Nobody Is Perfect #5

No one is perfect, and no matter if we are too short, too homely, too white, too brown, too dumb, too whatever, we must accept who we are and own our giftedness and our shortcomings if we ever want to be a happy camper and be a joy to hang around with.

I was reminded of this when, fifty-five years ago, I was a priest and hearing the confessions of 7-year-old 'sinners' on a Friday morning. They were preparing for their First Communion, and this was their first confession. That was the Catholic tradition at the time. Now, I don't believe these little 'sinners' were any more capable of sinning than my dog Wubba - now sitting at my feet. The next day, I was sitting in the confessional and heard a young female voice come through the confessional screen, "Bwess me, Fadho, this is my second confession. My first confession wuz one day ago." I immediately said, "Why are you in here again, my child?" She promptly replied, "Well, Fadho, nobody is purrfeck." I was too busy stifling my urge to laugh to hear what her 'sins' were.

As far back as I can remember, I had older people telling me how clumsy, ignorant, stupid, weak, needy, and all things bad that a human being can be. Somehow, I thought these big people managed not to be all the negative things. Many years later, when I was a counselor and psychotherapist, I learned that nearly every client felt the same way when they were young. A deep, condemning look from a parent or teacher was enough to shrivel our little spines. And even though these big people had gone through the same thing, they seemed to have forgotten it. I often heard fellow workers at the lumberyard and on construction sites say things like, "Yeah, I went through all that sh*t, and I turned out okay" - yeah, like an unhappy ignoramus who seemed mad at the world.

Accepting many of our seemingly negative traits or shortcomings does not mean that we must like them; it just means that we must realize that is just the way we are if it's something unchangeable or that we must do the work to change them if we can. That is key. As the serenity prayer goes: "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." Some things are rather easy to change, but even then demand intention to change - patience, courage, and practice. Other things are far more difficult and require time and deep inner work. And yet other things are unchangeable, like being tall or short. Still, no matter how much we do, we will never be perfect.

One of my college professors, Dr. Victor Frankl, wrote in his book, Man's Search For Meaning, about his three years as a prisoner in Auschwitz. He said that no matter what the Nazis did to them, there was one thing that they could not do, and that was to control their attitude. Of course, Dr. Frankl did not like being in Auschwitz, but it was beyond his control. The thing he could control was his attitude. He understood that he needed to accept being in that damnable camp. Just as Nick Vujovic had to accept not having arms and legs.

So first, do what I offered to my little seven-year-old: Say to yourself, "Nobody is perfect, and that is okay." three times each morning and each evening. And, if possible, purchase Frankl's book - written in l948 - still in print. I hope you are joyously going on your life's adventure, and...

Nurture your angel, and don't eat the menu.  

Choosing to Become My Authentic Self #6

Once upon a time, in a land only a few feet away, a very expensively dressed elderly man said, “Do you know who I am, boy?” I wanted to say, “You are a pompous ass, old man,” but I was too scared, and I was working in the lumberyard and could be fired. The wise-ass looked like the kind of guy who could call down the wrath of God or somebody on my head, so I said, “Nope.” The man hmphed and walked away. I was relieved to see his back. I never learned who he was – nor did I want to.

I believe that most of us would do well to take the time to study those around us and to decide – choose – what we wish to do, what it would take to do it, and what kind of person we will be when we do whatever it is.

When I was twelve years old, I saw the film “Keys of the Kingdom” with Gregory Peck playing the part of a courageous, smart, and especially kind priest. Now there, I thought, is a man I wanted to know. I decided that very day to do my best to be like him. I would become a priest. I also knew, or thought I knew, that it was probably impossible. I was born into a working-class family, and like my four older brothers, I was destined to be a farmer, service station operator, carpenter, or some such. I was often told that we all have a ‘place’ and we should stay there. But that priest in the movie seemed to be a kind of special guy who knew how to work and never said to anyone, “Do you know who I am, son?” nor did he act pompous or superior to others. I was sure he had found a place much better than the one he had been born into. l would do my best to become like him. And I did become a priest nineteen years later.

I made that choice in 1945. During that time period, I had seen several newsreels of thousands of young German men who had chosen to be soldiers and were marching lockstep and saluting Adolf Hitler. I then wondered if they ever thought of how evil or destructive his regime was or if they just thought that they were doing something to help get Germany out of the depression that the Axis countries had put their ‘fatherland’ into? Did they realize that they were making a choice? Now I wonder if any of my three older brothers who joined the U. S. military in WWII made a conscious choice. I do not remember hearing the words choose or decide while attending elementary or high school.

The keywords here are choose and decide. In my role as a counselor, I found that many, if not most, of my clients seemed to have lived their lives more like a ball in a pinball machine – bouncing around their field of life and hitting this obstacle or doing that and never really choosing to go there or to not do this or that. They were unconscious victims of their circumstances without noticing that they had a choice.to do this or that and, indeed, they were choosing to not choose. Again, I’ll point to my professor Victor Frankl who, as a Nazi prison camp victim for three years, decided he wanted to survive and to tell the world what he and other prisoners were experiencing. My own choice of becoming a priest demanded that I chose to study hard, learn to be kind and ‘good’ as I saw it, and be self-disciplined. I had to really want it and be able to overcome many obstacles. After only six years trying to fit into the role of priest, I decided to leave it.

I am glad that I was born into a country and society where I could choose. Unfortunately, many people are not. Some are born into societies wherein they do not have that opportunity. Until a few years ago, girls and women had limited choices. Caste systems in some societies restrict choices in life.

When we do choose, it is important to make sure we include life-giving ways of doing whatever we’re doing – and continuing to choose. In my own life, I believe that I inadvertently had become more than a bit self-righteous about who I had become. And I lost sight of my goal to be strong and kind. I am still learning how to connect with others in a life-giving way. Maybe that is another reason why I’m still alive after all these years. So, I now hope you, too, will choose to learn how to become an even better and more authentic you!  Now, continue to . . . 

Nurture your heart, and don’t eat the menu.

The Challenge of Self - Acceptance #4

I’ve been asking myself why I’m still alive, breathing, thinking, talking, and sitting here at 90. Maybe it’s because now that I am retired, have lots of time, and have had many life experiences, maybe I should share some thoughts that may help folks. I'll start with my own struggle with self-acceptance. Before I can have high self-esteem, I must accept myself - worts and all. As I mentioned earlier, I started life with the doctor while handing me to my Mom, who said, "Well, Maggie, here's another mouth to feed." I was Mom's ninth baby; two had died, one a baby boy and another an 8-year-old girl.

When I was six years old, in the first grade,  I wet my pants and was sent home. My brother Jim had to take me home and continually called me stupid. When my dad saw my wet pants, he came over and slapped me so hard I fell, calling me “a worthless little pile of shit.” He came after me as I crawled away and hid under the kitchen table; he kicked at me, kicked a chair rung, and yelled, “You little shit.” I was scared to death.

Dad began to holler and fell on the floor, shaking all over. He was having what Mom called a grand mal seizure. Dad flailed his arms, legs, and his whole body. The worst part for me was that I thought it was all my fault. He wouldn't have had that seizure if I weren’t a worthless piece of shit. Years later, I learned that Dad had lots of seizures in those days. After all, he was so depressed because of the Great Depression and lost the farm; he couldn’t find work like about half the men in the entire country. Anyway, I’ve spent most of my life trying to prove to myself and the world that I’m not a worthless pile of shit.

Maybe that’s why I’m still living at age 90 – It has taken me that long to realize that I am a worthwhile, flawed, lovable, and loving person. Even at my age, I still need reminders about accepting myself and what I'm experiencing. Too often, I feel sorry for being so clumsy and dependent on others for simple things. Last night, I dreamed of Nick Vujicic, the fellow who was born without arms or legs. I looked him up on YouTube and was again inspired by his acceptance of his infirmities. And now, for several days, I am more accepting of my aches, pains, and dependencies. And, well. Everything about me - even my monster. I don't have to like everything, but I must accept everything. And I need to be light-hearted about it - as a friend says: "God sees everything all the time, so the least we can do is be entertaining." So, l need to laugh at myself more often. I plan to say more about self-acceptance in my next blog.

Dear reader, spend a few minutes thinking about messages you have received in your life and how they affected you and end your recall with at least three positive messages. Then, begin a habit of nurturing those positive thoughts. Smile and laugh at the clown (yes, we have a clown in ourselves and a monster) in yourself.

Nurture your heart (angel), and don’t eat the menu.

My Inner Monster #3

I just watched the documentary screened on Netflix, Ordinary Men, featuring Ben Ferencz and the hundreds of German men, ages 30-45, who were drafted into the Nazi police force to kill Jews. I had always thought that they were coerced into doing what they did, but this documentary revealed that they could choose not to shoot the men, women, and children forced into the trenches they had dug. Only a few men refused the duty and were dismissed as cowards by their commanders. That’s all! At the end of the film, Ben Ferencz, now 100 years old, said, “The men who refused to shoot were called "monsters,” and then cited some American atrocities such as Hiroshima, Maylei, and other such incidents, and added, “We all have a monster in us.”

I agree with Ferencz and think some of us have monsters who were only slightly nurtured, but also have heartful 'angels' who were well nurtured and only earned the title of ‘jerks.’ In contrast, others had such huge monsters that nearly crowded out their angels (killed their hearts). I believe we came into the world with different-sized monsters, and perhaps all, of the crowding came from outside our early childhood and our culture.

My young responder reminded me that the German men probably thought that they were doing something good and honorable and contributing to the good of their country. That is a good response and reminds me that St. Thomas Aquinas said that we always choose 'good' - or what we think is good.

As an example of having my monster nurtured and my angel neglected: When I was eight years old in l941, right after the beginning of WWII, I played war with my young friends, and it was not cowboys and Indians, which was bad enough, but playing Americans vs. “Japs and Krauts.” At that time, I had very curly dark hair, and my older brothers teased me, hey ‘ni---er’ wool.’ They were generally rather ‘good guys’ – just ignorant. They didn’t have their internal angels as well-nurtured as needed, either.

So, my friend, I hope you nurture your angel today, and before you do anything, examine whether or not it is Life-Giving - brings life, love, hope, and joy into you and others. And often, be aware of how you nurture your monster and neglect your health. Your Sage (wannabe) by the Sea.

Nurture your heart (angel), and don’t eat the menu.

Scared to Death #2

From age six, the Church augured into our heads that our purpose in life was to know, love, obey God, and be happy with Him forever in heaven after we die. God is not an angry old white man sitting on a throne watching over us. Unfortunately, that's the image I grew up with. But the thought of spending eternity with that angry old God terrified me. I didn't want to know or love Him.

“That’s why god is pictured that way – to scare the hell out of you – because you’ve got a lot of hell in you,” said one of my brothers. My brother was about ten years older than me, and I didn’t want to ask him if he had a lot of hell in him, too, because he might hit me. And in my family, if you got hit by a bro, it hurt like hell. 

Anyway, I spent my early years shaking in my boots – or old shoes with cardboard in the soles – whenever I thought of god. So frightened I would not capitalize god because that mean old guy didn’t deserve to be honored with capital.

You’ve also heard the saying, “Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” My friends, that is NOT true – words, “love an angry old god so you can be with him in heaven,” scared the hell out of me, and that hurt – more than any sticks or stones.

Years later, I came to the realization that words did not represent reality. That old picture above the altar was not the reality either. Words are like a menu; they do not provide the real substance. If we worship the Bible, we only look at the menu and do not experience the actual food. It is important to understand this and start experiencing the real food.

Nurture your heart, and don't eat the menu.

The Sage by the Sea #1

I have recently completed writing my memoir, "Finding Flowers in a Little Pile of Sh*t," and started working on a short novel about St. Paul and the early disciples. However, I’ve decided to shelve that project and instead focus on writing this blog. Lucky You!

Having lived for 90 years, I have gained a lot of valuable experiences and wisdom. It took me all these years to realize that - like most - I have spent too much time and energy trying to find faults within myself and trying to fix them. Finally, it dawned on me that I was looking for answers and directions - “out there” - outside myself. Knowing schools as I do, I’m pretty sure you, whoever you are, or how old you are, have also.

Allow me to share some of my ideas in this blog. I now realize that my life has always been an adventurous journey. Like you, I’m on a journey, and only I can find the best way to get where I need to go – or even find the meaning or the ‘why’ for going on this adventure in the first place. Stop and be thankful that you can ask, “Why am I on this journey?” It is a challenge and a delight that other creatures – trees, flowers, fish, birds, dogs, and cats cannot ask about. We humans can.

My blog post tutor has suggested that I end each post with a thought-provoking idea. So, here's my first challenge for you: Pick a quiet time and spend 15 minutes reflecting on and jotting down ten things you’re grateful for - individuals, music, skills, or concepts. Carry the list with you, and when you get frustrated or discouraged, review the list for three consecutive days.

Kindly keep me in the loop about the results of your experiment. Your feedback in the comments section below would be greatly appreciated.

Nurture your heart, and don't eat the menu.