tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313328222024-03-12T18:38:49.746-07:00just thINKingGwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-6237289055741567772013-11-06T13:32:00.000-08:002013-11-06T13:32:21.283-08:003 More Reasons to Kiss "Dating" Goodbye<div>
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It's the morning after...after our local elections, that is. I work at avoiding overt references to politics here--well everywhere mostly--because it rarely serves my purpose. And probably like you, I can't stand to follow all the news of the day for its own sake. But as an occasional player in the game of ideas, I value the opportunity it presents for me to think about what I think and how I got there (and to pay attention to current trends in an effort to avoid embarrassing my kids and grand kids).<br />
<br />
In fact, the 1990's (speaking of current...) Sister Act anthem instructs:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"If you wanna be somebody, if you wanna go somewhere, </i><br />
<i>you better wake up and pay attention..." </i> </div>
<br />
So, for instance, a while back the Washington Post published a guest piece by someone who described himself as liberal, writing on why a certain round of tax changes didn't look as attractive as many of his colleagues at first thought. Seems that when it was discovered who was holding the football at the bottom of the pile, the other team had it. Alas, the middle class that the changes were supposed to protect, (that's apparently both of us...) is really the loser. I wouldn't know that if I wasn't paying attention...not that that makes me somebody or gets me anywhere at all...!<br />
<br />
<b>It Keeps It Friendly</b><br />
<b><a href="http://goinswriter.com/" target="_blank">Jeff Goins</a>, </b>who is also concerned with being somebody, getting somewhere and paying attention, says in his post <b><a href="http://goinswriter.com/blogging-tips/" target="_blank">25 Writing Tips for Beginning Bloggers</a></b>, that he omits the date from blog posts, that it's a plus..<br />
<br />
<i>"Write timeless material," he says, "that does not get dismissed as irrelevant out of the chute."</i></div>
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This is an epiphany for me for this reason: One of the advantages of giving up dating is that I can honestly explore some controversial subject without sparking a round of shots regarding a current event, activity that equals a pointless gunfight resulting in a smokescreen that obscures real issues. And that leaves dead bodies strewn about the battlefield where the root cause of the conflict remains conveniently undisturbed. (And no I'm not referring necessarily to gun laws...though one might reasonably infer such a relationship...) It's just that I'm no good as a lightning rod for opposing points of view, given my bevy of friendships on the political continuum.<br />
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<b>It Doesn't Grow Old</b></div>
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My thoughts tend more toward the general underpinnings of things than the mechanisms and tangible outcomes of their implementation. And really, that's good, because details are not my forte. For example, you do NOT want me crunching the numbers necessary to balance anyone's budget--though I can argue all day for the importance of having one. I prefer putting my energies into something more philosophical than the last round of line-item veto threats, not simply reacting to shrapnel that flies when an issue surfaces revealing a foundational disagreement, a systemic divergence.</div>
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<b>It Builds Long-Term Relationships</b></div>
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Losing dates has a residual effect: It forces me to think about whether what I contribute might be anywhere near as relevant in May as I believed it might be in, say, November.<br />
And that causes yet another pleasant ripple in the pond: it requires that I stay on substantial topics and focused on the theme I've chosen, which is always harder than it seems. </div>
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<br />
There you have it. That's why I love the idea of dateless posts. I can comment on the Superbowl in August or canning apricots in December or the ineptness of Congress. (Wait. That's timeless anyway...)</div>
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Now, along with being clueless (as occasionally alleged), I am opting for dateless in an effort to become timeless.<br />
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<br />
<i>What's your view on "dating"?</i></div>
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Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-25410701366645546322013-10-22T22:00:00.000-07:002013-10-22T22:00:10.202-07:00Do the Preachers of LA know about this? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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“Christ Jesus, though his state was divine, did not cling to his equality with God but emptied himself to assume the condition of a slave and became as human beings are.”<br />
<br />
A friend recently asked if I had seen Preachers of LA, a reality show about the lives of a handful of mega-church TV preachers. I hadn’t but as of this morning I am educated. Ironically, I ran across the above quote from my daily meditation just prior to locating the celebrity crew online. <br />
<br />
Maybe it’s just me but I’m having a little trouble reconciling the two. Hmmm.<br />
<br />
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<br />
*(From www.prayasyougo.org. Oct 22, 2013. Paraphrase Phillipians 2)<br />
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Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-77419987203823596022013-09-11T14:16:00.000-07:002013-09-11T14:25:58.000-07:00"Ethel! You get your clothes on!": How the Mundane Becomes Sacrifice and Sacrament<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Mundane</b><br />
Getting dressed in the morning is painful for me.<br />
It is also sacrificial, sacramental.<br />
It integrates physical and spiritual realities in a way nothing else does.<br />
<br />
Maybe you're like me. I hate stopping what I’m doing to start something else. This includes sleeping.<br />
(And it only applies to intention, not distraction--in which case, starting something else is easy!)<br />
But if I must stop sleeping, instead of getting up and dressed, I would rather begin writing down thoughts with which I waken, or read something that currently has my attention. Books, pen and paper are always stacked next to my bed on the blue chair, a relic of my grandfather’s homestead, which serves as my nightstand.<br />
<br />
<i>What could be wrong with this?</i>, I defend myself. Julia Cameron says in The Artist’s Way that it’s a necessary practice, to write three pages every morning. I’m not sure, though, that waking at 7:15 and sitting up in bed writing and reading until 11:29 (which sounds better than noon...!) is what she had in mind.<br />
<br />
Nonetheless, from this hallowed space, as I have listened to construction and the rest of country life taking place outside my open window, I have also:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>-- Conducted the business of afterschool transportation with my grandson via text<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>-- Facebook messaged a friend with a passage from my reading which I think she will find<br />
helpful to her book project<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>-- Practiced 30 minutes of centering prayer<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>-- Worked on an upcoming retreat presentation<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>-- Planned dinner<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>-- Written a couple of blog posts<br />
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Still. It seems more legit if I’m writing at my desk, makeup on--or at the least dressed, with breakfast and outdoor chores behind me. Instead I’m propped up with three pillows, books/papers/phone strung across the comforter, dental appliance still sitting on the bathroom shelf (which I’ve worn for years, thanks to a teen car crash), and fending off the early September chill in my ever-present black chenille robe.<br />
<br />
Eventually there <i>will</i> be tasks for which I will have to be what Mom called presentable.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>-- Like dinner at 5:30 with my in-laws and their visiting cousins.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>-- Like meeting my granddaughter’s bus at 4 p.m.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>-- Like answering the door for the UPS truck.<br />
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How can I leave this sanctuary without begrudging the act?<br />
Sacrificially. Sacramentally, I tell you.<br />
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<b>Sacrifice</b><br />
I’m a morning person neither by design nor by conditioning so having to get dressed upon rising just adds insult to injury. For years, as a career musician and minister, my working days rarely started before 2 p.m.—except on Wednesdays when there were meetings scheduled according to bankers’ hours. And the few gigs I held at public schools when I had to be on site at the “crack of early”—a phrase I borrowed from a generous friend who just happens to be my husband, who laughed like a school girl when I told him my required arrival time, and who holds a very different view of both mornings and getting dressed than I.<br />
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I could live contentedly in this space between my ears surrounded by authors and ideas. But as wise others have said, <i>art exists to support life</i>, not the other way around. This assumes there are other vital elements to said life, like keeping good tax records, laundry, meeting school busses and eating dinner with relatives.<br />
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It’s true. My current work is writing and reading and praying and thinking and creating.<br />
But it’s also dirt, and laughter and exercise, and bills. And [most of] that requires getting dressed.<br />
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So I try.<br />
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<b>Sacrament</b><br />
I try to stop sleeping and smile in the morning—through scratchy eyes and monster breath.<br />
And once in a while I remember to say thanks for the increasingly-rare nights of restful sleep.<br />
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I try to write just briefly enough to capture what I dreamed or woke up thinking about—<br />
And when I don’t forget, I offer it up as prayer.<br />
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I do stumble to the bathroom for whatever needs doing…<br />
…thanking God that it all works.<br />
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I try to exercise a bit, stretching my limbs.<br />
Remembering days in physical therapy reminds me to be thankful I can move.<br />
<br />
I try to wash my face—usually. And bathe if I didn’t last night.<br />
I give thanks that there are people in my life whom I love, who support and surround and suck<br />
life from me, for whom I will put on makeup and fix my hair…or at least moisturizer and a hat.<br />
<br />
I will don whatever is needed for the day’s demands.<br />
I will give thanks for provision and meaningful work to do, even if it’s just tending the tomatoes.<br />
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<i>“Present your bodies…a living sacrifice…holy...(wholly?)…acceptable to God…your reasonable service,”</i> I read.<br />
<br />
I guess this starts with getting dressed.<br />
Sacrificially. Sacramentally.<br />
So I try.<br />
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<br />
<b>The Conversation:</b><br />
<i><b>What is something you dread doing that you have turned into an act of love?</b></i><br />
<i><b>Is there some ordinary task that could become an extraordinary expression of love if you began to consider it as both </b></i><i><b>sacrifice and </b></i><i><b>symbol?</b></i><br />
<br />Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-44385806514113391122013-08-28T15:11:00.000-07:002013-08-28T16:13:15.535-07:00"I feel the earth move under my feet..." 4 Principles for Paying Attention <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oVo1pkKBS4A/Uh50__zlLUI/AAAAAAAAAMc/bDjSnZ2TT1s/s1600/339765_2456993419684_932663098_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oVo1pkKBS4A/Uh50__zlLUI/AAAAAAAAAMc/bDjSnZ2TT1s/s320/339765_2456993419684_932663098_o.jpg" width="227" /></a><b>August 27, 2013. Did you feel it?</b><br />
The earth shifted a little on its axis today, not because it’s Mom’s birthday, though she had a way of making the earth move. And not because it always does anyway--predictably, thank God.<br />
<br />
<b>Staying Awake</b><br />
Today it shifted ever so slightly away from summer and toward fall the way a crayon is more green-blue than blue-green. It stepped across the line between summer being more summerish to summer being more fallish. I stepped out my front door and inhaled it.<br />
Deeply. Grapes fragrance the air, the pears are harvested and hops will follow shortly. Sometimes it just smells like skunk but not today. The morning sun was just ramping up, but the rising temperature harbored a hint of cool. An almost imperceptible breeze whispered its secret or it may have gone undetected. <br />
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<b>Now and Not Yet</b><br />
I almost missed August this year—which is alarming because it’s my favorite month. Just one out of twelve. You’d think I could pay attention. I’m not sure how it happened. I suppose it’s the eternal battle I wage against my propensity to live in the not yet instead of the now. Like when my father-in-law used to tell his kids who, like all kids on a long trip, ask “Are we there yet?” with each passing milepost:<br />
“Almost…just over the next hill.”<br />
Of course the next hill, like tomorrow, never exactly comes. Somehow we get there anyway, like I got through August almost without noticing. <br />
<br />
<b>Perspective</b><br />
I’m thinking more these days about the fall—September, October, November—of life, about the second half of the trip. I have help. Last night just before dropping off to sleep, my husband remarked, “Do you know we’re closer to the end of our lives now than we are to the beginning? I confess, I found it less than comforting. I had noticed, actually, since I’m in the throes of menopause and already question on a daily basis just how much closer I am. Plus both my parents have passed on. His, on the other hand, are both in their 80’s and just beginning to experience the salient effects of their mortality. He gets to watch.<br />
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<b>Prompts</b><br />
When I was little and sitting in church, if I was doing something distracting, Mom would snap her fingers so I would snap out of it. My kids say I inherited that gene. Maybe today’s shift was Mom snapping her fingers so I would remember to live now. At the least, she must have had something to do with it.<br />
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I wonder if heaven will be like August, or like long trips to Texas; if we’ll all get there and see that we were complaining a lot and not really paying much attention?<br />
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What have you missed or nearly missed?<br />
What helps you to pay attention?<br />
How can you welcome these helps into your life...now?<br />
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Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-13468848325997438132013-02-15T15:30:00.000-08:002013-08-28T15:15:38.803-07:00How can James Joyce help keep your ideas from being stolen? <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UOMogPKBUXQ/UR7Ekl4Q8lI/AAAAAAAAALk/aywGY3sTtZQ/s1600/desk+files+drawer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UOMogPKBUXQ/UR7Ekl4Q8lI/AAAAAAAAALk/aywGY3sTtZQ/s1600/desk+files+drawer.jpg" /></a>Inspiration comes to me from many random places. Here's the latest.<br />
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In <i>How to Read Novels like a Professor </i>(not your average coffee table reading, I suppose, but I currently am...did I mention I'm a bit of a geek?),<i> </i>Thomas Foster says:<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"...despite a 20-year gap, [James] Joyce copies [someone else's] style exactly for many of Leopold Bloom's monologues in Ulysses. Joyce finds and capitalizes on a style of narrative by Edouard Dujardin in a novel which he says "lapsed into neglect and was largely forgotten." (Too bad for Dujardin!)</blockquote>
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The point is not that what eventually became James Joyce's trademark style was first attempted by someone else. The point is rather that when Jim discovered a gem, he acted in response.<br />
<a name='more'></a>Certainly there were other factors like timing, genius and culture that contributed to his success, but this particular find is the catalyst to one of the great changes in writing craft eventually came to define Joyce's own.<br />
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I am embarrassed and more than a little chagrined to admit how many creative impulses I've felt but acted on only in part if at all, then discovered, often within just months, that someone else had the same or a very similar idea and ...acted.<br />
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Whether for confession leading to absolution or for sheer exercise of ego, here is a sampling:<br />
<ul>
<li>The national franchise for in-home care for which I have a full business plan tucked away in a desk drawer.</li>
<li>A book or two now in print by others on topics I have have only begun writing about. </li>
<li>The musical that fits in the same category.</li>
<li>Countless songs I've heard played on radio using a hook with which the muse once courted me, but like scorned Tinkerbell ignored by Peter Pan, took her affections and deposited them somewhere they would actually be appreciated!</li>
</ul>
As a result the work of others is influencing me and the universe in which I orbit.<br />
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I wonder how much more good we might see and experience in the world if we leaned into our discoveries and creative impulses? There is only one James Joyce (yes, breathe a sigh of relief), and I don't aspire to his literary stature, but it does cause me to ask, "What if...?"<br />
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What is it like for you see a dream of you own someone else has carried to full-term and safely delivered? What treasure in or around you is in danger of "lapsing into neglect and [being] largely forgotten" that might be waiting to be found and shared?<br />
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Start your own courageous journey with just one step. Post a comment, maybe just one word, that lets your temperamental muse know you're not ignoring her/him altogether; that you're seriously inspired and ready to act.<br />
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As for me, I'm doing that by simply hitting 'send' today!Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-11748720067797632132013-01-13T23:30:00.000-08:002013-09-11T14:27:04.671-07:00Courage Follows Convergence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Convergence: </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">the </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">coming together of two or more things to the same point.*</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Convergence is also, for me anyway, a powerful predictor, one key factor in the process of discerning and deciding between possible courses of [hopefully] action. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When similar streams trickling in from various sources converge, I pay closer attention. You should too.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Changing metaphors, I fine-tune my receiver so that I hear more clearly rather than trying to listen to a radio that is one decimal point off station in either direction, distorting, fading in and out, or losing signal altogether. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
One such stream is that of not holding out for perfection but--changing metaphors again--actually putting the vehicle in motion, letting the clutch out, that is if you're a farm kid like me who learned to drive a beater with a stick shift at age ten. Or taking it out of "park" if your maiden voyage was in downtown Portland, driving an automatic like my more metropolitan nieces. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My closest friends know that I have been, albeit naively, calling myself a writer for some time. I have become timid, though, as more than enough time has elapsed in which to produce something of tangible evidence, and where none yet exists. Still, I really believe I have something to say that might be worth hearing. So my days are spent with pen in hand, my journals are full, and fresh courage is following convergence. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To that end, I have recently encountered a single idea expressed three different ways by current influences who write on divergent themes and for different reasons--Jeff Goins, Dr. Ben Witherington and Thomas C. Foster. The convergence of these streams has become a flow of some consequence. The nearer I get to it, the louder the sound: "Don't wait to achieve some crippling measure of perfection. Just Start!" "Get going!" "DO something!" </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
In Jeff's <a href="http://goinswriter.com/seth-godin-interview/" target="_blank">recent interview</a> with Seth Godin, teaching entrepreneur, Seth says this about actually doing something versus waiting until something is perfect to release it into the world: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
"When I look back and I see a stack of 17 books, and I see 4800 blog posts and speeches that I've given--none of which were good enough but all of which I shipped--it becomes pretty clear to me that <i>I'm better off shipping than I am making it perfect</i>." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />Dr. Ben echoes the same sentiment in his <a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/bibleandculture/2013/01/13/cover-her-face-p-d-jamess-first-novel/" target="_blank">review</a> of British author P.D. James novel, Cover Her Face:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;"> "I would not have guessed what Dagleish would become on the basis of this spare start. <i>But </i></span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">then the virtue of a start is that you have put the ball in play."</i><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">And then I stumble over this from Professor Foster in How to Read Novels Like a Professor. He tells us that </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">Joyce finds and capitalizes on a style of narrative by Edouard Dujardin that Foster describes as a </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;"> "novel lapsed into neglect and was largely forgotten in 1902 when Joyce stumbled across a copy in a bookseller's shop in Tours, France." And </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;"> ".</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">..despite a 20-year gap, James Joyce copies Dujardin's style exactly for many of Leopold Bloom's monologues in <i>Ulysses</i>." (Harper, 2008. pp. 162-3)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">The point here is not that Joyce duplicated someone else's style. The point is that </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">he did something.</i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;"> He found. He created. But unless he had shipped, you and I and the world would know nothing of it--and be the poorer for it, at least the literary world. (Okay, if you're a fan, you would argue that he DID wait 'til it was perfect, but you get the point I'm making, right?) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I love this <a href="http://www.happiness-project.com/happiness_project/2012/12/secret-of-adulthood-don't-let-the-perfect-be-the-enemy-of-the-good/" target="_blank">Secret of Adulthood</a> from NY </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">Times bestselling author, Gretchen Rubin:</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">"</span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good." </i></b></div>
<span style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">I think I'll follow the voice of the waters raging at this point of convergence and "ship" this off before my relentless internal editor talks me out of it. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">How about defying your own and telling others here what </span><span style="line-height: 20px;">you are going to stop waiting to achieve perfection in before you "ship" it? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 20px;">*(Merriam-Webster)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span>
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<a href="http://msugrads.wikispaces.com/file/view/CreativeCommonsIcons.jpg/33340447/328x220/CreativeCommonsIcons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="CreativeCommonsIcons.jpg" border="0" height="133" src="http://msugrads.wikispaces.com/file/view/CreativeCommonsIcons.jpg/33340447/328x220/CreativeCommonsIcons.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">[I actually found the perfect image for this post </span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/a-d-jones/7148740299/" rel="nofollow" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> but it isn't free and I'm not making money at this. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the meantime, you might want to check out this breathtaking black and white photo.]</span></span>Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-33600826318669856682012-12-21T06:00:00.000-08:002013-01-14T14:33:33.803-08:00I DON'T Want To Be Left Behind<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9tsYL3fmHEk/UNPTWi8VtcI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/cknt70-Uuus/s1600/Left+Behind.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9tsYL3fmHEk/UNPTWi8VtcI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/cknt70-Uuus/s1600/Left+Behind.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Image: Amazon.com, link disabled)</span></div>
<br />
Like a 2:00 rainstorm on a Florida afternoon, an unexplained cloudburst of tears threatens as I close the book on Brenda Peterson's memoir, "I Want To Be Left Behind." <br />
<br />
Its catchy, irreverent title--at least for someone who understands its connotation--indeed caught my eye as I passed by a library shelf weeks ago. Me and my curiosity couldn't resist.<br />
<a name='more'></a> <br />
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I still don't get the tears, but I respond in the only way that seems natural to me. I write. Like Donny and Marie"s "little bit country, little bit rock and roll," it's a little bit book review, a little bit manifesto.<br />
<br />
Someone recently reminded me that if my faith couldn't stand up to the life I <em>really</em> live, then it's too small. I would add, <i>or to the thoughts I think</i>. Apparently I think mine is appropriately sized because I chose to engage with this author around her bold declaration.<br />
<br />
It is Dec. 21, 2012. The world as we know it is to end. Today. At least according to the Mayan calendar which NASA says is less accurate than recent doomsday prophets would have us believe. Certain theology makes it easy to parallel the occasion with a biblical rapture, or perhaps the beginning of a 7-year tribulation; at the least, some significant earth-shattering event. This is a correlation that Ms. Peterson has long since abandoned. Invited into her story, it's easy to see why. <br />
<br />
She was raised Southern Baptist. I was raised Pentecostal. It's one of few differences set against a backdrop of myriad similarities. Like Ms. Peterson, my late childhood and early teen years, 1967-70, were spent in a hyper-vigilant state of mind. I was inundated with the awareness of political unrest and regaled with tales and teachings about the end of time. She was a young college student--probably one of the incendiary protesters condemned by my mostly-Republican parents as, horrified, we watched the evening news from the insulated safety of our rural living room. I dreamed bad dreams.<br />
<br />
The hip new tune, I Wish We'd All Been Ready, was a staple of my repertoire as a youth group musician. A Thief in the Night was perhaps the first movie I was actually encouraged to see--just not in the theater. It was brought into our sanctuaries for special showings. Later, I worked in a Christian book store during the era the masses were clamoring for the next installment in the popular Left Behind series.<br />
<br />
My father, like her own, loved the mystery and majesty of nature and was bound to the soil--mine as a farmer, hers as a conservationist. The chapter titles touch me in a slightly more tender spot. She named them after the hymns we both grew up singing--me stationed at the piano--on Sundays, Wednesdays and at summer camps.<br />
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This major difference, however, distinguishes us: Maturing, I complied; she didn't. I wasn't particularly comfortable with this view of things either, but I felt little need to look into it until well into my forties when the compliance I had invested didn't return the promised dividends of inner peace and outer prosperity I had come to expect. She, on the other hand, was compelled to question--early and much.<br />
<br />
Fast-forwarding several years and assuming her views are unchanged (publishing date is 2010), for all our similarities, she and I are at different places in our exploration of what we believe--or don't. Same with friends and family. Some are over-stocking their pantries, packing pistols and pulling their funds from financial institutions--which in the wake of recent natural disasters, a shaky economy and increased homeland violence, may seem more reasonable than, for example, it might have in the relatively affluent mid-90's. Some point to the same texts and come to different conclusions. Others dismiss it all together. <br />
<br />
As for me, I'm proceeding on a need-to-know basis. I've exposed my kids to enough biblical theology that I hope they retain spiritual readiness as a valued necessity and the catching away described in 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17 as a distinct possibility.<br />
<br />
I am in sympathy with Ms. Peterson's deep-seated resistance to the heavy-handed and fear-filled interpretations of end-time prophecy we've endured coming up in environments thick with apocalyptic apprehension. Like her, I have no interest in holding to irrational panic or mob dynamics. Nor do I want to preserve escapist trappings of traditions that have in far too many cases come along with well-intentioned but ill-informed perspectives and practices. I am not for raping the earth, disregarding the needs of the poor or oppressing the voice-less. <br />
<br />
My prayer is for<br />
a) the humility to receive and fully appreciate the amazing place that is the world we've been given<br />
b) the grace in which to live our present until it no longer is--whatever that looks like and whenever that might be and<br />
c) the wisdom to discern what to keep and what to throw away of all that we've inherited. <br />
<br />
While I can go a fair distance with Ms. Peterson with regard to the hope we share, as great as Planet Earth and life thereon is, IF there is a shred of hope this might end one day--and I think there may be, I must stop short of declaring that "I want to be left behind." I don't. Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-51445751234278960082012-12-12T14:28:00.000-08:002013-01-14T14:31:46.018-08:00Eschatalogical Switzerland<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DdUju5UIQu4/UNPKyWLXFrI/AAAAAAAAAJk/NjtMaXq7Qgo/s1600/Switzerland+map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DdUju5UIQu4/UNPKyWLXFrI/AAAAAAAAAJk/NjtMaXq7Qgo/s320/Switzerland+map.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<em>I actually wrote this piece a month or two back. As you will see in today's and tomorrow's posts, the topic is obviously occupying some space in my thinking (you have to be sleeping under a rock not to have some awareness of all this!), the reasons why becoming clearer tomorrow. But lest I leave the impression that I'm consumed, it just so happens that my current interest in posting coincides with the current Mayan madness. Correlation does not necessarily equal cause, remember... So here's my meager contribution.</em> <br />
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I have many and varied bed fellows these days. That doesn’t
mean I’m sleeping around. It means that among my friends are people who view
things very differently. These differences are never seen any clearer than in <br />
<a name='more'></a>their
approach to current and coming world events, specifically preparedness for anticipated
end times—or not. </div>
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On one hand there are those whose particular passion it is
to study and absorb historical and theological information supporting the
belief that an apocalypse is imminent. Some pastors have put readiness steps in
place to protect the safety of their gathered congregations in the event they would
come under attack. It’s undeniable that there are people in the world who sadly
choose to inflict terror and inhumanity on those who differ. And several are
pointing to natural disasters as indicators that God is done with life on Earth
as we know it. Their awareness seems to work for them and they have grave
concern for the masses who will be caught in the cross fires of his judgment,
innocent or not…as if any of us truly are. They think another view borders on
foolish heresy.</div>
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Another group of my friends, of an entirely different
theological persuasion, believes that the events of the biblical book of
Revelation have already taken place and that apocalyptic images are
predominantly metaphoric. They are wondering why in the world I keep company
with such so-called “nut cases,” as are my friends who believe I’m equally a
nut case for tromping around in the field of faith at all. Many in both of these
groups live free of that particular fear and dread. They seems able to embrace
each moment as the gift it is. They work at living peacefully and engaging in
the present. They look with pity and sadness at the poor misled creatures who
are concerning themselves unduly with a series of misfortunate events they
believe will never come to be. Their awareness seems to work for them. They
think other views are just foolish, period.</div>
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Recent events and my internal responses to them have finally
caused me to give serious reconsideration to my own position. I’ve written
elsewhere about being a spiritual Switzerland and perhaps that is where I shall
take up residence on this issue—and not because I am fully persuaded they are
all wrong about things. Rather, it’s because I’m quite sure none of us is
completely right! To list here all the reasons why, exceeds the scope and
purpose of this little exercise. And because it’s thoroughly exhausting. Besides,
even highly-respected scholars can’t seem to come to a consensus.</div>
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I have certainly not landed on the Millionaire’s "final
answer." What has become clear to me this past week, however, is what I am NOT
to do. Argue. Spin. Panic. Fear. Insist. Ruminate. Demand. My conflict-averse bent
already lists toward pain avoidance. Therefore, I prefer to ignore the subject
altogether. But when forced I can become as irritating in my refusal to commit to
a view as are any of my pals who are convinced I should. And therein lies the
problem—well, and the solution. </div>
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Here’s the deal: I have enough apocalyptic, fear-infused
fiber in my formative background to keep me from dismissing the possibility entirely.
Yet as my engagement with the world of faith has broadened, I have encountered those
who are equally well-informed but hold opposing views. And faith IS my context,
whether or not it’s popular with my non-adherent friends. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Given my particular personality, vocation and calling, I am
deciding that where I am, is exactly where I need to be: In eschatological <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Switzerland</st1:place></st1:country-region>. In
fact, I’m standing just across the border from a woman I once knew who, in
answer to the question, “Are you pre-, mid- or post-trib?” responded in this
way: <br />
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m pan
trib. I believe God is in charge and it will all pan out.” (Thanks, Sandy B. Admittedly, my
non-apocalyptic friends will still take exception to her premise.) </div>
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I have no idea what’s around the bend. Who of us really
does? “Boast not yourself of tomorrow, for who knows what a day will bring
forth?” Jesus said. Of course, it only takes one unexpected traffic jam on the
way to work to answer that rhetorical question. In fact, we are vaguely told certain
things about our future but we are very clearly instructed about how to process
the present. Yes, I have the normal list of things a person would do for a few
weeks of survival for me and a few extra people I love in case of a regular old
emergency—whatever that is. But beyond that, I am at the mercy of God’s care
and provision, who, it is rumored, can find me, at least for now, an ex-pat at peace
in Switzerland. </div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo: Courtesy of Creative Commons </span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jacksim/with/41765571/"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.flickr.com/photos/jacksim/with/41765571/</span></a></span></h4>
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Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-31268568512927523892012-11-30T17:00:00.000-08:002013-01-14T14:29:10.929-08:00Medical Center Malfunction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HApSW9y8bWs/ULwA4IzJfDI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/0RO5oAfphQc/s1600/ankle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HApSW9y8bWs/ULwA4IzJfDI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/0RO5oAfphQc/s320/ankle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
I’m really ticked at my doctor’s office this morning. I raced to be there at the appointed time, 9 a.m., which is nothing to normal people, but to a night owl writer/musician is a feat of considerable magnitude. So at my customary two minutes late I checked in. <br />
<br />
“Oh. You were supposed to be here at 8:45,” she said.<br />
<a name='more'></a> <br />
“Oh...no…I wasn’t. My appointment was for 9,” said I. <br />
<br />
You see, morning hours are precious to me. I dole them out in penny-pinching, miserly fashion. So I’m not happy about this little faux pas. A word about accuracy: I wrote down the numbers as I heard them over the phone, repeating them out loud to their scheduler who, by contrast, was engaged in routine, monotonous activity and was tracking horizontal lines on a monitor during our conversation two days earlier. Seems to me the margin for error was wider on their end than on mine. <br />
<br />
I am offered no apology, no explanation, just, “No.” Ooh! Irritating. Oh, well. Little I can do about it. Clearly no one is going to budge. So I take the one remaining opening with a different provider, reschedule my day and make the best of being stuck for an hour and a half in a satellite town 20 snowy freeway minutes and several miles from my home. As if my injury needs added insult, I reluctantly make the appointment to [finally] get help with an ankle that has given me trouble for six months (I know: What’s the rush, right?), and I didn’t get up early enough to shave my legs or remove chipped, worn toenail polish. (It’s winter, okay?!) I suppose my humiliation could be considered punishment for both my laxness and my funky attitude.<br />
<br />
So I am thinking about the anger I feel at being powerless to affect an outcome, and how I’ve been considering recently what it looks like to cooperate with what God wants to have happen on the earth: the “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it in heaven” part of The Lord’s Prayer. They seem sort of unrelated this morning, however this is the material of transformation on 21st century Earth. It’s likely there’s some connection. <br />
<br />
“Breathe,” I tell myself. “Through the nose, in for 4; hold for 7; through the mouth and exhale for 8. Repeat 4 times. You should sense calm returning.” Check. It helps with the physiological mechanism, creating a feeling of peace, which is nice but hardly transformative. I suspect there’s more.<br />
<br />
"For the Kingdom of God is ... living a life of goodness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. (Rom. 14:17 NLT). That's what God wants, at least as I understand it. And what might that look like while I'm fuming about a messed up appointment today? <br />
<br />
Here's a truism: Nothing is wasted in God’s economy. "And we know that God causes everything to work together for
the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them."
(Romans 8:23, NLT) So I decide not to waste either—not the time, not the energy, not the opportunity. <br />
<br />
Instead I write. It’s actually great stuff for reflection on how God uses the events of our very ordinary, mundane-ness to promote in us Christ-likeness.<br />
<br />
Then I forgive. It seems to take less energy to release our hold on anger than it takes to live in its constant presence, though that initial thrust consumes a good bit of fuel. <br />
<br />
Finally, I say a prayer of blessing for greater accuracy and improved skill for whoever made the error resulting in the present predicament, even if it was me--which I don't think it was (just sayin'!).<br />
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To make a life of goodness, peace and joy possible, “My peace I leave you,” Jesus said. <br />
Echoing that same sentiment in a musical prayer, composers Jill Jackson Miller and Sy Miller wrote, “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me…” As near as I can tell, this is what that process looks like on days like this one, not the Utopian mush that comes dreamily to mind when some soloist transports us to a place above it all with his soaring baritone. Instead, it involves slogging through miscommunication and negotiation, the stuff of real gut-busting moments lived out in and by grace.<br />
<br />
Oh. And perhaps worthy of note, when they took my blood pressure upon my return it was 30 points lower than it has been across the last two months of routine readings! Go figure.Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-5992088670230625912012-10-19T16:48:00.001-07:002013-07-08T20:41:59.081-07:00Political Preferences<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YgR61rjZMGU/UIHdBX_s-FI/AAAAAAAAAIg/QMT-ouiLeKU/s1600/John+Wesley+on+politics.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YgR61rjZMGU/UIHdBX_s-FI/AAAAAAAAAIg/QMT-ouiLeKU/s320/John+Wesley+on+politics.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I rarely state my political preferences. That doesn't mean I don't have them. Yet I have discovered that those who have views opposite my own have, on many occasions, substantive things to say. (Imagine that... !)<br />
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It makes me wonder how much closer we might come to effective solutions for the challenges we all face if we actually listened to one another instead of screaming into each other's faces from the bottom of the well--which so far has produced little in the way of rescue.<br />
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This quote by John Wesley sums up my attitude about the whole affair and is my favorite contribution to the 2012 political campaign so far. It was posted by a 30 something pastor, a friend of mine who, thank God, gets it. <br />
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<br />Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-52371729937360375342012-03-28T09:31:00.000-07:002012-12-02T18:59:32.132-08:00One Call Away: A Memoir... by Brenda Warner<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YgwlonnfZe8/T3M6iHdchKI/AAAAAAAAAFA/4sr5MEx2GM4/s1600/One+Call+Away_140_245_Book_482_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YgwlonnfZe8/T3M6iHdchKI/AAAAAAAAAFA/4sr5MEx2GM4/s1600/One+Call+Away_140_245_Book_482_cover.jpg" /></a>
“When people approach me, they often start the conversation in the same way. ‘Are You Kurt Warner’s wife?’ These days, in answer, I hold out my hand and say, ‘My name is Brenda.’”
In this gritty account of the wife of the former NFL quarterback who led three teams to the Super Bowl, Brenda Warner captures that same spirit in writing. She extends a hand, <a name='more'></a>and flashes a confident, authentic smile, inviting us into the heart of who she is as a human being first, a celebrity second.
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Prophetically, we learn that she was a charmer and a cheerleader, natural qualities that characterize her life. But what might appear as a Cinderella syndrome is, in reality, a journey marked by tragedy and trauma. The God to whom she was introduced in the sixth grade, was the One who held her firmly throughout the ensuing years, and to Whom she would turn again and again. She is unabashedly candid about her fears and failures and just as quick to attribute her triumphs to his faithfulness.
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<br />
Being a pseudo-football fan, I particularly enjoyed the backstage look at the life of an NFL family, including the story of Brenda and Kurt’s romance--delightful and a bit stormy. If you enjoy a little drama with a happy ending, this is for you.
<br />
<br />
Today the Warners operate their own foundation “…dedicated to impacting live by promoting Christian values, sharing experiences and providing opportunities to encourage everyone that all things are possible when people seek to put ‘first things first’.” With many facets to the organization, one of her favorite projects is furnishing empty houses which have been provided to individuals by partner organizations. Brenda remembers a day when she was in need of the same.
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<br />
Contemporary autobiographies are not the type of book I am typically drawn to, and it did seem to lag a bit near the end. Nonetheless it was a pleasant read, [mostly] fast-paced and earthy with a 16-page section of full-color photos. My teenaged granddaughter read it, as did my 50-plus husband and both were captivated. I suspect you will be too.
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<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XEEVNwln9tU/T3M589en6UI/AAAAAAAAAE4/h258kLW51V0/s1600/booksneeze_badge_sm.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XEEVNwln9tU/T3M589en6UI/AAAAAAAAAE4/h258kLW51V0/s1600/booksneeze_badge_sm.bmp" /></a><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”</span></em>Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-47377923513106212512011-09-03T06:00:00.000-07:002012-10-19T16:54:37.113-07:00"It's the Water..."<div style="text-align: center;">
Anyone remember the Olympia Brewing Co. advertising slogan from eons ago...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>"It's the water, and a lot more"?</strong> </div>
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(Yeah. I didn't think so.) Seems that can also be the case when it comes to the water we drink. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qzG1r-pcEX4/TmHQT3qnMJI/AAAAAAAAAEs/CUJOn2RAb4A/s1600/Olympia_Beer_label_1914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qzG1r-pcEX4/TmHQT3qnMJI/AAAAAAAAAEs/CUJOn2RAb4A/s320/Olympia_Beer_label_1914.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Here's the skinny: <br />
--Drink 6-8 glasses of water daily. The body needs it for everything. <br />
--Drink bottled, at least temporarily, until you're certain the supply is pure. <br />
--Flush your pipes regularly which means, run the faucet open <a name='more'></a>for 3-5 minutes after a period of not using it, perhaps first thing in the morning, or when returning from vacation. (I know. Conservation. Just use good judgment.)<br />
--Never consume or cook with hot tap water. Impurities from plumbing can leach into your supply. <br />
<br />
Weil's word on it is that, while we need to drink adequate amounts of water it is equally important to give serious consideration to its quality. Toxins can be carried through the water we drink, diminishing the body's ability to heal itself or resist disease. So he encourages a little <a href="http://www.drweil.com/drw/u/ART00581/water-an-essential-part-of-life.html">homework</a> just to be sure. An under-the-counter system or a filtered pitcher in the frig may be all that's needed. In some cases a bit more expenditure may be required but safe drinking water is an essential component of living well. If you what you find makes it a bit hard to swallow...ahem, he offers this perspective:<br />
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"I do not want you to be paranoid about water...I do want you to reduce long-term exposure to water-borne toxins that can compromise your body's healing system" (p. 166).<br />
Sounds like a good idea to me. <br />
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At my house, we enjoy sweet, sparkling private well water which we must test yearly. Frighteningly, a few years back, we discovered it was indeed the water--and, well, a <em>bit</em> more. It turns out that a tank was equipped with an improvised fitting which harbored bacteria. The samples continued to register unacceptable elements even after repeated treatments. Thankfully, once the source was determined, the matter was resolved by installing the correct part. <br />
As in our case, some expense may be required, but what a relief to know that all is...uh...well. And all it takes is a simple lab fee and a little time. (Which reminds me...) So, there you go. <br />
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Here's to making sure <strong>"It's the water, and <em>nothing</em> more!"</strong></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v5BR0z_V4gM/TmHMBL4L2vI/AAAAAAAAAEo/jQnvyLFr-pY/s1600/GlassesOfWater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v5BR0z_V4gM/TmHMBL4L2vI/AAAAAAAAAEo/jQnvyLFr-pY/s1600/GlassesOfWater.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of "With a Hopeful Heart" blog</td></tr>
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Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-28171688561039321382011-08-26T15:00:00.000-07:002011-09-03T00:29:54.129-07:00Fall's Friday FrenzyEven if you're not going to school yourself, or have kids who are navigating the delicate re-entry into the educational atmosphere, it's hard not to be affected by the energy surrounding it all. In spite of my good intentions, it seems that sitting down to write gets pushed to the side. (Okay. I confess. It's more likely web-induced ADD.) <br />
In any case, the 8-week program continues. I've managed to...<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
...get the salmon in<br />
...broccoli and breathing, too.<br />
...walking is delightful but it is a discipline to stop what I'm doing and actually get out the door.<br />
...2-4000mg of vitamin C is all I've been able to fit in. (Seems like I'm taking a supplement every time I turn around; I'm looking into ways to simplify that.)<br />
And the latest surprise? I've found a delightful organic family-run farm just blocks from my house. They sell flowers as well as produce--the perfect living thing to bring inside. Of course, earwigs love gladiolas so some of the "living things" have to stay outside...thank you very much!<br />
Even in the middle of the frenzied feel, I am detemined to pursue a sense of well-being. In fact, entering these last moments joyfully and fully present is key to experiencing them well.<br />
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How are you tending to your well-being in the middle of fall's frenzy?<br />
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Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-47703925615978558592011-08-17T06:00:00.000-07:002011-09-03T00:30:56.990-07:00Winning...Who doesn't love winning? And when it's stuff you love, even better! Check out this stuff I won that I also happen to love, which is different than that random white elephant you got for being one of the first people through the door at the used mattress sale: (eeew!)<br />
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From <a href="http://www.booksneeze.com/">www.booksneeze.com</a>. All you have to do is read and write a review. If you have a passion for books as I do, and like to write, it's a great way to grow your library for no cash and a lot of pleasure! Thanks, Donovan, for pointing me in this direction. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nm2fA9JxCRQ/TknKjVD06OI/AAAAAAAAAEU/LhqMs__vBzk/s1600/charmbracelet285x175Julian%2526Co.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nm2fA9JxCRQ/TknKjVD06OI/AAAAAAAAAEU/LhqMs__vBzk/s1600/charmbracelet285x175Julian%2526Co.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.designmom.com/">www.designmom.com</a> posted a giveaway. I clicked on and left a comment to enter. That simple. The bracelet and bead came together in this giveaway, though they're sold separately. Check out their really nice products at <a href="http://www.julianandco.com/">www.julianandco.com</a>. <br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j3x_-rOFMXc/TknKoojNN4I/AAAAAAAAAEc/Xiz7zLcSM9o/s1600/koi-Lorflor+project.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j3x_-rOFMXc/TknKoojNN4I/AAAAAAAAAEc/Xiz7zLcSM9o/s1600/koi-Lorflor+project.jpg" /></a></div>
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And with just a little clicking around, I found this little gem at <a href="http://www.thelorflorproject.com/">www.thelorflorproject.com</a>. She asked for title submissions, I made one off the cuff, and to my surprise and delight, Boom! I won this stunning canvas print. Thanks again to Gabrielle at <a href="http://www.designmom.com/">www.designmom.com</a> for sleuthing out the good stuff. Go ahead and dive in. Who knows what you might come up with! </div>
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Where are your favorite places to dig for treasure...or are you keeping it a secret? :) </div>
Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-57300359958576084302011-08-16T06:00:00.000-07:002011-08-17T13:25:49.509-07:00Easiest Salmon Ever; You Have the Right to Infuse<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://photos3.fotosearch.com/bthumb/FDC/FDC001/930477.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="http://photos3.fotosearch.com/bthumb/FDC/FDC001/930477.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Think it's hard? Think again. I bought a package of wild caught salmon/filleted/skin on, from Costco on Friday. I cut it into serving-size pieces, wrapped each in plastic and paper, popped them, in a ziploc and tossed into the freezer. <br />
To use, thaw in the frig overnight or a couple hours on the counter. (This is probably a good place for a disclaimer to avoid a law suit. I don't know how my mother kept from killing any of her five children, umpteen grands and<br />
<a name='more'></a> the multitudes who scarfed down her school, camp and church foods...) Voila! It's ready when you are. And remember the broccoli.<br />
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Here's how to cook it: the easist, best salmon ever. Restaurant quality, I'm tellin' ya! The herb-infusion option--super easy--is included further down.<br />
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<strong>Let</strong> it come to room temp, salt and pepper the flesh side. <br />
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<strong>Add</strong> other seasonings or rubs if you like, but it isn't necessary at all. <br />
Let sit for 10 minutes or so. Helps the seasonings absorb and increases flavor. <br />
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<strong>Heat</strong> a teaspoon or so of olive oil, in a non-stick pan; medium heat. <br />
<br />
<strong>Place</strong> the salmon in the pan when the oil starts to ripple--carefully, flesh side down.<br />
If you're doing more than one piece, make sure the sides don't touch. They'll steam instead of fry and you won't be able to see the sides to gauge doneness. Leave it alone. Don't be scootin' it all over and peeking. You can partially cover to retain moisture and reduce spatters but don't put the lid on tight, or it will not crisp--which helps to retain the flavor and moisture...blah, blah, blah...<br />
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<strong>Cook</strong> on medium heat until the sides start to turn opaque--whiteish, lose their glossy shine. <br />
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<strong>Turn</strong> it gently and cook on skin side, just 3 or 4 minutes. Total, it should take less than 10, depending on thickness of fillet. <br />
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<strong>Drizzle</strong> on a little lemon...if you must. :) <br />
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<strong>Take it to the next level with Herb-Infusion Option</strong><br />
Saute a fresh herb sprig of your choice--in the heated olive oil to infuse it with flavor before adding the fish. I like rosemary, thyme or tarragon which [suprisingly!] grow in my herb garden. Remove it before it loses all its shape and color, set to the side, and use it as an enticing garnish for the little buggar when you're done. It's a-maaa-zing. <br />
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What's your favorite way to prepare salmon? Method, recipe, condiment? Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-14427231189659046022011-08-15T14:09:00.000-07:002012-10-19T16:56:11.111-07:00Surprised by Oxford by Carolyn Weber<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://booksneeze.com/art/_240_360_Book.447.cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://booksneeze.com/art/_240_360_Book.447.cover.jpg" width="129" /></a>Surprised by “Surprised by <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Oxford</st1:place></st1:city>”! Forgive me, but like a reluctant maiden, I was not easily captured. It took me a full 60 pages to fully engage with the author and to fall in love with her story. But fall, I did. Sometimes even the most enduring romances get off to a rocky start. In this memoir of spiritual and romantic awakening by Carolyn Weber, we are guided through the privileged halls of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Oxford</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">University</st1:placetype></st1:place>, and ushered into the inner life of a young person who is in the process of becoming. </div>
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…becoming a woman, arriving in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">London</st1:place></st1:city> with a suitcase of shoes, an engagement ring and high hopes. </div>
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…becoming a teacher, a female doctoral candidate at a prestigious institution with rigorous intellectual demands. <a name='more'></a><br /></div>
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…becoming a believer—to her own surprise. She is a wide-eyed romantic who takes a clear-eyed objective look at the Christian gospel. </div>
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Each of these “becomings” is challenged by her unique past which she shares with endearing transparency while avoiding the dangerous drop into self-indulgent disclosure. Ultimately, it is she who is captured, by the Lover of Souls.</div>
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Along the way we meet her favorite—and some less—professors, her family and friends, and an eclectic crew of classmates. It is equal parts narrative non-fiction, apologetics and Bible study. It is also something of a primer in classic literature, peppered heavily with allusions to writers of the Romantic era. The bibliography alone is a treat. And then there is the matter of Tall Dark Handsome. Though we follow the agonizing growth of a romance from the beginning, we don’t learn until the epilogue what—if anything—comes of it. We do however learn along with Weber and Julian of Norwich that “all shall be well.” </div>
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An <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">academic</i> specialist on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">romantic</i> literature certainly contains elements of paradox. However, on topics in which the head and heart are often cast as opponents in a contest for preeminence, it is a joy to experience how Weber has weaved the two together like dancers performing an exquisite choreography of faith. Non-Christians will find here a running dialogue about the Christian faith between intellectually-honest people—some of faith, some not—about Christian faith. It happens in a context of inquiry against a backdrop of friendship and love. For Christians, Surprised by <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Oxford</st1:place></st1:city> embodies this statement by Samuel Johnson: “People need to be reminded more often than they need to be instructed.”<sup> 1</sup> This delightful memoir does both. I will read it again, recommend it to others and refer to it often. Check it out. </div>
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1. Carolyn Weber, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Surprised By <st1:city w:st="on">Oxford</st1:city></i> (<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Nashville</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">TN</st1:state></st1:place>: Thomas Nelson, 2011), 393.</div>
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Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-30527331882409410082011-08-10T18:48:00.000-07:002011-08-16T20:16:50.590-07:00Bust a Moooove! (Week 1c)<div style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong>Walk... salmon... v</strong><strong>itamin C... breathe... get flowers...</strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I have been at the beach with family since I posted last. Staying on track away from home--camping in a yurt and fixing meals over a firepit--was the challenge. Of course, you're already surrounded by nature and glorious air. For food, we packed lots of fresh fruit and some blanched broccoli in the cooler. But just in case you run short, there are delightful organic markets nearby.<br />
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I found some things actually easier. For example, just going to the restroom half a block away means you exercise every day (...albeit at 3 in the morning,<br />
<a name='more'></a> in the dark, with coyotes howling)! And the two-block walk to water's edge through the sand and over the rise, will certainly do it if you're un/lucky enough (you decide) to have a porta-potty in your trailer! <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QAdV7eR0DKg/TkcgaQ8iqNI/AAAAAAAAAEA/BRle2zjraP4/s1600/Fall+2009-Summer+2011+306.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QAdV7eR0DKg/TkcgaQ8iqNI/AAAAAAAAAEA/BRle2zjraP4/s400/Fall+2009-Summer+2011+306.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>And speaking of walk, the new habit this week is to mooooove. Begin to walk 10 minutes a day. That almost sounds like a waste of time, but I find that the enjoyment of being up and on my feet overtakes me. 10 minutes turns to 15 and then to 20. But on the days that moving at all seems out of the question, a migraine day for instance, I can enjoy 10 minutes without castigating myself for being a wimp. <em>Motion is lotion</em>, the physical therapist says. If my grateful joints could hug me they would. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-iVcV0T5so/TkcgWzeMECI/AAAAAAAAAD8/L22FCLCdk38/s1600/Fall+2009-Summer+2011+050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-iVcV0T5so/TkcgWzeMECI/AAAAAAAAAD8/L22FCLCdk38/s400/Fall+2009-Summer+2011+050.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;" unselectable="on"></div>Here are the rest of the small changes I'm working at and how I fared on vacation:<br />
<strong>Salmon or flax seed</strong> <br />
Eat salmon or a couple of tablespoons of flax seed once or twice a week. That was easy; we BBQ'd fresh caught salmon fillets from the Columbia river one night, compliments of my son-in-law and his Native American friend, Phillip. Yummmm. <br />
<strong>Vitamin C</strong><br />
1-2000 mg 3 times a day gives your body all day protection against the damaging effects of free radicals, the waste products of normal metabolism. (I'm sure there's some political analogy to be drawn here but I'll refrain...) Again...easy. Whatever did people do before zip-shut sandwich bags? <br />
<strong>Observe your breathing</strong><br />
I found one of my favorite sayings in a boutique on the Oregon coast years ago: "I come to the sea to breathe."* Observing how you breathe can be quite interesting. When was the last time you actually paid attention to how this amazing process works--which we take mostly for granted until flu season? Try this: Sit someplace quiet and comfortable in loose clothes. Breathe normally and pay attention to when exhale turns to inhale and vice versa. Do it daily for five minutes. That's all! See how soothing it can be? It's soooo easy at the sea. :)<br />
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<strong>Bring a plant or flowers inside your house.</strong> </div>I actualy have someone telling me to spend the minimal $5-10 on my mental health? How great is that?! Amazingly the sassy little fat-leafed plant I paid $2 for at the garden store, and whose name I can't recall, is still living! I'm trying to be mindful of its existence, which is a discipline for me. I can become so accustomed to my surroundings that I forget to notice such things. It even lived through the four days we were gone. What a champ.<br />
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Coming up, the spotlight is on Week Two modifications, including some words on water. (Of course for me, that's the fourth week of moving [s-l-o-o-o-w-l-y] in the direction of optimum health.)<br />
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Cheerio! <br />
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*(By MaryAnne Radmacher. <u><span style="color: #0066cc;"><a href="http://www.maryanneradmacher.com/cgi-bin/plugins/MivaEmpresas/miva?plugins/MivaMerchants/merchant.mvc+Screen=SFNT&Store_Code=WG">http://www.maryanneradmacher.com/cgi-bin/plugins/MivaEmpresas/miva?plugins/MivaMerchants/merchant.mvc+Screen=SFNT&Store_Code=WG</a></span></u><br />
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Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-29999335221290479552011-07-20T22:50:00.000-07:002011-08-16T20:21:05.118-07:00Better Than You Think - (Week 1b)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2rzbZaY-Kmw/Tie9fEAleKI/AAAAAAAAAD0/VVe1IyRHUUo/s1600/11038062-time-for-change-clock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2rzbZaY-Kmw/Tie9fEAleKI/AAAAAAAAAD0/VVe1IyRHUUo/s1600/11038062-time-for-change-clock.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Week 1b: Think about the body's amazing ability to heal; consider things from which you and others have recovered.</strong> </div><br />
I saw the physical therapist today for a shoulder that has ceased to operate like one. Still lying in bed, just that first morning stretch sends me into a pain-induced state of shock which is no way to start the day! And it's downhill from<br />
<a name='more'></a> there. <br />
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When you live with something chronically wrong, it can begin to seem that everything is worse than it probably is. I was not expecting good news...optimist that I've become...so I was delighted to hear that I could probably be fixed in 12 visits or less. "We assume that you want this to work so that you will do what we suggest between visits." Uh, yeah. Yes. Yes, I do. I feel my resolve harden. <br />
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Phrases like "adaptive shortening of the muscle" and "cumulative effects of a sedentary lifestyle" revealed the truth. Something I swore would never be true of me apparently is. Aargh. The better news is that with minor but regular modifications to my routine (read MOVE), all should be well. <br />
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After measuring and marking, twisting and bending, poking and pulling, she determined that indeed, I am better than I thought. Take heart. I'll bet you are too. <br />
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Now, instead of sitting here at the computer any longer, perhaps you should stand up right now and stretch...I'm just sayin... Me? I'm going to walk into the living room and stretch while watching the rest of a movie with my family.<br />
<br />
What action could you take this second that would put you closer to wellness than you were just a moment ago? <br />
Drink a glass of water? Touch your toes? Close your eyes and breathe? Think a grateful thought? Smile? Or...on and on. <br />
<br />
:) Ciao.Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-51863400369376149812011-07-11T14:39:00.000-07:002011-08-16T20:22:49.565-07:00Really? 8 Weeks to Optimum Health...? (Wk 1a) <strong>Week 1a: </strong><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SJdoIgvofHg/ThtoQ2snX3I/AAAAAAAAADw/vVyP43PxiYU/s1600/8+Weeks_51ih1adTx2L__AA115_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><strong><img border="0" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SJdoIgvofHg/ThtoQ2snX3I/AAAAAAAAADw/vVyP43PxiYU/s1600/8+Weeks_51ih1adTx2L__AA115_.jpg" /></strong></a><strong>Eat fresh broccoli twice this week</strong>. <br />
<br />
Some experts say it takes 21 days--three weeks--to establish a new habit. Opinions differ, but in any case, I know it takes me more than a week. So I'm giving myself three times that--24 weeks, not eight!<br />
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</div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br />
</div><div style="border: currentColor;">I ran across this book at Goodwill a few months back. (By the way, thrift shops are a great place to shop for books if you can't afford new<br />
<a name='more'></a> prices to replace the ones you loan that you don't get back. With all due respect to my bookseller friends, I must eat...healthy...that is). </div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br />
</div>As I've talked with friends, it isn't long until the conversation turns to health topics. Everyone seems to desire a greater sense of well-being. A few are even struggling with debilitating physical challenges. Clearly some conditions need aggressive medical intervention. Some are improved with just a few small but mighty changes in the way we care for ourselves. Whatever our baseline, anyone can benefit. At least that's the premise of "8 Weeks."<br />
<br />
The title has reeled me in at a time when I am fishing for ways to improve my health and give focused attention to this wellness thing. I have enjoyed relative good health all my life, but it's a new season and I need a boost. I have known of Dr. Weil's* work for a long time and it seems like a good place to begin. <br />
<br />
<em>"The 8-Week program consists of small steps that build on each other until, by the time you complete it, you have laid the foundation of healthy living. You can then decide how much of the program you want to maintain on a permanent basis." (Knopf, 1997; p.3)</em><br />
<br />
So, I'm off. Chapter 1 is titled, "People Can Change." We'll see! I'm going to blog about the process over the next few weeks. I'd love to hear back from you. <br />
<br />
<em>*Disclaimer: These wellness methods can be applied in any context, regardless of spiritual views, without resulting in the growth of a beard resembling Dr. Weil's own; not to worry. </em><a href="http://www.drweil.com/">http://www.drweil.com/</a>Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-13531292714914092552011-07-07T15:06:00.000-07:002011-08-16T20:18:14.119-07:00"Migraines Are What Happens When You're Making Other Plans"No doubt you've seen this clever axiom, credited to John Lennon... <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2KbmN34vsBk/ThYcK7yt3eI/AAAAAAAAADQ/vDR7osGlOiM/s1600/Life_Happens.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="174" m$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2KbmN34vsBk/ThYcK7yt3eI/AAAAAAAAADQ/vDR7osGlOiM/s200/Life_Happens.bmp" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: left;">For the past several years, my experience has been that... </div><div style="text-align: center;">"<em>Migraines</em> are what happens when you're making other plans!"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>For instance, I planned a week-long trip recently to a town three hours away<br />
<a name='more'></a> to which two good friends had each moved. I was looking forward to catching up, to having a visual context for our phone calls.<br />
<br />
Monday and Tuesday went off without a hitch.<br />
Wednesday afternoon Friend #1, her baby and I enjoyed a long walk in a beautiful park, followed by a light lunch in a natural food store/deli. <br />
But by 6:00 that evening, just shortly before I was to connect up with Friend #2, the familiar shadow had begun to creep across my sun.<br />
By 8 p.m. I was headed off to bed, eye mask in hand, pain meds on board and forbidden by Friend #1 from leaving the house in this state. (As if...!)<br />
Frustrated, I called Friend #2 and explained that I would have to delay our plans until I was able to function again. Hopefully it would be early the next morning. <br />
But, alas. It was not to be.<br />
<br />
I headed for home late the next morning, disappointed that I would not be able to meet up with Friend #2.<br />
I was not yet feeling a hundred percent but the episode had subsided enough to make the three-hour drive.<br />
I utilized all the strategies with which migraine sufferers have become familiar:<br />
Meds. Sunglasses. Deep breathing. Water. Pressure points. Magnesium. Stretch breaks. Neck massage. And yes... Smiling. <br />
<br />
I don't know why things happen as they do. I continue to pray for healing, be alert for triggers and seek answers. In the meantime, choosing to be at peace, even when my plans are interrupted and my best efforts fail is an important part of experiencing wellness. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K5gk8NyzeiA/ThYWIaxRcoI/AAAAAAAAADM/PvlDpdXVV38/s1600/2011-05-28+10.53.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" m$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K5gk8NyzeiA/ThYWIaxRcoI/AAAAAAAAADM/PvlDpdXVV38/s200/2011-05-28+10.53.06.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border: currentColor; text-align: center;">Why not?!</div><div style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;">This is me in bed with [yet another] migraine, </div><div style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;">feeling sorry for myself and detached from other lifeforms. </div><div style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;">Endorphins, released when we laugh, are said to increase feelings of pleasure and reduce pain. </div><div style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;">I figured a good laugh might help, so I took a picture </div><div style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;">to see how silly I must look. </div><br />
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<div align="center"></div>Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-83200761649390197122011-06-29T17:23:00.000-07:002011-08-16T20:24:42.112-07:00Never Give Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zQSBX6SqeFE/TgvAUD6mqrI/AAAAAAAAADI/E1Mc9mp4FIU/s1600/2011-06-29+16.22.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zQSBX6SqeFE/TgvAUD6mqrI/AAAAAAAAADI/E1Mc9mp4FIU/s320/2011-06-29+16.22.31.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>This stuffed turtle reclines on the top of my piano where each music student can see the words "NEVER GIVE UP" in bold print across its exposed underbelly.<br />
<br />
But what if our environment and resources prevent us from experiencing some<br />
<a name='more'></a> desired element of wholeness? Is hope meaningless, effort futile?<br />
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A realistic appraisal will reveal that everyone is limited in some way, some time; that's life. Even after adjusting our definition of wholeness, re-evaluating what equals success, identifying some obstacles, we may still encounter feelings of discouragement or hopelessness. <br />
<br />
I know a busy young mom who stops on the stairs at home to do a few modified pushups each time she has to go up. Sure, it's not the same as going to the gym, but it's a small contribution to caring for her body. She says it helps her feel a little better. (And it's a guarantee she's ready for sleeveless summer dresses before her counterpart next door who goes up and down her stairs without dropping for four or five of her own!)<br />
<br />
There are small choices each of us can make to move us toward a preferred outcome. Remember that two units starting from the exact same point and moving in the same direction, but one of them even the slighest degree from straight, will eventually be separated by hundreds of miles. <br />
<br />
Even when the differences between what was and what is are imperceptible, be patient. <br />
You will be rewarded, perhaps not in every way or simultaneously, but inevitably and over time. <br />
You can make a difference with even the smallest change if you NEVER GIVE UP.<br />
<br />
And on a related note, we just celebrated our 36th anniversary. <br />
<br />
(By the way, mid-course corrections are not the same as giving up, which is a subject for another time, also related to anniversaries--but I digress...)<br />
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<strong>One small choice that changes: Smile. No really. Some claim that the way it moves the muscles in the face can actually result in decreased discomfort! Why not try it...has worked for me on occasion. </strong>Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-15209594339890033572011-06-20T16:44:00.000-07:002011-08-16T19:56:05.907-07:00Choices That Change: Define WholenessFour Domains/One Whole<br />
1. Physical<br />
2. Psychological (Thoughts/Feelings/Behaviors)<br />
3. Social<br />
4. Spiritual<br />
<br />
When you think about holistic, or wholistic (I guess there's some difference in meaning according to the different spellings), what comes to mind? For me, it conjures up the image of a low-budget office, manned by a single New-age naturopath smelling of herbs and supplements. Like me, you may have been in a few.<br />
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How about wellness? That brings to mind slick brochures from a progressive hospital promoting condition-specific programs targeted at the maturing population. Or chic websites catering to the interests of new mothers, young professionals or a privileged jet-set. Or a new MLM fad selling therapeutic possibilities and potions. <br />
<br />
I have nothing against any of these, but as an average human being who resists labeling and sterotypes, I have come to prefer yet another word, one which suggests a broader view which certainly may include but is not limited to the above: Wholeness.<br />
<br />
In college I learned the value of a working definition. Making sure that everyone is working from the same understanding of certain words, reducing opportunities for confusion. My working definition of wholeness, therefore, is "a state of being which allows an individual to function at their current optimum capacity in each domain of a human's <em>being</em>." Wellness, in contrast, seems to me to be a subcategory of wholeness, depicting primarily the tangible or physical state of one who is living from within a state of wholeness. But that's just me... Holistic/wholistic seems a bit more ethereal. I know. Semantics.<br />
<br />
And if that's not enough, wholeness, as I intend it, addresses the state of a person from a "bio-psycho-social" perspective; <em>bio </em>meaning physical, <em>psycho</em> being thoughts/feelings/behaviors, and <em>social</em> denoting socio-environmental influences. I have added one, <em>spiritual</em>, which I am convinced is as much an integral aspect of wholeness as any of the other three. Therefore, <em>bio-psycho-socio-spiritual</em>.<br />
<br />
Just because it's a big word--or because there are a lot of them--doesn't mean the matter is more complicated. In fact, for my money, it simplifies things. Rather than each being a specialization or a micro-managed pursuit that takes on a life of its own, each effort becomes an integrated part of a whole, resulting in a cohesive nurturing of our bodies, minds, relationships and opportunities.<br />
<br />
However we talk about it, it all just sounds like more things to add to our schedules--or more guilt to drag around if we don't. What to do...? There are a few small choices that will make big changes in our ability to thrive. I'll share some that have worked for me and for others--and some that have not. I hope you'll join in the conversation passing on what you have learned, and learning from others.<br />
<br />
<strong>*What comes to mind when you hear the words <em>holistic, wholistic, wellness, wholeness</em>? </strong><br />
<strong>*How have those images helped or hindered past attempts to enjoy wholeness as defined here?</strong>Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-27041956341533914942011-05-25T14:58:00.000-07:002011-07-07T16:43:02.536-07:00Slow Start<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ty21KRq4b2I/Td16nlZwCBI/AAAAAAAAACY/pPqCMpZXk0o/s1600/turtle+w-book.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ty21KRq4b2I/Td16nlZwCBI/AAAAAAAAACY/pPqCMpZXk0o/s1600/turtle+w-book.gif" t8="true" /></a></div>I'm inspired. On one of my favorite blogs, <a href="http://encouragingwordsforwriters.blogspot.com/">Encouraging Words for Writers</a>, Bonita assures her readers that their writing, like a fingerprint, is supposed to be unique, unlike anyone else's; that there isn't one right way to speak. Now that's a piece of work for one whose default behavior is compliance!<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
In December I mused what I might say if I wasn't afraid of my own voice. I confessed my fear. It's just that it makes one so...so...accountable. I operate from the perspective that words matter; that they actually mean something concrete. To put them into the blogosphere means something as well and it's daunting to do so. <br />
But what if I change my mind? Then I guess I say <em>that. </em><br />
What if I'm wrong? Then I say "I was wrong." (That was painful.)<br />
<br />
Now it's May, almost June, and I'm back following six months of "what ifs." <br />
Admittedly, it's a [very] slow start, but start, by definition, is progress, yes? <br />
So here goes...Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-83862232379720438742010-12-27T16:45:00.000-08:002013-11-04T20:19:58.844-08:00Has Your Internal Engineer Muted Your Voice? (Note: This was drafted in June so the reference to Christmas was originally a reference to my last birthday--which only emphasizes the point!)<br />
<br />
Do you remember hearing your own voice recorded for the first time? Almost everybody responds the same: “Do I really sound like that?” <br />
<br />
My first "gig" as a vocalist was at age six, soloing “Sunbeam” in a Sunday morning church service. That was followed closely by an appearance in my mother’s Christmas production<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
reciting a lengthy poem, “Happy Birthday, Jesus,” with the choir humming Silent Night in the background. I, too, was shocked the first time I heard myself recorded. Since it never met with my expectations, my internal sound engineer decreased the volume until, eventually I was muted.<br />
Perfectionism had gained the upper hand. I was afraid of the sound of my own voice and stopped singing altogether.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, and with lots of help, I've been able to rehabilitate some of that musical malfunction and reclaimed the gift of song.<br />
<br />
However, another Christmas has just passed, the year is closing, and I’ve discovered that my internal engineer controls yet another “voice”: my thoughts. No worries, though. This time I'm onto her. I have decided, “enough already!” A sign in my office exhorts, “Don’t die with the music still in you.” So I’m taking baby steps, brainstorming what I might write about if I could shush the mouth of that eternal, internal critic; if I blogged "for reals".<br />
<br />
Here’s a list. Here’s what I would write about if I wasn’t afraid of the sound of my own voice. I would…<br />
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
… write about spiritual transformation—the collaboration of Christian spirituality and psychology, a comprehensive bio-psycho-social approach. That we are whole integrated creations of a very smart God and though each domain is unique, if humans are to experience wellness, no part of us can be successfully ignored. </div>
<br />
… write about worship—the experiences and lessons of over 25 years of music ministry, some paid, some volunteer; the pleasure, the pain of loving and leading; the lessons learned, the joys; the ups, the downs, the schizoid creative muse/cryptic manager ; the friends gained, the losses suffered. <br />
<br />
… encourage and empathize; celebrate and lament. <br />
<br />
… share recipes and lifestyle websites that inspire—and irritate—me. <br />
<br />
… develop that greeting card line I’ve been talking about for 10 years and find a way to make it happen.<br />
<br />
... write about...<br />
<br />
~writing and creativity in general, and promote art and artists that I believe in. And invite you to talk back.<br />
~books I’m reading and the concerts and movies I attend; promote/discuss/review them; about communicating—the power and pleasure and privilege. <br />
~life in God, biblical text, and how to know him through the Jesus of history.<br />
~jazz and the joy of being a musician, and tell you where I am performing, and how and where you might “come out and play” with me.<br />
~family life and grandkids and redemption and divorce and walking with the same partner for years and years and years and … <br />
~death and caring for those who are dying.<br />
~what I’ve learned about attending college as an adult; all the interesting people I meet and the interesting conversations we have; the little bit of travel I’ve been privileged to do; the herbs I like to grow; working at school and in retail. <br />
<br />
I would write about all that because I have something to say; because I want to offer my voice to the collective conversation in hope of making sense of our past, our now better, and our future brighter. <br />
<br />
I would do that and much more if I wasn’t afraid of the sound of my own voice.Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31332822.post-54861270923040947002010-10-02T19:58:00.000-07:002013-11-04T20:21:10.602-08:00Facebook or Blog? So...I've decided to blog. More. I really do enjoy Facebook, but mostly to keep up with what all my friends are doing. As a writer, I find the space given for posts on our beloved FB, to be more of an irritant than an invitation. <br />
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<br />
Seriously? Can you really post a thought of any substance in that microscopic space? Maybe because Zuckerburg--whose story is getting a flood of press right now--apparently thinks in html and binary code, it's possible. But for those of us who communicate in--and love--actual words, it is challenging. <br />
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Of course, if your read my post a few days ago you know that I quipped, "Often, the best thing to say is nothing." Whatever. That's the problem with putting things in writing. What happens if in a couple days you change your mind, and have something you think is worth saying? Ah! I guess you write that, "Voila! I've changed mind." <br />
<br />
See why I love words? None of this would have fit in that tiny little "one-hundred-and- something-characters" space. So I've decided to blog.Gwen Shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02217689131327319357noreply@blogger.com0