Musings

December is an old, familiar friend. It just sort of works out that way for me. I am sure others feel the same way.

In my world, nothing defines December more than the album “December” by George Winston. For the uninitiated, you can find it here:http://www.georgewinston.com/recordings/01934-11611-2.php

December is many other things, as well, but that album is the warm, cozy blanket that I put on each and every night. I don’t know how else to describe it.

Each December, I take a day for myself, and I reflect. I used to use it as time to look back at my journey the past 12 months and venture to dream about the coming 12 months. This year…this year there are no limitations. This year there are no boundaries. This year…the context is different.

Still, I recognize this month for what it is and what it is meant to be. I welcome it and all that comes with it.

Welcome to December…

I just caught wind of a 50,000-word-novel challenge that is due by the end of the month. I think I will be focusing on meeting that challenge. So, I’ll probably take a breather until December. Who knows, though…

I get wrapped up in the artificiality of time, particularly at this time of year. It is so easy to do so. From the Thanksgiving turkeys on sale at the grocery store to the Black Friday tempest of Christmas consumerism to the death knell of this year as next year enters, there are so many cultural queues that reinforce this notion that each day has its place next to the following day and the preceding day. They create a neat little chain of days that stretch back towards Day 1 and continue onward to Day 365. Then, the counter resets, the chain is closed, and a new one beings with another Day 1. It’s like our lives are one giant abacus.

I don’t believe any day is different from the day before. Nor is it different from the next day to come. There is no chain. There is no abacus. There is no calendar. There are no dates. The day and weeks and years mean nothing. Their passing is relative, it is not absolute. There is no objective measuring stick against which we can assess the passage of our lives. The days come in an endless stream of repetition.

We tell ourselves that the changing seasons, the aging of the organisms on this Earth, and the decay of things around us are significant and warrant the structure we impose on our world of form. But these are just lies. They are lies we believe in and that our societies reinforce. They serve no purpose but to organize the world.

Pick a day…any day…and make it Zero Day. Make Zero Day the beginning of your life. Make Zero Day the day you give yourself over to your true purpose, to your true calling. Listen for the voice of God. Listen for the songs of angels. Listen for the harmonic melodies of the Universe in motion. Listen for the quivering of atoms. Listen, listen, listen… And when you hear, mark that day as Zero Day.

From Zero Day forward, make every moment count. From Zero Day, allow the path to your contribution to humanity to unfold. From Zero Day, assume ownership, control, and accountability. If our human brains require that our time on this Earth be structured so as to put our existence into perspective and derive meaning for our lives, then why not have it start on a day of YOUR choosing. Mark THEIR calendars with YOUR Zero Day.

And make every day after that one count more than the one before.

The other day someone told me that we don’t have the luxury of pursuing righteousness (his word) at our jobs. “We get paid,” he said, “to fall in line.”

I’ve been contemplating this for the better part of a week now. I know that he’s right. This is simply the role of management. He is correct in that we do get paid to own and support the company directives. 99 out of 100 times I can align.

Then there’s that 1 time out of the 100.

See, I was born with sentience. Into that sentience some power far greater than me (or my capacity to imagine it) breathed consciousness. Into that consciousness, my parents infused a sense of what is right and what is wrong. Society reinforced it and contradicted it. Experience and maturity honed it into the person that I am today. And the person that I am today is not owned by any other human being. I have free will. This was my birthright. I do not dishonor this birthright by submitting myself to the will of…of anyone. I CHOOSE when I will align and when I will not. In the end, I am accountable only to that power I mentioned before.

I consult with my wife. I consider my family. I seek the guidance of my friends. I listen to the wisdom of my parents. And I exercise my birthright, my free will.

So, no…I disagree with you, my friend…my dear, beloved friend. I have the luxury of pursuing “righteousness”. I have the right and the obligation to pursue righteousness. I will not harp on this any longer. I have said my piece…and made my PEACE.

The only line I am falling into is the line to see “New Moon” with my wife. And it’s a line of my choosing.

Luck isn’t about whether or not good things happen to you, it’s about whether or not you notice the good things that do happen.

Watershed:

1 a : divide 2a b : a region or area bounded peripherally by a divide and draining ultimately to a particular watercourse or body of water

2 : a crucial dividing point, line, or factor : turning point

Perhaps I am being melodramatic, but I feel like this is a watershed moment. A moment when I am making a qualitative decision for my life. Maybe, in the grand scheme of Everything Else, my little moment is insignificant. Maybe it is not.

When I was a kid, my parents used to tell me to stick up for myself. They told me and my brothers that we should always stick up for one another. They called us “The Three Musketeers. I think we all hear such lessons from our parents. I remember my father telling me once when I was a teenager that you have to stand up for the things you believe in. I guess my father could have been the Greatest Yes-Man Who Ever Lived. I guess he could have been the guy who always asked, “How high?!?” when asked to jump. I guess he could have been the one who always offered to get his boss a cup of coffee in a room filled with coffee cups. I guess it’s possible, but I doubt it. Do you know why? Because when my father told me it was important to stand up for yourself, I believed him. I have kids now, so I know how well they see through all my BS. That day, my father believed in what he was telling me, and I believed him.

So, I imagined my children and my wife watching me. I imagined myself with my sons, at some pivotal childhood moment, telling them that you have to stand up for what you believe in or else you’ll eventually forget to believe in anything. I imagined myself telling them that you have to choose your battles and that you’ll know when the time is right to take a stand. I imagined them, in that moment, looking into my eyes, seeking truth.

I am preparing for that moment. I want them to see truth in my eyes. I want my wife to listen in on that conversation and know, in her heart, that the man she married is the man he claims to be.

I’m not there yet, but I’m working on it. One qualitative decision at a time.

This close to 40, I have to say that words of affirmation from my parents are still a powerful salve for just about any wound.

I do not like being placed in a box. I know that someday, I will be placed in a wooden box and lowered 6 feet under. That is the only box that I can accept in my future. Although, it would be far more ecologically sound to just grind me up and mix me into some topsoil. Not compost, mind you, because you’re supposed to leave the meaty, smelly parts out of that. It would be more like real worm food.

Anyway, no boxing me in, please. I don’t like it. I don’t want it. I don’t like to put people into boxes. I recognize that I am human, and, as such, will occasionally default to placing people into boxes unwittingly. Well, there’s also emotionally putting people into boxes. You know, setting up boundaries such that you can avoid creating uncomfortably, potentially ugly conflicts. That’s a different kind of box; it’s the kind that protects you and everyone else involved.

No, the kind of box that I am talking about is the oppressive, restrictive kind. I doubt I am alone in not wanting someone to marginalize me and demand that I conform to the parameters of the box. I don’t like that. And, like I said, I doubt most people do. We say that it’s good to think outside the box, but when we think outside the box in ways that make other people uncomfortable because it’s non-normative, then we come to realize that a lot of other people really don’t want you thinking outside of the box. What they really want is for you to think outside of the box you put yourself into but still stay inside the box THEY put you into.

Does that make sense?

Here’s what I am saying: I will think outside of any and every damn box I wish. I don’t care if it’s my box, your box, his box, her box…I don’t care if it’s the Pope’s box. As my wife has been known to say, “The job of all parents is to set boundaries for their children. The job of all children is to push those boundaries. Wise woman. I’m down with that, sweetheart. You’ve never accused me of being overly grown up.

Don’t get me wrong: I’ll respect anyone’s personal boundary. You have a right to protect yourself from me, if that’s what you feel you need to do. I’m mostly harmless, but I’ve been known to piss off, offend, and alienate all kinds of people. So, feel free to put a box around yourself to keep me out. Just don’t ask me to stay in a box to keep the status quo all comfy and happy.

I won’t stay inside the box.

Maria Montessori began her career as an educator of special needs children.  During this time, she developed a methodology for making breakthroughs with these children based on direct observation and her own experiences with them.  She intuited that if her approach worked with special needs children, then it should logically work for children in the mainstream, as well. 

The first plane in development occurs from birth to age six.  During this time, children are sensorial explorers.  They will often find themselves absorbed with one characteristic in their environment to the exclusion of all others.  

 

The second plan occurs from age six to age twelve.  These children begin to explore the world in abstract concepts rather than depending solely on concrete materials.

 

The third plan occurs from age twelve to age eighteen.  Children this age seek to understand the world and their place in it.

 

The fourth plan occurs from age eighteen to age twenty-four.  As young adults, individuals seek to understand how to contribute fully to their society.  

 

This concept of punctuated development is not unique to Montessori and is prevalent in the fields of education and childhood psychology.  I have found that my understanding of the human experience has grown immensely with some exploration of the Montessori philosophy.  The most important realization I have had is this: actualizing our understanding of how we want to contribute fully to society is pretty much the journey of the rest of our lives. 

As a leader at work, I serve as a temporary guide for the people who choose to invite me on their journey.  I prioritize this trust above all other things.  Outside of the workplace,
this responsibility also holds true for each of us as human beings.  Our journeys are entertwined with the journeys of countless other beings throughout our lifetimes.  The relationships we develop are built on trust, and this trust opens the door to authentic intimacy.  Being entrusted by others to participate in helping them fulfill their life’s purpose is one of the greatest gifts we can receive.  Never take it for granted.  More importantly, do everything in your power to honor that gift.

Act on every opportunity you are given.  It will enrich your life as surely as it enriches the lives of others.