Eksjo, Sweden
“WHERE WE LIVE” reach out
Please send a photo taken within 3 miles of where you live. Make it a scenic or a place representing your life and culture – you can even take a picture of your home or a room in it.
“WORD SHARE” reach out
Please send a photo of yourself, a friend, a family member, or anyone you can find holding their written word. It does not matter what language, if the spelling is correct, or even how good the photography is…
…What does matter is that the word is honest and comes from the heart.
“PHANTOMS”
If you looked into the mirror of us all?
Paused to take in both the reflections of recognized faces and the figures thriving within the shadows of our fears…
What might you see?
If you looked into the mirror of us all?
Stopped to gaze into the safe places or toward the echoes of pain…
What might you hear?
If you looked into the mirror of us all?
Heard the unbiased cry of a first human breath and absorbed an inescapably shared birth experience…
What might you feel?
If you looked into the mirror of us all?
Paused to visualize the innocence of a wordless infant child.
The guardian who,
residing under the walls of our life-earned exteriors,
might well be moderating our loving and desperate moments.
The child within,
who whether unblemished or bruised and battered,
is still a most deserving being.
Worthy of forgiveness for deeds of past generations.
Deserving not to be condemned.
To not be destroyed for sins of transgressors now gone.
If you looked into the mirror of us all?
Peered past pre-conceived notions.
Lived beyond all the justified and irrational fear.
Reached to walk away from any anticipated outcome.
To,
Simply let go…
Allow,
The healing tears freedom.
To inhale the very same breath that brought each of us to existence.
Receive a clarity that, unpolluted by knowledge of the past or controlled by the intellect of the present, has the depth to comfort all who listen.
And as we do,
take in the knowledge and live the action it offers.
Yes…
if you looked into the mirror of us all.
What might you see?
We laugh as he tells me what his wife says in describing his very intellectual, even spiritual perspectives, “Don’t ask me the question because if you’ve got time to kill it, he’ll kill it for you. And it’s hilarious.” he says, in acknowledging how well she knows him.
His starting point on the big WHY? The expected, “Why not?” But what I am starting to already notice regarding the now popular first response is this: Why not means something very different to everyone. For under it lives so much more.
“You know, you ask me why I say ‘why not?‘” today’s stranger-now-friend, hospice Chaplin Matt begins, “That’s how I’m going to qualify the question because I’m all about the possibilities.”
His voice… somewhat representative of a deep Batman growl mixed with a Nick Nolte and Kevin Costner resonance, takes no rest in sharing his perspectives. His apparel and loose morning-rushed hair, tempts the world to profile him. But in getting to know him, a heavy-thinking and deeply spiritual man is revealed. A man who over the last year has offered hospice support to my 97-year-old mother. And in watching him with her as her body and mind diminish, I feel I am looking directly into the face of pure selflessness.
“Don’t make me laugh,” he smiles as I jest at how he describes his speaking voice, “I’m serious right now.“
“Good brother,” he begins, his smile warming up another notch, “Why?- Why? Well, why not? (he goes into minister mode) and I’ll tell you why I say that.”
Already getting confused in his whys, I sit back and ready myself for what I’ve grown to love as his most amazing diatribes. Dialogues that, each week, pull me into deep thought on the way we treat and see each other.
“..…well, why not me? We’re all in this together. And so the curse causeless shall not come,” he quotes from Proverbs. “It’s this idea that there’s a cause-and-effect relationship, and it‘s really an anticipation of what we in this post-renaissance, post-scientific revolution time of enlightenment and humanistic approach to things, that we might see things in linear terms…”
I told you, Matt (we like to call him Chappy) is seriously intellectual.
“We all have different roles. So you ask a question like Why? That’s the stuff of philosophy, and the answer to the question of why is so broad. It can be anything and everything. But really, I think what you’re getting at is motivation.”
He continues, “…and each point along that linear sort-of line, that trajectory, comes after something that is very specific. And that specific thing has a causal sort of nature. And so that naturally extrapolates in the form of logic. An A plus B equals C premise for conclusions.
“So why? Well, what about, why not me? I’m not saying that I’m special in any way, or that God treats me differently. What I am saying is that because there is a God, it doesn’t matter about our title positions, genetics, bloodlines, or whatever it might be. And in our society, more often than not, it becomes about how much you’re worth, what’s in your garage, or how big your house is. And it just goes on and on and on.
“We all have different roles. So you ask a question like Why? That’s the stuff of philosophy, and the answer to the question of why is so broad. It can be anything and everything. But really, I think what you’re getting at is motivation.
“What’s my motivation for doing whatever it is I do? And I would say ultimately, my why is when it becomes less academic or more hospice chaplaincy. Because I know one thing, it’s that God lives. And from that, I understand my place in the world that God created is love.
“I don’t need to read it, I’ve discovered it. And when properly understood, this gives me my marching orders. So when I, for example, know that God lives, I now have a sense of the nature of God and what it is I’m supposed to be doing.
“It’s a misunderstanding. It’s a miscalculation in a very fundamental way. God is with us in the choices we make in terms of cause and effect. So it gets back to why and why not. Well, I believe that we are in the image of God and can stand as God in a world that, at times, can be godless.
“When you look outside of yourself and look at the world that’s out there, as far as you want to look at what’s going on beyond us, you have a valued view of it.”
“People tell me, ‘Why would you believe a thing like that?’ And my question is, just as is powerful, ‘Why not tell me what it is about the human being that you think is incapable of reaching the kind of perfection we see in God, or to see God’s image in their own image?’ But more specifically in the image of the values they hold dear.
“And so God says, ‘Come follow me and do the things that you’ve seen me do.’ Will you do these kinds of things? And God tells us that we’re the children of a father in heaven and that we, like Christ, will sit at the right hand. All of that is language. A metaphor. Nomenclature for one thing. That is we are the children of God, and God is our destiny.”
But what about all the different views of God and the diverse beliefs of higher power and religious practices? I think.
Chappy resumes, “As a minister when you look at the world and see that everyone sees things differently, we have to realize that we all live under the labels we take. And when you look outside of yourself and look at the world that’s out there, as far as you want to look at what’s going on beyond us, you have a valued view of it.
“We all see the world, and when you say ‘the world this and that,’ you’re seeing one thing and I may be saying another, and it’s all based upon personal experience. So, the truth is found in paradox and we find that when we do one thing, we create another. Things that maybe are not the thing planned for. So when I serve somebody in need, I don’t serve that person because I want something out of it. That’s the why for the purpose of my life.”
Chappy, you’ve given us a lot to absorb. In it, and beyond and inclusive of my spiritual beliefs, perhaps the big takeaway today might simply be this call to action: That we all pause in a greater awareness regarding the worth of each other.
Talk tomorrow my good friends,
Richard
His greeting was more than a passing hello.
Subscribe and listen to “Sidewalk Ghosts” on your favorite podcast app.
Subscribe and listen to
“Sidewalk Ghosts” on your favorite podcast app.
They warmly invited me into their home. Offered me a home-cooked meal. That’s just the kind of people they are. Gracious, as through the laughter and endless activity of their infant daughter, they dropped their walls. A story that, at first glance of the family bond they project, is one that never in a million years would you guess. An experience that has destroyed many a marriage, and one that is an expecting parents’ worst nightmare: The premature birth and death of a child.
So in today’s tribute to the resiliency, love, and wisdom of two good people, Father Skyler and Mother Amanda, I’ll hold my words to a minimum.
I ask… why?
Amanda jumps right in. “There’s so many layers to why. But I guess the most likely why he was born early is something we found out after he was born: A condition called cervical incompetence. It basically means that, for whatever reason, my cervix is not strong enough to hold a full-term pregnancy. And because of that, I went into labor prematurely…super early.
Skyler addresses his entry point why.
“Yeah, there are a lot of layers. It’s hard to say from a religious perspective, why did it happen? That’s something we’ve wrestled with a lot because it doesn’t help to hear, or to pontificate on why it happened. It’s almost like it doesn’t really fix anything. It just creates more questions than answers. But I do know that because of what happened we have learned to look at the good and the bad. And there is some good that has come out of it. We don’t know why it happened, but at least there has been some positive that has come out of it.
One of the things I would say is I now have a more tangible comparison to understand who our Savior is. Because in losing our son, there were a lot of parallels to the sacrifice that Christ made for us. The fact that he was a son to a dad, and the fact that in his death, he is showing us what we need to do to get his siblings here.
So in kind of a symbolic way, our son died and sacrificed himself for his siblings, which is a very poignant parallel to our savior, who willingly and innocently was sacrificed for the benefit of others. So there are all these positive things we can draw from that are helping us heal the wounds we have. Or at least provide us with perspective and context. But obviously, it doesn’t make the pain go away.
We’ll always miss him, and we’ll always feel the hole that he left. We’ll always wonder what it would have been like to raise him. And we’ll always miss him. Because he would have been with us right now.”
“you really just have two options. You either let it fester and eventually destroy you, or you let it strengthen you. For us, it brought us closer.”
—Amanda
“He’d be three and a half today,” Amanda shares, then swallows, and then goes momentarily silent.
Skyler scoots his chair closer to her, and leaning into her shoulder offers her a moment of rest. “With our daughter, we get to see her grow and mature, but we also can’t help but miss the fact we won’t get that with our son.”
Amanda kicks back in, “And wonder?
Wonder what he would have been like at this age.
I think I’ve wrestled a lot with this why as well. I know Skye does not want to minimize what he went through, but I think it was more confusing for me. It took me a lot longer to make sense of it, and I feel I still don’t completely understand it. I don’t get why.
I’m sorry,” she says as her eyes well up a little. “Why some people’s babies live and ours. I mean, our daughter did, but our son didn’t get to survive. I had a friend who had a premature baby. He was further on in his gestation when he was born. He was 27 weeks and our son was 24 weeks. But that’s not a big difference. He has a lot of issues and struggles to go through, but he did survive.
I remember I struggled for a long time because he was born right around the time that our son was born. He lived, and our son died, and I didn’t understand why.
I felt like I couldn’t make sense of it because I was like, well, did I do something wrong? Like, Am I wrong? Why did this happen? I still don’t understand it completely. But I think, well, why not? You know, we live in an imperfect world. And I can’t say it wasn’t part of God’s plan, because I do believe that.
But I also believe that sometimes it’s just the luck of the draw. In a way that’s because we live in a fallen world, God says you’re going to have this, you’re going to lose a child, you’re the person who’s going to experience this really hard thing because we live in an imperfect world. And in it, there’s sickness and death.”
Skyler: “And not that he necessarily orchestrated these things, but sometimes he allows it to happen.”
“What made me feel most comforted and loved was when my pain was seen as valid. I think the further away from my son’s death I get, the more I’m able to see the different things that comforted me.”
— Amanda
Amanda: “Yeah. Moreso, like he allows it to happen. It’s hard to explain because I don’t have a good answer for it. Of how it all makes sense in my head. Like I know this was orchestrated, It’s hard to explain, hard to make sense of it.”
I share a thought: Amanda, you’re explaining it pretty well. Maybe you are talking about how the pains we go through teach us perspectives we can assimilate into our own lives. And maybe, the pains facilitate the coming of gifts and blessings. The hardships and sorrows are things that lots of people go through. And in knowing that, maybe it helps us to not feel alone, even have a higher power by our side.
“Yeah,” Amanda responds. “I think I’ve just kind of come to terms with the I don’t entirely know why it happened, and I don’t know if I ever will in this life. But sometimes I see glimpses of it.
Like, all I can do now is to just make the best of it and choose to see the ways in which it’s blessed our lives. Though I don’t like saying that particularly because I don’t feel like losing him was a blessing. But I feel like he has blessed our lives and will continue to, even though he’s not physically here on the earth. But I know he’s there, and his effect is felt in my life often. So I think maybe that’s where I am.”
I share with them my hidden pain. The fact that my wife and I lost a child in a midterm miscarriage. I know, not the same as going full term. But after seeing a live scan of the breathing body and beating heart of your baby girl, to have your unborn and deceased child scraped away, well, that leaves a hole in your heart and life.
Grief is a powerful motivator. One that I’m sure we have all experienced in one form or another. So to that point, and feeling Skyler and Amanda have the chops to answer, I ask them a two-part question: First, how would you describe grief, and second, how would you describe comfort, or even resolve?
Amanda begins, “I think the best way to describe grief, or what I was feeling was just like a longing for him. And this still makes me emotional because he was my baby. I want him.”
She turns to Skyler, “For me,” he says, “it was three things: Feelings of helplessness, guilt, and denial. Helpless because I’m a fixer, and this was something out of my control. I felt completely helpless. Denial because I have this sometimes naive sort of optimism where I can’t accept things that are right in front of me. So even in that really hard moment when they were trying to save him and they were doing CPR, and it was a really dramatic moment, they asked us if they could stop interventions. Even at that moment, I was in denial, still waiting for something to happen or for someone to come and fix it. And then guilt, just because I go back in my mind and think, what could I have done differently?
“I’d say it kind of depends on what stage of grief,” Amanda elaborates. “Like how far out someone is from their grief or their loss. Because different things were poignant for me at different times since losing him. I remember immediately after people would try to say something profound and try to soothe. But there was nothing anyone could say or do that could make it better. The one thing I wanted that no one could give me. To have him back. What was most meaningful was when someone would not say much at all, except I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for what you are going through.” She again tears up as she shifts to talking of comfort.
“What made me feel most comforted and loved was when my pain was seen as valid. I think the further away from my son’s death I get, the more I’m able to see the different things that comforted me.
It’s still always going to hurt. If I had to comfort people going through similar things, I would just acknowledge them. Tell them it’s going to hurt really bad for a while. And honestly, each person is so different that some things are painful for people to hear. What would be comforting to one person, or what would be comforting to another. I think it depends on your approach and the way you say things. I loved hearing from people who had experienced child loss because I felt like, okay, they get it. It takes a lot of time, and it takes a lot of tears.
For me, I had to be willing to lean into painful feelings to find healing. For Skye, it was keeping busy, and that’s a valid way too. He was processing it, but he had to be busy to process it, whereas I had to slow down to process it.”
“you really just have two options. You either let it fester and eventually destroy you, or you let it strengthen you. For us, it brought us closer.”
—Skyler
“For me” Skyler adds, it was just the old adage of time heals. The best analogy that I’ve seen is a recent Instagram video Amanda and I saw.”
“This is something we will carry for the rest of our lives,” Amanda concludes. Just missing our son and wishing so many things for him. But something that does make it better is there are so many other sources of happiness and beauty that are added to your life.
The size of the actual grief never changes, but you’re perspective changes, and your proximity to it changes. You’re able to find other beautiful things in addition, I guess.”
“My perspective,” Skyler shares, “you really just have two options. You either let it fester and eventually destroy you, or you let it strengthen you. For us, it brought us closer. We were faced with the choice of drawing apart and facing it alone or facing it together in wrestling with some bitterness and some hard things. Doing it together helped us grow as a family. I see my son now as kind of our conduit to God or the Savior. He helps me see God or Jesus Christ as a bit less abstract.
Skyler and Amanda, because of you our hearts are full today. To the four of you, and on behalf of all of us following the RadstoneBLOG, we thank you for opening your doors and are sending you our tears and love.
Talk tomorrow my good friends,
Richard
I don’t know how you wake up, but for me, it is a 3-to-6-round series of 8 minutes snooze buttons. Maybe I’m a lazy riser, or maybe I just like my morning half-dream time. Whatever it is, it has stopped happening since I recommitted to this blog journey. Moreso, my internal alarm clock has now kicked in. Seems to be ringing in my head at a regular 4 to 5 A.M. And today, as I nudged my spouse, “Hey, are you up?”—a gesture I hoped would lead to some mindless early morning snuggle time. I rolled to my side and rubbed the fog from my eyes, “Good morning.”
I don’t know about you, but for us, and sadly, our morning ritual has become (Steve Jobs, thank you) a time to check our text messages and news feeds. I know, a terrible habit. Definitely, a romance buzz-kill. But never-the-less, the day has begun and we’re off and running. The first conversation topic: Fake news. Then to dealing with the death of friends, followed by spirituality, higher power, and where we are going after this life. That jumped to how we view each other, the worth of a person, and what we can learn from our differences.
At the center of our discussion: The whys of judgment, the whys of fear, the whys of bias, and why many have difficulty facing topics and people uncomfortable to them. To up the ante, even the whys that motivate her and me. A conversation that, in the end, became generalized to one specific point: We are not here to judge. We are here to serve.
I know, a highly optimistic and perhaps overly simplified statement. The complexity of this living experience is extreme, and wearing rose-colored glasses is not a realistic suggestion; surely not a wise and safe thing to do in many situations. Yet could it be that in this generalization can be found an actionable linking point? Even a point allowing us to pause in considering a unifying precept:
Could it be that inside all of us are unpublished moments or experiences that are not that good? The painful stuff we hide or have trouble facing. The things that the world, and more often ourselves, identify as damage—an idea that is at least an acknowledgment enabling an empathetic outlook regarding the “why” we are studying.
I often speak of the mirror we look into. Direct us toward deep consideration to face feelings that quite possibly are ones we don’t want to. And to be fair, I’ll be transparent in restating that these are my observations (all gained throughout my life and augmented by the last decade of research and experience in meeting countless strangers). Outlooks and words influenced by my hidden gifts and baggage. But in the end, could it be that in this admission, mixed with the same consideration toward others, is a plausible starting point we can each examine as we do our part to drop the barriers that reach to divide us?
I wish I had a more concrete toolset for facing the considerations above—an impossible task to accomplish because of the vastness of the cultures and experiences that we each are living. But one thing I know is this: That as we explore the “BIG WHY,” the more we look beyond our fears, the more we open our eyes and ears, and the more we control our biases and reactions, the greater the chance we have in better seeing others, and as I often say, even ourselves.
Alright, it’s time to start the day!
Talk tomorrow my good friends,
Richard
Celebrity designer Danielle Judd shares how a life-threatening illness and a promise to God gave her another chance. Even an opportunity to better the world.
More about Danielle and Farmhouse Rescue at
farmhouserescue.org
Subscribe and listen to “Sidewalk Ghosts” on your favorite podcast app.
Subscribe and listen to
“Sidewalk Ghosts” on your favorite podcast app.
At 22, his daughter still says, “Daddy, I love you!” His two younger sons talk with him in all they do, and his wife together with him for plus 22 years. A man who lives by four principles. In his words. “Don’t lie, don’t steal, be there when you said you’ll be there, and always do better than you did the day before.”
And yes, as a person, he is imperfect… Just like you and me.
Yet, in his imperfection can be found an honest heart. A man who admits where he has come from, and as he shares of his blessings and angers, he is open about lessons learned. A man who says it as it is, and a man who stands by his words. And as I get to know him, he prompts me to reflect on my history. For I too am one of the imperfect ones.
In him, a background of drug addiction that began at age 15. In me, a 20s filled with double vodkas on the rocks. In him, rock bottom moments of jail time, in me, homelessness. In both of us, pasts forming the people we are now becoming. Once again, the imperfect beings we are.
He reflects, “I was like, yeah, I have three kids. And I’m sitting down like, yo, I’m a piece of shit. Like. What am I doing for my kids, and what am I doing for my wife? And that’s when I had my epiphany, and then it became easy. I threw my phone away and started meeting new people.”
Standing side-by-side you might never guess the links that bonded us. Of our present as fathers, husbands, and children of parents who loved us. Of the darker histories of our lives, and the trials we have overcome–the rock bottom moments that, brought on by our choices, landed us in less than optimal circumstances. Personal sagas that, if we passed each other on the sidewalk, we would never know. That is until we spent together sharing a most unified discussion. A revealing of who we are to one another: Two distinct individuals with similar and different outlooks on many a topic:
Me, the conservative-looking white Jewish/Mormon guy (now, a Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints), and he, a confident atheist with a most permanent edge. Two radically different external personas, who standing together, share a great truth of this living experience. And as he warmly invites me into his life, a wonderment is revealed. That being, the worth of any one individual is great. For if either of us had fallen to the temptation to profile, to judge, or to close off our ears, our eyes, and even our hearts toward one another, we would have both lost out on a gift far beyond the two of us. The opportunity to learn from each other.
There is a basic principle I have been taught in the faith that works for me. It reads, We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may.
So in tribute to today’s-stranger-now-friend, Freddie, I author this story. A story of a good man sharing his beliefs, history, and lessons learned. And a man doing his best to leave a mark that matters.
He starts with a drug warning.
“Nobody, like, forced it on me, you know? I remember I had a couple of friends when I was 15, and at that time I drank. You know, I smoked weed, but I never did anything like crazy. And they were like, they’re talking about doing a line. And I was like, What are you guys talking about?
And I remember I did a line and I saw everything was crisp and, um, the feeling I got, it was amazing.
And then after that, it was all downhill trying to chase that feeling. And you never get that feeling again, you know, and that shit drives people to do stupid crazy shit.”
“”My mom, when she would cook dinner for us, it was for my father, myself, and my mother. You know. All my brothers and sisters were moved out. But when she cooked, she cooked enough for 20 people. And then when my friends came over, she fed them. So that’s the kind of attitude I have.
“I’m a prideful person. I like to boast,” Freddie tells me, “you know. I like to be front and center. I think I’m a showoff.” But as he does, I counter. Are you prideful, or are you confident?
He stands on pride:
“So like, okay, check it out. This studio is Pride Tattoos. You know, people like to show who they are and they write it with pictures like tattoos.
Why? It’s the rawest form of self-expression if you have to speak one word to somebody. Now, a lot of times you can be wrong, but you can pretty much gather what somebody is about by their tattoos. To me that is prideful.
Like, feeling pride in how you look and how you portray yourself. Pride, that’s my thing. Like, it’s not something to overcome. Because I don’t find any problem with it. Yeah, I think it can be taken too far sometimes. But I am who I am, and like it or hate it, it doesn’t matter.”
I push a little more with the confidence/pride comparison.
He deepens his perspective:
“I think pride is pride in who I am. And I am proud to be that person. I stand by people like me.
I get these young artists here, they’re learning, right? And they’re all like timid and all this stuff. And then you have a seasoned artist, they’re like, Yeah, whatever. And there’s confidence there. They found themselves. The new ones. They’re still finding themselves. I think once they find themselves, that’s when they get that confidence. But the pride, it’s just that I love my family name, where we came from, and that’s pride for me.
I know who I am. And I think that’s prideful because I don’t want everybody to know who I am, but to respect my journey here, and because of that, I respect everybody else. Yeah.”
Per that pride in family, and amidst his informing me about the gambling addiction his parents had, and although they are now gone, he credits them with the love and stability he feels inside. And not trying to grandstand his name and story, I have to let you know that, whenever I called him a good man, he looked away from me. A response that I identified with, for in my opinion, in all of us can be found regret, shame, and shortcoming. Yet, in the mind of this blogger, this is the stuff that makes us equally human. Able to find compassion toward our neighbors. That is; if we choose to do so.
“My mom, when she would cook dinner for us, it was for my father, myself, and my mother. You know. All my brothers and sisters were moved out. But when she cooked, she cooked enough for 20 people. And then when my friends came over, she fed them. So that’s the kind of attitude I have.
I had a very good relationship with my parents. It didn’t matter what I did. They supported the shit out of me. They had my back always. Yeah, yeah, I miss them. I wish I could do some bad shit to give my father and my mother a hug now. Just. Yeah.”
I ask, what are you living forward with your children, even the youth of the world?
“I’d rather have them be risk takers and experience some shit rather than never experience it at all, and then be blind to what’s going on around them.
I tell them, just ask questions. Don’t take everything at face value. Ask why, where, when, who, and how. Then if you can answer all those questions, you have the truth.
Yeah. Like we give them the information they need. Without information, you can’t accomplish anything.
Then I let them go. I’ll just let them loose and tell them what I expect. I’m saying, don’t do this, but go ahead, make a name for yourself. Do what you do! Be you! I think if that would have been done for me, I would have done some shit differently.
There was one time my son goes when I picked him up from school, I hate that guy. I was like, Whoa! hold on! I was like, Does he know that? He goes, What? You said you hate him. Does he know that? He goes, No. I said, well if you want, go tell them that you don’t like him.
Squash that. You know, I’m saying there’s no reason to walk around with hate for somebody that you don’t even know.
You get more bees with honey than vinegar.
I just want my kids to be healthy, and I want them to be happy. I couldn’t ask for anything else and let them decide what they do, who they want to be, and how they want to get there. And I’m here if I can help them a little bit. Give them some advice.”
“I just want everybody to land. Like there’s stuff I don’t believe and there’s stuff you believe. And because we’re all different, you know, like it’s, if God wanted robots, he should have made robots. If there is a God who knows us.”
Freddie’s WHY?
“I thought long and hard about my why and I think it encompasses everything. Like, if I have like, or if I have to fight, it doesn’t matter. If I’m trying to be me, I have to do whatever it is I have to do.
That’s my why, I just have to. Yeah. It depends on what the why is. About the what is to the why. Because that why could be a lot of things.
I mean, as I try to conduct my life, I’m going to try. I’m not perfect. Everybody f–ks up.”
So I think before everybody has a decision, right? I’m saying there’s no like, well, there, I guess there is a right or wrong about certain stuff. We’re going to be judged by somebody, somewhere, and sometime. When they judge me, and since I’ve f–ked shit up. I just want everybody to land. Like there’s stuff I don’t believe and there’s stuff you believe. And because we’re all different, you know, like it’s, if God wanted robots, he should have made robots. If there is a God who knows us.”
I look at Freddie, his black tattooed eyes no longer intimidating. His art covered body and piercings blending into the person I see.
Freddie, I say, the one thing I am growing to love about you is that when I’m around you, I know who you are. It’s like if I was to put words in your mouth, I’d say, I am who I am.
Pointing to his chest, he smiles. “Check this out! I have I am who I am tattooed across my chest. Love me or hate me… your not going to forget me!
Freddie, I’m happy to take the first choice: Love ya my brother!
Talk tomorrow my good friends,
Richard
She put me in my place. Reminded me how even our slightest profile can be wrong as I commented, “you do most of the work.” My attempt to relate via comparing the contributions of nurse practitioners to doctors. Yet, in what I felt was a simple comment for finding a common speaking point, I was politely corrected, “we work together, and there is an important place for all of us.”
I swallowed a little. Troubled that I may have unintentionally offended today’s stranger-now-friend at my first introduction.
Kate is her name. A full-time nurse working on a nurse practitioner’s doctorate in family medicine and psych.
With the cold outside and feeling like I was back in Los Angeles, I too look around. Still tasting the Vanilla Whiskey, Chocolate Chip Gelato I had just finished. if you ever visit the WOODBINE food hall, make sure to stop by Three Cups Coffee Tea Libations, Home of the treat I just enjoyed. So good!
For a few moments, we spoke about culture and the topic of first impressions. Then we jumped right in.
I asked; Kate, however you want to frame it, and I can give you more description if you wish. But to start, may I propose an open-ended question?
If a stranger like me walked up to you and just said why, how would you answer that?
“Well, I feel like I would need more context to that.” Kate begins. Then she pauses, “But I work in an inpatient psych hospital. So people often come to me and ask odd open-ended questions. So I would say, why what? So I don’t think I could provide an answer just based on an undefined why, or I guess maybe my answer might be, why not?
Her answer brought me back to my high school years. Specifically to a psychology midterm test based on answering the question, (yep, you guessed it) why?
We all labored to write a convincing response. Many were not even completed by the end of the 50 minutes we had to do so. Yet there was one student in the room who, somehow within 20 minutes, completed the paper. And as we profiled him as the joker in the room (which in a way he was), we dismissed his example. A week later the teacher announced he received the highest grade. His answer, (again, you probably guessed it) “why not?
An A-plus, for why not! At the time, it seemed so infuriating! But now. sharing time with a person who, at first meeting, is easy to recognize as extremely intelligent and compassionate, the why not is even more grounded. In it, the freedom to exercise our will to the fullest, and permission to love the person we are, and the person we are becoming. Although I will add one condition. That is, as long as we are not forcibly taking away the lives, liberties, and freedoms we each have the right to as living human beings. And in this a challenge, to find the self-discipline to be more empathetic in both that in which we agree, as well as when we want to fight. Not an easy thing to do.
So, I get the “why not!”
“The meshing of culture, ethnicity, and because at this moment, we have more a diverse culture. It is, you know, coming from all over the world, and even within the United States we are learning how to cooperate together and still maintain identity. ”
Kate then asks, “Can I have a little more context?
I expand: If you look at society around us, the pros and the cons of what you see. At the commonalities, or even the differences. The alignments, and the disagreements we have. And if you think of all of us as human beings as you look at the people you know and at the people you don’t know. And you can answer any part of the question however you wish— intellectually, spiritually, or emotionally—there all fair:
Why are we here? Where are we going? Why do we behave the way we behave? Why do we do this to each other? Why can’t we, or why should we?
I define the question a little more: I don’t want to just stare you down and bait you into an answer, but I’m just trying to see some logic when I look at it all. And it’s a question I’m still trying to figure out.
Kate works to absorb my generalizations, and as she searches for a response, I humble the ask:
I’ve only asked three people so far, I share, and I’m still trying to understand the RadstoneBLOG “why?” chapter.
I reframe the question:
Why do you think people behave the way they do in this age of digital connection, and even digital segregation? And why do we get so enmeshed in trying to find commonality? Why do we get so hung up on fighting so hard in our diversity and differences, and in dealing with the things we don’t fully accept? Why why do we do that?
Kate nods, “Well, I think there’s a parallel. The digital part–The meshing of culture, ethnicity, and because at this moment, we have more a diverse culture. It is, you know, coming from all over the world, and even within the United States we are learning how to cooperate together and still maintain identity. And I feel like that part of the human condition is how to work as a team within a community, within a family, and still maintain our personal identity.
That goes for anyone. Everyone in small microeconomic groups as well as larger macroeconomic groups, and ethnicities, and that finding a sense of self.”
We talk about profiling and our current U.S.A culture.
“I think there’s a very common miss, not necessarily misdirection, but there are people who want to know what’s the source of an issue.” Kate expresses. “And people care about varying issues to different degrees. When they see a huge problem, and they see a culture that mainly focuses on consumption, our use of resources, and many not living sustainably (especially compared to other cultures), it’s easy to just say this is your fault! And it’s not necessarily that that is wrong.
But it gives a very direct pathway to say this is the issue, and this is who’s causing it. I think that America in general does cause a large portion of world issues. And I can understand that line of logic. However, it doesn’t do us any good as a society to try and blame one thing for all of the world’s problems or one person for large problems.
I mean, Hitler tried to do that and it wasn’t super effective, turns out.
I grew up a white, affluent woman in a conservative place–and like I was speaking to you before, everyone’s trying to find their own identity within a community. The way is difficult, especially for people who look different, feel different, and are different than the majority of what a community looks like.
But that doesn’t mean you can’t find it. You know, you can always find yourself wherever you are. Sometimes it’s more helpful to be around people that are more like you or just people that support you for who you are. But no matter where you go, you’re still you. No matter where you go, you’re still going to be that person.
So it’s important to figure out who you are because you’re going to carry that with you everywhere. And that person can exist everywhere. Regardless of, you know, different political views within a state, people, or just differing viewpoints and pressures. You’re still always able to be yourself. And that’s something I always try to focus on. Within every setting. How can I continue to uphold my values and be true to myself?”
“People give me crazy looks all the time here. But at the same time, I can’t control what anybody else does. I can’t control what anybody else thinks. And most of the time, they’re just stories that we’re telling ourselves.”
I mention fear. Not at the life-threatening level, but in discussing the inner stuff that leads to bias, insecurity, and at many a time, lack of compassion toward another.
Kate clarifies with a question. “How would you feel? People give me crazy looks all the time here. But at the same time, I can’t control what anybody else does. I can’t control what anybody else thinks. And most of the time, they’re just stories that we’re telling ourselves. Like, Oh, that person is looking at me because I look different. Or they’re judging me in some way. But essentially, it’s just kind of like a soap opera in our heads.
A lot of that is what we project on other people rather than what is reality. And at the end of the day, I can’t control it anyways. So, if I see somebody that’s staring at me or making a face, I say to myself like, they must think I look interesting because that narrative helps me move throughout the world in a more peaceful and non-confrontational way.
For me to assume they’re thinking bad things about me, or being negative, or think I look crazy, you know, whatever it may be. Because at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. I can’t control whatever they’re thinking anyway. So if I tell myself the better story, I’ll move through the world much easier than if I’m telling myself the negative things that I think people are thinking about me.”
Okay, we’re just about done here, I assure Kate. But after exhausting my speaking points, I feel it is only fair to ask if there is anything else you would like to share, teach me, or expand upon.
Enthusiastically, “Yeah. Yeah. I mean, I think kind of going back to the first why? Why not? I think a lot of people will pigeonhole themselves or think, I can’t do that. I’m not capable of that. You know, that’s for somebody that’s more outgoing than I am. Has more confidence than I do, or is smarter than I am.
Throughout life, I feel like I’ve essentially learned the only person that’s going to put those limitations on you is you. And if you have an opportunity that you’re interested in, rather than holding yourself back for all these things that you think you can’t do… Why Not? I always think, like I always say, what’s the worst that can happen?
You know, like think about the absolute worst thing that could come of this. And if it’s not that bad, then go for it!”
You are an incredibly empathetic and intelligent person! I tell Kate. A feeling that as I first interrupted her in her studies, I could just sense.
She smiles, Her humor rising to the surface. “I agree!”
Kate! Thank you for allowing me into your quiet time! And thank you for letting the world know how much you care. And yes, I too agree with your prognosis.
Talk tomorrow my good friends,
Richard
