Zac Parsons

Tonight, as I write this, the sun is setting on my twenties.  The third decade of my life comes to a chronological end at midnight.  I happened to be born in the first year of a new decade (1980), so my twenties coincided with the 2000’s.  It’s fun to reflect on milestones of life, and I’d like to share some of mine from this past decade.

When I turned 20…  I wondered if I would ever bench press 200 pounds.

When I turned 30… I wondered if I would ever weigh less than 200 pounds again.

When I turned 20…  I was sure that Friends was the best show on TV.

When I turned 30… I was sure that LOST was the best show on TV… ever!

When I turned 20…  I was sure that my closest college friends would remain my best friends for life.

When I turned 30… I still believed that, and finally stopped pining for a time machine to go back to those good ol’ days.

When I turned 20…  I was positive that I would be a Christian minister for the rest of my life.

When I turned 30… I sat back and counted eight different full time jobs within several different career paths over the past decade.

When I turned 20…  I marveled at the spiritual themes in The Matrix, and congratulated myself for being so spiritual to “get” all of them.

When I turned 30… I play a sort of pin the tail on the donkey with everything, and God is there… every time.

When I turned 20…  I wondered what there was left in life to learn, because I had figured out so much already.

When I turned 30… I appreciated each new day as an opportunity to learn something new.

When I turned 20…  I knew the woman that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

When I turned 30… I spent many months without her, and I still knew that she was the woman for me.

When I turned 20…  I dreamed about how I could change the world.

When I turned 30… I reflected on how much the world had changed me.

When I turned 20…  I believed that Phoenix, AZ was the best place in the world to live.

When I turned 30… I still believed that Phoenix, AZ was the best place in the world to live, but that an amazing life is possible anywhere.

30 has always seemed like a magical year for me.  Jesus got his show on the road around this age. Siddhartha began his path towardsenlightenment after 29 years on the earth.  My mother was 30 years old when she gave birth to me.  So there are various reasons as to why this birthday is significant for me.

I don’t want to fall into a trap of feeling like I have “arrived”, but I’m looking forward to some geographical, financial, and vocational stability in my life for a change.  Time will tell if that is what my thirties have in store for me.  I’m finally ready to start them… tomorrow.  Tonight, I’m going to go kiss my kids goodnight and know that if it all ended, I would still count myself as blessed.

Namaste.

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A couple of months ago, I stumbled across a video about an author named Samir Selmanovic on Zach Lind’s website.  If you don’t want to make the jump, you can just watch the video here:

The video was exactly the breath of fresh air that my religion-weary lungs needed to take in.  I started a quest to learn more about this man, this book, and this new perspective on my faith that might rescue it from the toilet bowl it has been sitting in for the past several years.

I became a fan of his book on Facebook, ordered his book from Amazon, and basically fell in love with his spirit and perspective on the most important things in life.  Samir is a sage.  I highly recommend his book to people that ponder the mysteries of life, God, and one’s relationship to the “other”.

To give you a unique look at Samir, check out this video that his daughters made to encourage people to NOT purchase this book:

I don’t want to discuss too much of the book without you.  I want you to read it and talk about it with me and others on this website.

If you’re still not sure what this book is about, and you aren’t much for watching videos, check out this interview of Samir by Robin Russell.  Here is my favorite quote from Samir from that interview:

We are going through a period where what it means to be religious is changing. Religion has to adjust to an interdependent world. In the past, the strong city was a city with big walls. But today, the strong city is the city that has more bridges and airports and links. Links make you strong, and links are also boundaries, so we can have our identity. If our roots go deeper, we can afford to take off some walls.

So, if you can’t find the book locally, just buy it here.  If you want to talk more about this book through this website, let me know in the comments.  If we have enough people involved, Samir may be willing to participate in a group Skype chat with us.  Sounds pretty great to me!

Cheers and Namaste!

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In the fall of 2008, I was lost.  I had just arrived at the Toussaint Louverture International Airport in Port-au-Prince, Haiti.  My instructions from Lenny were to wait for a man named Nader (like Darth Vader), and to NOT GO OUTSIDE.  Nader was the man who was supposed to taxi me to a smaller airport to catch a propeller plane to Port-de-Paix on the northern coast of the country.  Well, after getting my bags, I just kept walking.  Wouldn’t you know, I ended up outside after all.

Although it was just like Lenny had described it to me, it was a far cry from the peaceful view of  the city that I had observed on my flight in.  A sea of people, at least 10 deep on each side, were beckoning and hollering at me as soon as I came into eyeshot.  Since I don’t speak Creole, I couldn’t make out what was being said to me.  I picked up on a “taxi” here, and a “American” there.  A Haitian woman approached me and offered me a taxi ride.  I told her that I was looking for Nader, and she said that Nader was not there.  I didn’t want to offend her, but I also didn’t want to go with her.  Suddenly, a man in the middle of the crowd yelled “Sack!”, which I have come accustomed to responding to, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

My relief was short lived though, as this man was not Nader, and he informed me that Nader was not there, but he could help me.  Because he had called out my name, I had to trust that he was a friend of Nader’s and would be able to help me with the rest of my journey to my friends.  I told him that I was scheduled to fly out on a Tortug’ Air flight to Port-de-Paix in less than 90 minutes.  ”Port-de-Paix?” he said.  ”We go now!”

The roads in Port-au-Prince are not all paved, and those that are are not painted for opposing traffic to each know which lane is theirs.  It was one of the more white knuckled passenger experiences of my life.  When my driver wasn’t zig-zagging through oncoming traffic, he was laying on the horn with the drivers in front of us with the audacity of driving at a reasonable speed.  But, all is well that ends well, and we arrived at the regional airport in time to catch an early flight to Port-de-Paix.  My driver negotiated my ticket exchange on the earlier flight, and I wished him well with a five dollar handshake.

Sitting in the final airport of my trip (I had been in the Phoenix Sky Harbor and Miami International Airport just the day before), I was anxious for the reunion with my best friends from college: Lenny and Warren.  The last time that we had all been together was at our mutual friend Phil’s wedding in the summer of 2003.  Our time apart (five years) had been longer than our time together (four years of college), and freaky coincidences had kept us apart.  Warren had asked me to be a groomsman at his wedding in 2004.  My son’s imminent birth prevented me from participating or even attending (a pretty understandable excuse).  My involvement in Lenny’s wedding was preempted by my daughter’s birth in 2006 (again, an understandable choice).  Randy was a little sullen when the birth of my third child did not coincide with his marriage.

When people around me started moving towards the gate, I figured it was a good time to follow them.  I ended up with a seat in the front of the propeller plane just a few feet longer than a Suburban.  This was the view in front of me:  

while this was the view behind me:

After flying in jumbo jet for my most of my life, I was not prepared for the amount of turbulence that a plane this size would experience, even on a clear and pleasant day.  I decided to grab my camera and document my own death, were it to occur during this harrowing flight.  I got a decent shot of the city:

Glad to still be winning the fight against gravity, I managed to snap a shot of the Haitian mountains (and a bit of the propeller):

Less than 45 minutes into the flight, we were descending.  The shadow on the ground became larger and larger:

Finally, with children running and waving along the dirt runway, my plane landed in Port-de-Paix.  Instead of collecting my bags at the baggage claim, they were handed to me as I walked toward the airport building.  In the new sea of faces at this airport, I looked for any that I would recognize, but to no avail.  My early flight had put me in the right place, at the wrong time.

Not knowing how large the city was, or if anybody knew of these American guys named Warren and Lenny, I blurted out the name of their school, to nobody in particular.  ”Sonlight?”  A man next to me asked, in confirmation.  ”Yes!  Si!  Oui!” I said all at once like the confused outsider that I was.  Holding up a cell phone, he said: “I call Sonlight.”

After looking at this man’s clothing, I immediately felt an odd sense of familiarity.  He was wearing the jersey of the French soccer star David Trezequet, number 17 from Juventus.

He punched in some numbers and handed me the phone.  A Hatian voice greeted me on the other end.  The voice informed me that Lenny and Warren were busy and unable to come to the phone.  He would have them come to the airport to get me as soon as they were located.

So, I waited.  Even though my new buddy with the Trezeguet jersey had made me feel more at ease, he was suddenly gone.  In case something were to happen to me, I still had the strange urge to document it on film.  So I took in my surroundings, in HD:

After about 30 minutes, my main man with the zebra stripes ran up to me.

“Sonlight?  Sonlight?” he called out towards me, with his eyes and hands beckoning me to follow him.  I grabbed my bag and stepped through the gate into the city.  Just a few steps away was a banged up old pick up truck with the brake lights on.  Then, the brake lights turned off, both the passenger and driver side doors opened, and both of my friends emerged with grins even goofier than my own to welcome me to their home.  While I wasn’t able to capture that moment with any lenses outside of my physical body.  I made sure to grab a shot of the two of them before we settled in for the ride back to their homes and families.  I spruced it up in iPhoto a bit, just for dramatic effect:

Warren (left) and Lenny (right)

To be continued…

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My son and I at a community service project last Fall.

This morning, while sitting at the kitchen table, the question that I had expected my son to eventually ask me, was finally asked.  After taking the self-applied clip-on tie off of his undershirt, buttoning his top button, and correctly reseting the tie, he looked at me and said:

“Daddy, why don’t you go to church with us?”

Kim happened to be walking down the hall, but she heard the question and raised her eyebrows at me as if to say “He’s your son!”  She realized that this was going to be a man to man conversation, and continued to the bathroom to prepare herself for the upcoming church service.

I looked at my son’s earnest eyes, and contemplated his even more earnest question.  As many parents do, I weighed the merits of a short answer that would stop his questioning, but be less than truthful, against a more truthful answer than might take a series of answers and explanations about things that he might have trouble wrapping his mind around.  Today, I chose to give him the more honest answer.

I told him that it was because of my beliefs.  Although the church and I share some of the same beliefs about living a moral life, we differ on so much more.  The main difference, as I told my son, was the church’s view of the other, the outsider, the adherent of another faith, and/or the unrepentant sinner.  This church (like many others) believes that after death, certain people will end up in some sort of hell.  For most of my life, I have believed the same.  But in the past few years, for a variety of reasons, I no longer do.

Before explaining anything else to him, I let him know that despite his desire to be just like me in so many ways, his beliefs would have to be his own.  Whether my words of explanation will have any more influence on him than my actions, only time will tell.  But, I wanted to express to him how personal everyone’s beliefs are, and how they should have some measure of respect.

After describing hell as a place where people were sad and crying for ever and ever, and where God could not/would not ever see them or rescue them, my son replied that he did not want to ever go there.  I told him that some people believe that the population of hell is made up of people who deserve to be there.  I shared with him my belief in a God who would not create someone who would eventually end up in hell.  In fact, I read a great quote in a book by Samir Selmanovic just yesterday:

“I have become convinced that a God who favors me over others is not worth worshipping.”

In the end, my son walked away with a couple of new thoughts about God and hell, and an apparently sufficient answer about why daddy wasn’t going to church.

Really, I just can’t wrap my head around the belief that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and at the same time that God is the creator of this mess that falls short of Him.  If God is responsible for the situations in our life that lead us to make choices, then He is also somewhat responsible for those choices.  If He is not responsible for those situations, then everything is just chance and chaos.  God cannot judge our actions justly if we are all playing with different pieces on often vastly different game boards.

I’m sure that I could say more about this, but I’ll save it for another time.

Not believing in hell is just a stone’s throw away from not believing in “sin”.  In light of my Christian upbringing, this is a belief that challenges much of what is commonly understood about the purpose and nature of Jesus, the namesake of Christianity.  If there is no hell, and there is no sin, then what was Jesus all about?  If he was just a great moral teacher, and not God incarnate, then this changes everything.  Depending on what criteria you use to classify a Christian, then you may not consider me one anymore.  To be honest, I myself often wonder if I should claim that for myself anymore.

I feel like I’m a sort of religious no man’s land.  Where I’m going to end up is unclear.  I just know where I don’t want to be:  In a place where God loves me (enough to give me life in heaven) more than he loves other people (so little that He lets them die in hell).  If you found some place where I could find myself more at home, please let me know.

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One of the paradoxes of the curriculum at The Pacific Institute (and I mean that in a very complementary way) is the mandate to set a firm goal, and to be flexible with the process that gets you there.  Maybe its more of a misnomer than a paradox, because it’s often difficult to identify what is a process or step towards the goal, and what is a goal in and of itself.

I have a lot of goals.  One of them involves becoming a better facilitator.  Another involves becoming a better communicator.  Still another is about being a wise man.  A few months back, a local college preparatory school asked if I would be interested in substitute teaching.  I identified this opportunity as a process that would help me towards those first two goals, and even provide a little income on the side.  After meeting with the administration and learning a little about the school and its values, I agreed and began to substitute a few days per month, for various courses.

While I was there, a funny thing happened.  I LOVED it.  Now, I don’t mean that it was a pleasant surprise and a welcome change to my schedule.  I mean that I could feel something inside of me and around me as I walked through the doors into the hallway.  Now, it may be that they pump laughing gas through the air vents, but I think it is more likely that some vivid picture of life that I had in my own mind was being matched by something outside of me.  It was the realization of a goal that my subconscious mind had been teleologically fixed to, and I thoroughly enjoyed becoming aware of it.

Still, my goal remained to be a full-time Project Director and Facilitator with The Pacific Institute.  I was meeting new people, developing new projects, and collaborating with others for some exciting work in the coming months and years.  The goal was fixed, my affirmations were clear, and the plan was moving forward.

Then a door opened.

The head of the upper school called me to inquire if I would be available to fill in for a teacher for the rest of the school year.  Without even thinking, I politely declined, citing the amount of time I needed for my projects with The Pacific Institute.  Because my goal was clear, and I perceived this new information to be a threat to that goal, I shut the door.

But, as it sometimes does, opportunity knocked again.  This time, our conversation touched on the courses that would be on my docket.  Subjects like psychology, religion, history, and social studies.  She wasn’t asking for me to fill a hole as a warm body.  She was telling me that she had interviewed several interested applicants, and still believed that I was the best candidate for the position.  She was confident in the positive impact the position would have on me, and the students of the school.

So I did something that I should have done the first time around: I evaluated.

As I looked closely at the opportunity, I became acutely aware that I was not operating within a vacuum.  Taking responsibility for my choices and their consequences has been my modus operandi for the past seven months, but I often forget that almost every choice has consequences outside of me as well.  It’s another paradox, it seems.  I can’t focus just on my own choices and their consequences, and I can’t just be passive and let my life happen to me.  It’s a delicate balance, and I was leaning too much on the goal of being a successful Project Director.

But why did I want to become a successful Project Director?  Was it so that I could share my own experiences with others in a way that would help them to avoid the pain that I had experienced?  Was it to impact people in a meaningful way so that they would find something great within themselves because of something I did or said?  Was it to do my part as a citizen of the world to make it a better place?  When I took all of those things into consideration, the teaching position was offering me a process towards an even greater goal: not just to be a wise man, but to be a wise man with a legacy for my children.

In the end (or beginning, as it were), I gladly accepted the position and will begin on January 4, 2010.  Since I was a teenager, I have had the idea in my mind that I will have my act together (in some way) by the time that I reach 30.  If Jesus didn’t really get his game going until then, and Siddhārtha didn’t reach enlightenment before 30, why would I?  In February, I’ll reach that magical age, and while I’m not sure that I’m going to have my act together, this new chapter has me very excited about what life (and my students) will teach me as a teacher.

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Last month, ESPN produced a nice 8-minute piece on Marie Tillman, the widow of Pat Tillman.

While speaking to a group of high school students last month after the Ft. Hood shooting, our discussion touched on the volunteer nature of American armed forces.  When someone mentioned how much soldiers have to sacrifice in order to join up, I brought up the professional sacrifice of Pat Tillman.  To my shock and amazement, none of the students had ever heard of him.

While sharing Pat’s story with this group, my own personal emotions regarding Pat’s decision and death came surging back to me.  While I’m definitely more of a pacifist now than at any other time in my life, I can still draw strength and inspiration from his decision to give up his high paying and high profile position as an NFL player.  The act of temporary sacrifice for the sake of a greater good has not been exactly been a hallmark of my own life.

Trying to find a balance between striving for what I want, and denying myself those same desires has been the unresolved theme of my life.  In an effort to “die to self” in an aim toward virtue, I often times sabotaged myself (and my family, as a result) as I came too close to reaching my desires.  I began to expect failure like a musical virtuoso expects applause. I couldn’t believe Gene Wilder’s Willy Wonka when he remarked that the man who suddenly got all that he wanted, lived happily ever after.

I’m not sure that I can say that I completely understand Pat’s decision, but recently, it has taken on new meaning for me.  From everything that Pat accomplished (3.84 GPA in 3 1/2 years at Arizona State University, while being named Pac-10 Player of the Year, as a 5 foot 11 inch linebacker) to what those close to him said about his drive, it seems clear that he didn’t do very many things half-assed.  So how does someone with that kind of focus and resolve just change his path so drastically mid-course?

What if he didn’t change his mind?  What if his decision to enlist was completely in line with his personal goals and desires?  If becoming a successful professional athlete was Pat’s supreme goal, then yes, he did make a wholesale change to his values and desires.  But if his desire was to be a great man, then it was just his definition of what makes a man great that changed.

It’s another variation of the discussion on life as more of a journey than a destination.

I now understand desire as a virtue.  As long as that desire aligns with the ultimate principles that govern life. A desire that leads to a full stomach, an escape from reality, or an orgasm is not one to embrace as life-giving or virtuous.  But a desire that leads to a peaceful resolution, a restored relationship, or the benefit of others may be.

Desires and choices come from our goals.  When we are immature, we can only see a short distance into the future.  As we grow, we can see farther and our goals reflect longer term aims.

Pat’s goal was to be a great man.  My goal is the same.  But how I’m defining great has changed.  A great man doesn’t deny fulfilling his desires for the virtue of denial itself.  A great man aligns his goals with the most virtuous truths on the highest level of abstraction that he can reasonably comprehend.  Now, if I miss a meal, miss a nap, or avoid romance with other women, it may seem seem like some sort of denial of desire, but it is what I want.  And I’m finally OK with getting what I want.

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I do not own a John Mayer album.  I can’t say that I was tapping my toes when my brother introduced his music to me during a car ride through the New Mexico desert a few years back.  I do remember his Volkswagen commercial where he just shreds his guitar while using the car’s audio system as an amplifier.  Really, my only exposure to the more human side of John was a fairly popular Youtube clip of him on a VH1 show doing an off the cuff parody of Chocolate Rain.

The day of Michael Jackson’s death, Mayer’s words were the celebrity quote that most accurately conveyed my own feelings at the time:

“Dazes in the studio.  A major strand of our cultural DNA has left us.  RIP MJ.  I think we’ll mourn his loss as well as the loss of ourselves as children listening to Thriller on the record player.”

Then, I saw his musical tribute at Michael Jackson’s funeral.  It was a type of synthesis of his unbelievable guitar talent, and the very human connection that John felt with Michael’s music and life.  It had such an impact on me, that I made it the theme song to this web site, as odd and as self-aggrandizing as that is.  Strangely enough, I’m not sure if I have thought about John Mayer or heard any of his music since then.

It is somewhat poetic and appropriate then, that a recent video interview of John with CNN would catch my attention and paint a nice picture of what it means to be human.

The full transcript of the interview is even better and I gleefully recommend reading it.

Many of the articles on this site deal with the human side of two groups of people who often times aren’t considered as such: criminals and celebrities.  I am convinced that both groups of people are judged far too harshly by many, due to the blindingly bright nature of one side of his/her personhood.

If you view John Mayer as a skirt chasing, limelight loving, lucky SOB;  you’re only half right, if that.  The theme of the interview (and apparently, this new album) is that John is taking ownership of who he actually is, and not who he is trying to be or pretending to be.  This is tremendously important for anybody who is looking to know oneself, even if for the sake of trying to change.

Although John’s comments on age are intentionally hilarious and exaggerated, they ring true to me now as I am on the cusp of my thirties.  I’m taking inventory of where I have been, and I’m trying to examine the events that most helped to contribute to my current state.  I now believe that just a few core beliefs help to guide nearly everything that I do, and in a way, life isn’t as complicated as I sometimes make it.

As Polonius said to Laertes in Hamlet: “This above all: to thine own self, be true.”  Before John Mayer was a celebrity, he was… John Mayer.  Writing songs about love and heartbreak were natural, well received, and most of all… real.  It sounds as if he is trying to keep a hold of that which made his music magical, namely his unapologetic honesty.  He may not be politically correct, but he doesn’t seem to be bitter or resentful of much outside of himself either.

I’m a fan of honest conversations and blunt confrontations, in a spirit of love.  I want my life to be characterized by more of this.  I want it to be one of those core values that everything else flows out of.  Thanks for reminding me of that today, John.

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Well, in light of the fact that this is a light news day, this will be a light Tuesday Newsday.  In fact, I just have one bit of news to share.  Kim and I just got married…. again.  I’ve got better things to do than write today, so I’ll be going now.  Cheers!

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Yup.  It’s official.  In an ironic twist of fate to those who have watched Jon drop the ball with his family, Jon Gosselin’s name has now been dropped from the show that he began with his wife and children just a few short years ago.  According to this CNN.com article, the new show will start on November 2, and will be called “Kate Plus 8″.  Oddly enough, TLC and Mr. Gosselin will maintain their “exclusive relationship”, for whatever that’s worth.

I’ve followed this story on my blog for a while, for two main reasons:

First, it was one of the top shows in my DVR stable, only subordinate to LOST.  We had never missed an episode, and I had a genuine rooting interest in their family, just from watching them grow from the comfort of our living room.

Second, I myself have gone through and continue to go through some of the same emotions and actions (including infidelity and divorce) that Jon is in the midst of at this time.  We both were deeply wrapped up in Christian communities where divorce is a sin of the highest order, and marriage is forever, is forever, is forever.  Happiness is at least secondary to commitment, if it is even in the top ten virtues of that sub-culture.  In this way, I felt much closer to Jon because of our kinship in seeking freedom from what seemed to be an oppressive situation: ie marriage.

Kate Gosselin is a strong woman.  This much is clear.  She has handled the situation with a good measure of class and composure, even admitting to some moments of despondence during this ordeal.  She has always been open about her flaws, even being willing to show her post-pregnancy belly on national TV before she was anything close to famous.

Jon, it seems has taken a different turn.  While the news of the demise of their marriage was fresh, many men (and women) wondered why it hadn’t happened sooner.  For all of her good qualities, Kate had a knack of putting Jon down, questioning his parenting skills, and generally treating him like a child.  And all of this on national television and (perhaps more painfully) in front of their children.  You could hardly contain Jon’s smile in the moments of freedom that he experienced on the show.  He seemed to begrudge his commitment to Kate and the effect it was having on his own personal freedom.

But, since their story has become a top headline around the gossip columns and the water coolers, he is much less “devoted dad” and much more “deluded douche-bag”.  Having several girlfriends at once is not admirable, in my opinion, and sleeping with anyone who will have you (including the babysitter and the nanny) sounds more like bondage than emancipation to me.

The truth is, anything can become a ball and chain in our lives, not just the lovely woman that you got on your knee and promised the world to.

I honestly hope for the best for Jon and Kate, and that does not necessarily mean reconciliation.  I was (and continue to be) fortunate enough to have a woman love so deeply and so truly, that my redemption and forgiveness is at hand, even now.  According to the state, we are divorced.  But to those who know and love us, they see what we have been working towards over the last few months.  A reacquisition of the love we had feared lost, and a bright future where dragons are slay-able and mountains are conquerable.

Thank God for my lovely partner and the power in all of us to change our mind.

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(This article originally appeared at www.managingactions.com)

I do not have the body of a runner.  I barely have the body of an athlete.  When I see video of myself in physical activity, I wince like most of us do when we hear our voice on a recording and think “Is that really what I am like?”.  But, for whatever reason, in every stage of my life, I have run.  Today, I ran to the beat of this song, by Panic! at the Disco:

The drum beat has fantastic cadence for my running stride.  I love letting the image of the video run through my mind as I run through the streets.  The Sgt. Pepperish outfits are a throwback to the 60’s, and the song dances back and forth with talk of the past and the future.  Even the title asks some clever questions:  ”At what point would 9:00 ever be considered the afternoon?”  and “Is the afternoon the end of your daily rhythm, or the beginning?”

In researching for this article, I discovered the band has since split up since writing and recording this song.  The remaining members (the drummer and the front-man), just released a new single entitled “New Perspective“.  The song doesn’t grab me right away, but the title and some of the lyrics seem to indicate a view towards the future and what could be, juxtaposed with what was.

We’ve all heard the phrase “time marches on”, and it certainly does.  I sometimes wonder if growth and maturity are inevitable based on the ticking of a clock and the movement that must take place in the midst of the march.  In many cases, time does drag or push us into the future, whether we wish it to or not.  And that seems to be the difference: our wishes and intentional movement.  There is a future to be entered into, and it can be our choice of how and where we enter.

I have this picture in my mind myself walking through life in between a set of parentheses.  If I start to feel sorry for myself and sit down to pout, the parentheses keep moving.  Eventually the lagging one is upon me and dragging me through the dirt, forward through life.  It’s when my focus is on the leading one when I am most content and at peace with life.

Hope abounds.

Optimism rains from the sky.

Energy fills my heart and mind, and my body runs toward the future.  I think that this is part of the reason why most children are happy as a default setting in their lives.  With less to look back on, there is the future waiting to be entered into.  I also think this is why the phenomenon of a mid-life crisis is so rampant, and legitimate.  After getting “over the hill”, many of us want to scramble back to the top and enjoy the view.  Or even to climb back down to a part of the trail where the peak is still ahead on the horizon.

Time is marching on.  It’s my responsibility to stay on my feet.  Right now, I’m running.

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A few months back, SNL’s weekend update did a short joke about the Gosselin family drama, implying that their then current rumors of infidelity would inevitably lead to a break up and divorce.  Seth Meyers quipped:

“Responding to reports of infidelities, Kate Gosselin from the reality show Jon and Kate Plus 8, denied that she and her husband were splitting up. Though it is interesting that TLC has two shows on its fall schedule entitled “Jon Plus 4″ and ‘Kate Plus 4.’”

I didn’t believe it at the time, but his words seem strangely prophetic in light of what the family and show are facing now.  Jon and Kate plus 8 returned to the air after a monthlong hiatus this past Monday.

The first of the two back to back episodes was compiled of earlier footage before the two parents had officially separated.  Jon and Kate shared just a couple of scenes together, and did not spend any time on the iconic couch, which has always been their nest for reflection on the episode.  The theme of this episode was the renovation of the kitchen, which was planned for during happier times, and happened to be scheduled for the summer.  While the two had to decide on what features they would have in their brand new custom kitchen (presumably free for them because of the exposure the company would receive), they made it clear that their choices would be for the children, and that they were only thinking about them.

I’ve heard a lot of comments around the web about how the sort of answer “we’re doing what’s best for the kids” is ludicrous based on their decision to separate.  The idea is that the best thing for children is for their parents to be together, no matter what.  It’s a callous point of view in my opinion, and one that is probably not offered by those who are in that situation, or who have gone through a similar situation.  I would like to believe that most parents love their children deeply and honestly do believe that their actions will have a positive effect on their children, in the long run.

In my case, I did not want to set an example of an unhappy marriage with my children.  I figured that if their mother was happier without me, and that I was happier without her, then our kids would understand and be happy for the both of us.  What I did not consider, was that my definition for happiness was something that I came to on my own, whereas my definition for happiness at the beginning of our relationship was something that Kim and I came to together.

As much as I want to believe it, there are very few (if any) things that make everyone happy.  You and I may like ice cream and it may make us happy, but there are a lot of people in the world who do not, for many reasons.  A positive pregnancy test means ecstasy to the couple who has been struggling with infertility for years, but it may shatter the dreams of a teenage girl who is a leader at her church.  Even taken to the extreme of life after death, in its simplest dichotomy, life with God seems like a dreadful time, while others yearn for it now, even while living.

Understanding other people, whether in a relationship with one other person, or within a real community with many people, is not always a first nature behavior.  For many of us, it isn’t even second nature.  During the show, Jon asks Kate if she would like to add a refrigerator under the counter.  She glares at him and asks, snootily,

“No Jon.  Ugh.  What planet do you live on?”

After a couple of beats of awkward silence, the kitchen remodeling designers explain to her that they also believe that it is a good idea and she sheepishly acknowledges that maybe he does live on this planet.  I paused the show, and commented to Kim:

“That was jacked up.  Why does she have to make a comment like that?”

To which Kim replied:

“Because he banged another woman, that’s why!”

“Touche” was the best reply that I could come up with after that.  I love that girl!

For Kim, Jon’s actions seemed to justify Kate’s treatment of him.  I saw Jon’s comment and felt that it was more innocuous and helpful and not deserving of the rebuke that he received from his wife.  Kim and I watched the same scene, but came to two different conclusions on Kate’s behavior.  I don’t know if either of us is “right”, and I don’t want to debate it now.  I just want to point out how both on the show, and in our viewing, we were unable to see the same situation in the same light.

I will say that Kate’s strength has come shining through in all of this.  In the second episode, she struggles with setting up a tent for her children, even as her daughters comment to her that it is something that only a man can do.  I’m sure the thoughts going through her mind about what her husband might be doing at that moment (or whom) instead of setting up that tent, must have been gnawing at her.  She showed incredible grace and poise, eventually acknowledging that she was not an expert at it, but that she would try to do anything for her children that they needed.  I really admired her in that situation.  I hope that Jon did as well.

Half way through the first episode, Kate and the kids hit the beach to be free of the dangerous remodeling in their kitchen.  Jon stayed behind and his absence was felt.  One of the boys drew his name (Dad) in the sand.  The camera caught a wave breaking onto his sand canvas, wiping out what he had made so far.  Kate exclaimed:

“Oh no.  Now we have to start over.”

Maybe so, Kate.  But if Kim and I are an imperfect but earnestly humble example… maybe not.

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But what was the question?  Just hours before passing on November 21, 2008, Brendan Foster was interviewed by CNN for a food drive for the homeless that he helped  birth from his hospital bed, just two weeks before.  The reason for his hospital stay?  Leukemia.  The interview and the question that he was asked is in the video below.

It’s been over 7 months since Brendan died, but his words have echoed in my mind countless times since then.  I tend to be an adventurous person.  I love to try new things and experience the different flavors that life has to offer.  But, as we all know, there are only so many hours in a day, and only so much that can be experienced at the same time.  Sometimes to try something new, you have to give up on something old.

It sounds great right?  Something is not working like it was before, so you throw it away and get something better?  You only live once, so make sure that you live it right!  No one wants to look back at their life in regret of the actions that they did not take, or the experiences that they were too afraid to try.  It does take some courage to try something new, but that courage does not make you wise or righteous in having it.  In fact, you can be a fool if you do not first consider the circumstances around the “old” thing, at the time when it was “new”.  What was it that made the “old” thing so desirable in the first place?

I slowly raise my hand up to identify myself as one of those fools.  I was experiencing difficulty in my marriage.  In some ways, if I’m being honest, it felt like a terminal illness.  I was unhappy, and the only option I chose to see was the one that Brendan wished that I wouldn’t.  I gave up.  I threw both hands in the air and said:  ”I quit!”  I thought about my wife and my children and honestly believed that they would be happier to have a happier me.  That meant leaving.  I didn’t believe that my presence and perseverance were valuable enough to hold onto.  What I saw… was broken.  So I threw it away.

Then, I saw Brendan’s interview.  It shook me.  ”Why was it ok for me to give up?”  I kept asking myself.  But it was too late.  I had closed the door, sealed my fate, and turned the page.

But his words stayed with me.

The divorce continued.  She moved on.  I moved on.  Lawyers came in.  Assets and debts were divided.  Visitation schedules were drawn up.  Friends took sides.  Family members ached with their own sense of loss and betrayal.  And on May 6, 2009 it was finished.  The divorce was final.

And with that mutual goal of divorce being completed, something changed.  Something in our perception of reality.  We now faced a future together as co-parents of three wonderful children.  We were still “partners”.  In truth, our love for children is what brought us together in the first place.

We had poured out the bottle of our love for each other.  Every last drop was gone.  But as we looked closely at the bottle, we noticed the “CRV” near the bottom, in small print.  Cash Redemption Value.  Whoever created this bottle still wanted to use it.  Even after we had exhausted it’s contents.  We remembered when the bottle was first filled with our courtship and marriage.  We remembered praying together asking our Creator to create something beautiful with us.  We wondered if there was value still to be had from this bottle.  We wondered if we were worth redemption.

Now, as we attend counseling together, I see the value of holding on.  As we learn more about cognitive psychology together, we see our scotomas and acknowledge our limited perceptions.  We are creating a new vivid picture together and we are praying again for our Creator to fill the bottle.  It still has value.  WE still have value.

I share Brendan’s answer on what makes him sad, for myself.  Not every situation is like mine.  There is necessary growth in life and sometimes we must let go to grow.  But now that I have this chance again to create something beautiful, I’m holding on.

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