Walking 10 miles will change your perspective on life. Not only does it take about three and a half hours, you have to think about your core muscles most of the way through. I say most of the way, because after mile 3, or about an hour in, if your core muscles aren't positioned correctly, they will begin to hurt. What are your core muscles? Your abdominals, obliques, lower back, spinal erectors, hips, glutes as well as inner and outer thighs are all major parts of your core. With these muscles in mind, what does a properly held core feel like? It feels like you can walk forever, which means most people (myself included) don't walk with a 10 mile gait in mind. We pursue most activities with only an hour gait. Meaning, we lose out on the fun of moving after an hour. Which saddens me, because we are quite capable of doing much more.
So what is proper posture? Chin in and down, shoulders back, hips forward and tucked, a slight bend in the knees, muscles relaxed. That's proper posture. Moving is another story. Proper movement starts by keeping the hips in line with the shoulders. In other words we don't run head first, we move our entire being forward, one step at a time. It would be as if you tied a rope around your waist and someone gently pulled you forward. Your shoulders would be over your hips, your hips would be over your knees and your knees would be over your ankles. When I walk this way there is a slight tension in my lower abdominals. As if I were contracting my abdominals to show off a six-pack, but only very weakly; just enough that my belly does not protrude farther out than my stomach. Moving this way, ever so slowly, shifting weight from foot to foot feels amazing. It won't get the body anywhere too quickly, but when your body arrives, it is all there.
Which means that some of the time, even though we have arrived, our bodies and our minds aren't completely with us. We've lost pieces of them on the road behind. Whether by accident, injury or inattention, we rarely find that we've completely moved to a new place. Something calls us backward, even when we desire to move forward. What is this siren that beckons us stay? What is this voice that dominates our desires and will, that let's us roam, but never far enough away from it's song? I could name it many things, but it is one thing for certain. Distraction. Distraction from the movement before us. From the life ahead of us. From the life away from its voice.
Distraction. Have you heard its voice by now? It's tune is so subtle we rarely catch ourselves humming its tune. Distraction. Can you feel how your body moves? Distraction. Can you see the steps in front of you? Distraction. Distraction! Distraction!?
It's not the stillness that so easily distracts. Nor is it the long and thoughtful breath. Nay, it is the cloud surrounding that fogs the mind and muddles the core. It is the white noise that blocks the mind from hearing the body. It is the edge of perception that keeps the soul at bay.
All beautiful distraction aside, moving from the core takes thought, precision and time. It's something easily practiced in slow paces than fast races. But in a society that so fast paced, with so many distractions, who has time to think about how they're moving? I think how we move determines the road before us. How we move determines our future direction. How we move determines whether we can escape and be free from our past injuries, maladies and misconceptions. How we move is as easily as important as what moves us, what drives our engines. Movement doesn't mean we've thought about moving, it means we've already determined what we are going to do. When the time comes to act, we've already made our decisions, we're simply running with the decisions we've made.
So what's in our hearts? What's guiding our core? Is it a life of distraction, or is there something more? Is it possible to live in a world of distractions and not be distracted? "Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen [...] and the God of peace will be with you." These words were written to a group of believers who had become distracted by the arguments and things of this life that fade away, and the writer, Paul, urged them to think and to live for greater things. He also wrote these same words to that group of friends, "Not that I have already attained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead."
Life is full of distractions, but keep pressing on. Keep straining towards the prize at the end of the road. Not the shiny one that so easily distracts, but the eternal one, the one that lives forever. Imitate whatever is good and pure, and seek those who model themselves after these things. They may not have attained them, but the path before them should be discernible, as the path they leave behind them should only lead to peace.
Monday, August 26, 2013
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Philosophy in Motion
Sometimes our personal philosophies are hard to describe. Even though we may not have the words to articulate what we believe, the way we behave and the way we move communicates for us. This week I had an opportunity to watch a philosophy in motion. What was the motion? Softball. What was the philosophy? Nihilism. What was the team? The Nihilists. I could not make this up if I tried :)
The Nihilists, literally those who believe in nothing, were playing softball. As I scanned over their bench I noted a few physical differences between their team and the others we had played. For starters, none of them were big, either muscularly or obesely. They were smaller framed and didn't look like fantastic ball players. They appeared quite ordinary, except that they all appeared that way, which isn't normal. Usually there are a couple of bigger guys on each team, girth or muscle combined. That's because softball players and alcohol go hand in hand; its part of the postgame culture, or pre-game and in-game if you're playing in the right league. So observing a team without a single beer gut was unique. And it wasn't by accident that they all appeared this way.
The Nihilists have a very simple batting strategy: hit left, run like you've got nothing to lose. It's not that one or two players were hitting left in one or two innings, but they all hit left, ALL of the time. Hitting left gives you the most time to run to first base, and if you have fast runners, and the Nihilist are fast, it lets you take extra bases while the other team runs down the ball. So the Nihilists hit left, run like crazy AND they get away with it, because in the few extra seconds it takes someone to chase down a ball, the Nihilists run. They don't play cautiously. They've got nothing to lose.
Eventually the Nihilists get out, and have to take the field. They've got decent pitching, but their outfield is really fast. What would be a two base hit often becomes a single, because the Nihilist are just that good at chasing down a bouncing ball. And if you hit the ball up in the air? You're out. They'll get under it, catch it and then try and catch any runners who aren't paying attention. They're usually not in the field for a very long period of time. They maximize their speed and cut down the time the ball is in play. They make the most of every second.
So what do I have to say about Nihilism as a philosophy? Whatever a Nihilist does, they do fast. They play hard, take risks and make the most of every second, because they've got nothing to lose. They're strategic in their approach. They take care of their bodies. They don't feel guilty about winning, but they don't really celebrate winning either. They expect to win. And with their philosophy at play in softball, it doesn't surprise me that they do. They play hard, and trust in their strategies and work ethic to accomplish their task-at-hand. They don't pray to a god to do something they could do themselves. Simply put, they don't pray.
As you can tell, there's something I find very attractive about the way the Nihilists play ball. I love their team unity, the like-mindedness, the simple strategy and the work ethic. Watching the Nihilists play I could tell they'd played many games together. They weren't a hodge-podge team; they were united. They also wore matching baby blue uniforms that said "Nihilists" in light yellow across the front of their classic looking jerseys. They also had matching hats with an "N" just above the bill. Yup, they looked super cool, played really well and pretty much destroyed the teams they were playing. It's a good thing we were only playing softball :)
As I look at the players who form that team, I wonder about their personal lives. With so much focus on what this life has to offer, and what can be achieved in this life, do they even think about the next? My quick answer is no, because Nihilists believe in nothing. They probably use the time they could to think about the future to focus on the present. Which is fine, until a team comes along and out plays them. Which, as we know in sports, will one day happen. I wonder what will happen to their confidence? Their assumption of winning? What happens when the staples that hold their team together unravel? And what happens when their efforts to rebuild meet with failure? What then? The only natural conclusion is quite depressing, they simply aren't good enough and never will be.
That dismal future may be a few decades off, but what of the present? What do they see when they face other teams? For starters, I can't remember hearing the Nihilists swear. So they might look at other teams as weak and negative minded when they curse all the time. Physically, their team is more fit than the other teams, so they might look at other teams as drunkards, slow runners and disdain them for their lack of bodily care. And finally, when other teams offer up the Hail Marys? They might just think that team is ridiculous because they don't have the gumption to work for what they want, but instead dream about it and pray to a god who isn't going to help them, when they could help themselves. Prayer doesn't make better softball players, but practice does.
Conversely, prayer doesn't make better Christians, but practice does. Prayer is part of the practice of a Christian, but it's not the wishing-for-something-good-to-happen-prayers that change the world. Those prayers often make Christians look silly. The Christian who prays, but never plays is an empty conundrum. Sadly, that is the state of many Christians today. We think a few words or moments of silence is enough to make things better. We don't sweat to make our faith functional, let alone bleed to give it life. When I consider the life of Jesus, he prayed privately and acted publicly. We have more records of his actions than of his prayers, yet we know that Jesus' life was punctuated by private moments of solitude before God. In our time, Christians pray publically and act privately. We're more vocal through our prayers; we take greater effort to be known by the words we say, than we are by our actions. Jesus was not a pray-er and a say-er, he was a pray-er and a do-er.
In Jesus final prayer for his disciples, as recorded by John, Jesus prays for those "who will believe in me through their message," That Greek word message is logos. In the opening of John's gospel, he writes about the logos, which is translated as word: "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us." Christianity is not supposed to be defined by its spoken words, but by the incarnation of the Word in us. It's not simply about saying the right things, but about living and doing as the Word, Jesus, did. Christianity apart from the power of living like Jesus is powerless, and this powerless Christianity is what the world thinks is ridiculous.
The Nihilists, literally those who believe in nothing, were playing softball. As I scanned over their bench I noted a few physical differences between their team and the others we had played. For starters, none of them were big, either muscularly or obesely. They were smaller framed and didn't look like fantastic ball players. They appeared quite ordinary, except that they all appeared that way, which isn't normal. Usually there are a couple of bigger guys on each team, girth or muscle combined. That's because softball players and alcohol go hand in hand; its part of the postgame culture, or pre-game and in-game if you're playing in the right league. So observing a team without a single beer gut was unique. And it wasn't by accident that they all appeared this way.
The Nihilists have a very simple batting strategy: hit left, run like you've got nothing to lose. It's not that one or two players were hitting left in one or two innings, but they all hit left, ALL of the time. Hitting left gives you the most time to run to first base, and if you have fast runners, and the Nihilist are fast, it lets you take extra bases while the other team runs down the ball. So the Nihilists hit left, run like crazy AND they get away with it, because in the few extra seconds it takes someone to chase down a ball, the Nihilists run. They don't play cautiously. They've got nothing to lose.
Eventually the Nihilists get out, and have to take the field. They've got decent pitching, but their outfield is really fast. What would be a two base hit often becomes a single, because the Nihilist are just that good at chasing down a bouncing ball. And if you hit the ball up in the air? You're out. They'll get under it, catch it and then try and catch any runners who aren't paying attention. They're usually not in the field for a very long period of time. They maximize their speed and cut down the time the ball is in play. They make the most of every second.
So what do I have to say about Nihilism as a philosophy? Whatever a Nihilist does, they do fast. They play hard, take risks and make the most of every second, because they've got nothing to lose. They're strategic in their approach. They take care of their bodies. They don't feel guilty about winning, but they don't really celebrate winning either. They expect to win. And with their philosophy at play in softball, it doesn't surprise me that they do. They play hard, and trust in their strategies and work ethic to accomplish their task-at-hand. They don't pray to a god to do something they could do themselves. Simply put, they don't pray.
As you can tell, there's something I find very attractive about the way the Nihilists play ball. I love their team unity, the like-mindedness, the simple strategy and the work ethic. Watching the Nihilists play I could tell they'd played many games together. They weren't a hodge-podge team; they were united. They also wore matching baby blue uniforms that said "Nihilists" in light yellow across the front of their classic looking jerseys. They also had matching hats with an "N" just above the bill. Yup, they looked super cool, played really well and pretty much destroyed the teams they were playing. It's a good thing we were only playing softball :)
As I look at the players who form that team, I wonder about their personal lives. With so much focus on what this life has to offer, and what can be achieved in this life, do they even think about the next? My quick answer is no, because Nihilists believe in nothing. They probably use the time they could to think about the future to focus on the present. Which is fine, until a team comes along and out plays them. Which, as we know in sports, will one day happen. I wonder what will happen to their confidence? Their assumption of winning? What happens when the staples that hold their team together unravel? And what happens when their efforts to rebuild meet with failure? What then? The only natural conclusion is quite depressing, they simply aren't good enough and never will be.
That dismal future may be a few decades off, but what of the present? What do they see when they face other teams? For starters, I can't remember hearing the Nihilists swear. So they might look at other teams as weak and negative minded when they curse all the time. Physically, their team is more fit than the other teams, so they might look at other teams as drunkards, slow runners and disdain them for their lack of bodily care. And finally, when other teams offer up the Hail Marys? They might just think that team is ridiculous because they don't have the gumption to work for what they want, but instead dream about it and pray to a god who isn't going to help them, when they could help themselves. Prayer doesn't make better softball players, but practice does.
Conversely, prayer doesn't make better Christians, but practice does. Prayer is part of the practice of a Christian, but it's not the wishing-for-something-good-to-happen-prayers that change the world. Those prayers often make Christians look silly. The Christian who prays, but never plays is an empty conundrum. Sadly, that is the state of many Christians today. We think a few words or moments of silence is enough to make things better. We don't sweat to make our faith functional, let alone bleed to give it life. When I consider the life of Jesus, he prayed privately and acted publicly. We have more records of his actions than of his prayers, yet we know that Jesus' life was punctuated by private moments of solitude before God. In our time, Christians pray publically and act privately. We're more vocal through our prayers; we take greater effort to be known by the words we say, than we are by our actions. Jesus was not a pray-er and a say-er, he was a pray-er and a do-er.
In Jesus final prayer for his disciples, as recorded by John, Jesus prays for those "who will believe in me through their message," That Greek word message is logos. In the opening of John's gospel, he writes about the logos, which is translated as word: "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us." Christianity is not supposed to be defined by its spoken words, but by the incarnation of the Word in us. It's not simply about saying the right things, but about living and doing as the Word, Jesus, did. Christianity apart from the power of living like Jesus is powerless, and this powerless Christianity is what the world thinks is ridiculous.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Teamwork
With today's emphasis on individual achievement, we often forget the power and the importance of working as a team. Too often in today's media, we only look at the 'stars' and forget about the people who play every moment beside them, but didn't score the critical points at the crucial times. It's true, we don't have the time to listen to every player's story, but behind every player's story is the story of a team. Teams are not limited to their physical representations: such as the clothes they wear, how they cut their hair or the words and phrases they use to describe themselves. Teams are born out of adversity, hardship and the moments when players need to step out of their own egos and do something selfless. Considering this definition, there may very well be groups of players with logos, staff hierarchies and numerous fans that are not teams. The concept of team runs deeper than the superficial bells and whistles of media promotion.
So what is a team, and where do we find them? In the athletic arena, a team is marked by the behavior of its sideline: be it a bench, dugout, hole, deck or other appropriately named space. You can judge a team's togetherness by how it responds to adversity. Do the players individually fall apart? Or do they rally to one another? Do they throw temper tantrums? Or do they channel their emotions? Do they move as one? Or are they out of sync with each other?
While I was in college I had the opportunity to film a season of American College Football from 'the crow's nest' (in other words I stood on a lift about 10 feet behind the tallest point of the goal post). During this time I had an ample view to watch teams react to adversity. I watched highly ranked and going-no-where teams compete against the team I called mine. So obviously my perspective was jaded :) What I found interesting, was a consistent fall apart and get angry attitude among other teams when they didn't perform as they expected. I also watched players give up on the field; they kept going through the motions, but their bodies said they wanted to be somewhere else. They had given up, and accepted the final outcome, even though it hadn't happen yet. I'm not saying my team was perfect, but they did have an attitude of-stick-togetherness and keep playing that helped them rally, even against much stronger opponents. There was something about this, 'pound the rock' attitude, that other groups didn't seem to posses. They could keep going as long as they saw hope, but take their definition of hope away and they were done. Even if it was halftime. Real teams kept playing, no matter the digits on the scoreboard.
The greatest demonstration of team unity I ever saw, wasn't from my own sideline. Yes, it was a championship game, so everyone was rapturously watching the ball. But I watched an entire sideline link hands and take a knee, with just a few minutes left in the game. Yes, it was a crucial play. Yes, it had the ability to win or lose the game. But even so, that kind of unity is rare. It's the kind of unity that says, "Even if we don't make it, we're in it together." It's this kind of attitude that produces humble players, not self-glorifying stars. It's rare to see teams behave as one; its much more common to see a few outspoken individuals. And since our media glorifies a few, it usually by passes humility. Even though humility builds a team.
At the heart of these together-driven teams is another attitude. Trust. Not the trust that says, "if you screw up, you're done" but the kind of trust that says, "if you screw up, we'll find a way to fix it," This runs contrary to the mindset that says, "we can always find someone else". Real teams don't look for external answers to their problems, they look inside for solutions. They don't assume that bringing in some more talent would make them a stronger group, they look internally for those who are already present to step up and lead. They expect each other to find solutions, not sit and wait for someone with more authority to make a decision. But even so, if someone in authority makes a choice, they find the best way to implement the decision by coming together, not just doing as they've been told.
While these opinions may sound spiritual and promising, they are but a manifestation of a greater concept. Shalom, which means total flourishing. A true team helps each of its members reach their potentials by supporting, encouraging, rebuking and tough loving. Shalom applies to every area of life together. It is indivisible. We either practice Shalom, or we practice a poor substitute that doesn't even deserve to bear the name. That poor substitute is expressed in groups of players who call themselves a team, but in reality do not practice the depth of being a team. I could say its the difference between a group of guys who occasionally hangs out together, and a brotherhood or fraternity. Sure it's nice to hangout with people, but Shalom is better. Shalom is not the absence of adversity, rather it is the presence and acceptance of the challenge, and a promise to keep working, to keep pounding the rock.
When I think of the modern conception of church, I think its more of a hangout place. When I think of the Church Jesus lived and died, and still lives for, I think of a brotherhood, a sisterhood, a family. I think that's part of the issue of today's Christendom. We're not exactly thrilled about a religious place to hang out. We do want to be part of a team. We do want Shalom. But if that's what we want, that's who we need to be. We need to be the team players with humble hearts who know they won't receive much media glory. We need to be those who are willing to pound the rock, even when the scoreboard says all hope is gone. We need to find a way internally to change the world around us, not pray for an external miracle to sweep us off our feet. We need to show up everyday and help our world and our teammates flourish, even if we aren't wearing matching uniforms! Being a team isn't about company names, logos, physical attire or the perks of joining the frat. It's about finding a way through all of the chaos, through the frustration and through the muck to let a few small and beautiful things flourish. And to find a way to keep those few small things flourishing, until they become big beautiful things.
So what is a team, and where do we find them? In the athletic arena, a team is marked by the behavior of its sideline: be it a bench, dugout, hole, deck or other appropriately named space. You can judge a team's togetherness by how it responds to adversity. Do the players individually fall apart? Or do they rally to one another? Do they throw temper tantrums? Or do they channel their emotions? Do they move as one? Or are they out of sync with each other?
While I was in college I had the opportunity to film a season of American College Football from 'the crow's nest' (in other words I stood on a lift about 10 feet behind the tallest point of the goal post). During this time I had an ample view to watch teams react to adversity. I watched highly ranked and going-no-where teams compete against the team I called mine. So obviously my perspective was jaded :) What I found interesting, was a consistent fall apart and get angry attitude among other teams when they didn't perform as they expected. I also watched players give up on the field; they kept going through the motions, but their bodies said they wanted to be somewhere else. They had given up, and accepted the final outcome, even though it hadn't happen yet. I'm not saying my team was perfect, but they did have an attitude of-stick-togetherness and keep playing that helped them rally, even against much stronger opponents. There was something about this, 'pound the rock' attitude, that other groups didn't seem to posses. They could keep going as long as they saw hope, but take their definition of hope away and they were done. Even if it was halftime. Real teams kept playing, no matter the digits on the scoreboard.
The greatest demonstration of team unity I ever saw, wasn't from my own sideline. Yes, it was a championship game, so everyone was rapturously watching the ball. But I watched an entire sideline link hands and take a knee, with just a few minutes left in the game. Yes, it was a crucial play. Yes, it had the ability to win or lose the game. But even so, that kind of unity is rare. It's the kind of unity that says, "Even if we don't make it, we're in it together." It's this kind of attitude that produces humble players, not self-glorifying stars. It's rare to see teams behave as one; its much more common to see a few outspoken individuals. And since our media glorifies a few, it usually by passes humility. Even though humility builds a team.
At the heart of these together-driven teams is another attitude. Trust. Not the trust that says, "if you screw up, you're done" but the kind of trust that says, "if you screw up, we'll find a way to fix it," This runs contrary to the mindset that says, "we can always find someone else". Real teams don't look for external answers to their problems, they look inside for solutions. They don't assume that bringing in some more talent would make them a stronger group, they look internally for those who are already present to step up and lead. They expect each other to find solutions, not sit and wait for someone with more authority to make a decision. But even so, if someone in authority makes a choice, they find the best way to implement the decision by coming together, not just doing as they've been told.
While these opinions may sound spiritual and promising, they are but a manifestation of a greater concept. Shalom, which means total flourishing. A true team helps each of its members reach their potentials by supporting, encouraging, rebuking and tough loving. Shalom applies to every area of life together. It is indivisible. We either practice Shalom, or we practice a poor substitute that doesn't even deserve to bear the name. That poor substitute is expressed in groups of players who call themselves a team, but in reality do not practice the depth of being a team. I could say its the difference between a group of guys who occasionally hangs out together, and a brotherhood or fraternity. Sure it's nice to hangout with people, but Shalom is better. Shalom is not the absence of adversity, rather it is the presence and acceptance of the challenge, and a promise to keep working, to keep pounding the rock.
When I think of the modern conception of church, I think its more of a hangout place. When I think of the Church Jesus lived and died, and still lives for, I think of a brotherhood, a sisterhood, a family. I think that's part of the issue of today's Christendom. We're not exactly thrilled about a religious place to hang out. We do want to be part of a team. We do want Shalom. But if that's what we want, that's who we need to be. We need to be the team players with humble hearts who know they won't receive much media glory. We need to be those who are willing to pound the rock, even when the scoreboard says all hope is gone. We need to find a way internally to change the world around us, not pray for an external miracle to sweep us off our feet. We need to show up everyday and help our world and our teammates flourish, even if we aren't wearing matching uniforms! Being a team isn't about company names, logos, physical attire or the perks of joining the frat. It's about finding a way through all of the chaos, through the frustration and through the muck to let a few small and beautiful things flourish. And to find a way to keep those few small things flourishing, until they become big beautiful things.
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