The Mighty Oak

The mighty oak (national tree symbol of USA); photo by Christopher Bruno on Flickr
(noncommercial use permitted with attribution / share alike).

Oh to be the Mighty Oak

towering and strong, with deepest roots,

not easily moved.

Once vulnerable to the winds and storms,

the threat to be easily uprooted,

but now, after steady growth, it reaches skyward,

giving refuge--and thus life--

to the squirrels and robins and cicadas, 

arms reaching out, solid to provide. 

It still sways and rocks in the winds,

sensitive enough to respond with gentle grace,

but stable to withstand the storms, unmoving, firmly rooted in truth.

Naturally, it bears its acorns in season,

but not unceasingly.

Unashamed, it is content to appear stagnant,

knowing that its steady change from season to season

will lead to new growth and abundant fruit in due time. 

It soaks up the sun--the source of its life--and basks in its light,

serving as a filter for others to encounter that radiance.

Inspiration: Psalm 1 (Blessed is the man who['s] delight is in the law of the Lord...He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers) and Ephesians 3 (that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surprasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God). 

Coping with Pain

I was talking to a friend recently and we were both bemoaning the fact that this year has been really painful. Not only physically, as we've both suffered health set-backs and experienced loved ones being sick, but it also been emotionally difficult. Such hardships have seemed to be more prevalent this year than we remember them being in a long while. As humans, we experience a lot of pain in our lifetimes on this earth. As a fellow human, I fall in the optimist category, thinking that all this pain must mean something. The realists I know are of the mind that it's just what it is, that pain is something we have to face. The pessimists around me wonder what it is all for, asking the hardest question of all:

WHY? 

Even as an optimist I'd love to say I fully believe that pain isn't wasted, that there's a greater purpose than what I can see. But, when I'm in the middle of dealing with pain and sadness and grief, it's really hard to see anything good coming from it. I ran across this incredible synopsis of what the human capacity is to cope with pain. Patrick Rothfuss, the author of The Kingkiller Chronicles as well as The Slow Regard of Silent Things, has this to say about dealing with pain. As you read it, perhaps you, like me, will marvel at how humans face the pains we experience, in all its forms.

“Perhaps the greatest faculty our minds possess is the ability to cope with pain. Classic thinking teaches us of the four doors of the mind, which everyone moves through according to their need.

First is the door of sleep. Sleep offers us a retreat from the world and all its pain. Sleep marks passing time, giving us distance from the things that have hurt us. When a person is wounded they will often fall unconscious. Similarly, someone who hears traumatic news will often swoon or faint. This is the mind's way of protecting itself from pain by stepping through the first door.

Second is the door of forgetting. Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep to heal quickly. In addition, many memories are simply painful, and there is no healing to be done. The saying 'time heals all wounds' is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door.

Third is the door of madness. There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind.

Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.”

- Excerpt from The Name of the Wind

In our seasons of pain, I'm sure we all have at least gone through two of the four doors. I personally have felt on the verge of the third door, often finding myself driving down a road I don't remember heading for, thinking that I must be losing my mind. Relatable right now, or not, I think we can all recall times where we were in pain, and felt perhaps more alone than we ever had. That's partly why pain is so powerful. It separates us from others and makes us aware of our frailty as humans. Take heart, my friends, that pain isn't meant to felt in solitude nor in a vacuum. As I've gone through my own pain these past months, I am so grateful that I have friends and family who are willing to walk this road with me. We aren't meant to go through the doors by ourselves.

We can't cope alone. Every day we spend on earth will be filled with some degree of pain and hardship (as the pessimists say), but it can't be helped (as the realists state) and the bigger picture is that something good can still come about because of it (optimists agree). Pain can be a glue, building hope-filled communities, helping humans develop compassion and empathy for and with one another. None of us walk this weary, pain-laden path without at least someone else alongside us.

When Storms Arise

You can sense it, can't you? When a storm is about to break?

The clouds darken, the temperature plummets, the winds begins wailing.

It is more than physical signs that show the change, however. 

It could be a feeling, a gut signal, an emotional trigger,

 that something "different" is about to happen, 

something is about to begin, whether good or ill. 

Storms are uncontrollable, wild, in nature,

 they are ominous and cantankerous,

unpredictable and often unstoppable. 

Storms vary, in intensity, in reach

 leaving something in their wake.

Destruction has been wreaked,

blizzards wipe out power,

rain has flooded homes.

One thing is absolutely certain,

once a storm has arisen,

lives are never exactly the same.

Storms cause indescribable havoc, 

the one thing about storms is...

Storms change perspective, 

revealing what was there all along

 showing what wasn't there before,

Storms arrange and rearrange.

Fires destroy, but purify.

Hurricanes spell tragedy, 

but bring about bravery.

Tornadoes inadvertently 

smash evil witches

(or so I've read).  

When storms arise,

there is opportunity:

 for greatness,

for healing

for good, 

for hope,

Storms

aren't

 the end

Because that's what heroes do

I recently went to the movie theater. 

Gasp! 

That means I've seen a film, on the big screen, for the third time this year. 

That's a pretty deal, for me.

The movie was the classic superhero film, not too much surprise there.

It was entertaining, equal parts hilarious and serious all wrapped up nicely before the credits start rolling. 

There was one quote that stuck out, however, in the midst of  explosions and chaos signaling the world was about to meet its end. 

The main character, a brawny, golden-haired demigod, passionately explains why he is going to risk everything for the sake of humanity: 

"I choose to run towards my problems, and not away from them. Because that's what heroes do." 

Because…that's what heroes do. 

It's not the explanation I would have given, I don't think. 

I might have said something along the lines of - "Gosh. I'm busy. I'll just...pretend the world's not going to end. Yes. That'll work."

It's not that I don't have problems. Ha! That's a laugh.

It's just that I don't like admitting them. 

I like them to be nice and out of sight. 

They exist, but not for others to see.

I do not automatically face them or even try to embrace them. 

Problems are messy.

Problems are complicated.

Problems are no fun, sir.

But, a hero, or heroine, if you like, runs toward them.

Madness?

Perhaps.

Inanity?

Likely.

Or the action that separates the heroes from the non-heroic?

Most assuredly.

Heroes choose to fess up. They admit they're wrong and they want to make it right.

Heroes don't shove issues under the carpet, shamefully hiding from the truth.

Heroes are truly heroes when they admit they've messed up. And they humbly ask for grace. 

Heroes are the stuff of legend and myth because that attitude isn't cool anymore, is it? I

n these days of blame-shifting and shame-giving, heroes do not emerge to take responsibility for their actions or reactions. 

Heroes say "I'm sorry. How can this be remedied?" In this willingness to ask for forgiveness, they make it obvious that theirs is a journey toward becoming better. And saving the world.

I want to be like that. 

Let's be heroes.

Walden

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion."

- Excerpt from Walden by Henry David Thoreau

"Sucking the marrow out of life doesn't mean choking on the bone."

- Dead Poet's Society