Nothing is a Thing

 

Recently, I toured an open house wherein the floor plan did not follow a traditional utilitarian layout. I noticed that many of us walking through the home found this oddly disconcerting, and, pondering with furrowed brows, we questioned what might become of the space, how it could best be put to “good use.” 

In short, our gut reaction was to solve how to “fill” the open areas.

And it struck me, this obsessive tendency to functionality, to make productive, to "waste not want not," to never have it occur to any of us to just leave it empty.

I realized that we do this with much of life.

We do it with weekends.

We do it with years.

We do it with children.

We do it with ourselves.

We try to figure out how to purposely fill   all    of    the    space. 

We forget, or perhaps never knew, that empty space is actually a thing. An entity to itself.

Empty walls. 

Empty weekends.

Empty prayers.

Emptiness is what often leads to completeness, to filling, on its own, what we have tried to force into being.

But only if we see it that way and grow comfortable with its initial, sometimes vulnerable, awkwardness. 

What we find is, that the empty, the nothing at all, possesses its own sufficiency. And over time, we welcome it as a coveted balancing friend. 

It isn’t meditation. 

Nor New Agism. 

It isn’t, you guessed it: anything. 

It is nothing. 

Nothing at all. 

And that is what makes it a thing. 

A quiet, often misunderstood, but essential, thing. 

We make room for it then, as we would for every other thing.

But when we make room for the nothing, there is going to be less room for the other somethings: the volunteering, recreating, schooling, socializing, media-consuming, television-watching, over-thinking and active distracting. 

These other highly prioritized fillings—these perpetual doings-of-something and stuffing of spaces—must now move over, or lose out to entirely, the exonerated empty. 

Nothing, realized and finally embraced as a concrete something, is unleashed to liberally supplant the void that always-doing-and-filling something naively created. 

Copyright Barb Harwood

The Blurring of the Line

 

Why do we worship spiritual and religious authors and mystics, and, if we are honest with ourselves, do we extrapolate them onto God, or God onto them?

copyright Barb Harwood

Opinions and the Identity of Standards

 

In the last several days, I have been party to rather hyped-up and strongly-stated opinions about innocuous topics: brands of foods, the way people behave at a craft show, and—two that I am particularly guilty of—how people drive their vehicle and my frustration that the only lanes open in the grocery store are self-checkout!

What dawned on me as I pondered this need to “major in the minors,” as a throwback saying puts it, is that this stating of opinion as if Chicken Little herself was clucking it is merely a need to assert standards. 

My standards, the rest be damned!

From how people grieve, to political affiliation, to where they shop, standards have become enmeshed with identity, and in order to feel something—what it is I haven’t quite figured out yet—we assert our standards the same way some people flaunt tennis shoes or an expensive auto. The only difference is, the tennis shoes and car are nice to have around because they don’t say anything (and when an Audi or GTI speaks, well, that is a sweet and welcoming sound!).

What startled me the most as I pondered this movement-to-unequivocally assert—mincing no words—is that when I do this, and if I continue to do this, I will simply become old and crotchety.

How’s that for an identity! Egads!

If most of what folks are positing with such dour tone-of-voice vehemence (in boldly ungracious consideration, I might add, of those around them who they know to be polar opposites) actually mattered, it might be different. 

The problem is, we make it matter—to the point that anyone not living exactly as we do are harming the earth, society or culture, or not caring about it one whit (and not caring, we say, is the same as overt harming). 

The reality check is this: do we really think we are going to influence anyone to change to our standard by rudely and passively-aggressively stating our preferences within, or outside of, their earshot? What do we hope to gain other than to shame them and make them feel, or appear, small?

Over time, the self-promotional verbal complaints or statements we use to justify the standards that manifest our identity, age us because they inhibit the maturating process of sincerely curious dialogue and warm compassion which arises through the consideration of context, unthreatened by where other people are coming from. 

Maybe those we’ve deemed less-than in contrast to our revered standards do care! Maybe they are producing good in the world that we are not privy to? Is it negated if it isn’t our version, our way?

In order to shed this old blanket of haughtiness going forward, I am thinking it would benefit me to practice using a filter on my heart, mind and mouth that considers whether what I am about to hand-wring over is really of any consequence, and then ask myself why I am desiring to get so worked about it in the first place. 

And then I’m going to find something--anything--to either do something about without yammering, or to simply be without yammering. 

Sort of like a young child, to whom the world is not an enemy to be conquered.

Copyright Barb Harwood

On Becoming a Grandmother

In the quiet, cold stillness of this 5 a.m. first of December, in the cusp of new life, lies the gift of stepping into a steady, perpetual presentness of God’s grace. 

All of the learning, the hard-won, “wish that I knew what I know now, when I was younger,” can now bear fruit in the older with the younger, the Grandmother and the Grandson. 

That complex, simple grace—so pure it takes half a lifetime to even begin to fathom—marks and plants the fresh bloom of being that today holds entrance into all of the goodness and wonder of the years already lived, and those yet to come.

It is a grace that breathes at all times:

In response.

In perception. 

In giving no mind to that which no mind, or heart, need fret over. 

In loving and being that love—not sentimentally or self-centeredly—but in grace. 

His grace, which forges:

Goodness.

Strength.

Trust. 

Realistic hope.

Lightness of heart.

Joy, playfulness and innocence unperturbed and not distracted by out-of-line factors and persons.

And forgiveness of the kind that doesn’t take offense to begin with.

In this birth of the younger and the older, grace culminates. 

God has made what He began so long ago, beautiful in its time. 

His good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, is poured into my lap. 

This first day, today, of the older and the younger.

Indeed, He does make all things new. 

Copyright Barb Harwood

A Question to Ask Ourselves

 

"We strive and reach out in ways that aren't good for us." 

The above quote is from a sermon of a pastor who led a church I once attended. 

The quote dates from 2007, and during the course of the last year or two, I finally understand what the pastor was getting at. 

His insight serves, I believe, as a really thoughtful impetus for each of us to "Take-stock-of-where-I'm at" and address "Why-I-feel-out-of-sorts no-matter-what-I-do-or-think-I-ought-to-do."  

For me, it helped immensely to turn his quote into a question:

"How am I striving and reaching out in ways that aren't good for me?"

Which, in order to arrive at the answer, led me to yet another question:

"What are my motivations for striving and reaching out? And are those motivations resulting in my striving and reaching out in ways that aren't good for me?"

copyright Barb Harwood

Labeling Our Action-Call as God's Call

 

Here is a great quote from George DeTellis Jr., from his book, Mending and Washing Your Nets:"

"Now I want you to be careful not to cook up some great vision for yourself, and then ask God to bless it the way you've scripted it. That's a mistake. For one thing, there are lots of turns in the path ahead for every one of us. For another thing, I have learned that the path to God's purpose begins with you and me--that is--with the work He needs to do in us, so His plan can be worked out through us."

I love the part about not asking God to bless a personal action-vision as we've scripted it. I would take it one step further and expand it to this:

To not ask God to bless a personal action-vision as we've scripted it and then claim, "this is God's call for me."

As Christians, we can choose to do whatever we want in our work and service. We can go where we would like to serve. There is nothing in the Bible that says we must label our doing as "a specific call of God." 

And when people do label it that way, I believe it is because of the environment of outspoken, public super-spirituality that permeates many churches and Christian communities, almost to a level of competition. 

But as the quote above so importantly points out:

God's "call" for each one of us is not what we do, but who we are as persons. 

copyright Barb Harwood

The Baggage of an Unexamined Life

 

My definition of baggage is that which internally distorts, distrusts, enlarges and fears, breeding ill-will, insecurity, hypersensitivity, awkwardness, self-centeredness, jealousy and discontent.

The behaviors that ensue are an outwardly verbal and internally critical spirit, retreat, sarcasm, anger, self-promotion and constant needy calls for assurance. All in varying degrees, depending on where a person is emotionally and mentally. 

Everyone has baggage. 

To deny that universal truth is to prove it!

And for me, as has been obvious from the years of postings on this blog, the only way I was able, beginning at age 38, to actually face into and constructively deal with my baggage, has, and continues to be, through the encompassing love, wisdom, objectivity, mentoring and parenting of God, Jesus and the Spirit. 

And while I at times have questioned if I am not simply indulging in the socially stigmatized act of “navel-gazing,” I can honestly answer by saying that, certainly at times, I, as others, have navel-gazed (woe-is-me, feeling sorry for one’s self, self-analyzing with no intention to really get to the bottom of it but only to try a new pill, device, app, medicinal herb, “mindfulness,” or put one's head back in the sand and do nothing).

To only navel-gaze is to indeed earn the negative verdict upon its employ.

What has allowed, however, many of us to unpack, permanently, that baggage, is a matter-of-fact, very painful but ready-to-be-brave sincerity, of both contrite and forgiving transparency enabled by God. 

This, among other things, is the birth out of denial and into reality, not only of one’s self, but others, and from that spot on the map, one embarks upon the road of forward progress.

Mind you, this is a very internal work, with outward results not often readily apparent. 

But over time, it gels with all aspects of inward and outward daily life as the lightness-from-where luggage-used-to-be morphs into quiet peace, joy, playfulness and fun, along with steadiness of spirit in sobering and sad times.

So when I quote individuals, as I recently did Cy Curnin and Pat Martino, who talked about joy replacing striving, I am not advocating narcissism or hedonism.

What I love about what they have realized in their mature years is that they haven’t stopped doing what they love or are good at; they do it now without the baggage: without the having to prove anything, without the competitiveness, without the constant degrading of one’s talent and abilities (not to mention sheer joy) by always trying to self-actualize.

So if we love to volunteer, for example, we don’t have to stop in order to have fun: We bring the fun to the volunteering: 

We stop worrying about receiving credit (even though we would never admit we are hoping to receive credit!). 

We don’t compare ourselves to others who are either doing more, or less, than us. 

We don’t feel guilty when we give up our post because we simply loathe the position and would love to be doing something else; or yes, after years and years of service, maybe doing nothing at all for a while.

In fact, I think the words of yet another wisely and joyfully aging person say it best:

“If something’s not working and we don’t look at it, rip it down and start again, then we’re perpetuating the same intimidating force.” Jamie Lee Curtis.

The intimidation she mentions comes from, she said, a quote by E.L. Doctorow:

“When ideas go unexamined and unchallenged for a long enough time, they become mythological and very, very powerful. They create conformity. They intimidate.”

One could go one hundred different directions with Doctorow’s quote, but for this context, I would unpack it this way:

When we ourselves go unexamined by ourselves under the tutelage of God, over time we, and those we either delusionally admire, dislike or disagree with, become mythological and very, very powerful. They, and we, compel us into conformity, and intimidate whenever we attempt to logically examine and break free from that conformity.

As Curtis said, 

“I realized it’s about calcification. It’s about creating conformity so you don’t rebel. That was me.”

That is us when we go along un-discerningly with a family dynamic, educational system, church or politicking.

We conform when we fail to explore and examine, and exploring and examining entails an honest, non-agendized consideration of the actual facts and context of each person, group, event and situation. 

And that involves going back to where I began this post: to the baggage.

Because the baggage of an unexamined and un-acted upon life will stagnate the getting of anywhere. 

Copyright Barb Harwood

Just Play

 

I heard a radio interview with Cy Curnin of the band, The Fixx, and he said something that I’ve been hearing more and more from various older artists and non-artists alike: 

Of learning to get along inter-personally, and letting go of the driven, achievement-oriented mindset, he said,

“That work was done a long time ago.”

Which means that now, he and his band are reaping the reward of just playing music together.

“We enjoy each other’s company. It’s paying off now because you’d think, you know, after forty years together we’d be getting a little tired of it, but we’re enjoying it more. We’ve done the stadium thing, we’ve done this and that and the other…we’re not really chasing any goals anymore.”

In other words, he and his bandmates are content to just play. 

And that’s the privilege of growing older and of growing old, isn’t it, that we finally get to just play: having cut loose the baggage of the past; unencumbered now of all the striving and setting of ever higher attainments, credentials, and deeds; healed from whatever it was internally that made life difficult instead of playful. 

Playful—like when we were kids—but with the added wisdom of age that says, 

“Hey, we lost that sense of play once, we’re not ever giving it up again.”

Copyright Barb Harwood

For Jazz Guitarist Pat Martino, Joy Replaced Striving

 

Jazz guitarist Pat Martino, who died Monday at the age of 77, had to completely relearn guitar and recover his memory following brain surgery, but went on to play, record and perform for another 30 years. 

He had this to say about how he changed from the experience:

"It used to be to do everything I possibly could to become more successful in my craft and career. Today, my intention is to completely enjoy the moment and everything it contains." Pat Martino

No doubt his efforts in his craft are what allowed him to regain both his guitar playing and memory. But with that also came a greater privilege: that of just relishing and living in the now. 

Blaise Pascal on Keeping to the Present

 

Blaise Pascal, writing in his Pensees:

"We never keep to the present. We recall the past; we anticipate the future as if we found it too slow in coming and were trying to hurry it up, or we recall the past as if to stay its too rapid flight. We are so unwise that we wander about in times that do not belong to us, and do not think of the only one that does; so vain that we dream of times that are not and blindly flee the only one that is. The fact is that the present usually hurts. We thrust it out of sight because it distresses us, and if we find it enjoyable, we are sorry to see it slip away. We try to give it the support of the future, and think how we are going to arrange things over which we have no control for a time we can never be sure of reaching.

Let each of us examine his thoughts; he will find them wholly concerned with the past or the future. We almost never think of the present, and if we do think of it, it is only to see what light it throws on our plans for the future. The present is never our end. The past and the present are our means, the future alone our end. Thus we never actually live, but hope to live, and since we are always planning how to be happy, it is inevitable that we should never be so." Blaise Pascal

Spiritual Warfare as Crutch

What I’ve come to believe about the statements

“I’m being attacked by Satan” 

or 

“We’re experiencing spiritual warfare” 

is that it is those who do not make such statements who actually persevere in Christlikeness in tough situations. They are the ones who have a right perspective of “spiritual warfare,” while those most vocal about “being in a battle” can frequently be off-kilter in their attitude. 

And by that I mean this: in my years of experience with Christians, I’ve found that oftentimes, “I’m being attacked by Satan” deflects from a need to change. If Satan is involved, he is the one bogging them down, not the individual’s own never-dealt-with issues and behaviors. 

An environment of constant, everyday spiritual warfare really only catches people in victimhood. 

The “enemy” in these cases is not Satan (nor his ”tools” of other people, the culture or world); the enemy is themselves. 

The type of person or organization that self-professes to consistently be under attack by Satan, or fighting an overt spiritual battle, is often simply distracting themselves from having to cooperate or compromise. Their perceived innocence in the “battle”  puts the onus on someone or something else to come around to their way of doing or seeing things.

It’s very clever because other Christian onlookers are often reluctant to disagree with someone else’s self-proclaimed “spiritual battle.” And even if they did question it, they would merely be chalked up as just another “tool” of Satan! 

Just as cheap grace is the reliance upon forgiveness without repentance, cheap martyrdom is the reliance upon sympathetic enabling to ward off one’s realistic and sincere facing of one’s own dysfunction. 

Copyright Barb Harwood

Too High of a Regard

The following insight from Christian apologist Don Veinot of Midwest Christian Outreach dates back to 2007, but when I came across it again yesterday, I found it to be increasingly applicable, and a sober check on our tribal instincts:

"I have found that one small step for a man who regards himself too highly quickly leads to one giant leap of disregarding the rest of mankind. The same applies to groups, movements, and denominations and I've been no exception to that rule." Don Veinot

Quiet Acceptance

In the throes of difficult life transitions and unexpected challenges, or just daily responsibilities and unknowns, this quote from Phillip Keller, in his lovely book A Shepherd looks at Psalm 23, is a balm of reassurance settling across our mental, emotional and spiritual landscape:

"Somehow, in a serene quiet way, I am assured all will turn out well for my best because He is with me in the valley and things are under His control. To come to this conviction in the Christian life is to have entered into an attitude of quiet acceptance of every adversity." Phillip Keller

The Battle to Self Promote

In families, the workplace, and almost any organizational, school or social gathering, a battle often takes place between certain individuals.

It is the battle to be noticed, to be at the fore, to be the expert (or perceived as such). 

It is the battle not just to be esteemed, but to be esteemed more than the next person. It is the battle to be the one well-spoken of, to be the most impressive.

It is the battle to self-promote.

The weapons of this battle are those of one-upping, grandstanding, stealing someone’s thunder, glib sarcasm in response to another person’s good fortune or turn of events, attempts to make others jealous by promenading being favored (or the attempts to attain favor), and talking loudly so that all within earshot can overhear their plans and good deeds.

These weapons are so common that we hardly notice them for what they are: the tactical manipulations of self-presentation to garner praise and affirmation; to win influence and high regard. 

Those around these types, feeling threatened by this behavior—not to mention overlooked and out-done—may intentionally or unintentionally take the bait and join the battle so that they, too, can defend themselves as being worthy. They enter the fray welding the same self-promotional armaments. 

This sparring to be important, or to be at least as important as the next person, is a pattern repeated over and over again because those in the battle never solve the insecurity within. 

If, however, we are fortunate, we will finally arrive at discernment for these types of showdowns and quickly take our leave of them, avoiding them altogether in the future. 

We will, in the wisdom of the budding maturity in Christ which is addressing our inner insecurities, pray and intend to never take up the weaponry of self-promotional grandstanding again. 

Copyright Barb Harwood