steve jacobsen – Page 12 – Steve Jacobsen, Ed.D

Clayton Kershaw Is A Hero of Mine

(Dear Readers: I posted this piece on my Facebook page early last week. It focuses on a baseball player. You may or may not have ever heard of him. You may have no interest in baseball or sports of any kind. But this reflection is about much more than one particular sports figure — it’s about how we tend to judge prominent public figures in any field, and even other people in our own lives. So I hope it has some value for anyone who reads it.)

This past Saturday, we saw Clayton Kershaw have the worst outing of his career. In the first inning in a playoff series-opening game, he got just one out while giving up six runs. To many of us fans, the game – and the Dodgers playoff hopes – seemed already lost, or at least in peril.

It is a well-known and often-cited fact that, over the years, he has had one of the greatest careers for a pitcher in the modern era. It is equally well-known that he’s struggled in the postseason. If the Dodgers lose and Kershaw retires, this may have been his last appearance. Many writers are ready to call this a tragic end to his extraordinary career. In post-game interviews, Kershaw himself was despondent.

But Clayton Kershaw will forever be a hero of mine.

We all hope for a glorious ending to our professional careers and our lives. And what a blessing it is if we can achieve that.

Baseball fans will forever hear about the storybook ending to Ted Williams’ career, one of the greatest hitters of all time. In his last at-bat in his last game for the Boston Red Sox, he hit a home run into the right field bleachers at Fenway. He circled the bases and ran off the field through the dugout to the amazement and adoration of the crowd – as he ignored them.

Ted Williams was an isolated individual obsessed with nothing but succeeding in the sport. He was alienated from his family, uncaring towards his teammates, cold and distant towards the fans.

I’d love to have that kind of finish, but not that kind of life.

By contrast, Clayton Kershaw has never wavered from being a person of integrity, dignity, and class. He’s devoted to his family. He’s always supportive of his teammates a leader for his team. He respects the game, its history, and the mentors he’s had along the way. He and his wife have done extensive charitable work in Los Angeles and in Africa, even though his home is back in Texas.

Maybe yesterday was his last outing and it will always be remembered as the tragic end of an incredible career. But his indelible legacy will include not only his on-field successes but also the way he has conducted himself.

In my professional life, I have had experiences that have both filled my heart and broken it. I would have liked to go out like Ted Williams, but I’d rather live a life like Mr. Kershaw. It is not our last public act that should define us. It’s our life in its entirety.

Clayton Kershaw will always be a hero of mine.

GRACE: A Focusing Practice

Imagine you’re about to do something important and you want to be at your best. Maybe you are going to visit a friend who is facing a personal challenge. Or maybe you are about to begin a creative activity you enjoy. Maybe it’s an action that requires skill and concentration. In each of these situations, what can you do to prepare yourself?

I recently was introduced to a simple practice that may help in these situations. It uses the acronym G R A C E: Ground yourself, Relax, become Aware, focus on your Center, and Energize.

I’m going to offer my own perspective on what each step means, drawing from the various classes, retreats, trainings, and readings I’ve done over the years. I don’t consider myself an expert, just an explorer. Here it goes:

Ground Yourself — I remember a meditation teacher beginning a session by saying our body is always in the present moment, but our mind is a “time machine” — it’s constantly moving backward into our past and forward into the future, chasing thoughts and feelings. It’s helpful if we can slow it down and anchor it in the “here and now.” We can pause and take three deep, slow breaths, noticing our inhales and exhales, inviting that busy mind to settle into the present. We can pay attention to the sensation of our feet on whatever we are standing on – literally an act of “grounding.”

Relax – Once we are grounded, we take a moment to put ourselves at ease. We notice if there’s a part of our body that is tense and release it.

Aware — Grounding ourselves and relaxing, we now invite our senses to tell us more about where we are in this moment. What sounds are we hearing? Any sounds from nature, like a distant bird song? What is our skin telling us – is the air warm or cool? Is there a breeze blowing? If so, do we want to turn and face that breeze the way cats and dogs do when they sit in a doorway, maybe closing our eyes to heighten that awareness? Are there fragrances in the air? What do we see if we look around at our surroundings? Are there subtle and small details in our environment we did not notice at first? We are patient with this process – even if we are taking just a few moments, we are not in a hurry.

Center — When we’ve spent time to ground ourselves, relax, and become aware, our mind may have become more “present in the present.” In that moment, we may imagine that our awareness is no longer being swept along in mental busyness and anxiety, but closer to the “center” of who we are.

Energize is the final step. This is when we calmly move from this time of focusing to engage in whatever activity is before us – knocking on the door of the person we are going to visit, beginning a physical or creative activity, or just consciously entering our day.

I’ve been exposed to these techniques at different times in my life, but I think GRACE is an easy way to remember these practices in a sequence.

Here’s the Big Reveal: I came across this practice not at a monastery or mindfulness retreat but at a recent golf event. The event was organized by an international group that uses golf as a spiritual practice. Doing this routine before making a shot has surprising results – the shot often goes better than expected. If it doesn’t, we don’t get upset because we’ve become aware of the wonder of being alive in the moment. This practice quite simply makes the game much more interesting and enjoyable, whatever the outcome.

I once attended a hospice training retreat in Marin County led by a teacher who was a long-time friend of the popular spiritual writer Ram Dass. At one session we were able to Skype with him from his home in Maui. Ram Dass was relaxed and shared some general comments about “presence” and was fielding questions. Suddenly his expression changed. He became very serious and, addressing our group, said, “You are not a collection of your thoughts. You are loving awareness.” I’ve heard many definitions of “soul” and “spirit” over the years, and I found this one intriguing. Maybe at the deepest part within us, we are “loving awareness.” If so, that is our center.

By going through this process, we re-mind ourselves that we are more than just a busy brain loosely attached to a body. We are embodied human beings who have been gifted with this amazing multisensory life-form and a miraculous mind which, when they are working together, can open us to a rich awareness of where we are and what is possible.

GRACE brings together a variety of popular contemplative practices in a simple, memorable way. No matter what situation we are facing, who doesn’t want to experience it with a tangible sense of grace?

Photo: UCSB Lagoon

Rewriting Our Life Stories

This from the 1984 film, The Natural:

Iris: You know, I believe we have two lives.

Roy: What do you mean?

Iris: The life we learn with and the life we live with after that.

And this from David Brooks’ recent column in the New York Times:

“I believe most of us tell a story about our lives and then come to live within that story. You can’t know who you are unless you know how to tell a coherent story about yourself. You can know what to do next only if you know what story you are a part of. “A man is always a teller of tales,” the philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre observed. “He lives surrounded by his stories and the stories of others, he sees everything that happens to him through them, and he tries to live his own life as if he were telling a story.”[i]

When I was young, I imagined my life story would be a hero’s tale. I was going to play shortstop for the Dodgers. After watching Star Trek episodes, I decided I’d be an astrophysicist. Later I knew I was destined to be a successful lawyer in San Francisco.

I loved sports but my career peaked in Little League.

I loved the idea of being a space scientist but wasn’t good enough at math.

I did do a year of law school. Meanwhile, I fell in love, took a leave of absence, got married, became a father, had a spiritual awakening, and went in a career direction I would have never imagined.

Life happens.

I certainly have had some successes along the way. I have also learned I could overestimate my abilities. I learned that some experiences in life can almost break you. I learned that some of life’s blessings must be gained through hard work, discipline and endurance. At the same time, unearned and unexpected blessings can come out of the blue and become signs of grace.

I have often thought of what Iris said: “We have two lives…the life we learn with and the life we live with after that.”

For years I’ve been privileged to listen to people share at what point they recognized that the heroic, storybook lives they envisioned when they were younger were no longer valid, and how they have been rewriting their life story ever since.

I have heard David Brooks speak about his own two-lives journey. In his 50s, he was at the peak of his professional career in journalism. He had power and influence. But he went through a divorce and found himself feeling lost and empty. He realized the life of the rich and powerful in New York and D.C., which had seemed so exciting for so long, now seemed empty and dull. He began seeking a new direction and new narrative for his life story. He started going to small towns and neighborhoods throughout America, looking for people who have found meaning in life. He met such people from all walks of life and all kinds of neighborhoods. Their lives were modest by the standards of the rich and powerful. But these people had a humility that gave them a sense of peace. They had also found ways to serve other people – troubled teens, children caught in rough neighborhoods, and isolated neighbors. He discovered these people have an inner light, something he did not have. His “second life” began.

Life keeps going and our stories keep evolving.

When we are composing our life stories, we may be tempted to go back and erase what’s happened to us. But there’s no “delete” key for our past. We can, however, decide how to incorporate our past into the story we are creating every day.

The Natural begins with Roy and Iris as naïve teenagers in Nebraska who expect to marry after he begins his baseball career. He leaves for Chicago for his big chance. But he misjudges the intentions of a woman on a train and never makes it to the tryout. Roy and Iris lose contact. Years later they find each other. He has returned to baseball for one last chance and becomes a star. She is a single mom. The “two-lives’ conversation takes place in a hospital room where Roy is recovering from an injury, hoping to be strong enough to play in one last playoff game. As it turns out, Roy does play and has his moment of glory. They reunite and return to Nebraska to raise their son and live happily ever after.

Some peoples’ stories turn out like that. But often our lives become something more complicated, and don’t fit the pattern of story-book endings. Instead, they become stories that are far richer.

[i] https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/21/opinion/elon-musk-ambition.html

Lead image courtesy of originalfilmart.com

The scene can be viewed at https://youtu.be/2UpNJlx0EF0?feature=shared.

David Brooks created “Weavers,” a nonprofit dedicated to sharing the stories of the people who are living the kind of lives that inspired him: https://weavers.org

Holding On

Recently I have found trees and plants enticing me to behold them. First it was an oak tree in my backyard … then a nasturtium on a golf course. It happened again this week.

I was taking a stroll in Los Osos near Morro Bay and noticed these plants. I stopped to look. What struck me is how they have had to adapt to what must be frequent, strong winds off the bay. They have had to grow off-center, leaning inland; but they have endured.

As I stood there, a memory arose. More than thirty years ago I was in the living room of a parishioner in rural Washington. She and her husband had come from Germany after World War 2 to make a new life in America. They had purchased a farm and worked hard to make it productive. Then tragedy struck – at age 12, their only son died in a tractor accident on their farm. This happened several years before I came to town.

On the day I came for a routine visit, the Desert Storm campaign had begun in Iraq. People across town were transfixed by news coverage which showed constant flashes of light and explosions over Bagdhad. As I sat down in the living room and began to make conversation, I asked, “So what do you think about what’s going on in Iraq?”

“Oh, Pastor Steve, when I tried to watch the news, I began to cry,” she said. “I was five years old in Germany when the bombing of our city began. I remember the ground shaking and buildings falling and running through the streets holding my mother’s hand and crying… I know people are cheering…but…Pastor Steve…they don’t know what it’s like to be a child and have your city bombed.”

I think this story came to me as a reminder that some people endure great hardship – far beyond anything I’ve known; their life has been shaped by constant forces pushing them away from what they hoped their life would be. But somehow they survive — they hang on.

Father Gregory Boyle, who has become a legend working in the barrios of East Los Angeles, has said, “I choose to stand in awe at the burdens carried by the poor rather than standing in judgment about how they carry them.”

We never know what hardships people may be bearing.

Prior Posts:

Seeing People Like Trees

The Intrinsic Power of Veriditas

Learning from the Redwoods

A Time to Reset and Renew

In 2008, I started a new chapter in my professional life when I became Executive Director of Hospice of Santa Barbara. One of my new duties was to build relationships with various groups, organizations, and spiritual communities to let them know about our mission and services.

Another responsibility was to make presentations that would encourage people to discuss and complete their Advanced Directives for Healthcare. This not only makes it easier for our families in case of an emergency but also helps us reflect on what is important in life. That is not always an easy conversation to enter – it brings up thoughts that we often tend to avoid.

During my second year, a rabbi who led a small Jewish congregation in nearby Montecito invited me to attend their Rosh Hashana services. As the service unfolded, I was stunned by the ancient prayers and readings – they were calling us to ponder the fact that any one of us might die in the coming year and, if that is true, how should we reorder our life in the time remaining? I thought, “This is exactly what those of us in hospice work try to do.”

This experience came to mind as I read an article this week in the New York Times, “Rosh Hashana Can Change Your Life (Even if You’re Not Jewish).”[i] The author is a professor of psychology, Dave DeSteno, who teaches at Northeastern University. Here’s it is:

Celebrating a new year — as Jews the world over will do this week, when Rosh Hashana begins on Friday at sunset — is all about making changes. It’s a time for new beginnings, for wiping the slate clean and starting over from scratch. In that spirit, on Rosh Hashana Jews say prayers and listen to readings that celebrate the creation of the world and of human life.

But Rosh Hashana also strikes a different, seemingly discordant note. Unlike so many other New Year’s traditions, the Jewish holiday asks those who observe it to contemplate death. The liturgy includes the recitation of a poem, the Unetaneh Tokef, part of which is meant to remind Jews that their lives might not last as long as they’d hope or expect. “Who will live and who will die?” the poem asks. “Who will live out their allotted time and who will depart before their time?”[ii]

And we’re not talking about a gentle death at the end of a reasonably long life; we’re talking about misfortunes and tragedies that can cut any of our lives short. “Who shall perish by water and who by fire,” the poem continues, “Who by sword and who by wild beast / Who by famine and who by thirst / Who by earthquake and who by plague?”

This focus on death might seem misplaced, bringing gloom to the party. But as a research scientist who studies the psychological effects of spiritual practices, I believe there is a good reason for it: Contemplating death helps people make decisions about their future that bring them more happiness. This is an insight about human nature that the rites of Rosh Hashana capture especially well, but it’s one that people of any faith (or no faith at all) can benefit from.

When planning for the future, people typically focus on things that they think will make them happy. But there’s a problem: Most people don’t usually know what will truly make them happy — at least not until they are older. Across the globe, research shows, people’s happiness tends to follow a U-shaped pattern through life: Happiness starts decreasing in one’s 20s, hits its nadir around age 50 and then slowly rises through one’s 70s and 80s, until and unless significant health issues set in.

Why the turnaround at 50? That’s when people typically start to feel their mortality. Bones and joints begin to creak. Skin starts to sag. And visits to the doctor become more frequent and pressing. Death, hopefully, is still a good ways off, but it’s visible on the horizon.

You might think this morbid prospect would further decrease contentment, but it ends up having the opposite effect. Why? Because it forces us to focus on the things in life that actually bring us more happiness. Research by the Stanford psychologist Laura Carstensen has shown that as we age, we move from caring most about our careers, status and material possessions to caring most about connecting with those we love, finding meaning in life and performing service to others.

That’s a wise move. When people in the Western world want to be happier, research shows, they tend to focus on individual pursuits. But that same research confirms that this strategy doesn’t work well: Pursuing happiness through social connection and service to others is a more reliable route.

Of course, you don’t have to be old to confront death. During the SARS outbreak and the Covid pandemic, younger adults changed what they valued, research showed. When death suddenly seemed possible for anyone, even those in the prime of their lives, younger people’s opinions about how best to live suddenly began to look like those of seniors: They turned toward family and friends, finding purpose in social connection and helping others.

You don’t even need to face something as drastic as a pandemic to experience some version of these changes. Research shows that simply asking people to imagine that they have less time left, as congregants do on Rosh Hashana, is sufficient.

Rosh Hashana hardly has a monopoly on this insight. Christian thinkers such as Thomas à Kempis and St. Ignatius of Loyola urged people to contemplate death before making important choices. Stoics like Marcus Aurelius argued that meditating on mortality helped people find more joy in daily life.

But the particular brilliance of Rosh Hashana is that it combines thoughts of death with a new year’s focus on a fresh start. As work by the behavioral scientist Katy Milkman and her colleagues has shown, temporal landmarks like New Year’s Day offer an effective opportunity for a psychological reset. They allow us to separate ourselves from past failures and imperfections — a break that not only prods us to consider new directions in life but also helps us make any changes more effectively.

There is a lesson and an opportunity here for everyone. Contemplate death next Jan. 1 (or whenever you celebrate the start of a new year). Any brief moments of unease will be well worth the payoff.

If you took such a time of reflection now, what would you leave behind and what new direction would you set?

Art work by Marc Chagall

[i] https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/13/opinion/rosh-hashana-death.html

[ii] Leonard Cohen created a very moving contemporary version of the poem, “Who By Fire?”, which can be found at https://youtu.be/251Blni2AE4?feature=shared

Two Kinds of Wisdom

There are at least two kinds of wisdom in this world: everyday and spiritual.

Everyday wisdom focuses on practical advice for tasks and responsibilities. Here are some examples:

A penny saved is a penny earned. Benjamin Franklin “coined” this phrase to encourage people to save money.
Measure twice, cut once. An oft-quoted bit of carpenter’s advice: you can’t “uncut” a piece of wood once it’s been sawed, so be doubly sure you’re beginning where you should.
Failing to plan is planning to fail. A favorite from an engineer friend who was a long-time project manager with large teams and complex projects.
Protect your capital. My father-in-law worked his way off a farm in Minnesota during the Depression and was a dedicated manager of his personal assets. Whenever I’d ask him for financial advice, he reminded me not to take unnecessary risks with whatever funds we had.
You can do hard things. This was on a poster in my wife’s first-grade classroom. In those moments of discouragement or self-doubt, it’s a good way to reset our expectations to match what challenges we are facing. I’ve brought it to mind in critical situations, like when I’m cleaning out a bathroom sink drain.
Dance like no one is looking; text or email as if it will be read in court. This is from an HR consultant and friend who has seen what can happen when people are careless with digital communications.

Every culture has such sayings. These help us manage practical activities. They teach us how to be part of the social order and encourage personal responsibility. When we apply them and find success, we are grateful. Such success can build self-confidence.

But not all of life’s challenges are easy to anticipate, fix, manage, or repair. Like feeling an inner emptiness. Or being humbled. Or deciding if we want to risk being kind. Or wondering why the world out there may seem lifeless. Or trying to decide if it’s worth the effort to help people resolve their differences.

This can be the time when spiritual wisdom offers us direction.

My mother had a framed plaque of “The Beatitudes” on a hook above our sink. I remember her saying they meant a great to her, but I had no idea where they came from or what they meant until later in my life. These teachings of Jesus are examples of spiritual wisdom.

The words of the Beatitudes are profound, but they may sound overly familiar, idealistic, or outdated. I have come to appreciate a contemporary translator – Eugene Peterson — who offers not only a new way to phrase these sentences but does so in a way that makes them seem less “religious” and more true-to-life.[i] What follows is a sampling. I’ll begin with the traditional wording, then follow with Peterson’s version in bold:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. This points to that feeling of emptiness deep within we may feel. “Kingdom of heaven” doesn’t mean a far-off magic land, but the divine presence within us, waiting to be discovered. Peterson’s version:You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.
Blessed is the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. “Meek” sounds like “weak,” but it means something closer to humble. Pride can blind us to anything beyond our own personal concerns; humility can open our eyes to other people and the beauty of the natural world. When egos recede, souls can rise. You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. Becoming merciful to others may seem risky, but it can lead us into a relationship with others that goes deeper than feeling pity. Instead, we enter a realm of compassion in which we discover our common humanity and mutual need. You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.
Blessed are the pure in heart, they shall see God. It’s hard to imagine being “pure,” without a trace of self-interest. But how about this version: You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God. Seeking ways to make peace benefits others but can be more than that – it’s one more way to find a richer identity beyond our selves: You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.

Everyday wisdom helps us manage our lives. Spiritual wisdom can take us to a deeper place of connecting with our inner self, others, and the graciousness of life.

Over the years I’ve heard people say spiritual wisdom is better than everyday wisdom. I don’t think we have to choose. Managing our everyday lives is pretty darn important, and I appreciate any advice that helps me do that. At the same time, it’s good to know that when our plans, expectations, and assumptions break down or lose their luster, we have another place to go. We then find new ways of understanding that become a richer way of experieincing ourself and the world. When we find it, it feels like home.

[i]Peterson, Sermon on the Mount

Photo: “Custom Craftsmanship” – Dansk Wilton.

Richard Rohr’s has an insightful piece on Jung’s theory of spiritual discovery in adulthood at “Two Haves of Life”

Five Tips for Everyday Living

Last year, David Brooks wrote a column in which he shared a list of 38 “life hacks” created by a tech writer he admires, Kevin Kelly[i]. They may not be profound spiritual insights or revelations – they’re more like practical suggestions on how to manage everyday situations. Here are five that spoke to me:

… over the last few years I have embraced, almost as a religious mantra, the idea that if you’re not sure you can carry it all, take two trips. Many times in my life I’ve parked my car… looked at the various items I want to take in… recognized it was going to be a challenge to get them all in one trip…, and then heard a voice saying “Yeah, it’s a lot, but you can do it!” I awkwardly fill up my arms with all the items…try to shut the car door with a foot…and something spills on the sidewalk. Or maybe I get as far as the front door, discover it’s locked, and as I try to get my keys out of my pocket, disaster strikes. Since reading this, I am catching myself in that moment of decision between foolish optimism and sober realism. Choosing the Calm-and-Practical-Me in such moments makes me feel like a Zen master. Less spillage, less embarrassment, and a glimmer of maturity. Low-cost liberation!
Something does not need to be perfect to be wonderful, especially weddings. I’ve participated in many weddings over the years, and, to tell you the truth, they often make me nervous. Expectations can be high in terms of the flowers, the decorations, the timing, the participants, the food, the guest list, and the schedule of events. The most expensive formal wedding I ever presided at started late because the bride and groom were arguing with lawyers about the prenuptial agreement; the marriage itself lasted only a few years. I contrast that experience with the ceremonies I’ve been part of that have had a mood of ease, quiet joy, humor, reverence, and genuine affection. These ceremonies may not reach Martha Stewart’s standards, but they are experiences where love and wonder met.
The biggest lie we tell ourselves is, “I don’t need to write this down because I will remember it.” It’s amazing how many things we think we will remember but forget. Of course, the older we get, the more this occurs. I’m trying to be more intentional about writing things down on notecards or with the memo app on my phone.
If you can’t make up your mind between two options, flip a coin. Don’t decide based on which side of the coin came up. Decide based on your emotional reaction to which side came up. I’ve often quoted David Brooks’ comment “Our culture assumes we are brains on a stick.” The truth is we have many ways of knowing including feeling, intuition, and “somatic intelligence” – the idea that our bodies sometimes know truths hidden from our conscious thinking. I have a variety of different routes I walk in our neighborhood. In the last year or two, if I get to a familiar intersection and receive a prompting like, “How about turning left today instead of right and going down a street you rarely go?” I follow it. I like to think it’s helping me tune in to that hidden way of knowing, which may better access our natural creativity.
Don’t try to figure out what your life is about. It’s too big a question. Just figure out what the next three years are about. I’ve been trying to figure out what life is about since I was a teenager and I am not giving up. I intend to stay curious about spiritual insights, new scientific knowledge, and the practical wisdom conveyed by people I meet. But I like this idea of making a three-year plan for the practical things in life. It’s manageable.

The original article included 38 such suggestions. That’s way too many for me. I’m thinking I can hold five at a time without dropping any. I also hope writing them down like this will help – if I remember where I put the list.

Here’s my summary:

[i] David Brooks, The Greatest Life Hacks in the World (for Now); June 2, 2022

Top image: “Monk Writing,” Carl Schleicher, 1903

Learning from the Redwoods

This summer we were driving south on the 101 along the coast of Oregon and Northern California. We were passing through the “Avenue of the Giants” in the Humboldt Redwoods State Park and decided to stop for a break and view the trees. We came across this plaque:

Given a Chance, the Forest Will Endure

A natural coast Redwood forest is preserving itself through a nearly perfect recycling system. Most of the nutrients in the forest consist of living, then decaying plant and animal material.

As this material decomposes it provides nutrients for other living organisms.

Fallen trees account for as much as 40% of all organic material on the forest floor and many plants benefit from growing on these decaying nurse logs. Because redwood is an extremely long-lasting wood, the decay process may take centuries before all of a nurse log’s nutrients have re-entered the forest system.

Today this enduring forest will continue only if we as good land stewards allow it to.

Being uneducated in the way of forests, I never knew that fallen trees are a critical part of the redwood “nursery,” and that some trees may take centuries to patiently pass on the organic material that made their lives possible. The more I thought about it, the more I thought of parallels to our own human life cycle.

When we are young, we are nourished by those who are caring for us in the way of food, shelter, love, and guidance. We are unaware of our dependence on the “nursery” that supports us.

We grow into our teen years. We may find ourselves looking up at the adult trees around us and become determined to find our own way upward. We may think it will be easy to do.

We launch out on our own, finding a path to the sunlight that’s not blocked by the older trees. There’s lots of sap flowing, and we can be fearless in our ambitions and expectations.

Adulthood comes. We find times of satisfaction and accomplishment. We also experience storms or fires; we learn life is not without risk. At some point, we may begin to be as concerned about the younger saplings below us as the unconquered space above us.

Years pass. We realize we are approaching the age and height of our ancestors. We appreciate for the first time the hard work of becoming an elder. We now identify with all those older trees that were invisible to us when we were young. We are now one of them.

Maybe we survive and thrive for a long time. But at some point, we will fall to the forest floor. We’ve lost the lofty, open-sky perspective that we took for granted and now lie close to the ground where our life began. We realize we are part of a life cycle and our role is shifting – now it’s more about releasing our energy to the next generations than holding it just for ourselves. We may wonder: Will the saplings remember what we are doing for them, or will they, like us when we were young, take it all for granted?

A long period of time has passed, but it can seem like an instant. Did we appreciate it while we were living it?

We worry about the future of the forest. Will it survive the challenges to come?

Older redwoods pass on their organic material. Humans don’t have much carbon and nitrogen to offer. We can be nurtured by the lives and stories of our parents, mentors, and ancestors. We in turn try to pass on our awareness, hard-learned lessons, and love to the emerging generations. We want the best for the forest and are grateful to play our part, yet we also realize we are not masters of its fate.

“For everything, there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven…” (Ecclesiastes 3:1)

Photo from Dreamstime.com

Is Spiritual Discernment Like Listening to a Crystal Radio?

Recently I was in our backyard taking some early morning quiet time. In such moments, I try to be attentive to whatever may arise. At one point a phrase appeared unexpectedly: “crystal radios.” My first thought was images of ads from my childhood where someone is wearing antique headphones connected to a little device on a table — leaning forward and listening carefully.

I turned to Wikipedia and found this description:

A crystal radio receiver, also called a crystal set, is a simple radio receiver, popular in the early days of radio. It uses only the power of the received radio signal to produce sound, needing no external power. It is named for its most important component, a crystal detector, originally made from a piece of crystalline mineral such as galena. This component is now called a diode.

Crystal radios are the simplest type of radio receiver and can be made with a few inexpensive parts, such as a wire for an antenna, a coil of wire, a capacitor, a crystal detector, and earphones (because a crystal set has insufficient power for a loudspeaker). However, they are passive receivers, while other radios use an amplifier powered by current from a battery or wall outlet to make the radio signal louder. Thus, crystal sets produce rather weak sound and must be listened to with sensitive earphones, and can receive stations only within a limited range of the transmitter.^[4][i]

As I pondered this, I wondered if listening to a crystal radio is a metaphor for spiritual discernment…times when we are hoping for some guidance in a situation we are facing. I came up with some similarities:

You are seeking something that is present in the environment but invisible.
You don’t need external power. A crystal radio doesn’t depend on batteries, electrical power in your house, or your Wi-Fi router. With spiritual direction, it’s all within you and in your environment.
The most important element is the detector. When I am seeking inner guidance, I’m like a detective, searching for clues and hints.
A crystal radio doesn’t require expensive parts. When we are seeking out spiritual direction, we don’t need anything but humility, curiosity and awareness.
You need to listen carefully because the sound is faint. The nudges and hints we find when we are looking for answers in life require a calm and receptive mind.
In the beginning, you need instructions on how to build and use the radio. In the spiritual journey, friends or guides help us learn how to listen and interpret what we may experience.

Other ideas came to mind…

I’ve always appreciated Parker Palmer’s idea that your soul is shy, like a wild animal. If you want to encounter a deer in a forest and go crashing through the brush, the deer will flee. But if you find a place to be still where you can wait patiently, like sitting on the porch of a cabin in the woods, deer may come to you. For most of us, everyday life can include a lot of noise and commotion – from our devices, or others, or our busy inner life with its impulses, anxieties, and chatter. We need to do something like waiting respectfully in a forest.

I thought of the story involving the prophet Elijah. In a time of personal crisis, he retreated to a cave. After 40 days, he sensed the divine voice would speak to him. His initial expectation was that he would hear it as part of some dramatic events: a great wind, an earthquake, a fire. But instead, it came to him – as described by different translators — as “a still small voice,” “a sound of minute stillness,” “the sound of sheer silence,” or “a gentle and quiet whisper.” I love each variation. A voice that is small and still. A sound that is very close to silence. Silence all by itself that nevertheless communicates something. Or a barely audible whisper. I know many people who have experienced moments like this.[ii]

I also thought of my years at La Casa de Maria retreat center. People would come looking for personal guidance. But epiphanies and insights rarely came right away. It often took several days of being unplugged, resting, relaxing, and seeking out contemplative settings — on a solo hike, browsing our library, sitting under an oak tree, or meditating in one of the chapels.

I was also reminded of Paul Simon’s new album Seven Psalms, which originated several years ago when he was awakened at 3:30 in the morning feeling as if he was being summoned. He describes his creative process as more like receiving prompts from beyond his awareness than coming from his own intentions.[iii]

If our crystal set picks up a local radio station, we can expect it to identify itself from time to time. With spiritual direction, how do we know any message we receive might have a divine origin? We may never know for certain. But a simple test is this: is it pointing us in a direction of ethical action, personal responsibility, and loving our neighbor? That may be a positive indicator.

I recently went online and bought a crystal radio kit for $12. It’s being shipped to me. I’m uncertain whether I’ll be able to build it – concentrating carefully on building small mechanical things has never been my gift. But I’ll give it a try. In the meantime, I plan to keep taking that morning quiet time and listen carefully for any message that may be coming my way.

A devout seeker.

“A Family Listening to a Crystal Radio in the 20s”[iv] Possibly an early example of crystal aided group spiritual direction

[i] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crystal_radio

[ii] 1 Kings 19:12; translations from The King James Bible, Robert Alter’s The Prophets, the NRSV, and The Message

[iii] My blog post on his album is at https://drjsb.com/2023/07/08/paul-simons-seven-psalms/

[iv] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crystal_radio

The “Barbie” Movie and Our Search for Meaning in Life

When I first heard there was a “Barbie” movie coming this summer, I had zero interest in seeing it. But then I started reading reviews and heard positive reports from friends. My wife and I saw it yesterday.

We raised three daughters with a 13-year span between the oldest and the youngest. We experienced different fads in toys: Beanie Babies, My Little Pony, and Cabbage Patch dolls among others. Each of these had a season of popularity. But one doll held pride of place over time: Barbie. Our oldest daughter passed down her collection to the younger two, and they added to it. We ended up with an extensive collection. As our youngest went off to college, we stored the “Barbie Box” in the garage. Several times we debated giving them away. But hearing the news we were going to have a granddaughter led us to keep it.

When we got home from the theater, I went to the garage to retrieve the Barbie Box. I brought it in, dusted it off, and opened it. Then I arranged the full cast of characters for a group reunion portrait. I sent it to our daughters — now 45, 36, and 33 years old. A string of text messages sharing memories followed.

While our girls enjoyed dressing the dolls, having Barbies was more than that. They would spend hours improvising stories involving the characters, and sometimes I would eavesdrop. I was struck by how therapeutic it was. These plastic figures became actors in real-life situations. They would say something like, “Barbie got mad at Ken and they divorced,” then pop Ken’s head off of his beach-ready body and toss it across the room. (“When I used to ask Dad to put Ken’s head back on his body, Dad would say, ‘Did Ken lose his head over Barbie again?’” one of our girls recalled.) One day I was doing yard work and unearthed a Ken-head beneath a hedge. I took a picture and reunited him with his body and friends, much to the acclaim of his former caretakers.

Which brings me back to the movie.

I hope I’m not revealing too much to say it is about Barbies and Kens becoming aware that they are something more than their surface identities. They embark on a journey of enlightenment to discover who they really are.

Watching the movie, I was struck with how its theme resonates with some daily meditations I happened to be reading this week from Richard Rohr’s The Immortal Diamond: The Search for Our True Self:

“Various false selves (temporary costumes) are necessary to get us all started, and they show their limitations when they stay around too long. If a person keeps growing, their various false selves usually die in exposure to greater light.

Our false self, which we might also call our “small self” or “separate self,” is our launching pad: our body image, our job, our education, our clothes, our money, our car, our success, and so on. These are the functional trappings of ego that we all use to get through an ordinary day. They are largely projections of our self-image and our attachment to it.

When we are able to move beyond our separate or false self—as we are invited to do over the course of our lives – it will eventually feel as if we have lost nothing. In fact, it will feel like freedom and liberation. When we are connected to the Whole, we no longer need to protect or defend the mere part. We no longer need to compare and compete. We are now connected to something inexhaustible.”[i]

Can it be that Barbie has a spiritual message?

A recent article about the movie and its creator, Greta Gerwig, ends with this:

It’s a testament to Gerwig’s singular earnestness — a level of sincerity unavailable to many of us — that using Barbie to affirm the worth of ordinary women feels, to her, quasi religious. She told me that when she was growing up, her Christian family’s closest friends were observant Jews; they vacationed together and constantly tore around each other’s homes. She would also eat with them on Friday nights for Shabbat dinner, where blessings were sung in Hebrew, including over the children at the table. May God bless you and protect you. May God show you favor and be gracious to you. May God show you kindness and grant you peace. Every Friday the family’s father would rest his hand on Gerwig’s head, just as he did on his own children’s, and bless her too.

“I remember feeling the sense of, ‘Whatever your wins and losses were for the week, whatever you did or you didn’t do, when you come to this table, your value has nothing to do with that,’” Gerwig told me. “‘You are a child of God. I put my hand over you, and I bless you as a child of God at this table. And that’s your value.” I remember feeling so safe in that and feeling so, like, enough.” She imagines people going to the temple of the movies to see “Barbie” on a hot summer day, sitting in the air-conditioned dark, feeling transported, laughing, maybe crying, and then coming out into the bright heat. “I want people to feel like I did at Shabbat dinner,” she said. “I want them to get blessed.”[ii]

Today I stood before our recently liberated collection of Barbies and Kens on our couch. I expressed gratitude for what they had endured. I encourage all of us to find the blessing that arises from being connected to something “inexhaustible.”

[i] Richard Rohr, Letting Go of the False Self

[ii] Greta Gerwig’s ‘Barbie’ Dream Job, New York Times Magazine, July 11, 2023