Christmas 2023 #10

By Don Hanley – sing to the tune of Shifting Whispering Sands.          

If you want to learn the meaning,

    Of that birth in Bethlehem.

          Then, look deep inside the story.

               Of your own loving heart.

And you’ll find the joy of living with

    The love and light that God 

         Has gifted each at birth,

              On this lovely planet of ours. 

Now, you’ll want to gaze at the mountains.

     And the oceans, flowers, and trees.

           And especially into the eyes of 

                All those close beside you, even in your sleep.

Bring the light and the power. 

      Announced and shared by the baby,

          On that day in Bethlehem.

Mission: JOY #9

Recently, I watched MISSION: JOY, the title of a delightful documentary on Netflix. A narrator and cameraman followed Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama around for a week as they discussed life, love, death, faith, and hope.

They both have been heroes of mine for years, and I felt a great deal of joy after watching them walk, talk, smile, and engage each other in their I–Thou togetherness. Tutu was my age, 90 when he died two years ago, and the Dalai Lama is now 88. They have been working to bring peace, compassion, and hope all their lives. And they have been through hell and back – yet still are the epitome of JOY. I felt a deep joy as I watched this film. I believe joy is not something I can conjure up but a feeling I get when I do something that helps me experience positive and hopeful emotions.

When I was a child, I wondered why Jesus and other supposedly ‘holy people’ were always pictured looking so serious and grim. And my family role models were miles from any joyful world. Now, at 90, I look back to my first 11 years and think I believed I was always supposed to be a serious and even sad ‘good’ boy. I was led to believe that I had to be serious all the time. I think I even believed it might be sinful when I would run, laugh, sing, and act nutty. It seemed that in my family, my six older siblings laughed and sang off-key only when they drank beer. At first, they’d seem happier, but often, that turned to meanness. I didn’t like them or the mean way they talked and acted.

By the time I was a teenager, I had made it known that I was planning to be a priest. I assumed that meant I must always be serious – like Jesus and those ‘holy’ guys were. I was a gloomy guy who did not know joy.

The musical films of the l940s helped me to begin singing when I was around 11, and it saved my life and introduced me to feelings of joy. I began to believe that Jesus would like to be called the ‘joyful one’ – rather than the ‘holy one.’

In my novel, A New World of Hope, I describe a K–12 school that begins each school day with the entire school – including faculty, janitors, students, and everyone (including parents if they wished) gathering in the schoolyard and singing and dancing for twenty to thirty minutes. And in that school, every student is encouraged to learn a musical instrument and to write songs. Singing is a neglected art in our society, I believe. Oh, yes, we listen to many songs and make ‘pop singers’ millionaires, but too often, we are spectators rather than singers. And we wonder why an increasing number of our youth are depressed and anxious. They need to sing and dance and, I believe, they will feel joy. I’m glad I started singing fairly young and sang as I worked pulling weeds, sweeping the sidewalk, and walking places – we didn’t have a car to take me places, so I walked and sang. So, for a more hopeful world – sing and dance! And as a friend says: “Some say that God sees everything we do, so the least we can do is be entertaining.”

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

Artificial Intelligence Needs A Heart #8

A few weeks ago, I went to a café with a friend to have lunch. Sitting in a booth, we noticed what looked like a family – a Mom, a Dad, and a teenage boy and girl. All four were studying their smartphones, looking grim and even worried.

I looked at my friend across the table, nodded my head toward the family, and said, “Ah, there’s AI at work.” He said, “Yeah, and here’s another example: I attended a divisional meeting at our company’s office this week, and about a dozen of us were asked to have our laptops with us. That was okay, as we needed to discuss the contents, but after we finished, I folded my computer and started making the rounds and talking to the different attendees. I was the only one who seemed interested in the others we had worked with over long distances for years. Again, AI at work.” We agreed that AI would turn us all into robots if we were not careful.

I hear that AI may be endangering our very culture and perhaps our very existence. I believe that the real danger is that we will become an even more right-brained bunch of rigid non-feeling, very technical boobs. When I was ten years old, I was fascinated, horrified, and curious about the newsreels showing thousands of German soldiers robotically marching and saluting Hitler. I was horrified because I wondered if someday, I might be forced to stand there and begin marching like I had a cob up my butt, saluting some pompous jackass in some medal-bedecked uniform.

I told my companion, “I think we need to get people to open their minds and hearts and connect to one another as human beings. He nodded and asked, "How could that happen?"

I responded, “Have you ever heard of Martin Buber?” He shook his head no, and I said, “I’ll tell you about him. I’ve told this story hundreds of times in my classes and sessions with counseling Interns. Martin was a young professor at a university in Germany in the early years of the last century, and one of his duties was to counsel students. One day, a very sad and depressed student came to his office. Buber counseled him for about an hour. The young man left looking just as sad as when he arrived. About two hours later, another student ran into Martin’s office and told him that the lad had hung himself.”

Of course, Martin was horrified by the news and began scrutinizing the hour he had spent with the young man. After several days of going over and over the time with the fellow, he decided that he had "technically" been a good counselor; he was kind and patient, had not asked too many questions, and had done a good job. But he kept worrying about what he could have done differently that might have helped the fellow. Then it dawned on him – he had stayed in the role of professor and counselor and left the fellow in the role of student and counselee. It was an "I-It" relationship, not a person-to-person meeting.

Buber called it an "I–Thou relationship.” He may have helped the student if he had just been himself – Martin and encouraged the lad to be himself. Instead, he had been a person carrying out a role. Carl Rogers, the renowned psychologist, learned from Buber and wrote several books on this concept. His most famous work is On Becoming a Person.” 

I recently went to see a physician who seemed quite friendly and kind. Still, after a few meetings, I realized that he was treating me just like an "it” – as one of his assigned patients. Not a living, breathing individual with my own mind, giftedness, weaknesses, etc. I am not “an it.”

Please Google Martin Buber’s I-Thou concept.

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

On Eating the Menu #7

I have repeatedly mentioned ‘Don’t eat the menu’ and ended my blog with that saying. Now I would like to talk more about it. It is similar to the old sayings, ‘The map is not the territory,’ and ‘The word is not the reality.’ It is easy to contradict someone who studies a map of New York City and then states that he visited New York. Or someone says, ‘I really love Michelle Obama,’ but has never met her. 

Let’s imagine I attend a dinner and am presented with a menu of what will be served. The menu is beautifully printed on lovely paper, and I begin trying to eat it, ignoring the meal when it arrives. That is literally eating the menu.

Not so literal is this example of metaphorically eating the menu. Recently, I read a fine and fascinating novel entitled The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd. It tells the story of a pre-Civil War family in the South. The family members were, they believed, devout Christians. They owned eleven slaves whom they treated with severe cruelty if they were disobedient in any way. They were eating the menu – that is, they were following a very superficial interpretation of what Jesus revealed in the Bible. If they followed the spirit of Jesus’s words, they would be much too compassionate to own slaves and could never be cruel to those working for them, slaves or not, no matter who they were or what color their skin. They only ate the menu and ignored the wonderful banquet of human dignity and beauty in themselves and others. The ‘banquet’ we are born into, and the one Jesus enhanced and promoted, is one of inner beauty, compassion, courage, peace, hope, and justice. All enlightened mystics of history, such as Jesus, Confucius, Buddha, Lao Tzu, and Mohammed, agree on this.

So, it is important for all of us to read widely and to work to understand many points of view. We must strive to become more life-giving, creative, compassionate humans. I have encountered many people who spout lovely words but were far too cold and uncaring for me to spend much time with, let alone to follow. Their ‘menu’ often promises hope, contentment, and some kind of salvation away from the misery they believe we are experiencing – but, in reality, they do not care for anyone other than themselves. If I run into anyone or any organization that demands that I follow without question and do exactly as they say, I do my best to run from them– even if I’m threatened with death or damnatio. True leaders do not demand that I give up my personal ability to choose.

It took me many years to be able to discern what I now call the false ‘menus.’ I think that many, if not most, of the folks in our world are eating the menus and failing to embody the contents. They allow themselves to be led by self-appointed teachers and leaders who are not life-giving nor lovingly growth-enhancing. Now, I study many of those menus and reject them if they do not help me to become more enlightened and life-giving. So please study the menus but do not eat them. When you discover a positive banquet, devour the beautiful and life-giving banquet with which we all were born.

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

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.