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I Got a Bad Feeling About This

Image result for creepy house in the woods

Yesterday I had a scheduled meeting with a man at his residence. I hadn’t been to the area he lived at before and when I saw his mailbox I noticed his driveway was long and winding, deep into the woods. It was eery as I slowly made my way and then I saw his house, surrounded by dense brush and trees on all sides. The front door faced the woods and I had an uneasy feeling. I got out of the truck and slowly looked around. I wasn’t sure it was the right place until a door to the house opened and he came outside. The man had an odd way of speaking and walking. He invited me into his home but said he needed to tell his mother to put the dogs outside. He spoke to someone on the other side of the door and I told him I would wait until it was taken care of. He came back a few moments later and the dogs were no longer inside. I never saw his mom. The entire time I was in the house I never heard her moving around. Making my way inside the man began to tell me about his collection of chairs. “It’s a wonderful collection of office chairs and recliners!” It was then all the pieces fell into place. An odd man, an invisible mother, a strange collection, alone, in an isolated location? I was in a Law & Order episode!
 
After looking at the chairs in the living room he took me to the kitchen and showed me more of his collection. “This one is my favorite,’ he said, ‘it’s heavy and so comfortable.” Picking up the chair he let out a small grunt and then asked me to lift it up. Feeling this was all wrong I stepped to the chair, lifted it up and put it down quickly saying; “Yes, that is heavy.” Then he said, in a flat tone; “Sit in it. You’ll die.” My heart began to race and the anxiety which had been growing in me exploded. I sat down fast, stood up and said; “Yes, soft.” He looked at me and asked if I would go to another room to see more of his chairs and that was it. “Nope! I exclaimed, I have another appointment and need to go!” We said our goodbyes as I made my way outside and didn’t stop moving until I got back into the truck and locked the doors.
 
The strange this is I don’t think the guy was a serial killer. I think his mannerisms were not what I was used to and this set me on a suspicious, weary, possibly paranoid(?) path. I called a friend on the way back into town and told them the story. They said I was lucky to get out of there alive!
 
As I look back on it today I don’t know what happened yesterday but I do know that we act like those with whom grew up. As adults, we are mirrors of the house we spent our formative years in, reflections of the environment in which we were immersed. This gentleman was, most likely, not dangerous, and the incident was a good reminder not to judge others quickly but to also be aware of your surroundings, your judgments, and adapt accordingly.
 
blessings,
@BrianLoging
thewannabesaint.com
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Balancing Act

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Balancing Act

There is an area in our yard next to the road that is tricky to mow. It is a sharp incline and in order to the get the job done the mower and the rider has to be at a steep angle. When I mow this particular spot in the yard I sit halfway on the seat with my body leaning in the opposite direction of the incline. The balance has to be perfect. Too far off the seat the mower doesn’t sense enough pressure on the seat and shuts off. Don’t lean far enough and there’s a chance the mower and rider could topple over. It’s a twenty-five yard long, difficult and dangerous, balancing act.

Life is also a balancing act. We live in perilous times. All one has to do is turn on the television, log online, and get the sense our families, communities, nations, and world is one mistake from toppling over into a dangerous place and we may not recover.

The problem is balance.  Sides are chosen, political parties picked, litmus tests are given, judgments made and those on the other side, even ones seeking a middle way, are labeled as; “the enemy.” I don’t know if we are going to make it back from the edge of disaster but I do know it takes more strength to listen than to ignore, to understand than to shout down, to accept than to reject, to see others as us than ‘less than,’ to find balance than to demand conformity.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

Who Cares?

Image result for super bowl who cares

Who Cares?

This morning, in worship service, the pastor asked; “Who’s rooting for the Philadelphia Eagles tonight? Who’s going for the New England Patriots? Who doesn’t care? Who didn’t know the Superbowl was being played today?” There were hands and voices raised for each question.

Around 120 million people will watch the Superbowl tonight. That’s over a third of the population of this country which is roughly 323 million. Amazing to me that we can watch a football game together but can’t seem to unite over much else. It’s also a surprise the 2/3 of America doesn’t care about the game at all!

I will be rooting for the Philadelphia Eagles. I don’t have anything against the Patriots they’ve just won it so many times I think it would be nice to give it to someone else for a change. The coverage for the big game started early this morning. The network broadcasting the Superbowl had a great interview with a Patriot’s receiver, his wife, and children. It was a reminder that individual people, with unique stories, make up the teams.

It’s a shame we don’t remember that when we are attacking others for their political, cultural and religious opinions and beliefs. We cast a large net over those who don’t think like us and label them; “bad” or “good” according to our own fallible judgments.

Maybe, if we could see the individual, listen to their story, discover we’re all trying to make it the best we know how, we would realize when we fight all of us lose.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

Reacting

Reacting

What are you reacting to? Such a wonderful and powerful question.

We live in a reactive world. Opinions, biases, judgments, loyalties, choosing sides, seems to be what everyone around us is doing. We don’t have to ask for someone’s thoughts on a matter before they tell it to us anyway. Social media is a primary culprit but I’ve heard stories of this happening in restaurants, gas stations, and grocery stores. People can’t shut up or stop typing. It is a wonder anyone can find interior peace when the exterior world bombards our ears with a cacophony of noise and words.

The space in between” is a difficult discipline which needs broader acceptance. Basically, it teaches that between the incident and the comment is the moment to choose our response. Between the action and the reaction, we have the ability to make the situation better, the same, or worse. In the immediate time following an experience we have the ability to make it more or less unstable.

Reacting, choosing, deciding, what our reaction to a stimulus will determine our destiny. Will we be thoughtlessly reactive, speak without considering, act without thinking about the outcome? Or, will we remember the “space in between” and so grace, kindness, and love?

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

No Contact

No Contact

A cold front moved through our area last night and this morning bringing with it fall like temperatures and rain. On my way to work today I turned my wipers on to clear the water from my windshield and immediately heard an odd flapping noise. I looked at the wipers as they were swiping left to right and noticed on the passenger’s side the rubber on the far side of right wiper had come off the wiper blade. It wasn’t doing anything but flapping in the wind. As a result, where there should have been a clean windshield instead there was rainwater and condensation.

My day has been spent teaching others how to stay in connection with each other, themselves, emotions, thoughts and deepest selves. It’s troubling that in a world where connection should be easy is getting more difficult. The various social media platforms have become places of strident opinions and harsh judgments. Workplace environments, sporting and other social events, community organizations and even our homes are places where we choose sides and the divisions are growing deeper and harder to cross. Where once there was contact and closeness now there are only people flapping their gums, pounding on their keyboards, yelling at the top of their lungs, and our closeness to each other is being lost.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

Sing Along

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Sing Along

Earlier this week I had a song stuck in my head. It played over and over in my mind. It was from an artist I don’t like or dislike and was a song that was fine but not spectacular. These facts didn’t matter because the song was like an earworm which burrowed its way into my brain and wouldn’t stop. I found myself humming the tune, singing along, tapping my foot and fingers, when I was in meetings, classes, and other places.

It is hard to get a song out of your head sometimes. I usually try listening to it several times in a row which can dislodge it. Other times singing it out loud, all the way through, will do the trick. However, some songs refuse to let go and I just live with it until finally, another song, or silence if I’m lucky, takes it place.

I was speaking with someone this week about the causes of poverty, abuse, addiction, incarceration and the incredibly hard task it is to break free from these often generational, familial, cycles. Too often, people think the battles we face are won by acts of wills and choice. While these are important they are not the sum of all problems. When you have been surrounded with these ills of society and family you become used to a normal. You witness those you love and look up to make decisions that keep them trapped in the cycle. Growing up in these environments impact the way you think, your view of the world, and the hopelessness of being free.  Who we are, what we are, are not only the choices we have made but from a myriad of choices which happen when we cannot decide for ourselves or even before we are born.

Understanding the truths about some of the people we meet each day will, hopefully, rewrite the judgmental and biased scripts we easily recite in our minds when we encounter the poor, drug addicted, alcoholic, homeless, ex-felons, and wonder; “Why can’t they do something about their lot in life?” Maybe, they need us to sing a new song to them.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

Fickled

Image result for fickle

Fickled

Yesterday evening, Beth and I went to pick up an antique desk from a friend who isn’t using it anymore. We placed it in the back of the truck, tied it down and headed home. We were a little over an hour from the house when a few rain drops hit the window. “Uh-oh!” we thought and both said. It was raining and we didn’t have the desk covered for protection against water. The sprinkles stopped and we breathed a sigh a relief. As we continued the drive we talked about how most days, especially evenings, we wanted rain and were thankful. However, because we had the desk we desired the rain to “go away and come again some other day.”  We both agreed we were fickled human beings.

Fickled is a funny word but it can be a difficult obstacle to overcome. I’ve known and have been fickled in my life, vacillating back and forth between opinions, ideas, and judgments. Most of the time being fickled can be overlooked but there should be, must be, things upon which we would stake our possessions, livelihood, and lives. If we are fickled about everything then we will stand for nothing.

This week, perhaps more than any other week in recent history, being fickled about bias, hate, bigotry, and racism has been on full display. I believe these are areas in which there can be no wiggle room, no area for retreat. This is where people must draw the line, stand at the risk of everything because if we don’t there may be nothing left to protect.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

Hate

https://www.facebook.com/heather.heyer.9

Hate

This week and weekend have been about hate. Hate has only one outcome; death.

Heather Hyer (pictured) was the woman who was killed when a white nationalist drove his car into a group of counter protestors at the Charlottesville, Virginia rally yesterday sponsored by hate groups such as the Ku Klux Klan, Neo Nazi, and other terrorists organizations. Their hatred fueled the rally and the result was death for Heather and two police officers who died in a helicopter accident.

I don’t understand the hate. I grew up in the south, had a few black friends, but do not recall overt acts of racism. However, I did hear jokes, phrases, insulting words pointed at those who were not white. I didn’t understand what I do now that this is where hatred starts. Words are powerful. They have a way of lodging themselves in our minds and shaping us from the inside out. No one is born hating another. It takes family, friends, co-workers, and others speaking vile, evil, and vicious judgments it poisons our spirits, contaminates our brains and spews out of us like projectile vomit infecting everything we touch.

Hate makes me and others uncomfortable. It’s easier not to engage, to turn our backs, hope it goes away. Unfortunately, this isn’t what happens. Hate grows and spreads. Like minded people come together and depend on most folks looking the other way. Ignorance is a weapon used by people of ill will to gain power. If we aren’t careful, if we don’t call hate what it is it will win and we will be forced to choose hatred or death.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

Into Practice

Into Practice –

It happened all of a sudden. Out of nowhere a back spasm that almost brought me to my knees.

Beth and I were outside and she wanted to lay a few brick squares next to the porch to place a few plants on. First we needed to level the ground, so I grabbed a shovel and garden rake and went to work. For about 15 minutes I worked on it and had most of it done until I hit a spot which was extra stubborn. I put “my back into it” and that’s when the unexpected pain shot through me. I stood straight up, grabbed my lower back and took a deep breath. “Ouch!” I yelled and told Beth; “I just pulled, strained something and it didn’t feel good at all!” I suffered through it until we finished. When we got inside I took some Tylenol and before bed Beth put some ointment on my back. This morning it was still hurting and I placed a heating patch on the affected area before getting ready. Its helped and feels like I’ve been carrying a heating pad with me all day.

I hurt my back because I was doing a physical activity I don’t usually do. Instead of taking my time and taking it easy I do what I usually do when a project needs to be done; go at it hard with abandon and giving no thought to the consequences. I’m not sure why I approach it this way but I do know this isn’t the first time I’ve hurt myself and unfortunately it probably won’t be the last. My back will, hopefully, get better and I’ll forget about the injury until the next one.

It’s interesting how long it takes to learn certain lessons and put them into practice. Our habits, preferences, prejudices, judgments, points of views are ingrained and ridding ourselves of the negative and replacing it with positive isn’t easy. Truthfully, for some of us, it’s a long and painful process.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

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Maybe a Mexican!

Maybe a Mexican!

Earlier this week I was in a store looking at shirts for summer. As I perused a middle-aged white woman walked up to me with a shirt in her hand and blurted out; “Isn’t this the ugliest shirt you’ve ever seen? Who would wear it? Nobody I know. Maybe a Mexican.” She laughed, I grimaced, forced a smile and choked back the question; “You’re a Donald Trump supporter aren’t you?” Instead I moved on, saddened by her attitude and aggression.

Too often people associate the unsightly, problematic, ills and woes of our families, communities and societies with certain races, religions, sexes and ages. Our biases and judgments automatically see the worst in others and the ugliness in ourselves stops us from beholding the beauty that exists in us all.

Blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

Unique Approach

Unique Approach

Sometimes working with people can be exhausting. You think you’ve reached a turning point which will make all the difference only to discover that around the corner leads to a dead-end.

I was speaking to a group of dads today and explaining to them each family, similar to individuals are unique. There isn’t a one size fits all approach to helping people get well and healthy. It takes time, effort and a willingness to listen, get to know, build trust and a relationship. Only then are you able to guide folks toward choices which benefit them and those they love.

Too often we approach people and life with a predetermined way of how things should be. We allow our biases, judgments and limited knowledge to build a lens which distorts our view. If we are to be of real service to those we love, our neighbors, those in need ,we cannot skip over respect, listening, building trust and relationships. If we only have a part of the picture and proceed to “fix” what we believe to be the problem we may end up causing more harm than good.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

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