Wisdom

First Day of July 2011

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

It is not often I get to sleep until near 8am, but today was one of those rare mornings.  To recoup from a very busy series of weeks I extended the three day weekend to four days with the specific intent of resting and relaxing.  With my mind intentionally somewhat out of gear I woke this morning with a general feeling of gratitude yet without anything specific I was feeling thankful for.  Taking personal inventory is a fairly foolproof way for me to conjure up definitive things I am appreciative of.  As I began to do that manner of introspection, I remembered an email attachment I received a good while back.  With some effort was able to locate it on an external hard drive and picked three items from the list that caught my attention this morning:

  • If your combined household earns more than $24,600 a year you are in the top 10% of all income earners in the world.
  • 37 million Americans live below the National poverty line. That’s 1 in every 8 Americans living in poverty.
  • 3.5% of U.S. households experience hunger every day, but worldwide the percentage is over 20% where approximately 15,639,000 children go hungry every night. 

Comparing our self to others and what each of us wishes we had is about as American as apple pie.  Our culture and economic system demands we practice a certain amount of envy so we can keep fresh our comparison to the Joneses, Smith’s and Brown’s.  Counting one’s blessings is often more of a catch phrase than practice for many U.S. citizens. 

The only time I remember going hungry (kind of) was no one’s fault but my own.  I was 19 years old and a horrible money manager.  My relocation has taken me a thousand miles away from home and my pride kept me from asking anyone for help.   With no cash or credit, my primary food supply for about five days consisted of a large bag of instant mashed potatoes and Koolaid.  For the first couple of days there were a few other menu items like a few crackers and some spaghetti noodles, but those were gone quickly leaving a full three days of ‘taters.  A valuable lesson was learned about always keeping a little money stashed.  With blessings and grace such an experience has thankfully not come in to my life since. 

Poverty is something I suppose I do know a little about from childhood.  There was a time when my Mother, Brother and I lived in a four room house (kitchen, living room, bedroom and storeroom) with inside walls of cardboard.  These were not inside walls covered with flattened out cardboard boxes for extra insulation.  These cardboard make up the only inside walls there were.  Heat came solely from a potbellied wood stove in the living room.  Yet, I don’t recall ever going hungry, always had clean clothes to wear and a roof above me.  The outhouse out back was common there in “the sticks” and bathing with a pan of water, a bath cloth and soap was the lifestyle of many.  Of course, I wished for better.  As a kid I was a little embarrassed about my lot in life when compared to some of the “rich kids” I went to school with.  But even today I know I did not “do without” the essentials of life back then although I thought so at the time. 

Moving forward into my adult life I have been richly blessed far beyond anything I could have imagined as a youngster.  My quality of life and standard of living has been far beyond what I could even have imagined back then.  As my humble beginnings have mixed with maturity I find it is easier to locate gratitude within because I have those childhood reference points.  Even when I was kicked out of home for a while by an evil stepfather when I was 15, a friend and his family took me in for a few weeks.  They made sure I had food, a place to sleep and a little money for school.  I am deeply grateful to the Halpin family to this very day.   Sadly my buddy from this family died in a boating accident when he was almost twenty.  His Mom and Dad have long since passed on too.  I hope I told them how thankful I was long ago.  Just in case, I offered silent thanks while writing this paragraph.  

And here I am as I have been many times since beginning this gratitude blog several months ago.  Many days are begun in sifting for something specific to express gratitude for.  Without fail I always find lots to be thankful for.  Also without fail something specific rises within me each day to express my gratefullness for.  Today I thought of the family who took me in for a few weeks when I was a teen.  That time was all but forgotten and had not even come across my mind for years.  Once again I have it proved that the more gratitude I express, the more in general and specifically I find to be grateful for.

 I am living proof  if you want to change your life, focus consistently on what you have to be grateful for.  Done with regularity the change can be greater than one can even begin to imagine.     

 Gratitude is an art of painting an adversity into a lovely picture.   Kak Sri

Gypsies, Jews, Rednecks and Black Sheep

/ James Browning / 3 Comments

 

Once upon a time I worked for a manager named Marvin.  At the time he and I had known each other for close to a decade and worked together previously as peers in a different city where we first met.  As friends we got along well and our work relationship was a good one.  

Marvin hired me in my early 30’s as a middle manager in Denver and things were going well.  I was able to make a difference in the business, enjoyed working for him and was shown appreciation regularly.  One day I was very excited about the great deal I had gotten for the company and hurried into Marvin’s office to tell him about it.  What had been accomplished was described in animated detail and I ended the story with “I jew’ed ‘em down pretty good didn’t I?”.  I watched Marvin’s face turn to pale and then red and to this day I remember vividly his reaction.  He said “don’t ever say anything like that in front of me again.  If I did not know you so well I would have come over my desk at you.  I know you meant no offense, but that phrase is extremely offensive to me”.  I imagine you sorted out that my friend Marvin was Jewish. 

For a good while I was embarrassed by what I had said and my apologies to Marvin were numerous.  Being the good man that he was, he told me to forget it and meant it.  It took me a good bit longer to forgive myself.  In my introspection then I realized I had grown up hearing that phrase in an area where there were no Jews, Catholics, Lutherans, Mormons or any faith outside of traditional Christian ones.  All I knew was those folks were people like me, but went to a different church just like Methodists and Baptists did.  

At nineteen I had a buddy who was a Jew and attended synagogue with him. I did not understand the service exactly, but respected its traditions and those attending.  The same was true in my when I attended church with a girl I dated who was Catholic.    

After the incident in Denver I began to take inventory of other things I said from time to time that I really did not know the meaning of.  I discovered there were a few other pejoratives in my vocabulary.  First there was use of the terms “gyped” (verb) and “gyp” (noun) that referred to being ripped off or the person who ripped one off.  With a little work at a library I discovered that the use of these expressions was a racial slur against Gypsies. Lacking a population of Gypsies in the Deep South, this had honestly never occurred to me.  As far as I knew there had never been an occasion where I had offended anyone with that term except possibly those who knew generally it was derogatory slang.  Another term x’ed off my repertory of expression. 

Later I heard my self make reference to a “black sheep” in conversation one day.  I offended no one (that I know of) but mentally caught the phrase and a little homework later educated me on its meaning.  I found “black sheep” is a derogatory colloquialism meaning an outsider or one who is different in a way which others disapprove of or find odd. The term originated from the fact that the occasional black sheep will be born into a herd of white sheep. Black sheep were considered undesirable because their wool cannot be dyed, and there weren’t enough to make black wool. I feared before doing research that is was a slam against people with dark skin and was relieved that in general it wasn’t.  However, I felt it could be construed that way by some and another expression was removed form my usable list.  

My personal standard is to never speak words offensive to people of any particular race, creed, background or color.  Now I am working on deleting “redneck” from my vocabulary.  Considering I think of myself as being descended proudly from a long line ofAlabamarednecks progress on complete elimination of that one is taking a lot longer than the others.  “Redneck” is a historically derogatory slang term used in reference to poor white farmers in theSouthern United States.  In more recent times the term has had its meaning expanded to mean bigoted, loutish, and opposed to modern ways.  While I am the former (descendant of poor white farmers), I mean no disrespect by using the derogatory meanings.  So that one has to go too! 

I am still trying to sort out why we often use “right” to mean “correct”.  Is that is some sort of a put down to people who are left- handed?  Any input on that one would would be appreciated.

This line of growth all began with my boss back in my young executive days that I innocently, or rather ignorantly, indirectly slammed because of his faith.  My restitution has been to seek to eliminate all such words and phrases from how I speak.   As we all are a combination of bits and pieces borrowed from others stirred in with our unique self, I will always be grateful to Marvin R. for being a good boss, an understanding friend and for bringing to life an awareness that is with me still today. 

It’s better to keep your mouth shut and give the impression that you’re stupid than to open it and remove all doubt. Rami Belson

Mark Twains’ Version of Adam and Eve

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

“…It is my prayer, it is my longing that we may pass from this life together; a longing which shall never perish from the earth, but shall have place in the heart of every wife that loves, until the end of time; and it shall be called by my name.  But if one of us must go first, it is my prayer that it shall be I; for he is strong, I am weak; I am not so necessary to him as he is to me — life without him would not be life…” 

Mark Twain, the writer referred here after to by his real name Sam Clemens, was far deeper in thought and feeling than most realize today.  It is the way of history to over time smooth the corners and keep as the known truth a narrow vein of who a person actually was. The first paragraph above was written by Mr. Clemens in 1905 at the end of a fictional short story called “Eve’s Diary”. 

The story was part of a series called “The Diaries of Adam and Eve” he began releasing portions of in 1904, the year his wife died.  It is widely accepted that these stories were largely part of Clemens’ way of dealing with the loss of his beloved wife Olivia, who he called “Livy” for short.  He called her his “rudder” and seemed to lose a good deal of his energy for living after her passing.  Clemens’ health grew steadily worse after his wife’s death and Sam passed away less than six years after she did. 

Before I was ten years old I had taken several wonderful adventures with Mr. Clemens and his friends Tom Sawyer, Edward Tudor, Huckleberry Finn, Jim, Becky Thatcher, Injun’ Joe, and Captain Bixby.  I did not begin to discover Clemens’ Adam and Eve stories until three years ago I purchased a used Harper book published in 1935 called “The Family Mark Twain”.  Within it I read for the first time Clemens’s story called “Eve’s Diary”.  From there I sought out not only the full set of stories of “The Diaries of Adam and Eve”, but also discovered and became enamored with the love story between Olivia and Sam Clemens. No one to whom I have ever mentioned Twain’s Adam and Eve stories ever heard of them, nor has any one ever been aware of Sam’s love letters to Livy.  In a small and humble way I hope to lend change to that.

From a letter Clemens wrote to his wife to be on January 6, 1869: “…I cannot speak of you in tame commonplace language – I must reserve that for the more commonplace people.  Don’t scold me, Livy – let me pay my due homage to your worth; let me honor you above all women; let me love you with a love that knows no doubt, no question – for you are my world, my life, my pride, my all of earth that is worth the having.  Develop your faults, if you have them – they have no terrors for me – nothing shall tear you out of my heart.  Livy, if you only knew how much I love you!  But I couldn’t make you comprehend it, though I wrote a year…”

Later Sam wrote “… I have at this moment the only sweetheart I ever loved, and bless her old heart she is lying asleep upstairs in a bed that I sleep in every night.  If all of one’s married days are as happy as these I have deliberately fooled away 30 years of my life.  If it were to do over again I would marry in early infancy instead of wasting time cutting teeth and breaking crockery…”

 “…Was there ever such a darling as Livy?  I know there never was.  She fills my ideal of what a woman should be in order to be enchantingly loveable.  And so, what wonder is it that I love her so?  And what wonder is it that I am deeply grateful for permission to love her…?

The Adam part of Clemens’  “Adam and Eve” story was done tongue in cheek, yet in an endearing way:  “…This new creature with the long hair is a good deal in the way. It is always hanging around and following me about. I don’t like this; I am not used to company. I wish it would stay with the other animals…” 

In contrast in a letter to a friend, the married Clemens wrote “…We are very regular in our habits.  We get up at 6 o’clock every morning and we go to bed at 10 every evening.  We have three meals a day – breakfast at 10 o’clock, lunch at 1pm and dinner at 5.  The reason we get up at 6 in the morning is because we have heard that early rising is beneficial.  We then go back to bed and get up finally at half past 9…”  And on the same day Olivia Clemens wrote a friend saying “…We are as happy as two mortals can be…”

Sam Clemens ends “The Diaries of Adam and Eve” with one line that sums up the depth of his emotion for his wife and partner of almost 34 years:  “Wheresoever she was, THERE was Eden.”

So the next time you are thinking of great love stories, remember Samuel and Olivia Clemens.  I have long been thankful for the stories I read in childhood and the wonderful adventures Mark Twain took me on.  Now there is much added gratitude within for the true and real love story of Sam and Livy.  How beautifully inspiring and poetic it is. 

I find it interesting and appropriate that Samuel Langhorne Clemens was born during a visit by Halley’s Comet and later he predicted he would “go out with it” as well. He died the day following the comet’s subsequent return slightly over a hundred and one years ago. 

After all these years, I see that I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning; it is better to live outside the Garden with her than inside it without her.  Mark Twain

If you’d like to read more of Mark Twain’s “Eve’s Diary” click here: http://www.gutenberg.org/catalog/world/readfile?fk_files=1807607

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

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

The Wisdom of Innocent Youth

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

Wisdom is not always something that comes with learning and experience.  If one pays attention, wise insight can be found in the clarity of innocent naiveté within the young.  Such unbridled inate wisdom often presents keen insight.  Just this week a clear example came through into my life. 

The owner of a landscape company who did work for me stopped by for me to pay him one evening this week.  He brought with him his son Hayden.  When the father introduced his son, the boy was polite and shook hands without being prompted saying “it is nice to meet you”.   I asked him how old he was and he proudly responded “I’m nine”.  As Hayden spoke he made direct eye contact and it was easy to see from the sparkle in his eyes there was a lot going on in that brain of his. 

As I stood in the kitchen writing a check and talking to his Dad, the young boy asked if it was ok if he looked around.   I say yes and immediately afterwards “But don’t touch anything” came from his Father’s mouth.  Within 30 seconds we heard statements like “Dad, he has real swords.  Are they real?  Where did you get them?”  My reply included “most are replicas, two are antiques and I bought them at auctions and on-line”.  In a voice that continued to be excited, he insisted that his Dad come look at the marvels the boy had found in my home. 

Not much time passed and Hayden found his way to my library.  Having finished writing the check his father and I joined him there.  I am an avid reader in general and specifically a collector of old books.  My total collection on the library shelves spans around 120 linear feet.  So, there are a lot of books.  His first question was if I had read them all.  My reply was “I’ve read about 2/3’s of them.  Some are reference books that I didn’t buy to read all the way through.  The rest I hope to get around to reading sometime.” 

The next question from the nine year old was “do you have any books on the Roman Empire?”  His inquiry caught me off guard, as ancient history is not a subject I would have thought a youngster would be interested in.  Hayden’s father chimed in to say his son had done a school project on the Romans near the end of the school year.  He had helped his son who had become quite interested in the subject.  We then looked for my antique two-volume set of history books on theRoman Empire.  

The old books in my collection seemed to be of the greatest interest to this big eyed youngster.  He wanted to know how old they were and I responded that most of the old books were all around 100-150 years old, but a couple of the small ones were closer to 200 years old.  While none of the antique books are highly valuable, they are some of my prized possessions.  As he touched one of the older ones I let him hold, his manner was even more delicate than the care I usually handle the books with. I was impressed with this obviously astute, smart and well-raised boy. 

I asked Hayden what was the oldest thing he had ever touched, but he could not come up with a specific answer.  Then I asked him if he’d like to touch something really old.  He grinned and with a glint in his eyes he exclaimed “sure!”  About a decade ago I made two trips to Peru to check out Machu Picchu, the Incas and previous South American civilizations.  My traveling companion was my son who in wide-eyed teenaged mode marveled at what we experienced.  During the second trip I made arrangements to legally bring back a few pieces of pre-Columbia pottery that I now was going to share with my young visitor. 

While I never let it completely out of my hands due to its fragility, I pulled out the oldest piece I have and let Hayden run his hands all over it.  He asked “what is it”.  I told him it’s a bowl made by the Nazca and asked if he was aware of the figures of monkeys, scorpions and other animals made of arrangements of rocks visible from the air in the southern deserts of Peru.  He just looked at me, but his father knew what I was talking about and said “we’ll look it up when we get home”.  When I told my attentive visitor the bowl was around a thousand and four hundred years old he seemed impressed beyond his ability to comprehend. 

It became apparent that Dad was ready to go home as he expressed his appreciation for me taking time with his son.  I replied they would have to come back sometime when I have everything unpacked (I moved about 2 months ago and am far from having everything organized and out of boxes).  Hayden smiled like I had given him a prize when he thanked me as his Father suggested to him.  We shook hands and I told the young man it was a pleasure to meet him.  His Dad beamed when I remarked how smart and well behaved his son was. 

In the minutes after boy and Father departed, I wondered to myself briefly what the young man will grow up to do.  Will he end up in a profession concerning his interest in old things or will he have a usual job but keep his keen desire to learn about the past.  Which ever, I have faith he will do well in life if he keeps his love of learning.  

Knowledge can be a blinder.  Experience can confuse an issue.  Known facts can block the truth.  Familiarity can breed contempt.  I admire Hayden, my young visitor this week.  His wisdom based purely in awe and wonder was a vivid reminder to keep my eyes wide open and my spirit untied to experience new things.   Thanks for good lesson Hayden!

A babe in the house is a well-spring of pleasure, a messenger of peace and love, a resting place for innocence on earth, a link between angels and men.   Martin Farquhar Tupper

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

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