The Caring Catalyst

Who Cares - What Matters

WE ALL LIVE (IN THE SAME HOUSE)

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Melanie DeMore and friends bring us a much needed reminder on the July 8th. . .no longer Independence Day holiday but. . .

Actually, it’s a much needed reminder for anybody, anytime, anywhere.

Melanie based her lyrics on these words from the late John Lewis, one of my personal heroes:

“We all live in the same house, we all must be part of the effort to hold down our little house. When you see something that is not right, not fair, not just . . . do something about it. Say something. Have the courage. Have the backbone. Get in the way. Walk with the wind. It’s all going to work out.”

And . . .

“Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.”


WE ALL LIVE IN THE SAME HOUSE
Melanie DeMore

We all live, we all live
We all live in the same house
We all live, we all live
We all live in the same house

Make some good, good trouble
Keep on movin' ahead
Make some good, good trouble
Don't let anything hold you back!

Good trouble, necessary trouble
Hmmmm, keep goin'
Good trouble, necessary trouble
Don't let anything hold you back!

(My thanks to Melanie DeMore, VocalEssence Chorus, Ensemble Singers, Singers Of This Age, and Vintage Voices.)

WE ALL LIVE IN THE SAME HOUSE
BE CARING CATALYST ENOUGH
TO MAKE EVERYONE FEEL WELCOMED

YOUR DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE

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               DO  YOU  HAVE  ONE?

Do   you   have   a   Personal
DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE ?

Would you even consider writing one especially now that the 4th of July has come and gone as we begin the race to back-to-school sales and Labor Day

in between picnics

in between family gatherings

in between the parties/the outings/

in between the FIREWORKS

Well.          .          .

may be it’s time

HIGH TIME

that you

Write Your Personal Declaration of Independence

“The beginning and the end reach out their hands to each other.” —Chinese proverb

I know it’s may well be past the 1/2
NEW YEAR MARK

B          U          T

Why  Wait?
BESIDES.        .        .
WHO HASN’T YET WISHED 2023
A  W  A  Y.            .           .

WHY NOT CLAIM A REALLY NEW YEAR AS YOU DECLARE YOUR OWN PERSONAL
DECLARATION  OF  INDEPENDENCE

Here’s something to think about to really bring that spirit of freedom home to your own heart:
                              What will you declare YOUR independence from today?

What’s the tyrant that is holding you back from being all you can be?
Is it a not-so-healthy habit you want to let go of?
A stifling job?
A toxic relationship?
Someone who is pushing you in a direction that isn’t right for you?
Is it your need to always be right when interacting with others?
Constantly living in the past or blaming yourself for situations that aren’t totally under your control?
Or the debilitating habit of saying yes to everyone else instead of drawing boundaries and saying yes yourself?

What will you declare your independence from today?

It’s an important question that deserves some deep contemplation and, even better, a written commitment where you sign on the dotted line. Think of this as creating your own personal Independence Day—the day you vow to cut the tie, the day you declare your liberation from whatever or whomever is crushing that part of you that wants to fly.

Tips for writing your personal Declaration of Independence:

  • Be honest with yourself: Name something (or someone) that is holding you back from fully being yourself.
  • Write out your personal Declaration of Independence from this inner or outer tyrant with firm commitment and passion.
  • In your declaration, state exactly what you are committing to be free from and why this is important to you. What will you be able to accomplish by liberating yourself from this yoke?
  • You can also write that you are inviting and welcoming into your life all the support (physical, emotional, and/or spiritual) that you need to stick to your pledge of freedom.
  • Then write down the specific actions you will commit to in order to see this through to the finish.
  • Date and sign your declaration.

This can be the start of a new thrust for you, especially when you see this declaration as a pledge—a promise to yourself that you will choose to cut yourself free from the negative habit or toxic tie because it is dragging you down—even smothering you—rather than raising you up.  Sure, it might take some work.  But the commitment, in tangible form, is the essential first step.

The Scottish mountaineer W. H. Murray once wrote: “The moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way.”

Sounds like a
NEW YEAR’S DAY
or better still, a true
DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE DAY,
huh?

Commit to your freedom today from one key thing that isn’t helping you thrive. See how it feels, and see what happens next. A new beginning is waiting for you.

And truly just don’t let the
F  I  R  E  W  O  R  K  S        B  E  G  I  N.          .          .

I   N   S   U   R   E
They
will
N     E     V     E     R           E  N  D !

JUST A MOMENT: WHAT MAKES YOUR FLAG UNFURL

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It really is more than just a question, and absolutely more than just a passing phrase or thought.          .          .

What makes your flag unfurl, unfold, and flap in the wind?  Some would say ferociously, that we have never been more apart, more divided as THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA than we are right now.  But history proves that’s not true; even in the beginning when we were fighting for our independence, SHOCKER: NOT everybody was on the same page, but the best thing about not being on the same page is that seldom, I mean, so seldom do we recognize that, though we may not be on the same page, we undeniably are in the same book.

So forget about reading what was and putting down what is, let’s continue to work even in our own ways, divided as we may be, to what can be and may be so.  .  .EVEN ON THIS JULY 4th EVE

L  E  T  ‘  S  

LET’S 
LET OUR PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE
BE A PLEDGE OF MAKING US ALL A LITTLE BIT BETTER
E S P E C I A L L Y
IF WE 
AGREE
TO 
DISAGREE

GETTING CARING CATALYST’D

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CAN YOU REMEMBER
THE LAST TIME SOMEONE WAS
A CARING CATALYST
TO YOU.            .            .            ?

I’ve been reading Parker Palmer since my Seminary days back in the late 70’s but never this piece:

[Before the internet, “War and Peace” was regarded as a long book at 1,200 pages. Today, many regard a 900-word story like this one as “too long to read,” especially for a blog, but I’m posting it anyway because it’s a story I’ll never forget, it’s about trusting and caring for one another, and we need a lot more of that.]

Ever have a bad dream where you’ve gone to a meeting in a strange city, and when it’s time to drive home you can’t find your car? That happened to me last week—not in a dream but in real life! To cut to the chase, I got “lost” not because I’m getting addled but because I got bad info and bad guidance about this city’s welter of parking garages. So the story begins with me looking for my car in the wrong garage…

I walked around in this massive five-story parking ramp for 15 minutes before I realized I needed help. I tried to hail the next two cars that came by, both SUVs, both driven by white men age 40 or so. They saw me, but they blew on by without slowing down. Then I saw a slight Hispanic woman in her late 20s about to get into her car.

“Excuse me,” I said from a distance, “I hate to bother you, but I need help. I can’t find my car.” Immediately she turned around and said, “I understand. This place is so confusing, and all the downtown garages look alike.” Walking toward me, she said, “Let me see your parking ticket.” She studied it for a while, then said, “I can’t figure this out. But I know some folks who work here. I’ll go upstairs and find someone who can help you. Just wait here.”

After about 15 minutes, this Angel returned with a black woman who works for the parking authority, a take-charge woman of about 35 who quickly sized up the problem: “You’re in the wrong garage,” she said. “I just got off work, and I’m going to take you where you need to be. It’s not easy to find.” I expressed my deep gratitude to Angels #1 and #2, and as the first one drove away, the second Angel said “Follow me.” We headed out, and soon found ourselves walking into the start of a sudden and ferocious storm, with rain and winds gusting up to 60 mph.

We walked for a while in a hilly part of downtown, bracing ourselves against the wind and increasingly fierce rain. After about 10 minutes of this, Angel #2 saw that this 85 year-old white guy was having some trouble catching his breath. She grabbed my arm to help steady me and said, “Let’s get to that restaurant at the top of this hill. You can shelter there while I find your car and bring it back here. All I need are your keys and your parking ticket.”

The restaurant manager, a white man age 50 or so, was out front watching the storm come in—he said I was welcome to wait inside. I thanked him, then turned to Angel #2, saying “Here are my car keys and my parking ticket. Thank you so, so much.” She went on her way and I went into the restaurant as the storm wind and the rain intensified, grateful for the rest.

I had waited maybe 20 minutes when the manager came over to me. “No sign of your car yet?” “Still waiting,” I said. He looked at me through narrowed eyes and said, “Did you give her your car keys?” “Yes,” I said, “and my parking ticket, too.” He shook his head slightly, said nothing, but the look on his face as he walked away said “Sucker.”

My wait continued while the rain came down. A very long twenty minutes later, I saw my car pull up in front of the restaurant. I ran out into the rain shouting “Thank you! Thank you!” to Angel #2, my arms wide open. She got out of the car with a big grin on her face, saying, “Have a great evening!” Then we both started laughing almost uncontrollably.

We were getting drenched, but I was not done. I told her again how deeply grateful I was and praised her generosity. Then I emptied my wallet ($80) and said, “I know you didn’t do this for money. But you’ve been so very generous, please let me thank you this way, too.” She tried to refuse the money, still laughing, saying “No, no, this was not about money!” But I persisted, and finally she took the bills I was trying to put in her hand.

Then she said words I will never forget: “Do you know what’s most meaningful to me about all this?” I looked at her expectantly… “What means the most,” she replied, “is that you trusted me.”

I don’t know if she could tell that the raindrops on my face had been joined by tears…

We parted with more laughter and a little fist-bump, then went our separate ways. Later that night, I got home not only with my car but with a story I’ll treasure for the rest of my life.

The next time some fascist fool tells me that people of color are “poisoning the blood of America,” I know what I’ll say: “You’re wrong about that. What’s poisoning this country is people like you. Feel free to live your cramped, fearful life if you’d like, but we’re not going to let you diminish life for the rest of us.”

Pass the word! And when you can, practice random acts of caring and random acts of trust. We’ll all be the richer for it.
When was the last time SomeOne was a true Caring Catalyst to you or…
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WERE A TRUE CARING CATALYST FOR ANOTHER.                  .                  .

Psssssssssssssssssssst.          .          .if you’ve waited another second or for just the right time,  for the right person, you’ve waited much too long!

JUST A MOMENT: THE TRASH CAN SYNDROME

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Usually, in less than just a moment, we already identify it in us, don’t we? This is trash. This is a treasure; which leads us to that classic cliché:  “One person’s trash is another person’s treasure. And also, well.     .     .one person’s treasure may be another person’s trash, so maybe this is the question that we have to ask ourselves we so often do without verbalizing it in just a moment:  What if you trashed the treasure in other people as they to treat you like trash?  We all have the capacity to be talking dumpsters but that shouldn’t give us the free license to actually be that way.

We also have the capability to be these elaborate shelves.  It could really be what’s on our shelf maybe does belong in a trashcan

and there’s so much of what we have trashed that maybe doesn’t belong back on the shelf but shared with others as a treasure;

the treasure of a treasure that it is
IN JUST A MOMENT

EVERYTHING THAT WAS BROKEN

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Mary Jane Oliver was an American poet who won the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize. Her work is inspired by nature, rather than the human world, stemming from her lifelong passion for solitary walks in the wild. It is characterized by a sincere wonderment at the impact of natural imagery, conveyed in unadorned language. In 2007, she was declared to be the country’s best-selling poet.

Everything that was broken has
forgotten its brokenness. I live
now in a sky-house, through every
window the sun. Also your presence.
Our touching, our stories. Earthy
and holy both. How can this be, but
it is. Every day has something in it
whose name is Forever.

This poem by Mary Oliver expresses a sense of profound healing and renewal. The speaker reflects on a state where all the past brokenness has been left behind, and now they reside in a sky-house, symbolizing a higher, expansive perspective. Through every window of this sky-house, they witness the sun’s presence and feel the presence of someone dear (presumably a loved one). The poem highlights the significance of connection and touch, as well as the power of personal stories. The speaker finds both earthly and sacred qualities in these connections. Despite the wonderment and disbelief, the poem emphasizes that this state of renewal and eternity is indeed present in everyday life, in the form of moments that carry a sense of foreverness.

I have read this poem like a sacred psalm hundreds of times but I experienced it so powerfully differently when I heard it READ TO ME like this; there’s an ache in the reader’s voice that makes you feel your own brokenness but not in a rough, jagged way so much as feeling the stitches on a smooth baseball that was given to you by your favorite player as a gift more than just some souvenir to be put up on Ebay someday after your passing when no one really wants what was once special to you.
A little over a year ago, I was at conference at The Gathering Place where I was scheduled to speak last on the program that day.  I was there, sitting in the back of the room listening to a speaker talk about our own grief and grieving and how it often leaves us feeling BROKEN; this poem of Mary Oliver’s came to mind as did these words right before I spoke.  I used them as a conclusion to the presentation I gave: HOLDING SPACE–WALKING EACH OTHER HOME:

PROTECTED PRESENCE

I’m Broken
and I’ve lost a lot of my pieces
I don’t exactly remember when I
Humpty-Dumptied if off the wall
No recollection of all the Kings men
and all of the horses they rode in on
But I know. . .ohhh how I know
How I’ve not been put back together again
and when you dare to
provide protective presence
and choose to hold me
It’s not so much of an Embrace
as a specific piece that never existed
You’ve brought to me
A wholeness I’ve not known
but now never want to forget
or ever want to be without
BROKEN PIECES
PLAY A SYMPHONY ALL OF THEIR OWN
LISTEN
(or better still, bring your broken piece and play along)

SOUL SEEPINGS

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Our Soul’s and everything that’s sacredly in them always need to be free and untethered not so much that they can fly about willy-nilly but to continue to create what seems to be timelessly re-created in them;

SOUL SEEPINGS

Of course
there’s testing to be done
samples to be taken
cross matches to be completed
intentions to be discussed
therapies to be administered
advanced medical knowledge to be applied
scientific discoveries to be utilized
None of it
All of it
necessary or unnecessary
to these Soul Seepings
that come from places
not yet dreamed
never to be understood
but known 
like a familiar place that needs no lighting
for steps that know the way in the dark
all so intimately known
and at best shared
Whatever seeps from the Soul outshines any rays of light refusing to be hidden.          .          .
but if you don’t look
but if you don’t see
it doesn’t much matter.          .          .

JUST A MOMENT: SMASHED CAKES STILL TASTE SWEET

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In just a moment, you can experience more than any words or any dictionary that holds words and all other definitions will ever be able to explain. So what? So what that even a smashed cake holds sweetness and that whatever for better for worse, for richer and poorer, in sickness and in health can ever mean,  that you ever hope that it can mean, far exceeds whatever death can part.

Psssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst:
It’s not a secret:
EVEN A SMASHED-BETTER-THROW-IT-AWAY-KIND-OF-CAKE
tastes sweet, if you dare taste it
Here’s hoping you
D A R E
in Just A Moment
to take in a sweetness
that begs you not to ignore

UnSmothered Love

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The line has stuck with me for well over

T W E N T Y     Y E A R S.     .     .

and I suspect for the rest of my life as a father;

Did you hear it?

Is it one of your favorite lines, too,

in the SHADOW  OF  FATHER’S  DAY.          .          .

“YOUR   FLAWS   AS   A   SON   ARE   MY   FAILURES   AS   A   FATHER.”

S E R I O U S L Y:

Have you ever thought,

“IF I WAS A BETTER PARENT,
maybe my children would be better,
not suffered as much”

Yes, I have suffered many little deaths
along the way as any dad would/does.     .       .      
Children always have a way of ripping your heart out
without a scalpel and tramping  
on your aorta;
watching it as flutters,
sputters blood
and seamlessly stops beating
by either what they say/do
or don’t say or do.      .     .
But my father’s heart has never stopped loving,
never stop caring,
never stop giving,
never stopped worrying,
and I believe it’s what makes me who I am
and who I want to continue to be.           .          .
It’s hard work;
it’s an endless job
from which I will never retire
and of which I will never seek to do so.         .          .

Now for that
MISSING PIECE. . .
completing 
t h a t
puzzle of
UnSMOTHERED
L O V E
and in the meantime, 
still very much in the shadow of Father’s Day
I’m beyond grateful for 
Oliva, Gina, Angie, Zoe and Connor 
MAKING this Father
a much better 
DAD

ARE YOU AN ELEVATOR?

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I recently read a short little blurb from Lou Hecker that I’ll now share with you:

I’ve been thinking about “elevators” — the people who help us get to the next level in our professions and our lives.  This was prompted by a nice piece in the New York Times about Al Horford — a professional basketball player with the Boston Celtics and a former player here in Gainesville for the Florida Gators.  At age 38 (when MOST players are long retired) . Horford is still very much a contributor for his team — one on which some players are close to half his age.  He credits Tom Brady, the former NFL quarterback who told him how he lasted so long as a pro…Duke Werner, a strength and conditioning coach at the University of Florida, who taught him about injury prevention…LeBron James (one year older than Horford) who gave him some ideas about longevity in sports…and even the professional cook who has prepared meals for him for the last ten years!

So are YOU an ELEVATOR. OR, are you just some random pusher of buttons that’ll never knowingly take people DOWN or UP without ever really knowing which way for sure?

Come on, as Caring Catalysts in our own ways, we possess the power to always take Another up another level they never knew existed, but one of the hugest questions of all, person by person, situation by situation is:
WILL WE?


We all need a LIFT, Right
WE CAN ALL BE A LIFT,
Right.             .             .            ?

 

Professional Speaker, Author, Assurance Man