Archive for April, 2005

Send Me

Wednesday, April 27th, 2005

This weekend we were up in Prince George, BC. It is a beautiful place. Timberland. It is a place that is so still. Even when there is noise, there is a stillness that is so powerful, it is almost unsettling, but once you are use to is it is very comforting.
The last time I was in Prince George was four years ago. I was living in my car at the time, on pilgrimage. I had pared my life down to a carload of stuff and just set out from gig to gig. By the time I made it to Prince George I had been on the road for about three months. It was a wonderful time of pray and reflection to see what I need in life. I guess some of that has taken root. Four years later all that I own now fits in a 8′ x 10′ room. If I didn’t own so many books, it would take up less room.
I can remember going to daily mass when I was in PG in 2001. Before mass I was kneeling, saying my prayers. As the sun was rising, it came in the window right into my eyes. All I could do to concentrate was squeeze my eyes tight. Since I was on pilgrimage I was praying for direction. Not having anything to profound to pray (and not being patient enough to just listen) I just prayed over and over again “Send me! Send me”. (In hindsight, it appears to be a bit of a overly self important prayer.) As I prayed I started to get a sense of all the places I could be sent. All of which were way outside my comfort zone (and many still are). My prayer quickly changed. Muchg more humbly it became, “Send me grace! Send me strength! Send me courage! Send me hope! Send me wisdom!”

Failure

Monday, April 11th, 2005

There is one intrinsic problem to chasing dreams, the fact we don’t always reach our goals.
There are times in which chasing dreams leads us to wonderful places we never would have planned. Things do not work out like they are suppose to, but what we end up with is more than worthwhile. We end up places that seemed outside the scope of possibilities. They are happy accidents, which we chalk up to the fates conspiring in our favor. It is as if we never would have found these places without heading down some doomed path.
Then there are other times in which we simple fail. We name the place we want to go, or the outcome we desire and we fall short of the mark. Many times these failures happen because of lack of planning, lack of effort, or poor planning. These failures sting, but are bearable. We are able to accept the fact that we have failed. The outcome could have been achieved, but we just failed to execute something inside our capabilities.
Then there are those other times. Those are the times in which we simply fail. We craft the best plan possible. We work as hard as we can. We do everything in our power and we fail. For some reason these times sting more than failure due to lack of effort. It shouldn’t be that way. I should be more frustrated by the fact I didn’t do enough. For some reason, it is harder for me to accept something is out of my grasp. It is harder to accept I can’t do something.
If we were wise, and appropriately detached from outcome, we would be able to step back and look at the situation philosophically. We should be able to take pride in the fact that we have chosen to take on a great task. We put ourselves on the line and did everything we could. We should be able to look at the situation and find gems of wisdom in the new perspective we have on the world, and new knowledge of ourselves. Instead we (or at least I) simply sulk. Maybe in time we will gain wisdom and pride in effort, but in the short term we just sting with the pain of failure. There is no perspective. There is no learning. Just failure.
If we are lucky, we are consoled with words of friends. “It is not about winning the battle but the war.” “Think of all you have learned.” “You need to get back in the saddle again.” All well intentioned word. All true. All words we would say to a friend who is facing their own failure. All words we don’t want to hear. They don’t dull the pain. They don’t erase our error. We have still failed.
In the end, it is okay to feel this pain. It means we believed in something. It means we cared. It means we have meaning, because we were willing to say something was important and worth fighting for. This is a pain that is reserved for the precious few who are willing to leave the safety of their lives to try to find better. It is a pain for those who are willing to risk good in the hopes of tasting great.
But it still hurts.
A lot.
Our greatness (not that greatness seems to be something we are striving for) is not measured in the thoughts we have or the words we say. Our greatness is measured our actions. That is who we are. We are not failures if we fail (even if we feel that way). Greatness is taking action, and in the pantheon of great actions, the greatest is those that come after great failure.
It is hard to take a risk when you have nothing to lose. It is harder to take a risk when you have something to lose. It is hardest to take a risk right after you have lost, but that is where true greatness can be found.
When we take this kind of risk then we are worthy of being called dreamers.

Death and Evil

Monday, April 4th, 2005

“For those who believe in God, death and evil do not have the final say.” Pope John Paul II – 2001