Life

Albert Einstein: The Man Behind the Scientist

/ James Browning / 4 Comments

As a youngster and through my teen years one of my heroes was Albert Einstein.  In those days I thought I was going to grow up to be a man of science.  Of course I picked the most famous scientist of the 20th century to admire!  In retrospect I realize then I looked up to the fame and notoriety and not the man.  Learning about Einstein as a person came about later in my adult life. 

Even with all the wonders of his brain, Albert Einstein was a far from perfect man.  His first child, a daughter, was born out of wedlock.  Later there were two more children with the woman who became his wife that he later left.  Without ever divorcing his first wife Albert later remarried his first maternal cousin who was also his second paternal cousin.   

Life has a way of revealing more and more of my faults and imperfections the longer I live.  It seems a portion of the wisdom possible is wrapped up in making peace with the mistakes I have made and me finding acceptance of my less than balanced and sometimes darker nature.  The longer I live the more errors I accumulate to potentially learn from.  The deeper into life my years take me the farther the depths of mining into my true nature can go.  The phrase “aging is mandatory, wisdom is optional” means some learn much from this passing of their time, others not nearly so much.  Einstein learned a lot. 

From the book “Albert Einstein:  The Human Side” here are some excerpts from letters to friends and family that show his growth as a person and his insight into life:

With fame I become more and more stupid, which, of course, is a very common phenomenon.  There is far too great a disproportion between what one is and what others think one is, or at least what they say they think one is.   

A happy man is too contented with the present to think much about the future. 

The foundation of all human values is morality. 

O youth:  Do you know that yours is not the first generation to yearn for a life full of beauty and freedom?

Your fervent wishes can only find fulfillment if you succeed in attaining love and understanding of men, and animals and plants and stars so that every joy becomes your joy and every pain your pain.   

What I see in Nature is a magnificent structure that we can comprehend only very imperfectly, and that must fill a thinking person with a feeling of “humility”.  This is a genuinely religious feeling. 

Wisdom is not a product of schooling but of the lifelong attempt to acquire it.

Nothing truly valuable arises from ambition or from a mere sense of duty; it stems rather from love and devotion. 

Learn to be happy through the happiness and joy of your fellows.  If you can find room within yourselves for this natural feeing, your every burden in life will be light, or at least bearable, and you will find your way in patience and without fear, and will spread joy everywhere. 

Never regard your study as a duty, but as the enviable opportunity to learn.   

Humanity has every reason to place the proclaimers of high moral standards and values above the discoverers of objective truth.  What humanity owes to personalities like Buddha, Moses and Jesus ranks for me higher than all the achievements of the enquiring and constructive mind. 

The pursuit of truth and beauty is a sphere of activity in which we are permitted to remain children all our lives. 

More and more I come to value charity and love of one’s fellow being above everything else. 

And in his old age Dr. Einstein was also something of a poet:
Everyone’s greeting me today
In the nicest possible way.
Heartfelt words from far and near
Have come from people I hold dear;
And presents, too, to satisfy
Even a gourmet such as I.
They’re doing all one possible can
To satisfy an aged man.
In tone like sweetest melody
They beautify the day for me.
Now the long day nears its end
And greetings to you all I send.

Today I know that one of my heroes, Albert Einstein had many flaws and made numerous mistakes.  He was as human as the rest of us.  With the passing of his years, he seemed to become more and more a philosopher.  It is his deep and personal thoughts that entrench most him within as one of my heroes.  I am grateful that a scientist with so much fame left us with the thoughts of the man he became.  E(instein) was equal to a lot more than M C squared!  

It’s better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you’re not.  Marilyn Monroe

Old Dogs and iPhones

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

A dear old friend is visiting me this weekend and sitting talking this morning we ended up in a conversation about our mobile phones.  Most specifically the discussion he and I had was a typically modern one of comparing the app’s we had on our iPhones.  In past years I have often gotten into chats with others where we were recommending books, music, movies, TV shows, vacation destinations, cars and more.  Now in the 21st Century “app conversations” have become the norm. 

The longer one lives the more 5 or 10 years does not seem like a long time.  It seems to be about that length of time since I had the first mounted cell phone put in my car.  As I consider it I realize that was around 20 years ago. The only portable option at that time was a portable phone half the size of a cinder block or an eight pound “bag-phone”.  In those days mobile use cost about $1 a minute so making calls was kept to essential reasons and the contact was very short.  And yes, I admit it.  Early on a few times I did pretend to be talking on a call while driving to show off this new doodad I had.  Car phones were still pretty rare then and people looked when they saw someone on one. 

About five years after getting my first car phone, the first small portable phone came into my life.  At the time it was the smallest cellphone made but even then I did not carry it with me on a regular basis as both incoming and outgoing calls were still quite pricey.  The little phone lived in my briefcase and was turned on and carried when I was either expecting an important call or else needed to make one while on the move.  It’s clear in memory the first call I made from the back of a cab while away from home when my phone was able to do this new thing called “roaming”.  

It has long been my nature to resist a bit of whatever is fashionable and “in”.  I did the same with mobile phones.  While I had them, it was a personal statement to resist carrying one all the time as long as I could.   Only about seven years ago did I give in and that was largely because I lived out of the country where my only phone was my mobile phone.  From there a cellphone began to become an accepted appendage.  The rebel contrarian is still within me though.  When I go on vacation I resist even turning my mobile phone most days.  My resistance is odd since in other ways I have always been an early adopter of electronic technology such as computers, sound equipment and gizmos in general. 

I knew things were changing rapidly from an experience in 2001 at one of the last concerts at the old Mile High Stadium in Denver.  My son who was nineteen at the time bought the tickets and invited me to go to the Moby concert with him.  I was one of the oldest people at the show with the average age being somewhere between 18 and 21.  The music was great and hanging out with him is always enjoyable.  At that show I first witnessed a phenomenon I had never seen before.  One of the favorite pastimes of those attending was to call friends who were there and to try and locate each other in the crowd.  With phone in one hand while flailing the other arm to be seen was how friends hooked up at the show.  I had never seen anything like it.  

At this concert a decade ago there was a big display by Apple which up until then was thought of as just a maker of Mac’s used mostly for graphics work.  Apple’s computers were not mainstream and had somewhat fallen out of favor.  What Apple was showing off was this new contraption called an “iPod”.  Those in their big display were available to try out and were the original large models which were not even for sale to the public yet.  I was impressed with what I saw and heard and knew in yet another way the amount of technology headed into our lives was about to take a leap forward. 

Fast forwarding to today, I carry my iPhone with me all the time and feel somewhat naked and exposed without it.  I have 4+ pages of apps and the phone is on 24/7.  It is difficult now to imagine my life being any other way.  Such things as the ability to text, use apps and receive calls while walking on the street in a foreign country make the computer in my pocket feel indispensable.   I am grateful to have it.  The fact that the cost of making calls, texting, buying apps and moving data is affordable today is also on my gratitude list.  Now that there are many types of smart phones what can be done with these units will continue to amaze and mystify as technology accelerates.  I look forward to it! 

When I began writing this today, my feeling was I was going to express gratitude for my iPhone and all I can do on it.  Now that I am here to the end portion of this blog I feel thankful for something related but different.  The gratefulness I feel at this moment is for my ability to change and adopt this new way of doing things.  Yes, I resisted at first but that was due only to my stubborn nature and consistently trying to be different (which is not always a positive thing).  Not only can you teach old dog new tricks, sometimes the old dog learns the new trick on his on.  Woof woof….  

It’s what you learn after you know it all that counts.  Harry S Truman

Gere, Clooney and Me

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

As best I can remember ‘it’ first began to appear when I was about 35.  At the time I was quite proud my maturity had reached the level where ‘it’ started to come into view.  As time has ticked by the effect grew more pronounced and it has now spread far beyond where it first began to appear.  As the effect has become more pronounced the total quantity has diminished and changed but I am pleased to possess more than the majority of my peers. 

You’re may be thinking “what is he writing about now?”  In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I am writing about hair. As you can see in the photo above (hint, hint:  I’m the one in the middle) I have a lot more gray hair than the original dominant dark brown of my youth.  I am very grateful to still have a good deal of hair on my head, but it has thinned out a lot with the passage of years.  At the same time the follicles on the back of my head have replaced quite a bit of my original wavy brown hair with curly gray.  

A few facts:  I’ve read in a lifetime a man’s scalp produces an average of 100,000-150,000 hairs.  Each hair grows autonomously on its own cycle; otherwise we’d molt and shed hair all at one.  The genetics of hair do not come only from a male’s mother although that myth is thought by most people to be fact.  In truth the genes that control hair texture, color and quantity can come from either parent and often skips generations.  So if you’re a bald male and have been blaming your Mom, you probably should apologize to her.  Your hair genetics could be from your Dad’s side of the family and even come from a few generations back. 

Many women say that the amount of hair on a man’s head does not matter.  I believe that is true for some females, others are just being nice while to the remainder it does matter (even though most will not tell a man).  Otherwise why would many men be so obsessed with the quantity and color of their hair?  True or false, a good number of men have thoughts of virility being connected with their hair.  Anyone who thinks this is suffering from delusion as science says there is absolutely no connection.  

Here and there I have thought about dying my hair to be one color.  Most women do it, some to cover gray, while others do it as a fashion statement or some combination of both.  So why not?  If you’re a man who dyes his hair to hide the gray and it makes you feel better then by all means you should continue to do so.  However, if you think the majority of people can’t tell that you dye your hair, you are fooling yourself.  There are men I know who color their hair and a few refuse to admit to anyone their color is not natural.  If you say otherwise to them they will argue vehemently it’s natural.  A psychologist would have a field day with that delusion. 

I know most male movie stars dye their hair as they age and I suppose it is accepted by the majority it has to be done.  I admire those who don’t.  Many who are bald wear hair pieces or have weaves.  I have no issues with that, but it is a sort of adult “dress up” as on most it is easy to spot.   Personally I find it downright funny to see some of the long-in-the-tooth actors with a full head of dark hair.  I think it actually makes them look older.  

With all that said, I want to express my gratitude for my hair in all its phases.  First, I am grateful to have been born with hair at all.  Some are not so blessed.  Then I am thankful the texture of my hair has always been fairly easy to manage and even allowed me to grow it way down my back in my 20’s.  Many men have hair that is difficult to manage unless it is cropped short.  My gratefulness is strong that even thinning, I still have hair on my head as many men I know have little or no hair on top.  It is not something that makes me feel better than my hairless or thin on top friends.  I am just grateful.  

As I age, it is easy to see the destiny the hair on my head has.  With each passing year, it will become grayer, then most likely white.  There will be less and less of it and the texture will continue to change.  Some hair will move from my head to other places where hair did not used to be.  It’s all OK… it really is!  As I have strongly professed, I pray to the power beyond me that I will be allowed to have the full life ride into old age.  Only by being thankful for what is, instead of displeased about the changes my body will go through can I enjoy that trip.  

I have written this wandering, long way around to get to one simple belief:  The quality of my life is tied in large degree to my ability to live in the present moment.  Life does not happen in the past, nor does life take place in the future.  Past is past.  Future is fantasy.  Life is now.  

In the one of my favorite books, “The Power of Now” Eckhart Tolle wrote “Life is now. There was never a time when your life was not now, nor will there ever be.  Nothing ever happened in the past; it happened in the Now…  Nothing will ever happen in the future; it will happen in the Now”.  

I am thankful to be here, to be living life and to be experiencing this moment as I sit here and type.  I accept the changes, the constant nature of the evolution of this thing I call my “self” (even the gray hair).  I find the more accepting I become of what is, the more grateful I become for my life as it is.  The more present I am to live my life as it is happening the more thankfulness fills me.  

If gray hair is cool with Nick Clooney and Richard Gere, its cool with me!

Age is an issue of mind over matter.  If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.  Mark Twain

Only One First Love

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

It has been common remark for me to say “there are days when I was growing up I remember more about than entire years of my adult life”.   It is such a memory I share today. 

It was a few hours before sundown on a late summer Sunday not long after my 13th birthday.  My mother, stepfather, brother and I were going to visit a woman and her two young adult children who still lived at home.  This family had lost the man of the house some months before.  Making a visit “to check on them” was a customary gesture of country kindness in those days. As we were driving up the dirt road to their house I was wishing our visit would be very short and we’d be headed home very soon. 

A line in a Garth Brooks song goes “some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers”.  This was certainly true that afternoon with me not getting my wish for a short visit.  Upon arrival we saw others had also stopped by to visit.  This family of four we met for the first time lived about 50 miles away and included two children.  One was a boy around 9 or 10 years old near my younger brother’s age.  And the other was a girl, but not just any girl. 

Her name was Linda and she looked a little older than her 12 years.  Blossoming from a girl to a woman was just beginning to show itself on her. Once I saw her something came over me I had never experienced before.  I was drawn to her like a nighttime moth to a light.  I had to be near her.  What was instinctively happening was beyond my comprehension, but I didn’t care.  Whatever it was I liked it… a lot! 

Our younger brothers entertained each other while Linda and I walked around the shady yard talking for a while.  Then we sat down on a couple of tree stumps at the edge of the yard for about an hour making small talk, laughing and enjoying each other.  I can’t remember a single thing we talked about, but my memory of her is still vivid today.  She was fair-skinned, tall and skinny with straight brown hair cropped a few inches above her shoulders.  She was pretty, intelligent, funny and sweet.  Being with her seemed almost dream-like as the minutes quickly evaporated.  

After about two hours Linda’s parents yelled for their kids signaling it was time to go home.  For families visiting down south saying goodbye is a fairly lengthy process.  Nothing happens quickly.  Linda and I began to walk slowly toward the house that was about 50 yards away.  With my mind wrapped up completely in the moment I did not notice she had begun to veer toward a big tree between us and everyone else.     

Linda stopped right behind the big tree and asked me if I would write her.  “Of course” I told her and asked if she would write me.  She gently grasped the upper part of my left arm with her right hand and said she’d write.  As she spoke she leaned in close to me in what seemed like slow motion and gave me a quick little kiss right me on the lips.  Later I learned that was her first real kiss just as it was mine.  With her face still not far from mine I leaned toward her and we kissed again.  For a split second we lingered in that magic moment and pulled away slowly looking right into each other’s eyes. 

The moment was broken by Linda’s parents calling for her again.  We hustled up to the house feeling a little like we had something to hide, when in fact we didn’t.  She ran to their car, got a pencil and wrote her address and phone number on a scrap of paper.  As her family’s car drove slowly away down the dirt road she looked out the back window at me as I looked back at her until she was out of sight.    

Linda and I exchanged a letter or two a week for several months.  Once school started that year I was able to call her from a phone booth nearby a few times.  Without physical contact we drifted apart as the months that passed.  Our letters would stop for a while and then we’d start up again. Over time she had other boyfriends and I had other girlfriends, but we kept drifting back to writing each other in between.  Three years from when we first met I got my driver’s license and began to go see her when I could sneak away to make the trip in my little VW.  We got really good at kissing, but never moved past hugging, smooching and holding hands. Our innocence was never spoiled.  The final curtain was when I had to move 200 miles away shortly before my 17th birthday.  I never saw her again and often  have wondered what might have been.     

There has been no sweeter moment in my life than that Sunday in August long ago when I met Linda.  My chest tightens a little and fills up with feeling even today as I think of the experience.  

I do wonder how things turned for her.  I hope she is happy, content and living a good life.  Somewhere I still have a small school picture when she was 14 or 15.  I hope to run across it one day so I can look into those pretty brown eyes again.  

My gratitude is clear, deep and strong for the awakening Linda and I shared.  It is one of my most cherished growing up memories.  The magical innocence of first love comes only once.  I will never forget.       

You know you’re in love when you don’t want to fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.  Dr. Seuss

Planning My Own Funeral

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

Here in the late middle part of my life I have lost several friends my age already.  Most often it has been those who did not take care of themselves and abused their bodies.  It seems the late 40’s and 50’s is when such behavior catches up.  Also, more than once there has been an unexpected disease that took someone dear to me.  All are signaled reminders there are no absolute certainties in life except we all depart at some point.  One rarely knows when we see another for the last time. 

I am uncertain of any particular reason why, but lately I have had thoughts about what I would prefer to happen in remembrance of me after death.  Here I am going to try to write down a few of the random threads of thought that have bounced through my mind on this subject. 

1 – Church hymns are just not my preferred type of music and if any are going to be included I’d prefer one my Grandmother used to sing as she worked.  “Amazing Grace” is what I remember most clearly in her sweet off key voice.  

2 – Being a rock and roll fan my preferred music would be favorite artists like Jimi Hendrix, Cream, Led Zeppelin and The Beatles.  That is the music of my youth I love the most.  Two other songs I assimilated are “Fire and Rain” by James Taylor and “Angel” by Sarah McLachlan.  Both those songs I have always felt could have been written about me. 

3 – I’d prefer a party for people who cared about me far more than a church service although to cover bases maybe both would make sense.  Since I would be dead I will leave that up to others to figure out. 

4 – The geographic location of any remembrance gathering is a quandary.  I have lived many places and feel a kinship especially to Tulsa, Dayton, Colorado Springs and in the country where I grew up in Shinbone Valley, Alabama. I think the “where” should be a case of the living figuring how what they want to do, for I won’t be here anymore. 

5 – Should there be partying in my name?  You betcha!  I can think of no finer tribute than those I care about sitting around having a very good time with music turned up a bit too loud. 

6 – To bury or cremate?  Now that is an interesting subject.  My ego says I would want to be buried with a nice headstone so people can walk by and wonder who the heck I was.  On the other hand, not taking up space and letting my body revert to dust quickly in a cremation appeals to my “green” sense.  At this very moment, I think I’d prefer to fertilize a tree above me in the Union Baptist Cemetery in Alabama. 

7 – If my body is committed to a grave, PLEASE don’t bury me in a suit and tie.  I will try and come back to haunt people who would do that to me!  No matter what trappings I have adopted on the outside, inside I am just an old hippie who’d prefer to be laid to rest in his jeans, a chambray shirt and a pair of my cool “tennis shoes”. 

8 – If there is a grave that calls for a marker try to find a spot to inscribe “Learn to smile at yourself and you’ll always be amused”.  I have learned there is much wisdom in that thought and the practice of it lightens my load.  I am convinced God has a sense of humor and laughs along with a self deprecating funny about one’s self. 

9 – My will currently leaves all my possessions to my son.  Most of all he has told me he wants my jukebox and record collection.  I would like that and be honored that he would carry on my love of music.  Also it is my wish that my closest friends, Brother and Sisters get something from my mountain of “stuff”.  And what no one wants, sell it all or give it away! 

10 – As for what might be read at a party or service some suggestions are the Lord’s Prayer or Psalm 23 (but go easy on the bible stuff otherwise), a page or two from the Prophet by Kahlil Gibran such as my favorites on “love” and “death”, Sonnet #43 from Elizabeth Barrett Browning and find a good passage from Henry David Thoreau’s “Walden”.  And if that is not enough, Mark Twain had a way of putting things into words that aligned with my feelings better than just about anyone.  Make it a funny one! 

When I try to think ahead to a time when I won’t be here any more, I hope most that those I love will know how much I cared about them.  I have tried hard to show it and have become not shy about saying “I love you” to those I keep in my heart.  If I said it once to someone I meant it.  The love for him or her never left my heart.  If the world and people left behind are truly better for my having been here, one of my greatest wishes will have come true.  I truly do not want to leave a life behind that just took up space and consumed.  

Before you jump to conclusions and think I am writing a goodbye note about some pending occurrence, please know I am not.  I am healthy as far as I know and I have absolutely no intentions of harming myself.  It is my prayer that my Higher Power allows me a long life deep into old age or as I have called it “the full ride”.  For me doing so would be coming to know the full spectrum of the mystery of life.    

There is nothing like pondering death to make one deeply grateful for being alive.    

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did.  So throw off the bowlines.  Sail away from safe harbor.  Catch the trade winds in your sails.  Explore.  Dream.  Discover.  Mark Twain

A Letter To My Son on Father’s Day

/ James Browning / 3 Comments

Dear Nick, 

Vivid in memory are the emotions I experienced just after you were born.  The day after you arrived I wrote in a journal about the joy I felt, the gratefulness within for you being ‘normal” with the proper number of fingers and toes, the awe that filled me for life and the hopes I had for you.  I described your birth as “the most incredible thing I’ve ever witnessed” and also wrote “No child could be more wanted or more loved.”  Those thoughts have aged sweeter as time has clicked by. 

Frequent have been musings of  how I could have been a better Father.  Had I not chased with such vigor the emptiness of dysfunctional illusion, success and money I could have been there for you more.  There were too many of your games I missed,weekend outings that never were and small events at school that were big happenings for you when my presence was missing.  I never did build the treehouse I promised you.

Your Mother and I went our separate ways when you were sixteen which took you hundreds of miles away.  One of my deepest regrets is your high school years when seeing you only every couple of months I became a sideline spectator of your life.  Yet, as I mature and learn I have come to know regrets past making sure you aware of them, have no good purpose.  

There are so many wonderful memories I have of your growing up.  No child has ever been more curious about the world than you.  You never crawled and began to recklessly walk at 7 months old.  Such determination you have always had!  

In school you did well and had the respect of most of your teachers.  You made good friends and some of those relationships are healthy and thriving today.  The only time you ever really got in trouble at school was through protecting a friend from a bully. How the game of hockey worked when you started to play at seven was unknown to me, but no father was ever prouder than I was to watch you.   The lessons that came at you in college were hard ones, but you learned from your mistakes.  I can not begin to express my admiration for your determination and stick-to-it-ness to get the education you wanted.    

On this father’s day I hope these borrowed words express clearly to you the feelings of my heart and the wishes of my soul. 

Until you have a son of your own… You will never know the joy beyond joy, the love beyond feeling that resonates in the heart of a father as he looks upon his son. You will never know the sense of honor that makes a man want to be more than he is and to pass on something good and useful into the hands of his son. And you will never know the heartbreak of the fathers who are haunted by the personal demons that keep them from being the men they want their sons to see. 

We live in a time when it is hard to speak from the heart. Our lives are smothered by a thousand trivialities, and the poetry of our spirits is silenced by the thoughts and cares of daily affairs. 

And so, I want to speak to you honestly. I do not have answers. But I do understand the questions. I see you struggling and discovering and striving upward, and I see myself reflected in your eyes and in your days. In some deep and fundamental way, I have been there and I want to share. 

I, too, have learned to walk, to run, to fall.  I have had a first love. I have known fear and anger and sadness. My heart has been broken and I have known moments when the hand of God seemed to be on my shoulder.  I have wept tears of sorrow and tears of joy. 

There have been times of darkness when I thought I would never see light again, and there have been times when I wanted to dance and sing and hug every person I met. 

I have felt myself emptied into the mystery of the universe, and I have had moments when the smallest slight threw me into rage. 

I have carried others when I barely had the strength to walk myself, and I have left others standing by the road with their hands out stretched for help. 

Sometimes I feel I have done more than anyone can ask; other times I feel I am a charlatan and a failure. I carry within me the spark of greatness and the darkness of heartless crimes. 

In short, I am a man, as are you. 

Although you will walk your own earth and move through your own time, the same sun will rise on you that rose on me, and the same reasons will course across your life as moved across mine. We will always be different, but we will always be the same. 

This is my attempt to give you the lesson of my life, so that you can use them in yours. They are not meant to make you into me. It is my greatest joy to watch you turn into yourself. 

To be your father is the greatest honor I have ever received. It allowed me to touch mystery and to see my love made flesh. If I could but have one wish, it would be for you to pass that love along. 

I love you,

Pops

You are my son-shine.  Author Unknown

Socrates, Close Friends and the Triple Filter Test

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

Not long ago today I arrived home from having breakfast with a friend, one I enjoy being around more and more the longer I know him.  The bonus this morning was he brought his wife, who is interesting, compassionate and considerate in her distinctive way just as her husband is uniquely original in his.  Long after the meal, we sat and talked.  My day is better for having had their physical presence near me at the start of this Saturday.  

M. was my dentist for well over a decade before he retired from that profession.  His chair-side manner was always entertaining during my appointments and the funny things he said never failed to make me grin and laugh.  With humor as the first face he shows, I wonder if he even realizes the genuine warmth he has about him.  The fondness I feel toward him is something I hope he has a hint of as such deep feelings are not easily and openly expressed in our friendship.  

D., his wife, has been his partner in life and business for almost all of their adult lives.  I can think of no couple I know who is a better example of a successful partnership and marriage.  In the early years of M’.s practice they were a near 24-hour team between work and home.  He did the dentistry and she ran the office.   Through the years they have continued that sort of relationship in many other ways.

There’s an old story that has long been told that goes something like this:  A long time ago in ancient Greece, there lived a man named Socrates, who was highly knowledgeable and an esteemed philosopher. One fine day, a student told Socrates that he had some information to tell him about his friend. Before he would let him talk further, Socrates told him he must take ‘Triple Filter Test’.

The first phase of the ‘Triple Filter Test’ was the filter of truth. Socrates asked if the student was certain the information he had about his friend was the truth. The younger man said that he had just heard it from another person and was not absolutely certain if the news was true. 

The second filter was that of goodness. Socrates asked if the information was regarding anything good about his friend. The student said it was actually the opposite. 

The third filter was that of usefulness. Socrates asked if the report would be useful to him in any way. The student replied it probably would not.

Socrates responded by saying when a report about a friend is not true, good or useful, it should NOT be conveyed at all. The moral of the story is while it is always a temptation to participate in loose gossip when it comes to your friends it is especially not a good thing. You know your close friends better than most others and should rely on what you know first hand to be true.  One shows their caring by avoiding the temptation to talk negatively behind the back of one’s dearest friends.   

So today I write this behind the back of my two friends, but will be posting it for all to see.  I think Socrates would be pleased.  What I have said here is the “truth”.  What I write is based in “goodness” and I believe “useful” in reminding me and others to value in thought and action those dear friends we share our lives with.  

I am at a loss to explain specifically why my friendship with M. & D. is as meaningful to me as it is.  Why the two of them took an interest in me and have continued to care about me through some of the most difficult years of my life is beyond my full ability to grasp.  I choose not to go forward with speculation of the reason why and instead end up where I do with many blessings at this stage of my life.  Simply, I accept “what is” with a grateful heart and mind with the knowledge that many of the best things in life can not be “figured out” or fully explained.  

Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art…. It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.  C.S. Lewis

Letter to a Friend

/ James Browning / 3 Comments

Good morning.  I am thankful that you have come here to read this blog today.  When I began doing this I did so simply because some inspiration beyond my full understanding pulled me to do so.  I felt then and still feel now like I am simply following directions from a Higher Power.  In the two months of goodmorninggratitude.com readership has grown beyond anything I could have guessed.  My assumption was that a few friends and family who love me would take an interest.  That’s what happened the first week when there were a dozen or less readers. 

Over time it has been humbling to watch readership grow.  As the weeks passed I saw 30, then 40, then 50 readers and it kept growing from there.  I was blown away when over a hundred people visited goodmorninggratitude.com and am grateful past what I know how to express.  With this experience I have been blessed with a grace I am unaccoustomed to and am appreciative in a way beyond anything I have previously known.  Thank you for your support of this new chapter of life for me. 

Focusing on thankfulness for 45 minutes or more each day has profoundly increased my gratitude for being alive.  The more gratitude I find, the more I find to be grateful for.  I never knew something so simple could have such a dramatic affect.  

I sense sometimes the blogs have gotten a bit long and wonder if I should try to keep them shorter and less rambling.  I also wonder if the subject matter is too banal or corny at times.  Do I get so personal it makes reading too uncomfortable for others?  I am not the best proof reader and wonder if typos distract from the content or is it easy to read past them.  First and foremost I write this blog for myself knowing my life is enriched from that effort.  Yet, I want to get better.  Now with so many readers I am asking for input and feedback, but am NOT begging for pats on the back.  Any thoughts that lend direction or I can learn from to improve this blog would be appreciated.  Leave comments here or write me at goodmorninggratitude@gmail.com.  Thank you.  As long as one person reads goodmorninggratitude.com each day, I will rise early each morning to write it. 

“Letter to a Friend” written by Fra Giovanni Giocondo (1433 – 1515) to his friend Countess Allagia Aldobrandeschi on Christmas Eve, 1513

I am your friend
and my love for you goes deep.
There is nothing I can give you
which you have not got:
but there is much, very much
that while I cannot give it,
you can take.

No heaven can come to us
unless our hearts find rest
in today. Take heaven!
No peace lies in the future
which is not hidden
in this present little instant.
Take peace!

The gloom of the world is but a shadow.
Behind it, yet within reach, is joy.
Take joy!

There is radiance and glory
in the darkness, could we but see,
and to see we have only to look.
I beseech you to look!

Life is so generous a giver,
but we, judging its gifts by
the covering, cast them away
as ugly, or heavy or hard.
Remove the covering and
you will find beneath it
a living splendor,
woven of love,
by wisdom, with power.

Welcome it, grasp it,
and you touch the angel’s hand
that brings it to you.
Everything we call a trial,
a sorrow, or a duty, believe me,
that angel’s hand is there,
the gift is there, and the wonder
of an overshadowing presence.
Our joys, too, be not
content with them as joys.
They, too, conceal diviner gifts.

Life is so full of meaning and purpose,
so full of beauty,
beneath its covering—
that you will find earth
but cloaks your heaven.

Courage, then, to claim it, that is all.
But courage you have,
and the knowledge that
we are all pilgrims together,
wending through unknown country, home.

And so, at this time, I greet you,
not quite as the world sends greetings,
but with profound esteem
and with the prayer that for you
now and forever, the day breaks,
and the shadows flee away.

Making the Habit Stop Kicking Me

/ James Browning

In my formative years, most everyone around me smoked:  parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, teachers, doctors and more.  Those were the days when it seemed like a rite of passage to become a smoker certifying one as“adult” when old enough to smoke. 

In my early teens I began sneaking cigarettes and buying them when I could get away with it.  The strongest influence was “hanging out” with peers where puffing away was part of the culture.  Curiously though, smoking did not completely invade my life until I was long out of high school.   Once the habit had me, it REALLY had me.  Clear in memory is a few times when I had no money and picked out the longest butts from my ashtray to smoke.  Looking back now that seems pitiful. 

My habit took hold in the 70’s when the message printed on the packs became “Warning: The Surgeon General Has Determined that Cigarette Smoking is Dangerous to Your Health”.  I ignored it for a while with my youthful bullet proof attitude.  Then came the advertising campaigns about the adverse effects of cigarettes.  By then there was no doubt within I was doing something harmful to me. 

My young wife said we should stop smoking when we were in our mid-20’s.  I was impressed when she put them down and stopped cold turkey.  Always thinking I could accomplish just about anything, it was degrading to discover the smoking habit beat me again and again.  I became like Mark Twain who in the 1800’s wrote “Giving up smoking is the easiest thing in the world. I know because I’ve done it thousands of times”.  

When my son was around 4 years old he used to get my cigarettes and throw them in the trash when I was not looking.  When I would get onto him he would tell me “Daddy, Cigarettes are bad.  I don’t want you to die”.  That hurt, but my attempts at quitting remained unsuccessful.  I made it two weeks once with help from nicotine patches back when a doc had to prescribe them.  Then came advertisements on TV for a prescription drug called Zyban.  I tried that also but in hind sight believe I was looking for a short cut without the proper commitment needed. 

It was in the throws of a complete make-over of my life about four years ago I was finally successful in kicking cigarettes.  Finally there was a real desire within to quit.  That lead to a request of my doctor to prescribe what I believe to be a miracle drug called “Chantix”.   I am thankful for those tiny little pills that were a great companion to the determination to stop I had finally mustered.  

Looking back I realize it was disgust with the habit that finally motivated me.  Things like the need to have cigs and a lighter with me at all times and feeling like a second class citizen in smoking zones in alley-ways, loading docks and nasty yellowed smoking sections in airports finally got to me.   How sad I began to find those “designated areas” where smokers were concentrated smoking, hacking and coughing.  If any smoker tells you they enjoy smoking, I believe they are lying!  It’s just denial and justification. 

If you smoke, I sincerely feel for you.  I know how difficult that monkey on the back is to shake.  Never will I be on your case about quitting.  The only tip offered is the lack of knowledge of how badly I smelled when my habit was a pack-a-day.  Now I realize that no amount of hand washing, cologne or breath mints hides the habit. I lived in the delusion that I was fooling people for many years.  I know better now as I can smell all but light smokers from 10 feet away.  

The following is taken from “No Smoking” by Shane P. Ward who quit after 28 years. 

Was it hard to stop? You betchya! Every single day.
Some minutes seemed like hours till the craving went away.
I conjured up so many good excuses to give in.
But I was so determined that tobacco would not win.

The first day was the worst until the second day came.
The third day was the worst and then the fourth was much the same.
The fifth day? That was not so bad but bad enough to bear
But then I felt the sixth day I had got it beat. So there!

Telling you to stop is not what I would like to do.
The reason that I quit was choice. The same is up to you.
To quit is hard, I don’t deny it. Really it’s no joke.
But if you can withstand the strain, you’ll not return to smoke.

And finally a warning – and I say this in good heart.
If you have never ever smoked – then never ever start.
If you think that it’s cool to smoke then just try stopping it.
You’ll find it’s easier not to start, than smoking is to quit. 

My gratitude is deep to be cigarette free having last ‘burned one’ on October 26, 2007.  That was such a momentous day I will never forget the date.  Firmly entrenched in my mind is the knowing I am only one cigarette from being hooked again.   I know I can never have another one as long as I live.

Don’t get discouraged; it’s usually the last key in the bunch that opens the lock.  Unknown

The Shadow of Monsters

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

Today I take a further step in opening up and letting the world see inside me.  It is a move that makes me nervous, yet I know it is the right and healing thing to do.  About 10 years ago I made my first visit to a therapist to help me deal with unresolved childhood issues that were surfacing more and more.  Such previously buried conflicts within were coming up with greater frequency.  This was due in part to my efforts then to close some emotional fissures and “find” my whole self but also because dysfunction often increases over time.  

The first counselor I went to I liked a lot even though she was tough on me at times.  She gained my trust and I saw her intermittently for about six years.  I was able to make slow stop and go progress wrestling my demons with her counsel.  Then in 2007 my life changed. 

It was four years ago about this time that my life seemed to melt down due to the trauma of the failure of a marriage, a union that I did not want to end.  The emotional chaos was not due just because  of the pending divorce.  It was exacerbated by the knowing that I was in majority responsible for the cause of the divorce.  More correctly the main reason was dysfunction due to my “box of monsters”.   

Keeping a mental image of a wooden box holding my horrors of growing up had helped me over the years to cope.  When one of the fiendish critters of my youth would start to “crawl” out of the box and manifest itself in my life, I usually could mentally get it back in the box and lock it away again.  The emotional harm I did to myself and others was kept to a minimum with this practice most often, but not always.  Once in a while one of the monsters such as insecurity or trauma would break out of the box, grow in size in its freedom and create tremendous havoc. 

The emotional crescendo about by my failed marriage (my 2nd) brought tremendous blame I placed on me.  The resulting shame I felt caused me to begin seeing my trusted counselor once per week for about two years.  In order to see her regularly I had to fight myself quite a bit.  At the top I felt I was the controller of my destiny and whatever I needed to do I should be able to do myself.  Then there were the thoughts of the American macho male stereotype and tough guy image that I wrestled.  Also stirring around was thinking that other people would think I was crazy because I went to a therapist.  I struggled with these misplaced beliefs a lot at first, but less and less as time passed.  

In time I came to realize that going to a therapist for emotional pain is no different than seeing a dentist when a tooth hurts.  My stigmatized thinking about going to counseling was due purely to ignorance and lack of knowledge.  The more I got past such erroneous thinking the more rapidly I got better.  I fully came to comprehend that “secrets were posion”.

Today I can proudly say I am genuinely happy for the first time in my life.  I had never been able to honestly say that until about a year ago.  Nothing changed outside of me.  What did changed is what is inside me and my understanding of myself.  Are the monsters completely gone?  No, and they never will be.  What has happened is they no longer have to be locked up in a box they can escape from.  The little devils reside freely inside me now kept in check 99% of the time by the knowledge and emotional tools I have learned. 

I liken the process to an old cartoon where there is a street vantage point of an alley at night.  Standing there one sees the shadow of a big monster rat headed from the ally to the street.  As the monster gets closer to stepping from the back lighting of the alley the size of the scary beast grows larger and larger. Then suddenly it emerges into the direct light of the street to be seen as only a small mouse who was casting a huge shadow because of the angle it was being viewed from.  

The cartoon analogy explains my internal monsters well.  Once I brought them into the light of day, became more accustomed to them and learned about them they shrank dramatically in size and strength.  Once I could clearly see this way, my life began to accelerate its improvement.  Today I can truthfully say my life is better overall than it ever has been.  Learning that the quality of my life has mostly to do with what was inside me and not what was outside was a grand revelation.  Once I put that knowledge into practice coping with whatever life threw at me became much easier.  I learned that the good times were to savor and the difficult times were teachers sent to teach and make me better. 

I have written all that to say to a reader I did not do this alone.  First, I need to express my gratitude to my ex-wife who after the initial months of her own emotional chaos, found room to aid my efforts.  In turn I believe I was able to aid her as well.  I have not seen her or talked to her in a long time now which is for the best for both of us.  I will always be grateful to her.

That brings me to express my gratitude to the person who had by far the largest role in my growth.  I can’t name her or lend any more than generalities about who she is.  I will say only that she is a licensed counselor who for me was a bit of a miracle worker.  She has said now for almost two years I don’t need to come back.  However, I do still make an appointment every few months as a way of checking in, confirming to myself that my recovery from my childhood junk continues and to again express my gratitude to her.  

In the last decade of searching for healing, I had experience with a few other therapists.  For my issues most went through the proper motions but I could not connect with them.  Maybe it was just an issue of compatibility and they were a better fit for others.  What I do know is that outside of myself, there is one person who did most to help me become the well adjusted, contented and happy person I am today:  My therapist.  Thank you R.!

Nothing is life is to be feared.  It is only to be understood.  Marie Curie