a new one to some surprise new part of the grounds whenever possible. It’s all part of the fun.

No. Locked too. Things were getting interesting.

It turns out that there’s just one way into the place. There are plenty of ways to exit outdoors, but the main entrance is referenced on each locked door. I came to this realization by the 5th door. I’m not sure if the cold was my dulling my mind or if I was too distracted laughing to myself. I had just realized I was literally following a footpath around the structure. It wasn’t just a path but a puzzle. I could have turned back and saved myself a lengthy walk, but I thought, “Oh! Okay God, this is the labyrinth you wanted me to take.”

Then out loud I said, “Stop being so funny.” At that exact moment, a black helicopter hummed overhead and I briefly thought the things were going to end in waterboarding or an unpleasant government website experience and arbitrary fees. Maybe, I was on the psycho path. I pushed my icy hands into my coat pockets, stopped trying to open locked doors, and made my way counter-clockwise to the main entrance–the long way around. This was probably the intended journey in the first place so I might learn something. I was starting to pay attention. Finally.

No, it wasn’t the labyrinth I set out to do. It wasn’t the one I picked to walk or the one studied as I walked by with Zippy swinging his mower wildly nearby, but eventually it would get me inside if I kept going around and circled the place.

As I got most of the way around the complex I could smell lunch cooking from the kitchen. “The kitchen help probably don’t have to go through the main entrance,” I thought. (It was my first useful notion all day.)

Sure enough: I spotted an inconspicuous point of entry, sheltered with an overhang and a coffee can full of sand and cigarette butts sitting outside the door. Maybe it would be open. It was. As I pull the door a blast of warmness greeted me and behind it the smell of comfort food. I was back. I had almost gone full circle, but I had an insiders’ access point to put things to rights.

Just before I left the place for home I took my friend–who had carpooled with me there that morning–to see the new prayer puzzle up close. I walked through slowly but it wasn’t prayerfully. The symbolism had already done its job. I was just canvasing the design and saying my goodbyes. I got to the center of the circle and I knew I was ready to leave for home.

I did a little spin with my arms out because I think if it was a movie that’s what would have happened right at the point, and then I stepped straight through the center to get back out.

The surprise is that you don’t get to ever really pick your own labyrinth. It is picked for you. You can decide how to walk it and how meaningful it will be. You can be frustrated by it and worry about the turns or you can slow down, put one foot after the other, and get to the center. Then you’ll be home.

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