Your thoughts are clouds not rocks

rock pile (a cairn)
rock pile (a cairn)

I was listening to a new podcast called Invisibilia and the hosts were discussing the topic of unwanted thoughts. (“The Secret History of Thoughts” is the episode title)

Any thoughts from the emotionally self-injuring ones, to violent ones, to obsessive thoughts and worries. Everyone has them and some people develop dysfunctions that make life difficult or unbearable. Anxiety has a lot to do with it too.

What thoughts really are and how meaningful they are has been up for debate by professionals over the last 100 years.

Here are the top 3.

• Theory 1: Thoughts are very meaningful and are red flags of something deeper and sometimes something more sinister. (Freud and his ilk)

• Theory 2: Thoughts are not as meaningful as we thought and the key is to compensate or overcome them with opposite (reforming) thinking over a period of time (Cognitive Behavior Therapy).

• Theory 3: Of the three top theories, a third one in particular is getting momentum right now. To me, it seems to have an “ancient/new” quality to it…

The advice goes something like this.

“Keep the good thoughts and let the others float away.”

Does that sound flaky?

Think of it as laid back. Chill.

• The idea flies in the face of modern psychology that has us dig around a lot and examine every negative thought. Analyze it, get to what you think is the root, dig some more, and pick it all apart. See if has something to do with a repressed issue, a dark secret, the bad parents we probably had, or primal urges to kill and hump, and whatnot.

• The third theory also is a very different tact than what happens with theory #2.

Maybe thoughts are like clouds.

Your thoughts are nothing to worry about. Probably.

So the new tactic for dealing with unwanted thoughts is about training our focus and being gracious with ourselves. Sounds like a spiritual discipline to me!


It’s a recollection of the ancient idea that what you feed, grows and dominates.

Some proverb like…

“There are two wolves fighting inside each of us. One is good and one is bad–and each one wants to rule the other. Which one will win? …The one you feed.”

or

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is worthy of respect, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if something is excellent or praiseworthy, think about these things. And what you learned and received and heard and saw in me, do these things. And the God of peace will be with you.
ref.

Some times I assume my passing or repeating unwanted thoughts have larger meaning and import, but maybe they just move in and around like the weather. I make them weighty like rocks. Maybe that’s not helpful. We take these rocks and place them in a pile, sometimes, don’t we?

We worry about our worries. We worry about what is wrong with us. We make a big, sad pile to stand for something, like a reminder…or…

we make a cairn. But, the wrong kind. A cairn should be a trail marker or situate like standing stones marking the best of ourselves or our dreams. A cairn is about hope.

Your repetitive thoughts aren’t stones, they are clouds.

The good thoughts can get a upgrade to something more substantial…let the others drift away.

Creative commons photo by Samuel Betenholz.

HUMOR SERIES: On Subversive Laughter-Jokers are Wild

Davidson_The_Court_Jester-1

 

Whether it’s an Episode of Saturday Night Live, a late night tv host monologue, a webisode, or humor website, one of the many uses of humor one is to prove a point. People who find themselves funny may often aspire to more elevated forms of comedy:

Satire, wit, or something that seems noble.

If not fully noble, then at least something useful for creating meaningful change.

And if not that, then a comic may just try for old fashion notoriety. But, plenty of people simply settle for infamy.

Cuss words, crude jokes, and whatnot. But, in an effort to avoid thorough banlality the aim might be satire.

In the dearth of well-formed, well-put, well-placed, and well-timed, first-rate satire, many hope their wild comedic jabs will do the trick. They don’t.

True and artful satire is really rare; just like true brilliance is rare.

sat•ire (sătˈīrˌ)

  • n.
    A literary work in which human vice or folly is attacked through irony, derision, or wit.
  • n.
    The branch of literature constituting such works. See Synonyms at caricature.
  • n.
    Irony, sarcasm, or caustic wit used to attack or expose folly, vice, or stupidity.

 

On Satire

Besides that, the difference between satirical prowess and just being mean is more of a fine line. One that rests in the subjective ear of the hearer. Vary the audience and you have a flop. Get it right and you can have an impeachment.

I asked my friend Doug to elucidate us on some of the finer points of comic relief.

If any one put this sort of thing on the map, it was Shakespeare.

(Not Billy Crystall, Whoopi Goldberg, and Robin Williams…which was a fund raising thing.)

Either way, I’m soon out of my depth.

• So, what’s the point of (Shakespearean) COMIC RELIEF?

• How does it work, or not work.

• Does it work now?

A modern audience of non-English majors might not get Elizabethan wordplay…a lot of the problem is that people begin with the general idea that this is serious literature and therefore one is not supposed to laugh.

Not true. Sometimes it gets lost in translation.

While many think of comic relief as a literary ploy to give the audience a break from the latest dramatic event (a murder, beheading, or suicide etc), there is more to it.

 

For starters, says Doug, take the Fool in “King Lear.”

Cambridge poet and scholar Malcolm Guite asserts that, “Shakespeare, with a true understanding of the cross, always puts his greatest wisdom in the mouths of his fools.”

 

Throughout the early parts of the play the little fellow offers repeated jabs at Lear’s stupidity in attempting to step down from his throne but retain his power.

 

The idea of “royal retirement” amuses the Fool. Like a standup comedian with no “off” switch, he shoots out one-liners until several different people threaten to have him beaten.

 

He’s funny. He’s even funny in the howling storm when Lear begins to lose his mind and Edgar pretends to lose his and we do indeed need a break. But the humorous bait conceals a serious barb, both for the characters and the audience. The fool sees what the wise men miss.

 

Drawing on the common usage of court jester in that day, Shakespeare can deliver a message of great import.

Shakespeare here draws on the origins of the trade. Wealthy people in the medieval world sometimes kept mentally impaired people around because their antics amused their betters.

 

They could say or do anything and get away with it, basically, on the insanity defense.

 

Eventually a few very clever people figured out that such a role would allow them to engage in serious political critique without the usual inconveniences of getting exiled or sent to the Tower of London.

 

The Fool is such a double-dealer, offering a needed message disguised as “mere” comic relief.

Just as it happens today, comedy and the use of humor serves many purposes. Entertainment may be the first one, but a lot more may happen in the process.

In excavating the sites of Elizabethan theaters, archaeologists have found the shattered remains of pottery boxes into which theater patrons would drop their admission fee.

 

At the end of the night the company would smash the container – like a kid breaking his piggy-bank – and divvy up the night’s take. (This, by the way, is the origin of the term “box office.”)

 

This little factoid is a reminder that Shakespeare did not so much write for the ages as for the commercial stage. As a professional playwright he had to produce shows that people would pay to see.

 

His diverse audience wanted action, politics, poetry, and, yes, humor. But with each of these elements he did more than met the eye. His “comic relief” is like drinking sea water: It briefly relieves our thirst for wholeness only in order to make us crave the real thing even more.

It would seem that comic relief still has its place. Jokers ARE wild.

But, whether a comic gives the challenge due diligence is another question.

What’s been your favorite bit of satire, recently?

I hope you’re enjoying this series.

ox

-Lisa

Here are the other related articles.

1. (humor at birth)

2. (Humor studies: Step 1-Tickle Rats)

3. (On comedic distance-funny to whom?)

 

For the latest info on my humor related projects sign up here.

The Myth about Roots.

My dad told me that trees have roots that go down as far as the tree is tall. That was an impressive statement and it stuck with me for a long time.

It was, of course, untrue.

He didn’t know much about trees. He was, by his own admission, a “city boy”.

I don’t blame him; lots of people think tree roots go deep.

They don’t.

Any photo of a knocked down tree makes it clear.
See? Roots go out not down.
(The mistake about roots becomes pointedly obvious.)

fallen_tree

Tree roots reach out, not down.

Roots aren’t so much much like anchors hold the tree to the ground, but rather more like feet planted in the soil, in all directions, to create stability and nourishment. They can extend nearly as long as a tree is tall.

The California Redwoods seem even more impressive now, don’t they?

Forests are interconnected places where trees stretch out their roots and touch the other trees nearby, below the surface.

A web of root holds a forrest together as if the trees are playing a long game of forest footsie.


The takeaway:

Like the myth of tree roots, the roots of community don’t go down either–in ideal circumstances.  Instead, they go out, or the forest dies.


On Sunday, I’ll go back to church for the first time in 2 months. My work schedule has kept me away, but I’m happy to go back and remember everything I need to remember all over again:

• Who I am in God, in community, and in the scope of human history and the Church worldwide and over the course of eons.

Maybe I’ll learn something new about me, or about church (God’s people), or about what sacred ritual does for me.

I haven’t been separated from this weekly occurrence (for this long) in over 20 years. I’m wondering what it’ll be like to go back. (The next post -or a short series- will get into that.)

My thoughts are forming like questions:

• Will I sense the roots of others stretching out to meet me?

• Will my absence have been noticed at all?
(If a tree falls in a forest…er, um, never mind.)

• Will everything be the same or nothing, or will I be the only one who has changed?

• Will I realize how much I’ve missed it, or be surprised that it hasn’t mattered like I thought it would or should?

• Am I really part of a forest, or am I more like a lone tree on a hill?

Whatever happens, I want to be the tree that stretches out into the stream, into the living water, for nourishment and life.

german-305898_640

Jeremiah17:7-8
“Blessed is the [one] who trusts in the LORD And whose trust is the LORD. “For [s]he will be like a tree planted by the water, That extends its roots by a stream And will not fear when the heat comes; But its leaves will be green, And it will not be anxious in a year of drought Nor cease to yield fruit.

Jesus: Usually Calming People Down

(click for source)
(click for artist / source file)

 

I was struck by a pattern during my Holy Week meditations and reflections.

Jesus says, “Peace be with you,” a lot.

He brings calm. He comforts the frighted and bewildered.

He says in the most soothing way possible,

“Chill, ya’ll.”

When Jesus scares the stink out of his followers as he walks on the lake to meet them one a dark and storm night, he says,

“Easy now..It’s okay. It’s me!”

When Jesus is about to be arrested by a friend-turned-backstabber, then tried by a rigged court, and brutally tortured and killed, he spends time building up the courage of his followers and giving them condolence.

John 14:27

“I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.

John 16:33

I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.”

When the disciples are grieving from his death, terrified and meeting behind locked doors, he comes to them, his scarred hands outstretched–offering solace and reassurance.

Shalom aleikhem!”

It’s no small thing.

Our invitation is to do the same.

In trying circumstance be the voice of peace.

Be the source of calm.

Be a comforter.

 

And to those who like to over-mention when Jesus angrily overturns the tables at the temple as a way to justify their seething rage, I say, “peace”.

 

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Everything…but connection

chianlink

My friend Kayla visited her parents’ church over her summer break for 10 weeks or so.

They were attending this suburban church with a large attendance each Sunday morning and I thought she’d really enjoy the change. Maybe she would be disappointed to come back to her normal, small-town life.

When I asked her about it, she said, “I should have loved it. The music was amazing; the people friendly. They had lots of youth programs and small groups going, and the pastor chose meaningful things to teach. I should miss it, but I don’t.

This surprised me, so I asked her why she thought this was.

She said something so simple that it gave me a punch of profundity.

“You don’t miss something you don’t feel connected to.”

I started to wonder about the people I’ve lost through death, circumstances, or diverging paths.

Some I missed and some I rarely thought of. Those I did not miss much weren’t really all too different (in general) from the ones I did miss. It didn’t directly reflect the quality of person they were or if we had a lot in common. Like Kayla pointed out, I missed the ones I felt connected with and to. Reflecting on that, the ones that had stronger bonds created more longing or loss in the void of their absence.

That may seem pretty obvious, but the critical gap comes in when we miss why we are connected and what it means to be available and vulnerable on a regular basis with others you can trust. Apart from that, you won’t miss much.

I sense something has been lost in many communities of faith and in many other places because we are so much more amused by our distractions than we are connected in deep ways.

Human connection is never really about measurable stats. We already realize this. It’s about investment in others, sure,

but it’s also about the reciprocity of that investment. It’s always a two-way street.

Some people are wonderful and you invest and hope for a harvest–of some sort–where you both benefit, and you assume they do too, and then it doesn’t happen. The fruition doesn’t manifest or withers on the vine. Maybe the soil was bad, maybe a storm came or drought, or pestilence, maybe something else thwarted success. Sometimes it’s obvious and other times you just sense something is wrong that is hard to make right again. Sometimes you just need to move on and other times, you have to try again in a new season with different seed.

That happens in faith communities and in interpersonal relationships. It happens in business and in extended family life.

If the connection is lacking you won’t be missed. And you won’t miss them. It’s likely that you will feel disappointed about that.

We overlook the idea and process of true connection even as we want it the most.

 

Is there some thing or someone you’d like to feel more connected with?

Oh,
3 more things.

1. I will be posting a “spiritual-themed” topic about once per week. The other times I will concentrate on other ideas depending on what strikes me and will often concentrate on topics related to helping you create and communicate better.

2. I really am excited to see what this year brings and I’m really happy you came today.

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