3 tricks for self-editing
7 hours ago
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Life is like..
Forrest Gump (and his mom) once said life is like a box of chocolates. This may be true, but I think life is also like raking leaves from a yard. You get the all the leaves raked up, and then the next morning it's back like it was before.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Failings and Shortcomings
...are all too familiar to me. I think I even try to set myself up for failure, because that's what I'm comfortable with. I am much more comfortable with failure, than success. That scares the heck out of me. I don't think I would know what to do with it. If I really think about it, what scares me the most is falling further. The more successful, the harder the fall. So I'd rather fail, and then I can just give up.
I've failed. I didn't meet my goal of publishing a post every weekend. I wanted to try and see if I could do it, and I didn't. I didn't make it very far. But there was actually another reason I wanted to set a mark that I didn't think I could attain. I kind of wanted to fail. In a good way. I wanted to have something that would be tough, and if I succeeded would be very rewarding, but I also wanted to have something that was tough in order to have a good chance of failing, and getting back on the old horse and keep trudging on. I am really, really good at giving up. I'm not good at getting back up. So I'm getting back up, not giving up on this goal. And though I'm publishing this late, I am publishing this, AND it's before the next weekend. That means I have a chance to keep somewhat on track.
Paul said something about God's grace being perfected in our weakness. I hate weakness (in myself at least). I want my grace being perfected in my perfection. That's not how God wants it to happen though. He wants (and deserves) all the glory. I know I have weaknesses, and so I try my best to not let anyone else know. What I need to be doing is resting in God's grace. Let my weakness show, don't strive to be perfect. To not give up and quit, but instead continue walking. It's hard for God's grace to shine when you shut down at every failure, which is what I normally do. So I'm going to try and not shut down, no matter how much I may want to. I'm going to try and continue through failure, so that God may be glorified when He, ultimately, turns it into His victory. (Something that may help me along this way is lining up my definition of failure with His definition.)
I've failed. I didn't meet my goal of publishing a post every weekend. I wanted to try and see if I could do it, and I didn't. I didn't make it very far. But there was actually another reason I wanted to set a mark that I didn't think I could attain. I kind of wanted to fail. In a good way. I wanted to have something that would be tough, and if I succeeded would be very rewarding, but I also wanted to have something that was tough in order to have a good chance of failing, and getting back on the old horse and keep trudging on. I am really, really good at giving up. I'm not good at getting back up. So I'm getting back up, not giving up on this goal. And though I'm publishing this late, I am publishing this, AND it's before the next weekend. That means I have a chance to keep somewhat on track.
Paul said something about God's grace being perfected in our weakness. I hate weakness (in myself at least). I want my grace being perfected in my perfection. That's not how God wants it to happen though. He wants (and deserves) all the glory. I know I have weaknesses, and so I try my best to not let anyone else know. What I need to be doing is resting in God's grace. Let my weakness show, don't strive to be perfect. To not give up and quit, but instead continue walking. It's hard for God's grace to shine when you shut down at every failure, which is what I normally do. So I'm going to try and not shut down, no matter how much I may want to. I'm going to try and continue through failure, so that God may be glorified when He, ultimately, turns it into His victory. (Something that may help me along this way is lining up my definition of failure with His definition.)
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Hoarders and Hell
Sara and I watched the whole first season of Hoarders in a 48 hour period. She started before I joined her, so she saw a bit more than me. But small details aside, what a fascinating show.
Super super sad, but fascinating.
In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, Hoarders is an hour show on A & E (or in our case, Netflix instant watch on Wii) that follows two people each episode who are diagnosed as "hoarders." The intro to the show tells us compulsive hoarding is a mental disorder marked by an obsessive need to acquire and keep things, even if the items are worthless, hazardous, or unsanitary. The show then sets up an introduction for these two people with a psychiatrist or therapist of some sort, and a team of cleaners ready to help them clean up.
Here's a quick run down of what happens: the subjects spend some time explaining themselves. They say something like how they can't help themselves, but they hate it. They understand that it's not right, yet they can't seem to stop. They then seem to give off the impression of being scared, but optimistic; hopeful for a change. They meet their counselor who tells them they can do this. Change can happen. But the subject is in charge, and nothing will be thrown out that they don't want thrown out. Then they get to it. And the subject starts to get really anxious, and has to go through every little thing. They have a hard time giving up control, deciding on which things to throw out, and parting with a lot of things. Usually they work through it, but it is a slow and painful process.
I think this show is a dead on perfect picture of what Lewis describes as Hell. Which is simply, getting what we think we want. These people have created a god out of not only their items, but their control. They must be in control. I'm afraid to say that I know how that feels, at least on a smaller scale I hope. They are unwilling, in most cases, to allow anyone to throw anything at all away until they have approved. Most times they end up going back through some of the garbage and taking at least one or two items back out. This control, this inability to let things go, has led them to be literally overwhelmed with stuff. You would be amazed that people actually live in these houses. And more often than not it's with someone else, who loves the person, but usually is having a really hard time being committed to that as they drown in crap. The hoarders usually know this too. They know that they are living in a chaotic mess, and they know that it's hurting their loved ones. And they hate it. They hate it. Not enough to stop though. So in reality they love their god of items and control more than anything else on earth. They need this. And when it comes time to throw things away, they realize it. They realize how much more they love it than they hate it. Or more importantly, they realize how much it controls their life. How much life they actually get from it. How much they feel they won't continue to live if they were to allow these things to go. If they were to allow control to go into somebody else's hands. Once again they look to control for their answers, for their hope, and the more they try to gain control themselves, the more it actually goes into the hands of their items. The vicious circle continues.
That's where an outside force that knows what it's doing steps in and shows them a way out. They don't force them. They don't throw stuff away while they're not looking. That never works. Some family member try this technique, and it always ends up making the hoarder try to tighten their control and become more unwilling to let go of things. No, the expert allows the hoarder to retain control, or at least feel in control. They just gently push them and encourage them and show them that there is a way, that they can let go of these things and continue to live. They don't make them. They don't force them. But they give them a chance to get out of Hell, and I think that is beautiful.
Super super sad, but fascinating.
In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, Hoarders is an hour show on A & E (or in our case, Netflix instant watch on Wii) that follows two people each episode who are diagnosed as "hoarders." The intro to the show tells us compulsive hoarding is a mental disorder marked by an obsessive need to acquire and keep things, even if the items are worthless, hazardous, or unsanitary. The show then sets up an introduction for these two people with a psychiatrist or therapist of some sort, and a team of cleaners ready to help them clean up.
Here's a quick run down of what happens: the subjects spend some time explaining themselves. They say something like how they can't help themselves, but they hate it. They understand that it's not right, yet they can't seem to stop. They then seem to give off the impression of being scared, but optimistic; hopeful for a change. They meet their counselor who tells them they can do this. Change can happen. But the subject is in charge, and nothing will be thrown out that they don't want thrown out. Then they get to it. And the subject starts to get really anxious, and has to go through every little thing. They have a hard time giving up control, deciding on which things to throw out, and parting with a lot of things. Usually they work through it, but it is a slow and painful process.
I think this show is a dead on perfect picture of what Lewis describes as Hell. Which is simply, getting what we think we want. These people have created a god out of not only their items, but their control. They must be in control. I'm afraid to say that I know how that feels, at least on a smaller scale I hope. They are unwilling, in most cases, to allow anyone to throw anything at all away until they have approved. Most times they end up going back through some of the garbage and taking at least one or two items back out. This control, this inability to let things go, has led them to be literally overwhelmed with stuff. You would be amazed that people actually live in these houses. And more often than not it's with someone else, who loves the person, but usually is having a really hard time being committed to that as they drown in crap. The hoarders usually know this too. They know that they are living in a chaotic mess, and they know that it's hurting their loved ones. And they hate it. They hate it. Not enough to stop though. So in reality they love their god of items and control more than anything else on earth. They need this. And when it comes time to throw things away, they realize it. They realize how much more they love it than they hate it. Or more importantly, they realize how much it controls their life. How much life they actually get from it. How much they feel they won't continue to live if they were to allow these things to go. If they were to allow control to go into somebody else's hands. Once again they look to control for their answers, for their hope, and the more they try to gain control themselves, the more it actually goes into the hands of their items. The vicious circle continues.
That's where an outside force that knows what it's doing steps in and shows them a way out. They don't force them. They don't throw stuff away while they're not looking. That never works. Some family member try this technique, and it always ends up making the hoarder try to tighten their control and become more unwilling to let go of things. No, the expert allows the hoarder to retain control, or at least feel in control. They just gently push them and encourage them and show them that there is a way, that they can let go of these things and continue to live. They don't make them. They don't force them. But they give them a chance to get out of Hell, and I think that is beautiful.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Fall
Fall has officially arrived here in Oregon. Just one week ago it was getting in the seventies, but now it's crisp and overcast.
Today Sara and I went for a walk out in it, and I was reminded how much I actually enjoy Fall. I know Sara loves it. She says it's her favorite season. She likes the crisp air, kicking up fallen leaves, and all the "pumpkiney" stuff that comes along with fall. She loves pumpkin stuff. Both pumpkins themselves, and pumpkin flavored stuff. I, however, love Summer. All the sun and blue sky. And warmth. It seems all she remembers of Fall is the good stuff, and all I think about it is dreary, constant, gray, overcast wetness. For those of you who haven't been to Oregon, it rains here quite a bit. But more than rain, it's just wet. It's not really rain, but everything somehow is wet, and stays wet. And gray all the time. You can't understand until you come here. It gets pretty depressing. Amongst all that dreariness is a lot of beauty that I tend to forget about, and truly appreciate whenever I encounter it. Like the crispness of the air; the smell of fires in fireplaces; the leaves changing colors and falling, even all that gray wetness can be beautiful at times. Normally I hate that the sun starts setting early, but in the beginning stages of Fall, I even enjoy that. The gray skies are beautiful in their own way in those early evenings, and the rapid darkness forces people to turn on their lights, which to the outsider creates a magical world to look into. There's something so unearthly about light glaring into the darkness. I know it's not as magical when you get inside, but looking into from the darkness it sure does look great. Lewis even commented on this, and the ache for our true home that this creates. Us here in the darkness, looking towards the light and longing to be home and be a part of it.
So it turns out I actually like Fall. A lot. I know after I bit I will be tired and "bored" of it, because I'm a human, and a pretty ungrateful one at that. But also because Fall herself is a part of this fallen world, and she loses her beauty and grows old. I will try my best to seek it out though, and enjoy it while I can, both in the obvious good, and in the seemingly bad, much like I hope to do with this season called my life.
Today Sara and I went for a walk out in it, and I was reminded how much I actually enjoy Fall. I know Sara loves it. She says it's her favorite season. She likes the crisp air, kicking up fallen leaves, and all the "pumpkiney" stuff that comes along with fall. She loves pumpkin stuff. Both pumpkins themselves, and pumpkin flavored stuff. I, however, love Summer. All the sun and blue sky. And warmth. It seems all she remembers of Fall is the good stuff, and all I think about it is dreary, constant, gray, overcast wetness. For those of you who haven't been to Oregon, it rains here quite a bit. But more than rain, it's just wet. It's not really rain, but everything somehow is wet, and stays wet. And gray all the time. You can't understand until you come here. It gets pretty depressing. Amongst all that dreariness is a lot of beauty that I tend to forget about, and truly appreciate whenever I encounter it. Like the crispness of the air; the smell of fires in fireplaces; the leaves changing colors and falling, even all that gray wetness can be beautiful at times. Normally I hate that the sun starts setting early, but in the beginning stages of Fall, I even enjoy that. The gray skies are beautiful in their own way in those early evenings, and the rapid darkness forces people to turn on their lights, which to the outsider creates a magical world to look into. There's something so unearthly about light glaring into the darkness. I know it's not as magical when you get inside, but looking into from the darkness it sure does look great. Lewis even commented on this, and the ache for our true home that this creates. Us here in the darkness, looking towards the light and longing to be home and be a part of it.
So it turns out I actually like Fall. A lot. I know after I bit I will be tired and "bored" of it, because I'm a human, and a pretty ungrateful one at that. But also because Fall herself is a part of this fallen world, and she loses her beauty and grows old. I will try my best to seek it out though, and enjoy it while I can, both in the obvious good, and in the seemingly bad, much like I hope to do with this season called my life.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Commitment: Part 2: Commitment Returns!
~Deep movie announcers voice~
"In a world, full of unmotivated people, Commitment has returned, to kick procrastination's butt, and whip those people into shape, in order bring peace to the minds of blog readers worldwide."
So, as I've said before I don't like commitment, because it has brought me to the place I was afraid it would bring me to. And now here I am Sunday night typing as cheesy a movie sequel tag-line that I can think of at 9:30. Which, if I was in charge of things, would be my bedtime. But I'm not. And commitment is sitting here forcing me to get to it.
I haven't "felt" like writing anything this weekend. Well, mostly just today. Yesterday I was legitimately busy, so I can skate by on that. But today, not as much. I had most of the afternoon available to do productive things, anything, and I didn't. So now it's past 9 at night, and I'm exhausted. But back to feelings. Last week I felt very motivated, very confidant, very energetic. And then I got drained all last week. And had a great day yesterday, but again, draining. So I don't feel like making an emotional and mentally demanding investment in something that, in the grand scheme of things, really isn't that important. Commitment however, told me to get my butt in this chair and start typing. So there you go, week one down. Not a very good post if you at me, but a post nonetheless. I'm going to bed now.
"In a world, full of unmotivated people, Commitment has returned, to kick procrastination's butt, and whip those people into shape, in order bring peace to the minds of blog readers worldwide."
So, as I've said before I don't like commitment, because it has brought me to the place I was afraid it would bring me to. And now here I am Sunday night typing as cheesy a movie sequel tag-line that I can think of at 9:30. Which, if I was in charge of things, would be my bedtime. But I'm not. And commitment is sitting here forcing me to get to it.
I haven't "felt" like writing anything this weekend. Well, mostly just today. Yesterday I was legitimately busy, so I can skate by on that. But today, not as much. I had most of the afternoon available to do productive things, anything, and I didn't. So now it's past 9 at night, and I'm exhausted. But back to feelings. Last week I felt very motivated, very confidant, very energetic. And then I got drained all last week. And had a great day yesterday, but again, draining. So I don't feel like making an emotional and mentally demanding investment in something that, in the grand scheme of things, really isn't that important. Commitment however, told me to get my butt in this chair and start typing. So there you go, week one down. Not a very good post if you at me, but a post nonetheless. I'm going to bed now.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Commitment
I don't like it. And yet it keeps running into me and forcing me down to the ground. Or maybe I keep seeking it out trying to conquer my fear of it. If I'm honest, it's more of the latter. I still don't have to like it.
So here I am committing again. Something I am afraid of doing. So maybe I will make it a small commitment. For the rest of the year (that's only three and a half months or so) I'm going to commit to posting something every Saturday or Sunday. I want to make this commitment, because I want to see if I can do it. I would like to get better at writing, and I believe the more I do it, the better I get. And if I make a commitment to do it, and I make it public like this (although I'm doubtful very many, if anybody, is keeping track) that will force me to keep writing. So there you go, as soon as I hit the publish button, commitment made.
While we're on the topic of commitment, maybe I could delve into what I don't like about it. Failing. That's what I don't like about it. If I commit to something, that means I need to do it. Now the reason why I wouldn't want to do something most often lines up with my fear of not being able to do said thing well, or to be brutally honest, perfect. Because I'm a bit of a perfectionist. My wife may say a big bit. My family members may agree with her, because we're all Morgans. To do something means you might fail, and to commit to doing something means you might failing doing it, or you might fail the commitment by not doing it. So you're forced into risking a failure either way you go. Which I hate. So I hate commitment, unless I'm absolutely sure. There's the second thing I hate about commitment. I'm unsure of the future. Committing to something means I have to go down that path no matter what the future holds, and I may or may not want to be down that path when the future gets here. Which ties back in with the overwhelming desire to be sure before I commit to something.
To summarize: I like to play God. I like to be in control. Things need to happen how I see them fit, and yet I recognize that that is not how it's going to be, and so I am afraid. I am afraid of not being in control. And I'm trying to work on that. I recognize that this isn't right. Which brings me face to face with commitment. Surrendering my control of the future, acknowledging my imperfections, (and accepting that God will be more glorified through them, than me being perfect) I make this, albeit small, commitment.
So here I am committing again. Something I am afraid of doing. So maybe I will make it a small commitment. For the rest of the year (that's only three and a half months or so) I'm going to commit to posting something every Saturday or Sunday. I want to make this commitment, because I want to see if I can do it. I would like to get better at writing, and I believe the more I do it, the better I get. And if I make a commitment to do it, and I make it public like this (although I'm doubtful very many, if anybody, is keeping track) that will force me to keep writing. So there you go, as soon as I hit the publish button, commitment made.
While we're on the topic of commitment, maybe I could delve into what I don't like about it. Failing. That's what I don't like about it. If I commit to something, that means I need to do it. Now the reason why I wouldn't want to do something most often lines up with my fear of not being able to do said thing well, or to be brutally honest, perfect. Because I'm a bit of a perfectionist. My wife may say a big bit. My family members may agree with her, because we're all Morgans. To do something means you might fail, and to commit to doing something means you might failing doing it, or you might fail the commitment by not doing it. So you're forced into risking a failure either way you go. Which I hate. So I hate commitment, unless I'm absolutely sure. There's the second thing I hate about commitment. I'm unsure of the future. Committing to something means I have to go down that path no matter what the future holds, and I may or may not want to be down that path when the future gets here. Which ties back in with the overwhelming desire to be sure before I commit to something.
To summarize: I like to play God. I like to be in control. Things need to happen how I see them fit, and yet I recognize that that is not how it's going to be, and so I am afraid. I am afraid of not being in control. And I'm trying to work on that. I recognize that this isn't right. Which brings me face to face with commitment. Surrendering my control of the future, acknowledging my imperfections, (and accepting that God will be more glorified through them, than me being perfect) I make this, albeit small, commitment.
Friday, February 12, 2010
How He loves...
"We are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes,
If His grace is an ocean we're all sinking;
And Heaven meets Earth like an unforeseen kiss,
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest,
I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about, the way, that
He loves us, O, how He loves us, O, how He loves us, O, how He loves."
Regrets. I have a few. Well, more than a few. I have a lot of regrets. I pretty much screwed up my life several years ago, and I just have not been able to live with that. Things have kind of worked out. Well, more than worked out. I have a great family, good friends, a fantastic wife, and now a beautiful house/home. Everything around me is great, just not me. How do we live with, or get past regrets? They have become an every day, every hour, almost every minute part of my day. And they keep adding up. They affect my relationships, and confidence, and quality of life. The exponential power they have over me is truly overwhelming.
Grace is something that I am drawn to and repelled by at the same time. I love it. But I can't seem to just accept it. I keep trying my best. Ganbatte! And of course, my best seems to fall far short of what I think it should be. I can't seem to escape it though. Grace that is. It has invaded my life with blessings that I most definitely do not deserve. I've done my best to screw up my life, and succeeded in many ways, yet things have seemed to turn out ok. I do not regret marrying my wife. I do not regret purchasing this house. I do not regret where I am now, I just regret who I am. Many people say I don't have regrets, because if my past hadn't happened I wouldn't be where I am, or I wouldn't have meet the love of my life. Sure. But what I regret is not how things have ended up, but how I've ended up. I want to be a better man, and husband to my wife. I want to be a better man, son, and brother to my family. I want to be a better man and fellow citizen to my community. Right now I don't feel sufficient for any of those things. I feel very broken, and unable to allow myself to be fixed.
Logically I understand that Grace doesn't care about the past, and I can move on. But practically I seem unable to do so. I hope that this might be a part of the process.
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes,
If His grace is an ocean we're all sinking;
And Heaven meets Earth like an unforeseen kiss,
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest,
I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about, the way, that
He loves us, O, how He loves us, O, how He loves us, O, how He loves."
Regrets. I have a few. Well, more than a few. I have a lot of regrets. I pretty much screwed up my life several years ago, and I just have not been able to live with that. Things have kind of worked out. Well, more than worked out. I have a great family, good friends, a fantastic wife, and now a beautiful house/home. Everything around me is great, just not me. How do we live with, or get past regrets? They have become an every day, every hour, almost every minute part of my day. And they keep adding up. They affect my relationships, and confidence, and quality of life. The exponential power they have over me is truly overwhelming.
Grace is something that I am drawn to and repelled by at the same time. I love it. But I can't seem to just accept it. I keep trying my best. Ganbatte! And of course, my best seems to fall far short of what I think it should be. I can't seem to escape it though. Grace that is. It has invaded my life with blessings that I most definitely do not deserve. I've done my best to screw up my life, and succeeded in many ways, yet things have seemed to turn out ok. I do not regret marrying my wife. I do not regret purchasing this house. I do not regret where I am now, I just regret who I am. Many people say I don't have regrets, because if my past hadn't happened I wouldn't be where I am, or I wouldn't have meet the love of my life. Sure. But what I regret is not how things have ended up, but how I've ended up. I want to be a better man, and husband to my wife. I want to be a better man, son, and brother to my family. I want to be a better man and fellow citizen to my community. Right now I don't feel sufficient for any of those things. I feel very broken, and unable to allow myself to be fixed.
Logically I understand that Grace doesn't care about the past, and I can move on. But practically I seem unable to do so. I hope that this might be a part of the process.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
The Thin Line Between Love and Hate
Failure. I hate it. I'm tired of tasting it, and don't even want to risk it anymore it seems. You can't fail if you don't try. Something inside me screams this is absolutely not the right way to think, but my life and attitude disagree. I hate failure more than I love success, or even true peace. I love a false peace/comfort more than I love rightness. I hate failure. It's taste is disgusting, it's weight unbearable, and I refuse to allow anyone else to carry it. I hate the scent of my failure so much, I cannot stand to be near it. Flee from any hint of it whenever I can. And yet I revel in the heaps of my past failures, unable to let them go, surrounding myself and my decisions with them, so much so that you would not think that I hate failure, but instead love it. I bathe in it, drinking it and pouring it all over me. I deserve this. This is my reward for the long battle fought and lost. A victor may get to bathe in sweet success, but I get to bathe in the steaming rot of my failure, and no one can take that reward from me. Especially not freely.
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