Say "No" to the culture of negativity

that seems to characterize us! I'm currently at a conference where I was presented with the following: psychologist Martin Seligman reviewed the history of American Psychological Association research abstracts from 1967 - 2000. The subjects of the research broke down:

• 4484—Anger
• 44,416—Anxiety
• 54,040—Depression
• 415—Joy
• 1710—Happiness
• 2582—Life Satisfaction

That's a ratio of 21:1, negative to positive life situations/emotions. 21 to 1! The conference presenters asserted as well that our language presents a similar lean-to-the-negative.

So, where does this come from? Is it some remnant of a fear-based culture where, if we don't keep from offending the gods, we'll be thrown into a volcano? And isn't it counter-productive, this focus on the negative? I remember learning, as a graduate student, that medieval "Penitentials" (the manuals priests would use to assign appropriate penances to sinners) were often more suggestive to the penitent: 'Well, my child, have you done XXX?" "No, Father" . . . (but that sure sounds like fun!).

I'm not saying we don't need laws. Most of us recognize that we need laws to help keep people from doing bad, or anti-social, things (so what was with those early Israelites that they were NOT honoring their father and mother?). But if our culture/society is so negatively-based, aren't we creating a negative atmosphere? Perpetuating a culture of fear? Which creates a "hunker-down" mentality.

It's a challenge. I try to keep this idea before me (I've thought about this for some time -- the statistics just made it more urgent): "Can I express my ideas with positive language, rather than negative?" It's not easy!! We seem to be conditioned to be negative. But, if we focus on the positive, we're more likely to get what we want. Working towards something is easier (and more satisfying) than refraining from something.

Try it for a while-couching things in the positive, and let me know how it goes!

Blessings,

Gary

Intentional Industrial Interbeing

I often give myself a little "attention task of the day". Sometimes it's something like being especially attentive to feelings that may be behind someone's words. It may be going for a walk and watching for bugs. It could be watching clouds and figuring out what they look like. I find that these kinds of "attention tasks" get me out of my rational, logical focus. They are a change of pace; they force me to look differently.

Yesterday, I knew I was going to spend some time on the light-rail. So I set, as my "attention-task" to look out the window and see if I could discern the presence of the Divine. Now I've done this before -- but not from a light-rail seat. Usually its on a walk in nature, and I can hear birds singing, and see flowers, and feel the wind rush. Perfect for "watching for God."

The section of light-rail, however, that I was traveling was anything but scenic. (For those of you Denverites, it was the stretch on the southwest line from Littleton to Denver, pretty much along Santa Fe Drive.) On either side of the light-rail are rail-road tracks, busy street, light industry, junk-yards, apartment buildings, some office building, broken-down houses, etc. In short, a pretty urban landscape. And I began to wonder WHY in the world I had set THAT particular "attention task".

But, being a task-oriented guy, I decided to stick it out. And what began to occur to me was the vast mixture of things I was seeing . . . all of which, in some way or another, contributed to the life of the city -- to my life. There was a dairy (not the one pictured above!), with delivery trucks: milk to my home. There was a construction yard, with equipment to repair roads, FOR the delivery trucks to get the milk to my home. There were sign companies, advertising the dairy, accounting firms to keep their books. Almost everything I saw could be interlinked with something else, a vast web of enterprise that most of us don't see at all. And some of it came down to ME.

And I was reminded of the concept of "inter-being" about which Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh has written so much. Briefly, the concept goes, if I examine anything closely enough, I'll see that eventually the whole world--including me-- is contained in it. And, for someone who confesses that there is a God, I would have to take the concept a bit further and say that God ultimately is present too, in whatever I'm examining. So, in that interconnected web of industry, humans were being served in many different ways-often quite unaware of it all.

I got out of the light-rail car breathing a prayer of thanksgiving.

Blessings,

Gary

A Cyclist's Holy Day

Last Wednesday (June 23) was Denver's Bike to Work Day. For a variety of reasons, it was the first opportunity I'd had to participate in the event since moving to Colorado three years ago. It was a regular observance for me in California; it happened there during national Bike to Work Week, the third week of May. Of course, it took a bit of getting used to, this change in time. But I reconciled myself to the fact that I'd changed calendars -- kind of like from the Julian to the Gregorian. The "festival" was the same, just on a different day.

The festival was the same: ensure that I have work clothes, but also cycling gear (distinctive garb: helmet, shoes, maybe spandex); find a breakfast station or two (and partake of the sacred meal -- bagel, burrito, whatever); wave at the other cycle-commuters (acknowledging our membership in a select community); arrive at work and re-enter the world of "regular" people. It is almost a religious rite! And, given that it occurs on the same day every year (even if the day is different in different locales), it takes on, somewhat, the nature of a holy day for those in the community. Those of us "devotees" are happy to support neophytes, offering suggestions and encouragement. A similar phenomenon occurs for many cyclists as they anticipate their favorite annual charity rides or races. We begin to pattern our lives a bit around these sacred times: we make arrangements to be away from home or job, we set aside time for training, etc. And the sacred times begin to form us: we become stronger, other activities (or some foods) no longer attract us, etc..

I'm sure the same is true for other athletes, or even spectators. We're surrounded by examples: the four-year cycles of World Cup, Olympics, Winter Olympics; the annual cycles of various sports championships and tournaments; Opening Day in baseball; gosh, even the Westminster Dog Show or the Western National Stock Show (the end of which signifies, in Denver, the time to take down Christmas lights, I'm told). And all of this is clearly generalizable. Time forms us all, provides structure and meaning (e.g., 7:00 am means breakfast; 9:00 pm means the kiddos go to bed; January 1st means we start over again; etc.). Sacred time forms us in a different way, providing opportunities for community-building, challenge, celebration, contemplation, and change.

What I've found is that my religious tradition's cycle of feasts and fasts, as well as my sport's training rides and centuries, help me remain grounded. They renew me; they help provide hope. I've found, too, that daily practice of both provides a foundation for those more widely-spaced events. No big surprise here; all of the world's religious traditions suggest some form of daily devotion. The message is the same all over: practice, practice, practice! And it becomes easier and more meaningful as time goes on.

Bike to Work Day is a festival. One that invites new people to experience the joy (and relative ease) of bicycle commuting. It encourages continual, daily, practice -- a practice that leads to health and well-being. It's a wonderful metaphor of other sacred practices. AND, they're good for you AND the planet!

Blessings,

Gary

That's commitment!

That's commitment!

I've been asked several times over the last few days why I'm not participating in the "Ride the Rockies". I could say "I didn't win the ticket lottery", and ease out of it that way. But the truth is that I'm conflicted about my commitments. Those who can take a week off from many responsibilities for this epic ride (the most difficult, it's reported, in its 25 year history) are indeed blessed by either much leisure time, or by an incredible support system, or both. I am NOT blessed with much leisure time; I DO have, however, an incredible support system, one to which I'm very committed. And I choose not to impose on it very often. (I did, however, impose on it in 2005 when I rode from San Francisco to Los Angeles in the AIDS LIfe Cycle 4 -- my ride of a lifetime!)

So, as I mentioned at the outset, I'm conflicted about my commitments. And I imagine that the riders pictured in the Denver Post were wondering about THEIR commitment to the ride on that first day when hit with a monumental hail storm, and then, in recent days with strong winds coupled with massive climbs. Yet, by all reports, riders are sticking to it, if necessary making use of SAG wagons (that's either "support and gear" or "stop and go") when their legs give out, in order to get to the next stopping point. They are committed to the experience, to enduring, to the goal of completing the journey.

How DO we deal with conflicting commitments? I remember reading in one of Stephen Covey's books (I think it was First Things First) that when faced with two compelling alternatives, the person(s) you turn down are more likely to understand when they know that your rejection is grounded in a STRONG "Yes" to the alternative. Saying "I just don't feel like it" won't get us much sympathy. So, for me to say that I'm not doing "Ride the Rockies" because of my commitment to my family (which is true) is a heck of a lot more compelling than "I couldn't get in shape" (lack of commitment), or "I couldn't find the time" (lack of commitment), or "I lost the lottery" (a double lie: I didn't enter so I couldn't lose!).

A question about something like "Ride the Rockies", however, is one thing. A question about a larger moral/ethical commitment is something else. Faced with a conflict between speaking up about injustice (when it may be unpopular to do so) or giving witness to values based on religious belief (which may be equally unpopular, if not just uncomfortable) may end up coming out like "I just don't believe it's right". It may be true, but where's the big "YES" to that ultimate commitment that may help the other person(s) understand who we really are?

It was popular some years ago to ask "Well, you can talk the talk, but can you walk the walk?" I have begun to wonder how much I simply "walk the walk", but, by not "talking the talk", avoid showing where my commitments are grounded ,e.g., "As a disciple of Jesus, I . . ." or equally, "As a Buddhist, I . . ." or "In submission to Allah, I . . .". I wonder what kinds of interesting conversations I've missed?

Blessings,

Gary