All It Takes Is One Step

"Faith is taking the first step, even when you don't see the whole staircase." (Martin Luther King, Jr.)


Taking the first step.

It sounds so easy.  Just put your foot out there.  It's just one step.  No big commitment.  No "marathon journey" to endure.  No need to whomp up a bunch of courage.  Just begin.  "Just Do It".

And a part of us says, "Sure - I can do that!.  Don't know where I'm going?  Don't know what I'm doing?  No problem!  Just call me "Mr. Trailblazer" - I love surprises!"

But the older I've gotten, and the more honest I've learned to be about myself, the clearer I've seen that "taking the first step" is something more easily said than done.  That despite all of the apparent "trailblazing" that I've done in my life:  as the oldest child, first to graduate from college; as a teacher, "captain of my own ship" everyday in my classroom; as a "world traveler" to places distant and beautiful; as a man, single and "carefree" for most of my adult life - most of the time I have been pretty reluctant to actually venture out and do something, learn something completely new.  I've hugged the shores of the known, the familiar, the comfortable pretty closely.

It's said that one must "take a leap of faith", but now I think it's that idea - that faith requires a giant "summoning of one's will", a great act, "a leap" - that prevents us from actually practicing being truly faithful as often as we could.  All it really takes is one step; one act; a willingness to step into the unknown or sit in a silent moment of indecision, and to try to not do what we've always done.

And if I can, oh what gifts there are there!  What possibilities!  And along with this can come the discovery that "having faith" did not ever require me to imagine a desired outcome, or "wish upon a star".  Faith simply requires me to act - not think about acting - and then to be open to receive whatever came next.

So I'm sure you're asking, what inspired all of these lofty thoughts?  I'm not sure. I know that sitting down in front of this blank page always requires some faith (What the heck will I write about now?  How will it come out?).

I know that the times I've taken that step up the "staircase I can't see" have been the moments I now most remember:  stepping off the plane in Ireland for the first time; moving to southern Oregon; my first date with Deborah; rafting down the Rogue River for the first time (and bouncing off the rocks, again with my brave coxswain Deborah); asking her to marry me a year later; giving a toast at my brother Dave's wedding last year; accepting a student's dare to sing a Justin Bieber song in front of my A.P. Economics class this December (and then seeing the video of it "go viral" on YouTube minutes later!)

Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage. (Anais Nin)



Here's to taking more of those "first steps" in my life - and to discovering some hidden pearls along the way.

Wistfully Watching Winter - "Haiku, Can You?" Pt. Two

"The fog comes on little cat feet.  It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches, and then moves on." (Carl Sandburg)


Ahhh! (sigh of contentment!)...Here I sit, enjoying a special "bonus":  a Friday afternoon, home early from work. I spent the mornings in a meeting, sharing with some other teachers all the tools and "tricks" I have learned over the years in teaching Economics.  The compliment that I most appreciated at the end of the meeting? "Wow!  I didn't know Economics could be so fun!  I can't wait to teach it!" ... Mission accomplished!


My reward was a chance to come home a little early, and to enjoy some simple things I rarely get to do on an afternoon in January:  enjoy a late lunch "date" with my wife at work; take Izzy, our faithful Chihuahua sentry, on a walk while it was still daylight (she acts like she's "in charge" of the whole neighborhood - a pint-size Presidente!); and now, a cup of coffee, while I let a winter day slowly settle around me instead of slogging exhaustedly through it.


And I thought I'd write a couple of new haiku;  I haven't done that for a few months, and it's good to try to write short things every now then. (I can see I need more practice at this - It took me 190 words just to get to that point!)  So, with further adieu, some haiku...


Winter in the Rogue Valley
January gray,
Fog muffles and shrouds the hills
A cold winter shawl


A January Dream
Any winter day,
Kids (and teachers) share a dream;
"Snow day! Whee! Snow day!"


Only in Oregon - 2011
Can Ducks beat Tigers?
Fans in green, gold flock and boast
The world's gone "quackers"!


So, there's a few new haiku...for you...to view...maybe you'll pursue...this poetic path too...Adieu! (I can hear you saying "Pee-You!  When will this rhyming be through?)... Just this last haiku, courtesy of Izzy!


Izzy's Haiku
I am your best friend,
Now, always, and especially
When you are eating!

Taking Time to Count What Counts

"Man is fond of counting his troubles, but he does not count his joys.  If he counted them up as he ought to, he would see that every lot has enough happiness provided for it." (Fyodor Dostoevsky)

It's a late Sunday afternoon on my last day of Christmas break.  A wonderfully peaceful and relaxing two weeks away from work is coming to an end, and tomorrow I return to the hectic world of a high school teacher: bells buzzing, lessons to be planned, stacks of papers that have been "hibernating" for two weeks, meetings and schedules, and the challenges of interacting with 120 different people, teens and adults - all with their own energies and agendas.  Quite a change from my quiet little world for the last 16 days!

Many times I find myself feeling a little blue on Sunday afternoons, or spending the time watching the time slip by and wishing, hoping desperately, it wouldn't.  But a question my wife asked me last night has stuck in my head all day and was what I wanted to explore instead.

"What's something that makes you happy?", she asked me. 

A seemingly simple question to answer, yet it caught me at a loss for words - which seemed odd since here I was, the lucky recipient of 15 days to do whatever I wanted to, and yet, why couldn't I name anything that made me happy (other than saying sincerely, "Being with you!")?

Have I been spending too much time, "counting my troubles"?  How can whole days, weeks, or even months go by and we haven't done what we say we love, or what makes us happy?  (A case in point - writing in this blog!  I've been absent from it for 6 weeks!)

So, a simple, but valuable exercise for myself...to remind myself to more frequently and intentionally remember what it is that brings me joy.  I'll be curious what comes to me in the next few minutes...

THINGS THAT MAKE ME HAPPY...

• The first cup of coffee, sipped slowly in the morning (any morning!) in my quiet home, as I and the world get ready to meet each other.
• Watching the flames flicker and dance in our fireplace always warms my heart as much as the heat warms my skin (and my wife's "popsicle toes"!)
• Being surprised by a beautiful sunrise on my way to work.  Rembrandt, VanGogh, or Monet themselves couldn't have painted masterpieces as breathtaking as the pink sunrises I've seen across the skies this year.
• My wife's gentle touch - her hand resting on my back - as I fall to sleep.
• Finding a good story to read - one that just makes me want to race until I've finished it, hungry to read more and more!  I just finished such a book, "Unbroken", by Laura Hillenbrand:  an unbelieveable story about the heroic life of Louie Zamperini, Olympic medalist, WWII veteran and prisoner of war.  Two lessons learned from reading this:  Everyone I meet has "a story" - both amazing and painful - that I can never imagine... and secondly... That we are all capable of far more than what we believe we're capable of.
• Cooking!  I love making things that are wonderful to eat and fun to look at to.  Whether it's BBQ or brunch, a simple salad or hearty homemade macaroni and cheese, something exotic like Thai Chicken Satay or something simple like an omelet, I love being creative in the kitchen (and even learning to love to clean up after my "creativity" - I'm like the Swedish Chef on "Sesame Street" sometimes!)
• Raking the leaves on an autumn afternoon, knowing I won't get everyone one of the golden "paratroopers" dropping down as I work, but being OK with that.
• Being at the beach.  Watching the waves ripple and foam during the summer, and boil and crash in the winter.  Smelling the salt air - squinting through my tears as the wind whips around me.  Feeling the power of the ocean and being reminded that there is much in the world that is greater than me, and so much bigger than my little desires or worries.
• Seeing how excited our little chihuahua Izzy gets when I get ready to take her for a walk.  Oh, if I could only be so enthusiastic, and see everything I do in life as being fresh, and new, and as exciting as she does!
• The joy that comes from giving.  Every time I've remembered to give freely, I've always been rewarded by so much more in return.
• Sharing my life - all of it:  adventures and quiet times, passions and pleasures, as well as painful lessons and challenges - with a partner, a friend, an ally, my love...my wife.  Such a blessing...

Deborah & I at my brother Steve's wedding - October 2011
(added this photo after the blog)

Well, what do you know!  There's eleven things that make me happy, and so much more I could say!  I might have to return to this exercise again sometime.

"Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be."  (Abraham Lincoln)

Here's to taking more time in 2011 to count the things that really count, and to finding the joys I tend to overlook, that are the "pearls" simply waiting for me to discover them.

A Miner's Treasures

"Real success is finding your lifework in the work that you love."  (David McCullough)


Like a coal miner, emerging from the deepest, darkest tunnels at the end of his long shift, I sit at my desk on a Saturday morning and look outside my window, squinting at the outside world as though it was a new, unfamiliar world.

My, my...where have I been for the last three weeks?  Busily at work in the "education mines" at South Medford High School - digging for gold nuggets of knowledge, trying to polish my students' minds into diamonds.  Twenty-seven years of doing this - it must still be a labor of love for me.

So, some observations and thoughts about what it's like to be "in the mines" with me.  The first quarter of the school year just ended, so it's a good time to "catch a breath" and look back and see what I've learned.

• I've been amazed at how much "newness" I've had to adjust to these first 9 weeks: a new school, a new classroom, new students, new computers, new software programs on the computers, new copy machines, new "neighbors",  a new schedule, new furniture.  It seemed like nothing at work was "old and familiar" or where "it used to be" - not even my wastebaskets!  Each day at school has been a quest, an adventure - that has sometimes left this Horatio Hornblower pooped!
• A funny irony!  For so long (24 out of 27 years) I've taught in rooms with no windows - I told myself I'd love being in a room with windows galore and a beautiful view to boot.  But more days than not, I find myself shutting the shades to cool my room, or to keep my students focused on what's happening in the room (it's OK for me to daydream every now and then, but not my students).  I guess it takes awhile for this "old miner" to get used to the sunlight again!
• One of the funnest things about teaching is learning new stuff!  I love tackling new topics, doing research to share with my students, and trying to think of new ways to teach them new things.  In my Contemporary Issues classes, we did a "Great Debate - Liberals vs. Conservatives" - something I hadn't tried in 20 years, that while it wasn't perfect - was fun trying to figure out how to do, and fun listening to what the students argued about.  I'm happy that after a quarter century of doing this job, I still enjoy being "a student" still.
• Meetings, meetings, meetings!  They are a constant drumbeat in my busy week.  But I've been working hard to not resist them.  To complain about them, resent them, grumble and mope about them is like hitting myself on the head with a rubber mallet (ala Daffy Duck in a Looney Tunes cartoon), and then wondering why I have a headache!  So, I've been using meetings as a good time to work at being present, being positive, and even volunteer to do something extra, every now and then!

And it's humbling to be reminded how much of this job is all about successfully relating to and communicating with people.

• To truly listen with all of my attention in a moment to an anxious student.
• To say "Hi" to a student in the hallway, shocked that I remember their name.
• To stop to laugh with a colleague, or tell them they're doing a good job.
• To correct without being confrontational; to direct without being disagreeable
• To tell a student you know they can do better, and then help them do so.

These are all that make teaching a labor of love for me.

So, hi ho, hi ho, it's back to the mines I go.

Hoping to find other "Pearls" in the next quarter...

What A Modern Man Really Needs

"Imagine if every Thursday your shoes exploded if you tied them the usual way. This happens to us all the time with computers, and nobody thinks of complaining." (Jef Raskin, developer of the Apple Macintosh)

I love computers.
I hate computers.

I have a college degree.  I've been using computers, for business and pleasure, for over a quarter century now.  So, naturally, I think I know what I'm doing when I'm sitting at my desk here, plinking away on my Dell, or when I'm clicking and whizzing at the speed of light around the Internet.  My computer is my willing servant - delivering the answer to any question I ask at the drop of a Google.  I am a Microsoft maestro.  Call me a "21st Century Man" - I am competent and connected!

But every now and then, out of the blue, when I least expect it...Life reminds me who is really the servant of whom.

Despite the fact that I've asked nothing more of it than I ever have...Even though I've always been kind to it, and gentle, and polite...I've dusted it, and inspected it...Disinfected it, inside and out...Been the perfect, loving caretaker...

My computer freezes.
The download gets lost in the wilds of cyberspace.
The cursor sullenly blinks at me, taunting me with its silence.

And I no longer feel like a "21st Century Man", master of all he surveys.

Instead, as I stare at the screen, I feel more like a lonely, cold Neanderthal, shivering and staring into the flickering fire, wondering what mysterious alchemy - what magic from the gods - created this object in front of me.  And just as Alley Oop would lean over and desperately blow on the flickering flames to keep them alive, I also know only one thing to do to rekindle my Kindle.

Push restart.
Reboot
Don't ask me why.
Only the gods possess such divine knowledge.

What's the most valuable "software" that I'm required to use with every technological marvel designed to make my life easier?

Patience.

Now where did I leave my goose quill and inkpot?

Time For A Checkup

I've always liked this quote from Proust - the challenge to have "new eyes" as I go through life.  And this quote came to mind this afternoon as I was sitting at my desk, looking out the window at the world.  What do I see?  What "eyes" am I using as I look out?  Do I see "the same old thing", or is there something new to discover? 

So, instead of sitting here trying to think of something to write about, I'll try just writing about what I see - try to exercise a new set of eyes...peer out through a "clean pair of bifocals" and let something new touch me.

I see...

• A tiny yellow rose gently leans against my window, surrounded by five sibling buds, ready to pop open.  On the window behind them, there are wet drops - perhaps beads of "posey perspiration" as the buds strain to catch up to their "big brother" before they all have to go in for the winter?
• Elsewhere in the front yard, I see other examples of some plants still lazily lounging and blooming like it's still summer, while others are busily putting on their fall "coats" and getting ready for chillier times.  A pink foxglove and an orange sunflower definitely look "underdressed", shivering in the breeze.  But the trees - maples, alders, oaks, and poplars - look snug and happy in their red and orange and yellow coats.
• I see green hills in the distance, crowned by gray, fluffy clouds.  But then, right across the middle of the hills, a band of white sunshine flashes and glows for just a few minutes, warming the rocks and trees underneath.  And as I struggle to find the words to describe this, it fades away as the clouds shift and settle into a cozier spot in the sky.
• As I look at the trees, I see them rustle and sway as the wind sweeps by them.  But it isn't one wind - "the wind".  It seems like each tree and plant has it's own personal wind that plays with it:  the arbor vitae just gently sway with their wind; the wild rose bush shakes and shimmies like a go-go dancer with its wind; the maple laughs and chuckles as its wind playfully tickles it.  And the little crabapple tree in the lawn sadly droops its head for a moment - no breeze buddy to play with - and then a friendly gust sneaks up and says "Boo!" - and the crabapple shakes and giggles for a moment.

The world I see outside seemed so still and quiet when I first began to look at it.  But then I could see it was so full of life.  Was that life always there?  Or did my fertile imagination simply paint a story that pleased it?

"The question is not what you look at, but what you see." (Henry David Thoreau)

I guess it all depends on which eyes you use to look out of:  the eyes of the mind, or the eyes of the heart.  This exercise has shown me there's no question that there is life outside of my window, outside of me, that I rarely stop to look it.  Who's to say that roses don't sweat, or that trees don't wear sweaters, or that clouds like to snuggle, or that the wind loves to tickle and tease the trees, who can laugh and giggle?

I'd say it's time for some "new eyes".  There's a whole big world out there, just waiting to be seen.

Two Whispers in My Ear

"Being a writer is having angels whisper in your ear - and devils, too."  (Graycie Harmon)

My, my...it's been awhile since I sat and wrote.  I can probably bluster and shuffle, and come up with all sorts of reasons why:  Been busy, been tired, been sick, ad infinitum.  But I know the real reason why I haven't written.

"...And if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." (Friedrich Nietzsche)

I haven't wanted to "stare into the emptiness".  I don't know much about Nietzsche; seems like kind of a grim guy (but probably not unusual for a Teutonic philosopher!).  But I understand a little of what he said above.  I wanted to use writing as more than just a way to convey information, or to amuse.  I wanted to use it to explore myself - to find a "voice".  But there's something about exploring that the history books never tell you.  Something that I never remember them telling me as I read about Columbus and Cook, Hudson and Hillary, Polo and Peary...Stanley and Shackleton...

Real exploration can be scary stuff!  That is, if you really are trying to "go someplace you've never been".  You can begin by "hugging the shores" and only "going out so far".  But sooner or later, you have to head out into the darkness - not knowing a thing about where you might wind up, or what you might run into once you take that first step.  And sometimes, I think, the biggest deterrent can be the thought of not finding ANYTHING there.

I like to think that I'm always filled with light, and charm, and wit, and stories, and clever turns of phrases galore.  And when those times come, it's as if little angels are whispering in my ear:  tickling my mind and making my fingers dance across the keys. 

But I've also come to experience times when it's not a little angel whispering in my ear, but a little devil.  Not a big scary, whip cracking, fire-breathing "Balrog" of a devil.  No.  Just a little imp.  Kind of looks like Sleepy or Dopey of "Seven Dwarves" fame.  And what he whispers doesn't tickle my mind.  Instead, he lulls me to sleep.  "Go rest.", he sighs.  "Writing's awfully hard work. You can always do it tomorrow."  "Besides," he yawns, "There's nothing to see here.  Let's go have some ice cream".

The funny thing is that as long as I'm only listening to the imp with half an ear, not really paying attention - he sounds convincing.  But when I manage to hear his weaselly voice, and give him my full attention, only then do I realize what a charlatan he is.

Because when I'm willing to really listen to his silly, somnambulistic spiel; willing to look into the emptiness and not turn away, I'm always offered a clear choice.

Do I want to stay asleep, or do I want to live...to try something new and fresh?
Do I want to stay "safe and secure" in the harbor of my self, or do I want to take a risk?  Step out into the Sargasso Sea within - find myself becalmed for awhile. But then push ahead and be rewarded for the effort?
Do I just want to "think about stuff", or do I want to actually DO something?

And then I know the angel's back, whispering in my ear.  And I answer with a smile, just as one of my favorite explorers, Meriwether Lewis, did so often in his journals.

"We proceeded on."

And look what I stumbled on to...another "pearl"  There's always something new to learn, if I'm willing to look and listen.