Crafting Your Destiny: How Your Inner Spark Shapes Your Life’s Path

"Strong conviction of one's calling has always seemed to me to be the greatest element in a successful career." ~ Paul Tournier, Escape from Loneliness

Man with an Imperative

Life is the process of finding out who we really are. Simultaneously, life is the process of creating who we will be.

In the realm of career, Tournier observes here that a sense of calling assists us in remaining focused, rather than diverted and dilluted, thus enabling us to become more likely to achieve success.

How does this sense of calling emerge? Why do some have it and others do not? For some it may be innate. For others, it is a series of false starts, much like the explorations of a mouse in a maze. Why some give up seeking and others maintain a relentless pursuit is likewise a mystery.

I believe that the messages we tell ourselves have a strong influence on our life decisions. For this reason it makes a difference who we listen to, who we read, who we hang with. If we surround ourselves with people who suggest that change is futile, that striving to "make a mark" is useless and absurd, we will smother the spark inside us that is striving toward a better hope, a better life, and a better world for our children.

Today's message: Keep pressing on. Find your calling, and never give up.

How Dreams and Decisions Shape the Terrain of Our Lives

Thoughts in Response to Robert Frost's Road Less Travelled.

Life is not a straight highway but a series of watersheds. where choices carve rivers that diverge toward distinctly different fates. Each decision—whether small or monumental—reconfigures the terrain of our lives, sending us toward unique destinations. 

Unlike water drawn to its course by gravity, we're not powerless. We make choices, often incrementally, that redirect our flow. Yet, all too often many people allow themselves to simply drift, mistaking passivity for fate.

Choices have consequences, and failure to choose is itself a choice. The weight of that truth can be paralyzing. Ishiguro highlights this in his novel The Remains of the Day. Stevens, the butler, (played by Anthony Hopkins in the film) fails to choose between his rigid devotion to duty and his suppressed feelings for Miss Kenton. This heartbreaking indecision costs him a chance at personal happiness, leaving him with regret and a sense of a wasted life as he reflects on his past.

So we avoid the work required to accomplish great things and choose the path of least resistance, because choosing boldly demands sacrifice. 

The deepest longings of our hearts—whether to create, to love, or to achieve a significant goal—require effort, risk, and often pain. Most of us shy away from that. Work is daunting; ease is seductive. We convince ourselves we lack control, preferring the comfort of inertia to the labor of pursuit. But in doing so, we diminish our own dreams, letting them fade into whispers of “what if.” 

Oh how powerful the temptation to become subsumed in the lamentations of regret. Here I think of Jason Robards as Charles Halloway, the father who gets lost in the hall of mirrors in the film adaptation of Something Wicked This Way Comes. I've often said the mirror of our acts reveals who we are. But in the hall of mirrors, regret distorts what we see and becomes a merciless accuser.

Great achievements are not gifts; they are forged. The scientist burning midnight oil, the artist pouring his or her soul onto canvas, the dreamer defying all odds and expectations—they all pay a price. 

Sacrifice imbues value. A goal reached without cost feels hollow, like a trophy unearned. The mountain’s summit is sweeter when the climb scars your hands. Yet, too many of us simply ramble about, sidestepping the steep trails for smoother paths, trading aspiration for apathy.

Remember, we're not condemned to drift, blown about like desert tumbleweed. We can choose to dream big, to reach for the stars, knowing the cosmos demands courage. Each step toward a lofty goal is a rebellion against complacency, a declaration that our desires are worth the struggle. 

If you're like me, at some point in your youth you likely asked, "Why am I here?" Today, with seven decades under my belt, I can answer this question by looking back at the decisions I made and where those paths took me. 

* * * 

The meandering thoughts above are an amplified version of my 2008 blog post titled Ramble or Reach?

Our Personal Watersheds: Navigating the Paths to Our Destinies

All roads lead to... No, it's not that simple. The roads diverge and do not have identical ends. Think in terms of watersheds. Think in terms of destinies.

Is life a singular road leading to a predetermined destination? Or, as experience seems to suggest, is it a vast landscape of forking paths, each shaped by the choices we make?

Just as watersheds guide stream to rivers that pour into different seas, in the same way our decisions carve the courses of our destinies. Each choice, no matter how small, ripples outward, shaping who we become and where we end up. Yet, too often, we wander through life as if these paths are chosen for us. Carried by currents we drift along the easiest routes, avoiding the steep climbs and turbulent waters. The benefit of this aimless approach is we can avoid having to assume responsibility for what happens to us. 

But the truth is profound and empowering: we have the power to choose. Our destinies are not fixed; they are forged.

Fate versus free choice isn't just an issue that philosophers have wrestled with. I recently learned this was a theme in Tchaikovsky's fifth and sixth symphonies, and in Beethoven's work as well. It's something each os us must come to grips with.

The Illusion of Powerlessness

For many, life is lived under the illusion that we have no control. We fall into routines, follow societal expectations, or surrender to the momentum of circumstance, convincing ourselves that the path of least resistance is the only one available. It’s comfortable to believe we’re merely passengers on a railroad, carried along by forces beyond our control—family obligations, financial pressures, or the weight of habit. This mindset may absolve us of responsibility but it also robs us of agency. Deep down, we know the truth: choices abound, but they often come with a cost.

The things we want most—whether a fulfilling career, meaningful relationships, personal growth, or a legacy that outlives us—require effort, sacrifice, and sometimes pain. Most of us shy away from that reality. Who relishes the grind? Who eagerly embraces risk? Our natural inclination is to seek ease, to glide down the smoothest stream rather than paddle against the current. But ease rarely leads to greatness. The paths that demand the least from us often deliver the least in return.

The greatest achievements in life—those that stir our souls and leave a mark on the world—are born of risk and sacrifice. Consider the artist who pours years into mastering his or her craft, the entrepreneur who stakes everything on a vision, or the parent who sacrifices personal ambitions to launch their children on a successful trajectory. These pursuits are not easy, and that’s precisely why they matter. When we invest ourselves fully, when we pay a price for what we seek, the results carry weight. An achievement handed to us without effort feels hollow, like a trophy won by chance rather than merit. 

Sacrifice imbues our goals with meaning. It’s the late nights spent studying that make a degree feel earned. The achievements I'm most proud of feel gratifying because I know the work involved in pursuing them.

Without cost, there is little value; without struggle, there is no triumph. Yet, too often, we hesitate at the crossroads, unwilling to pay the toll. We let fear of failure, discomfort, or uncertainty steer us toward safer, less demanding paths. In doing so, we risk betraying the deeper longings of our hearts.

The Drift of Indecision

When we fail to choose deliberately, we don’t simply stand still—we drift. Life, like a river, keeps moving, and indecision is itself a choice, one that often leads to destinations we never intended. We ramble through the years chasing fleeting distractions or settling for what’s “good enough,” only to wake up one day wondering how we strayed so far from our dreams. Regret is not just about missed opportunities; it’s about the quiet betrayal of our own potential.

This drift is seductive because it feels safe. It asks little of us. It spares us the anxiety of risk or the sting of failure. But it also dulls our lives, leaving us with a vague sense of emptiness. The deepest longings of our hearts—those audacious dreams of creating, connecting, or achieving something extraordinary—require us to step out of the current and choose a different path. They demand that we embrace discomfort, confront uncertainty, and trust in our capacity to endure.

The Power to Choose

The beauty of life’s watershed moments is that we are not powerless. We have the power to choose, to shape our paths, to pursue destinies that align with our truest selves. This power is both a gift and a responsibility. It requires us to be intentional, to reflect on what we value most, and to summon the courage to act. Every choice, from the mundane to the monumental, is a brushstroke on the canvas of our lives.

To choose well, we must first know ourselves. What stirs your heart? What dream keeps you awake at night? What would you pursue if fear were not a factor? These questions are not mere musings; they are compasses for navigating life’s diverging paths. Once we identify our deepest desires, we must weigh the costs and decide what we’re willing to sacrifice. Time, comfort, security—these are the currencies of ambition. The question is not whether you can avoid paying but whether the goal is worth the price.

Dreaming Big

Young people should have dreams, the bolder the better. Envision a life that stretches beyond the ordinary, that reaches for the stars. But dreaming alone is not enough. A dream without action is just a wish, fleeting and insubstantial. To turn dreams into destinies, we must pair them with resolve. We must choose the harder path, the one that demands growth, grit, and perseverance. We must be willing to stumble, to fail, and to rise again.  

Think of life’s choices as watersheds, each one directing the flow of your story. Some paths lead to quiet, contented lives; others to bold, transformative ones. Neither is inherently better, but only you can decide which aligns with your soul’s calling. The tragedy is not in choosing a modest path but in never choosing at all, in letting the current carry you to a destination you didn’t intend.

I myself believed I that becoming a writer was a calling. When you feel something is a calling, you feel obligated to do it well, to excel. My first article generated feedback (letters) from three continents from people whose lives were touched. I recognized from this experience the power of the written word.  

Embracing the Journey

As you stand at the crossroads of your life, remember this: the roads diverge, and their ends are not the same. All roads don't lead to Rome. Each choice shapes your destiny, and while the journey may be daunting, it is yours to chart. Embrace the power you hold. Dare to dream big, to risk greatly, to sacrifice willingly. The deepest longings of your heart are not frivolous—they are the map to your truest self.

So, choose boldly. Pay the price. Paddle against the current if it leads to the sea you seek. The watersheds of life are yours to navigate, and the destinies you reach will reflect the paths you dared to take.

Throwback Thursday: Why I Try

Why I Try

Do I really want on my deathbed to lie
wondering why I didn't try?
Regretting life I didn't live?
Regretting the strength I didn't give?
Regretting what I didn't share,
wondering why I didn't care?

And so, you see, till the day I die
I'll try and try and try and try.

Originally published in 2011.

The River of Time: A Meditation on the Flow of Life

I had a new thought this weekend. It flowed out of a quote that went something like this: "The future is the past unfrozen."

As I reflected on this notion, however, I couldn't help but think about the behavior of water in its different states. I liked the idea that our past was frozen, and I thought about how water freezes below a specific temperature. But once it is unfrozen it can also be altered yet again when you boil it or heat it above 212 degrees F. It becomes an invisible gas at that point.

It's interesting that time therefore has three phases: past, present and future. Likewise water has three phases: solid, liquid and gas.

What we see when we apply this notion to time is that all of time is a unity, but it is experienced in different forms. Try as we might, we can't alter the past. Our achievements and mistakes leave a permanent record. They are frozen in time. Our present, on the other hand, is fluid. This fluid present is where we live and experience life. The future is invisible. It is so unformed it cannot be seen, like unpolluted air.

If the whole of time is one unit, then this would explain how God can be described as being the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, and be both simultaneously. Some people see a fatalism inherent in God knowing the end from the beginning, but the paradox is this: the present is ever fluid until it is past. Because the present is fluid, anything is possible. It's up to us to decide "what next." Our decisions today will determine what will be frozen in time tomorrow.

* * * * 

Is it true that what will be will be? 

What will be is up to us. 

Is the future inevitable?

Yes, but only after it has been frozen in the past.

EdNote: Top right is a painting, acrylic on panel, 24"x 36". Bottom is AI generated variation

Originally published in September, 2016

Hitchcock's Rope: Morality, Guilt and the Tension of Secrets

Photo by Mockup Graphics on Unsplash

Monday evening the film Rope was on one of the cable networks, and even though I've seen this Jimmy Stewart classic several times I couldn't help but watch it yet again. What makes it a great film isn't just the acting and the dialogue, but also the psychological probing and collision of philosophical ideas that director Hitchcock explores.

Based on Patrick Hamilton's book by the same name, it later became a play before being adapted to film in 1948. It's a story of two young men, Brandon Shaw and Phillip Morgan, who strangle their friend David Kentley and then invite his friends and family over for dinner. The body is hidden in a chest in the middle of the room, and the two men pretend that David is still alive while offering various suggestions for his absence.

One of the guests is Rupert Cadell, a philosophy professor whom Shaw and Morgan admired when they were his students at University. Brandon is proud of what they have done, Phillip is rattled by the terror of being found out. It's one thing to imagine doing something audacious, quite another thing to actually do it. 

When David Kentley fails to show up for the party, Rupert begins to suspect something is amiss. Little by little the pressure is on, and Phillip begins to sweat. As the evening unfolds, Rupert's suspicions feel a little like thumbscrews being applied by a master tormentor. 

Brandon is so proud of his "achievement" that he's not concerned about Rupert's inquisitiveness. Phillip, however, begins drinking heavily to calm his nerves. Like a bloodhound, once Rupert is on the trail he's determined to follow it wherever it leads. When he finally discovers Kentley's body, the story is not yet over. Brandon points out how Professor Cadell's own words were what inspired him. 

And what were these words? Rupert had presented Nietzsche's concept of the Ubermensch, the "Superman." The Superman is not constrained by the conventional morality of the common man. Brandon justified their murdering someone as a philosophical decision, their way of demonstrating their superiority, that they belonged to the class of "exceptional people."

For Brandon, committing the perfect murder was something akin to an art project. The flawless execution of his idea was his way of proving his eminence. Living inside the bubble of his imagination, he assumed Rupert would actually appreciate his achievement.

Both perpetrators fell victim to the self-deception that they could detach themselves from the consequences of their actions. Guilt has a corrosive effect on one's conscience, and as the party proceeded it became increasingly difficult to hold normal conversations. As Neil Young once sang. "How slow and slow and slow it goes to mend the tear that always shows."

In past viewings, I focused on the masterful manner in which Hitchcock built suspense. Also, the way he creates situations in which everything occurs within a tight space. Lifeboat is an example of this, as is Rear Window. In the latter, as in Rope, there is a sense in which the audience is present in the room, watching voyeuristically.

The story explores power and manipulation as well. Paul Tournier's The Strong and the Weak examines how people react differently to external circumstances. Brandon's dominance is clear, and Phillip goes along with Brandon's smooth-talking persuasive arguments. How many people have "gone along" with things they felt uncomfortable with, that violated their foundational beliefs because they failed to be strong, failed to take a stand? Whether it be a gang or a simply a relationship, things get messy when values are at odds. In the end, both characters will suffer the same consequences and be held accountable for their crime. 

We can pity Phillip but in a court of law he was an accessory to murder and likely will not get a break in the courts.

* * *

Postscript
In 1979-80 I met a man who had been an accessory to murder. I was in Puerto Rico at the time. His uncle had planned to murder a man in Chicago and the nephew was used to lure the victim into an alley where the uncle took the man's life. Both the uncle and his nephew, whom I will call Antonio here, went to prison. Antonio's wife, a strong Christian, visited him every day no matter the weather. (She had to take a bus and walk miles to get there and home.) Her sacrificial love broke his heart and he gave his life to the Lord. When I met him he had a beautiful spirit and was dedicated to helping others to make a different choice from the one he made years earlier with his uncle. The hardships he'd endure, his wife's love and the mercy of God changed him on the inside. He approached life with humility because of what he had been through.

There's a Middle Eastern proverb that goes like this: The same sun that hardens clay melts wax. We all make mistakes and sometimes especially bad choices. How we respond determines the "what next" of our own lives.

It would be interesting to see how the story of Rupert, Brandon and Phillip plays out. One of these young men may become hardened bitterness whereas the other's eyes are opened and sees things in a new way. Perhaps Rupert will write a book that addresses these issues, that counters the creeping cynicism and amorality fostered by Nietzsche, Existentialism and (later) post-modernism.

What are your thoughts on this?

Throwback Thursday: To See or Not To See, That Is the Question

This was my third blog post, June 19, 2007. In the beginning I frequently lifted an idea, quote or insight from my decades of journaling and then elaborated on it. 

* * * * * 

To understand the world we live in, we must first see it as it is. Not as "trained" or manipulated to see it. Where do our ideas come from? Our ideas about God, about right and wrong, about how we should live... are they chosen, or... what?
--Journal note, Aug. 25, 1985

A long lost friend sent me this verse the other day, with the follow up explanation.

I looked to see
What I thought I saw,
But what I saw
I did not see.

"How many times do you think you see something, then turn to look and what you thought you saw wasn't what you were really looking at; in the real sense of it. On a more philosophical angle, every day we see past what's real to what we want to see, but only when we make efforts to truly see things for what they are do we realize it's not what we wanted to see. Our minds and hearts trick us every day into believing what isn't real." ~ S.P.

Talking New York, Dylan and More with Peter McKenzie (Part II)

Includes recent Peter McKenzie interview

When I heard this spring that Peter McKenzie's book Bob Dylan: On a Couch and Fifty Cents a Day was coming out soon,  I asked for an introduction in hopes of obtaining an interview. I'd heard that it contained new insights into young Bob Dylan's first year in New York. After we'd spoken a couple times, the interview was delayed because he'd made a promise to ISIS that he would wait till they'd published an interview he'd done with them. 

By the time my turn had come I'd purchased and read the book. Ironically, all the questions I'd initially prepared to ask during the interview were answered in the book. I set about to adjust my game plan and just follow our conversation wherever it went. 

Peter was 15 when 19-year-old Bob Dylan took up a form of residence in his home. There's a sense in which they were like siblings who shared a special bond. Peter admits, "Yes, I idolized him. He was like the big brother I never had. He treated me like a kid sibling. He talked to me about a lot of stuff." 

What follows here are a few anecdotes about Peter's Harvard experience, his career, Bob's songs and insights about the choices we make. At the end there's a link to the book and the first part of this two part interview.

School Days

My senior year at Harvard I had a solo suite with my own bathroom. I was painting, and had a window overlooking the Charles River. Right next door to me were two roommates with whom I became good friends. We used to have breakfast and dinner together a lot. One was Al Gore and the other Tommy Lee Jones.

When Tommy Lee was shooting the first Men In Black, they were doing a scene right outside my now wife’s apartment. I went downstairs and they were on a shooting break. I tapped him on the shoulder and he almost choked. He turned around and said, “Hey Pete!” and I said, “Hi, Tommy, how are ya. I see how well you’re doing. I don’t want to disturb you while you’re at work.” 

Peter's Career

Illustration for Joseph Papp, NY Shakespeare
Festival; Peter McKenzie

I went to the Harvard Graduate School of Architecture. I was going to become an architect. I didn’t like it, so I left. Then I went to Europe and I wound up meeting a couple people in France who were Dutch. I had my harmonica and harmonica holder with me. We went and played on the streets of Paris. They had a guitar with them, so they gave me the guitar and it was the most money I made in an hour, playing on the streets of Paris. “Bob Dylan! Bob Dylan!” It was very funny.

They invited me to visit them when I went to the Netherlands (they lived just outside Amsterdam) and I wound up playing for a couple months in their rock and roll band. 

I came back to the states and embarked on a career as an illustrator and a graphic designer, which I did for many many many many many many years. I had my own little company. I worked for myself designing books, illustrating books and illustrating book covers. That’s what I did. 

Bob always liked to talk to me about my art. It’s the one subject he never challenged me on. You know, he’s the musician of the family; I’m the artist in the family. And I make no comment about Bob’s art other than to say I think he has a great color sense, a great sense of color. God bless him that he likes to draw and paint. 

As the musician and writer, that’s his thing, his talent.

I haven’t met half as many people as he has, and if I lived to be 200 I wouldn’t. Who hasn’t he met? He’s met everybody. That can change a person. That’s his life. As for me, I’ll always look at him different from anybody else. He used the gifts he had to get the life success he could. He had a great way with words and he was an excellent musician. And he was pretty cool at the stage that we were really close. That’s what I can say about him.

Bob’s Songs

1962. Photo credit: Ted Russell. 
Courtesy William Pagel Archives

You have all these people analyzing his songs.    I mean, I will give you two songs that I will tell you about. Obviously, most songs that a songwriter writes are going to have some kind of personal touch and say something about their life, but I will tell you two songs–and I want you to listen to them again. A lot of people know about them but they don’t understand the depth of his connection.

If you want to listen to two songs to try to understand Bob Dylan – and there’s also an earlier song – but if you really want to know the personal Bob Dylan, that’s real with no bull, (listen to) "Girl from the Red River Shore," and "When the Deal Goes Down." Listen to those two songs. You’ll understand what I mean after reading the book. That is personal. That’s feeling. 

So’s the one about Suze very personal, "Boots of Spanish Leather," but I’m talking about later on in life when he’s had all these life experiences. 

Those two songs… and they’re not angry songs, but I’m talking about when he’s sitting and reflecting about life, trying to make sense of it all. They mean a lot to me, because they really do reflect what’s going on in his head. It’s absolutely 100 per cent personal.  You don’t have to analyze every line. You just listen to the song and you get a sense of where he’s really at. They’re amazing.

Luckily, there was a tissue in my pocket the first time I heard “Girl from the Red River Shore.” It’s a knockout for me. I’m just condensing them down to a sensible core of what’s within his soul. It’s just unbelievable to me.

I’m sure there’s part of him that absolutely loves being famous, and loves to be adored the world over, but man, when he said that he walked into a diner and “everyone recognized me, that’s when it all changed.” That’s a horrible price to pay. He’s paid a big price. I couldn’t tell you, in all honesty, if he knew what was in store for him maybe he would’ve decided to just be a teacher. You know what I mean? I don’t know. I couldn’t tell you. 

His dream was to be as big as Harry Belafonte. That was it. He had no idea what was ahead. That’s why those two songs... that’s him away from the rest of the world. The reason he can say stuff like that is because most people don’t know the person he is. It shows what he’s gone through. And some of the longings he’s had and some of the loneliness and so forth.

We All Make Our Choices. 

I never thought of it this way, where people say he wouldn’t have made it unless he had the drive… I don’t think of it that way. I think of him as someone who had a dream, and had the guts to go out and try to fulfill it. 

The only thing I wrote about in that book were my experiences, my past experiences or maybe an experience that was told to me by somebody very close to me. For example, my friend Eric Herter went to a concert that I didn’t attend and told that funny story about the curtain almost knocking Bob over and he made that comment about leprosy. I’m sure I could read a million stories in books about Bob that I don’t know. That’s his life, not my life. There’s plenty about Bob I don’t know, but that wasn’t the point. 

Historian/author Sean (Wilentz) told Peter, “What you’ve done with your book is showed a big foundation of what made Bob who he is. Rather than trying to analyze every song or why he did this or why he did that, you’re showing a fundamental grab of the root of the person, and then the career happened." 

When I say what’s in that book is what all these people have been looking for, I meant it.

Links

BOB DYLAN: On A Couch & Fifty Cents A Day

A Visit with Peter McKenzie, Author of Bob Dylan: On A Couch & Fifty Cents A Day (Part One)

The Road Not Taken

I first became aware of Robert Frost when he recited a poem at the John F. Kennedy inauguration in 1961. As I was only eight, I remember it more because my mom made a big deal of it at the time, not because it really stood out on its own. Since that time I'd always assumed he was our National Poet Laureate until now when I did a little fact-checking. He was actually Poet Laureate of the State of Vermont, hence my tendency to associate him with the artist Andrew Wyeth, another famed New Englander in the arts.

Though a winner of four Pulitzer Prizes, I have to believe Frost's The Road Not Taken must be his most famous poem. I'd venture to say that this poem alone, even without Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening, had sufficient muscle to make him a household name, a fairly rare occurrence amongst twentieth century poets. I've assumed that school children everywhere have studied the poem, appreciating its elegance and accessibility. The simple metaphor of making a choice during a stroll through the woods has far-reaching applications that resonate with all of us, from relationship decisions to career moves.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

The author comes to a fork in the path and ponders the possibilities of each, but because of the winding nature of what lies ahead is unable to really know how to choose. The first stanza outlines the problem. The following two stanzas reveal the storyteller's cogitations as he leaned into the former and then the latter, looking for a basis for making his decision.

In the end, he focuses on a decisive variable. Knowing that he will likely never be back at this spot again, he chose the path least travelled. That final line is an affirmation that he chose wisely.

* * * *

A forest of birches. Photo by Ryan Tischer.

This Ryan Tischer* photo provides a clue as to what kind of "yellow wood" Frost may have been meandering through, as well as the time of year. The photo, as you can see, paints a different scene. In the poem I envision rolling hills. In the image here, especially striking when it looms large, we see a relatively flat landscape with a single road, marching through rows of trees much like a headful of hair that has been parted by a fine-toothed comb.

My father was fond of white birches. When we moved to New Jersey in 1964 one of the first things he did was to plant a trio of birches near the corner of our front yard, hence my own special regard for these beautiful trees that seem especially abundant here in the Northland.

Meantime, life goes on...

* Ryan Tischer has opened a new gallery in Duluth's emerging Arts District. 

Remember Who You Are

I came across a Father's Day card from my son this past week which I currently have staring at me from my desk. It reads, LIFE ISN'T ABOUT FINDING YOURSELF. LIFE IS ABOUT CREATING YOURSELF.

It's one of those conundrums that I can't seem to let go of, because part of me has often said that our quest in life is to discover who we are. Didn't young Simba's father return to tell him, "Remember who you are" while Simba wandered about in the worry-free dream land of Hakuna Matata? Finding yourself is a worthy quest. Discovering that we've got royal blood and a high calling.... these things are all good.

But creating oneself is an equally important task, and challenging. It's a future orientation that recognizes the power of our choices today, in the now. It implies an active participation on our part. Decisions. Making value judgments regarding various paths. Even high anxiety because something is at stake. You. Who you are and what you will be.

In some ways it's like being on a railroad track. At certain points there are alternative directions we can take, but we really can't see where the tracks will lead. We make choices and soon find ourselves in a different setting, with different scenery.

Bruce Barton's quote comes to mind. "Sometimes when I consider what tremendous consequences come from little things... I am tempted to think there are no little things."

Make the most of your day... and the life that is ahead of you.

Money

To have it is a perceived blessing, but what is it people really want? It would seem that what people want is freedom from want. Want, once experienced, creates a corrupting fear of want, and money is needed to muffle that fear.
January 14, 1998

It is interesting to think how two people can be in similar experiences, struggling to get on their feet financially, and one is comfortable and confident, the other desperate. The former does interviews well when seeking employment. He or she has hope, believes things can get better. The other may come across badly because of the inner paralysis that makes conversation unnatural.

The issue in part is faith and hope.

But what about those in abject deprivation with nothing to look forward to? Some escape into alcohol or drugs or other self-destructive behaviors. And some continue to live with dignity. How and why does this happen?

In the thirties much of the generation that went through the depression were left with scars afterwards, an insecurity or fear because they experienced a measure of what it's like when the bottom drops out. Despite the wealth later accumulated, many remained anxious because of what they had been through. Even with great vaults of money some remained insecure. How much is enough?

In truth, there are no guarantees about tomorrow, so that at a certain point we have to let go. Let go of those niggling anxieties, keep moving forward and trust that we will be there to greet it when it arrives. The best way to do this is make the most of today. Avoid or pay down your debts, save for the morrow and be generous with the rest.

Run Lola Run

Just finished watching Run Lola Run. (Original German title: Lola rennt.) From the first note and image you are “there.” The movie immediately notifies you that this is not just another film. Two quotes appear on the screen….

“We shall not cease exploring…” ~ T.S. Eliot

“After the game is before the game.” ~ Sepp Herberger

...followed by the opening monologue:

Man, probably the most mysterious species on our planet.
A mystery of unanswered questions.
Who are we?
Where do we come from?
Where are we going?
How do we know what we think we know?
Why do we believe anything at all?
Countless questions in search of an answer…
an answer that will give rise to a new question…
and the next answer will give rise to the next question and so on.
But in the end isn’t it always the same question?
And always the same answer?

The ball is round, the game lasts ninety minutes. That’s a fact.
Everything else is pure theory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The film is a fresh blend of audio and visual impressions threaded into a surprising and intense three part exploration. The tale, once told, does leave questions. But they promised that in the beginning, didn’t they?

A World Turned On Its Head

Sometimes it just seems like life isn't fair. "Crime Pays." So it said on the front page of our local newspaper a number of years ago. The story: A woman embezzles $37,000. The judge sentences her to repay $3,000 and to remain grounded in her home for two months.

 

Wherever one turns one hears similar stories. Crime victims who have no rights. Criminals who seem to suffer no consequences for their crimes. Where is the justice in all this? 

But then, this is nothing new. 3,000 years ago the writer of Psalm 73 had been struck by a similar observation. As he looked on the prosperity of the wicked, their apparent success, their disregard for God or truth, and their mockery of heavenly things, he felt the same grief and dismay that we feel today. 

However, he did something unique. Rather than become embittered as he was tempted to be, he laid his complaint on God's doorstep and waited for an explanation. Had he been foolish to try to live a good life? No. There are rewards for those who seek to do what is right. And things aren't what they appear to be for those who choose to hurt others, to cheat, lie or steal. Their choices will have consequences, too, both in this life and in the world to come. 

 

Tonight I went to see American Gangster with Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe. Powerful movie, and if your vantage point in time is within the story, during the high times when all is going swell, you get a perspective that is not comprehensive. It is incomplete. Was Russell Crowe a fool to do what was right? The guys doing wrong sure seemed like they were the ones living the good life, both the cops on the take and the hoods on the street. But then again, in the end it always catches up with you. 

I was once involved in prison ministry. From behind bars many of these men saw quite clearly the illusory nature of the "high life" they had purchased with phony credit cards or other kinds of vice and crime. The worst of it, one man told me, is that the longer you are in it, the more difficult it becomes to get out. Often, the lifestyles we are attracted to have been bought with a price. We would do well to note the rest of the story. Things are not always what they first appear to be.