I Blame Her...and Her - Feel

"What is this feeling,
So sudden and new?"
- "What Is This Feeling?", Wicked

"Why are you doing that?"

My friend and I were sitting in the bar. To avoid an unremarkable evening, I'd co-opted him (definitions 2 and 4) into accompanying me to a blues night at a local music venue. In that comfortable state of mind induced by a silly beverage and too-much-drums bar music, I was recounting tales of discarded life experiences and missed opportunities.

"Why are you remembering all this? Are you stuck in regret?" he asked again.

I didn't have a good answer at first, making do with "Not regret, really. Just remembering."

It wasn't until a day or so later when I put words to the action. I was _feeling_. As a recovering codependent (a subject for another post) and as a guy, I'm constantly refining my understanding of the proper role of emotions in life. This world offers many conflicting opinions on the matter. Some say, "Live your feelings," some say, "Emotion is weakness." Some say, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything." Some say, "If you can't feel God at work in your life, you need to have more faith." (how would a less emotional person experience God, then? ) As I mature, though, I continue to explore and resolve how the "feel" part of life is supposed to work.

Long ago and far away, I used to be a homeschool kid raised in a super-strict subculture. I've alluded to it before in my writing, but you'd probably have to go all the way back to December 2006 to see a lot of influence. Over the last couple years, God has been digging recent brokenness out of my life. As I get most of that squared away, though, He's starting to dig deeper. Lately, we've been skirting the edge of sorting through "stuff Kenton learned as a kid".

I was taught things like "Always have faith", "pass the praise to God when you're complimented", "this too shall pass", and any number of teachings against strong emotions either positive or negative. A Facebook friend recently posted an article on how legalistic teachings on romance and relationships have continuing adverse effects on healthy relationships. If I had a dollar for every time I heard some variation on the theme of "don't be defrauding" or "expressing attraction shall only be done in a rigidly-controlled framework" or something of the ilk, well, I'd still have to work but could eat lunch for free for a week. And probably lunch at Chipotle too, not Ramen. Similarly, anger was always an indicator of inward character flaws; sadness was an expression of not submitting to God's plan; and so on.

I'm not sure what we were being trained to be or what the goal of the philosophy was. Were we to be automatons? Pavlovian machines existing to feel only at others' behest? Nothing healthy and mature, that's for sure.

One characteristic of codependency, (part of the definition, in fact), is to subjugate your feelings to another's will, whether well intentioned (weaponizing "humility" as a concept) or merely as a reaction to abuse (codependents can be often found in relationship with addicts/addiction is a family sickness). I'm still working out where mine got started, but "where it started" is much less important than "making it end". As I mature out of my codependency, I grow into God's vision for what role my emotions play in my healthy adult life.

A self-help book I was reading earlier this year particularly called out the importance to a codependent of feeling. When ripples happen on the pond of life, instead of being locked up by fear of others' opinions or reactions, the teaching was to feel what you feel, identify how you feel, what's causing it, and any necessary actions; then let it go. It's just a feeling - it doesn't control you. (The 12 Steps are rooted in similar truths.)

After growing up in the formulaic, rules-based subculture, my spiritual maturity took significant strides while I was dating Andie. She persuaded me of the value of being a human and feeling, rather than always thinking and judging with pure logic. Then she left and that systemic emotional shock left me "shut down" for the better part of a year. There was no "feel", just...nothing.

To an extent, I "blame" Andie in a positive sense for breaking me out of my "completely logical" shell. For that I am thankful, and rightfully so. On the darker side, though, I also assign her some blame for the rising tide of darkness that followed the stormy end of our relationship. In conclusion, yes, I blame her.

Years later, as I began a relationship with Mary, I was reticent to feel again. The way to a healthy relationship was to feel, but I was leery of being hurt again. Slowly but surely, she helped me peel off the scabs left by others and again I felt emotionally "whole".

Of course, we all know how that ended. Badly. My heart felt like it had been put through a cheese grater. In a strict metaphorical sense, it had been defoliated - the entire surface removed; no leaves, no flowers remaining. Then came that moment after you get hurt where you see subcutaneous flesh knowing this is going to hurt and bleed, but the slow red seeping hasn't quite started yet.

"I feel like sh*t
But at least I feel something"
- In Flames, "Disconnected"

I blame Mary for teaching me (again) to feel. (Rather more successfully, I might add.) I also blame her for the feeling of my entire life hurting at once.

That was a while ago now. I've grown and healed since. No more cheese grater, no more systemic shock. Presently, along my journey of life, I can experience, feel, then let it go.

That's what I was doing in the bar that so puzzled my friend - taking memories from times when I didn't process as well and bringing them to the foreground so I could understand, feel, then let it go. It's a better way of life - I'm less chained up with less "stuff" in my mental backpack. While I'm not entirely sure how I got here, I'm glad for the journey.

I blame her...and her...for bringing me along this journey.

I Blame Her: Theatre

Series Intro here

[I've not stopped blaming, I've just been preoccupied by present-day life. I still have the list of things I want to "blame" in my head; I just haven't taken the time to elaborate on them in words]

Many years ago, one of my friends had a sister who was in high school drama club. Aside from the notion that high school itself is not a sort of drama club, this was interesting to observe. My friend had a similar approach to life as I did - very technical and logical, not much artistic creativity - whereas his sister Kristi structured her life around art, drama, and music, providing a very contrasting perspective on life.

Somehow (clouded by bygone history), I was persuaded to go to her first musical, Les Miserables. I greatly enjoyed the book, but was entranced by the musical. At the time, I was just starting to learn how much my life would center on music, which certainly contributed to the show's impact. Another part, I think, was a mixture of understanding "willing suspension of disbelief" and having the "visual learner" part of my brain stimulated by actors on a stage rather than by the mind's eye. Whatever the reason, I greatly enjoyed my evening.

As Kristi finished her secondary studies, I ended up going to almost every play and musical she in which she had a part, about three per year. While some of the present-day pop culture references were lost on me, I always had a great time and enjoyed seeing/hearing stories. All good things must come to an end, though, and I ran out of high school plays to attend. Mines had "Mines Little Theater" and I had friends in MLT, but it just wasn't the same. Partly because it was Mines and we're a bunch of engineers. OK, almost completely because it was Mines and we're a bunch of engineers.

During my first semester at Mines, somehow our dorm finagled our way into free (or nominal cost) tickets to A Christmas Carol produced by the Denver Center for Performing Arts. The show was amazing and again fostered my admiration for well-done theatre, especially classic theatre. (Hey, Intro to Lit was one of my favorite humanities classes ever, Greek tragedy and all.) However, I was stuck with MLT or nothing for the rest of my tenure at Mines. As a side note, I'm still just a little surprised I wasn't struck by lightning for leaving a Good Friday church service early to see some friends in MLT's Best Little Whorehouse in Texas...

My life was MLT or nothing (and mostly nothing) right up until I started hanging out with Mary. Mary was cool; Mary was fun to spend time with. Mary wasn't much into theater or drama. But Mary still lived with her family, so as the boyfriend (and as the good boyfriend), I was asked occasionally to support Mary's sister in her performing pursuits. Turns out that Mary's sister was aiming for a career in the film industry. Once again, I found myself invited to plays and musicals. Wizard of Oz, Wicked (I'm only missing "Dark Side of the Rainbow" to complete the Oz trifecta), and The Importance of Being Earnest were some of the great experiences that I was privileged to share with Mary. Accidentally through our relationship, I rekindled my quiet appreciation for that part of "the arts". Now that I'm not in college any more, I find myself more often possessing the means to enjoy art. I just needed a reminder of how much I enjoyed it.

Part of my enjoyment of theatre arts means sharing with others. As I mentioned, I did share some plays and musicals with Mary, but she's gone now. Instead, I'll have to share with other people. As an example, I offer the story of my meager celebration of my 21st birthday. Over my roommates' protests and threats of kidnapping and drinking, I decided on a much more wholesome activity - one of Kristi's plays. Since a celebration is crippled without company, I took my little sister to the play. I can only vaguely remember what play we saw, but I went home both sober and gratified.

This summer marks my younger sister's 21st birthday. A couple months ago, I asked if she'd like to go to a play again. After some planning, we did find a play to go to (nothing worth seeing runs through the summer). However, we did move up in the world this time. A few weeks ago, we journeyed to the DCPA to see Wicked. Although I had seen it before with Mary's family, it was fun to see it again. There were parts I remembered and parts I didn't. The parts I remembered, I looked forward to seeing and sharing. The parts I didn't, I enjoyed as "new again". Overall, though the cost was non-negligible, it was totally worth it and Hannah had a really good time.

In fact, it was a busy week of "the arts", as the cycle starts again. My youngest two sisters were in a school musical of their own, which I was able to go see. I'm a bit older for this round of high school plays than I was last time, but that's OK -it's also family not friends this time.

So what's the moral of this story? Theater provides variety, the spice of life. Things I value are worth remembering and sharing with others. And I blame Mary for reminding me of experiences that I want to intentionally keep in my life.

Lessons Learned

[It's quiet around here; sad day. I have a lot of half-finished writings, but they're just that; half-finished. Looks like I'll be spending some time polishing those this week.

In other news, I'm coming up on 100 entries. I had no idea I'd write this much when I started six years ago. Such a milestone ought to get some special treatment. Any suggestions?]

In the original tradition of "In Statu Pupillari", last week taught me a couple interesting things that I wanted to share. Unlike the recent tradition, I'm not writing a thousand-word epic to describe either of them.

First of all, God reminded me how I still need to work on trusting him and continuing to trust him. With what feels like a lot of the big stuff in my life squared away and progressing steadily, it gives me time to work on some of the small stuff in my life. Not wanting to derail my life due to avoidable debris on the tracks, I've been talking to God as I walk through some of my everyday decisions. I've also been making a habit of giving my day to God when I roll out of bed. Surprise surprise, turns out He can usually run my life better than I can.

In one recent case, I'd set up a simple go/no-go decision. As a part of walking and trusting, I'm learning that I can either worry a decision over and over, or I could just trust my decisions to God (as well as my days) and let Him drive. Sometimes setting tests can be fraught with risk, but I didn't want to ponder any more, so I set God an ultimatum - if A then B, if "not A" then C. I can't really say that I had a desired outcome chosen. I just wanted to have a chosen path.

As He often does, God answered me. His answer was mostly "wait" with an added scoop of "no". Then, being the human I am, I got mad! That's not the answer I wanted, God, even though I didn't really have a favorite answer before. How immature was that? First I don't care and I say I trust completely, then when I get the answer I asked for (because I asked without expectation), I'm disappointed that I got what I wanted. Sheesh. No wonder God doesn't always answer me if I'm going to respond like that.

I had a teaching moment at the climbing gym on Wednesday. As I get comfortable on the easy bouldering problems, I've begun looking for slightly more challenging problems. There appears to only be two ways of making problems harder - move the holds farther apart or make the holds smaller. I don't have the finger strength to use the smaller holds so I've been studying the "holds farther apart" problems a bit. My new favorite problem has a couple easy moves (moving a foot or a hand) then one big step before the other moves.

The human body is about as wide fingertip-to-fingertip as it is tall (head to toe), so I can reach about 6 feet at a static reach. While supporting my weight, that number decreases dramatically. Most of the easy routes place my limbs approximately forward of my shoulders/hips, with the farther holds maybe 6-12 inches outside of my body. This problem has a move with the hold probably 2 1/2 feet from my body centerline - almost to the limits of my extension. I'm used to being able to move on the wall at my leisure, but this one requires a purposeful swing. Any halfhearted effort will fall short, stranding you on the previous holds. At my climbing friends' encouragement, I quickly figured out that a quite vigorous swing would get me all the way to the new hold. Something on the order of "ONE...TWO...THREE...Swing!"

I also quickly found out that if I did it right, I could get to the new hold, but if for some reason I missed my grab, I was unlikely to retain enough traction on the previous holds to catch myself as my momentum returned. After the first attempt, my mental visualization became "Swing hard enough to get there, but realize if you miss, you're coming off the wall!" The "coming off the wall" part did indeed happen a couple times. Seeing as my feet weren't far off the ground and the floor is heavily padded, it's not a big deal. However, the sequence of "swing......oh shoot...plop" happened a few times.

The only way to finish that route is to commit wholeheartedly to it. Half measures will only land you back on your rear on the floor. Commitment -there's a serious life lesson. How many things in life are similar, requiring you to fully buy-in to see any positive outcome? Where pursuing something half-cooked will only strand you in limbo?

As I pondered this more, I was realizing how my prayer life/trust walk with God was like my bouldering problem. I set up the decision and got all the way to its crux or hard part. Then when God didn't totally toe the line I unconsciously set, I bailed. That's not the way my life should be, and I think I've learned better now. The moral: talk to God and understand your choices, ask for counsel, but then commit wholeheartedly to whatever He gives me.

So here we go back again
Slow climb but quick to descend
Arms out, arms out
Turn into the spin
It's lovely and brief
With just gravity and me

And if we choose to fall
Who's to say it isn't flight
- Dessa, "Into The Spin"

Rock Step

You're stretching out your arms
To something that's just not there
- "If You Could Only See", Tonic

The wind blows sporadically tonight, rippling through my T-shirt as I take my evening run. The weather feels like it's threatening to rain again, to shower like it did earlier tonight, but it can't seem to decide.

My thoughts mirror the weather outside again tonight: rolling and unsettled. Out of nowhere, the nice linear laminar flow becomes turbulent, kicking up debris and obscuring everything.

My run (OK, run/walk) doesn't seem to help, though it stretches from the planned 2 miles to 2.5, then 3 even. One contributing factor there is probably tonight's choice of music - Trans-Siberian Orchestra, but one of the more mentally unsettling (to me) albums, "Night Castle". Great album, but not calming.

My earlier dinner/beer/visit with a good church friend didn't help. He asked if I was content with my life and I honestly answered yes. God is so good and I love the journey I'm on. I understand that I'm not at the end and that I'm making progress daily, and that's fine.

Working out more won't help, as I'm still burnt from yesterday's workout (yay bouldering) and I need a day of rest. Mind says maybe a few pull-ups and push-ups won't hurt, but Body just looks at the bar and rolls its eyes. No workout tonight so that I don't do bad things to myself.

Guitar often helps me work out my stuff. However, I'm fully aware that this particular "perishable skill" is quite a ways past its expiration date so any practice will be rife with frustration at my ineptitude, rather than containing catharsis created by the happy sounds. Secondly, it's late at night and I don't have a silent practice setup yet. The folks upstairs just love screaming electric guitar late at night, too. God does say love your neighbors, so guitar is out tonight.

I find myself constructing statements in a similar idiom to the song quoted above. "If could only see , then maybe ." (Yeah, I just butchered lyrics and meter. Tonight, you get what you pay for.) But I don't even have a set of words to put in the embryonic mad lib. Do I want to complete it as "If God could see what I'm thinking because I can't see for myself..."? Oh, but He does see the entire trajectory of my life. I fully believe that. So what am I asking for? Don't know.

Maybe writing will help. Ah yeah, let's totally stay up ALL NIGHT and write! That's not a good idea - I still have one more solid day at work until the freedom of the weekend. Maybe just a little writing, then. But which of the three concurrent thought threads shall I write about? All of them! No, not all of them - see above time constraint. Turns out that sleep is valuable or something.

In swing dancing, the first style I ever learned used the jitterbug as the basic step. It goes "Step, Step, Rock-Step" over and over. After the basic rhythm is mastered, one can start to assemble different moves into sequence. The basic step, as well as most moves, is a 6-count, starting and ending off the rock step. The rock step is simply one foot placed behind, weight shift to that foot, then weight shift back. You "rock" backwards, hence the name.

Dancing got a lot easier once I internalized the basic truth that everything is rooted at the rock step. End up with a move that's a little short on beats? Shuffle a bit, then rock step! Get totally lost in your complicated envisioned sequence? That's OK, just straighten your follow out a bit and put in a good rock step. Don't know how to end a move? That's right, rock step! Want a spin to continue a bit longer? Then don't rock step. Lead her to stop, then rock step. "Rock Step" solves about 80% of dance problems. I even learned how to transition styles from 6-count East Coast Swing to 8-count Lindy Hop and back using the rock step. It's an amazing tool and very easy to use.

I guess I feel like my life needs a rock step. In this dance of life, I'm doing my best to have God as my lead. So far, He hasn't crushed my toes or really slammed me into anyone else, so I guess it's turning out OK. As I get better at following His lead, I'm led into harder and more complicated things. Everything always turns out all right, though, as church and Shift and other things provide a bit of a "rock step" to center me and provide a place to start the next week as I'm led into it.

Lately, I think I know how I've been led, but I'm kinda making it up as I go. I'm pretty sure I'm right where God wants me, but I'm not sure. I keep expecting the "pull straight", then the strongly-led rock step to reset me back to where I'm supposed to be. But it doesn't come yet.

At the end of the day, I believe God is who He says He is and that He'll do everything He's promised to do. He's promised to lead me through life and take care of me, so I take Him at His word. One day, one step at a time.

But...rock step now?

Bittersweet

Wednesday was a day of contrasts - sad and happy, dark and light. Dismality and hope. (it's a word if I define it as such.)

In February, we suddenly lost a well-liked engineer at work. Besides being one of the no-kidding honest-to-goodness industry leaders in his field, Dave was everyone's friend and always willing to share a joke, a laugh, or even just the story of his newest work challenge. I think he had minor surgery scheduled, but instead an illness took him with no warning. The group he worked in is very tight-knit, and the hole left by Dave's absence is occasionally evident in faces and conversations. We'll get by, but the world is a darker place without him.

I remarked to a friend that I was well used to wearing a suit and tie, sitting in a chapel to pay respects to the recently departed and offer meager condolences to the remaining family and friends. Instead, this week we sat in a park, enjoying cold beer and good food while swapping stories and sharing laughter.

I remember a couple years ago, Dave told me, "Here, I'm going to teach you all I know about [this technology area]. That way you can help all these folks and I won't have to answer all the questions." We worked together on some projects at the fine edge of the state of the art, and I learned a lot, but I didn't learn enough. I tried to be a sponge as much as possible, but there was no way that I could absorb his twenty-plus years of industry experience in the couple years we worked together.

Instead of a funeral, Dave's family decided to have a "celebration of life", which looked a lot like a picnic in the park. His family brought food, drinks, and some scrapbook pages of his life, while we (his friends) brought more food, more drinks, and many many "war stories". I found it a great testament to Dave's reputation over the years that associates from across the country flew in to pay their respects. There was much laughter as some of the better stories got passed around again and again, and many glasses were raised in his honor.

The occasion was at once somber and joyful and it was my honor to attend. Yet I wished I had paid better attention, asked more questions, and maybe even got that oft-mentioned opportunity to sit with Dave on his back porch and visit over beers (and probably prodigious clouds of smoke - Dave was never far from "burning one"). Instead, I won't get that opportunity. I'll have to learn my lessons by hard knocks and hear his treasured stories through others.

It was a deep solemn reminder that life is fleeting and that every day should be lived to the fullest and in a manner that honors God. I couldn't help but wonder - how many people would come to my wake if my life were over today? Would I be spoken of as highly as our now-departed engineer and friend? If not, why not, and how far am I from the center of God's will for my life every day?

Simultaneously, I had the chance to make the most of a diminishing opportunity. One of my friends is moving out of state this weekend. I'd neglected our casual friendship as of late merely due to the clutter of life. Her church (my old church) threw a goodbye barbecue party, but I was Appleseeding and couldn't make it. When I saw the Facebook announcement, I was excited to go right up until I realized which weekend it was and that I would miss it. Rather than allow our friendship to fade without remediation, I decided that I should do my due diligence and attempt to get together before she left.

Over a cup of coffee, it became evident that we had just over a year to catch up on. Yep, my side of the friendship reflects my occasional slacker nature. However, we quickly got mostly caught back up and I remembered just why I hang out with Jenn (because she's cool and has an honest and refreshing perspective on life that I appreciate). However, I was still left with a week to make up for a year without hanging out - a tall order.

I didn't get a "last" chance to hang out with Dave before he passed. We were both busy doing work then he was gone, leaving only scattered emails in my inbox. Conversely, keeping in mind Jenn's quip, "I'm moving not dying," I did get one chance to bring my friendship almost back to working order. While requiring some rearrangement to my schedule, it was completely worth it in order to demonstrate that I valued my friend.

Life is short and friendships are precious. An online signature I recently saw somewhere says "I only have so many heartbeats left. I am not wasting one more on anything that isn't fun." I only have so many days left and time/energy for so many friendships - life is too short to forget to hang out with people I value and who value me and too short to waste energy and time on those who don't. I'm glad my reminder was relatively mild. People are important and I need to constantly monitor my priorities to make sure my life reflects that.