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Playing buttons

I played, “buttons” for nearly an hour today in an ever evolving game whose rules developed along the way. It all started with a cup filled with white buttons of all sizes and a little girl who thrives on competition (her dad might have something to do with that). We went from stacking them, to tossing them into the bowl, to something kind of like dominoes and even if I couldn’t totally keep up with the evolutions, her imagination was hard at work constantly creating and recreating a game that we could play together and which she could win (This last part was important because it was okay for me to win as long as she won too, but not okay if she didn’t also win. For another parent this might be an issue, but for me I like that she wants to win). Watching her create was a joy. It was as if you could see the creative fire of invention dancing in her eyes, the neuro-synapses igniting as a new thought occurred and a new rule was formed out of the way things were progressing or in response to one of my questions. We even had to start over several times because she saw that it could work better in a different way (or maybe because it seemed she wasn’t winning, we’ll never know).

I often marvel at the creative potential that I believe exists in all of us and I worry sometimes that it can be dampened by life or suppressed by circumstance, but I don’t believe it can ever really be taken away even if sometimes we find it harder to tap into. What we all need are chances to take a cup full of buttons and create. The act creation is made even better when you can share it with someone (like a dad) who will play along without judgment and we have just as much responsibility to offer that room to create to others as we do to create ourselves. I never want to be the reason someone else fails to reach their creative potential. An hour on the floor with my three old inventing a game is a gift to me and I think we all need a mindset that can see that as not a waste of time, but rather perhaps the best use of time we could have. We should play buttons more often. You never know what spark may ignite when you let creativity loose.
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ape house by Sara Gruen

I liked Gruen’s first book “Water for Elephants,” so when I saw that she had written a new book I would have gotten it anyway, but the fact that she was writing about apes gave it a special significance for me. Before I can talk about the book I have to give a background for why this book has a deeper connection for me. The first stuffed animal I can remember having was a bright orange spider monkey named Motor. As it turned out orange has always been my favorite color and monkeys and apes my favorite animals, so I guess Motor left an impression on me. Every year for as long as I can remember my parents gave me a stuffed monkey or gorilla for every birthday, every Christmas and even on other holidays like Valentines I got another one until my collection grew so much that I had to add a net near the ceiling in my room to hold them all. They were more than toys to me, they were a symbol of something deeper that was calling me off to jungles to learn more about the real animals. For a long time my hope was to be like Jane Goodall or Dian Fossey spending my time sitting on some far of mountain communing, studying, learning about the great apes. My senior year in high school I as fortunate to have a biology teacher who had done her doctoral work at the Woodland Park Zoo and who encouraged me to do an independent study there. I spent over 120 hours of observation plus research and writing time and all the hours driving back and forth to the zoo every other day for most of that year studying the zoos two Siamangs, Simon and Sia Buri. Sia Buri had just one arm, but she was amazing the way she could still fly from limb to limb. Simon was and is still the curious one and used to come up the the glass and sit opposite me, sometimes moving around so he could look in my bag and other times just sitting there. Sometimes, now years later, when I take my daughter to the zoo I could swear that Simon recognizes me and just once I sat in my old spot and he came right up and sat opposite me again. It was a behavior that I never saw him do on the days that I would watch from other spots where he couldn’t see me. You could see the intelligence in that interaction and his curiosity and it only strengthened my love for apes. I chose my first college because it was one of only four in the country that advertised specific degrees in both zoology and theater; my two great passions at the time. Though I didn’t end up pursuing zoology the affinity still remains and always visit zoos when I travel seeking out the apes. I have to admit that it was quite a thrill to see the wild monkeys wandering around the temples in Nepal. This is a really long explanation for why the book was meaningful to me, but I think the background is important.

The book does a marvelous job of illustrating the intelligence and the bond that comes from spending time with our closest cousins. I remember sitting and listening to parent’s say, “look at the monkeys!” to their children and muttering every time, “they are not monkeys, they are apes.” It amazed me how people can come to the zoo and not even truly see the animals. They walk through approximating what they know in terms of generalities and they miss the unique differences between species much less the differences between the individuals within the species. I don’t want to be too harsh because at least those parents are exposing their kids to the zoo and many would eventually read the plaques to their kids. What it shows though is exactly what Gruen does in the book, illustrating how people don’t really see the apes, they see the antics or they see an animal and they miss the incredible connections and similarities. She also does a great job illustrating the bond that can form between the researcher and the apes. My hope is that people who read it will get not just a well told story, but that it will make them want to know more so they can feel just a little of what I did in all those hours sitting with Simon. There are still times when I think of at the very least volunteering for some short term research project, but for now I am content to take my daughters to the zoo and read every plaque adding whatever else I might know so they will never see them as just animals to be looked at.
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The Sound of Music

For some reason today I found the songs from the “Sound of Music” playing in my head and I have a habit of singing aloud the songs in my head so I suppose they were playing in my house too. I have been told that when my daughter begins to fuss I instantly start to hum without even thinking about it or knowing that I am doing it. I have been singing to both daughters since before they were even born and most of the time a song from me has magical powers over them and they calm down almost instantly and eventually fall asleep. As I walked in loops outside in the cool air singing “My Favorite Things,” “Edelweiss,” “Do Re Mi,” and a litany of other songs trying to coax my teething one year old into a deep slumber I couldn’t help but think of the power of music to move us. The sound of music can lure us towards it, it can captivate us, motivate us, cause us to swoon, be an act of prayer, express emotions deeper than any words, and yes…put us to sleep. I remember humming to my first daughter one time and a friend was in the room trying to do homework and he fell asleep before she did. Maybe some of that is my voice, but I think most of it is the music itself and the magic of the melody which transfixes us. When I was playing sports we would listen to things like “Eye of the Tiger,” and the bagpipes from the movie “Braveheart” as they went into battle to pump us up before games and meets. In worship the repetitive resonance of chant is used in a number of religions to help us enter into a meditative state of contemplation and focus. I could write a whole other blog on the words (and I probably will), but even without them there really is something about “The Sound of Music.” Hmm hmm hmhmhm hmhm hmm hmm hmm hmm

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Regaining the confidence of our youth

There is something about having or even just being around kids that rejuvenates us and gets us back in touch with the confidence that we once had and the fearlessness to overcome what we know and jump anyway. The belief that my three year old has that I can do anything is part of it, but it’s also watching her and other kids and thinking, “I used to be able to do that.” We all have our lists of “used to’s” and some are legitimate in that we shouldn’t do them again (you are free to fill in your own list here), but some are just because we have become overly rational, developing a fear even of things that we can and have done before. I watched a kid at the park do a flip off the swings some time ago and my response was, “I used to be able to do that.” That was probably well over a year ago and I had kind of forgotten about it until I watched my daughter flip over the swings at the church and instantly my response was changed from, “I used to be able to do that,” to “that looks fun lets do it together.” Sure there is something to letting her learn for herself, but it felt pretty good to release whatever inhibitions had made me say “used to” and simply say, “I can do that.” The moment I hit the apex of the swing, let go of my hesitation and committed to the flip I just knew there were other “used to’s” that I needed to turn into “still do.” I must have done it ten times just to remind myself I really could and each time my confidence built that there were other things I could still do.

I guess it’s one of those things that as we perhaps gain confidence in other areas we loose it in others. Admittedly it’s harder to jump off when you understand what it means to brake a leg or twist an ankle, but if we stop doing things because of what might happen, we stop doing things period. I suppose that’s the real mantra I hope to adopt, “if we stop doing things because they might not work, we stop doing things.”
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Coloring outside the lines

People often remind me that I never do things the way I am “supposed to.” I don’t tend to follow the prescribed course and even when it’s one that has requirements along the way I tend to find alternative ways to satisfy them. I don’t believe there is such a thing as a normal way of doing things because every person’s experience even of the same thing is unique, but I was reflecting last night on the fact that I can’t even follow a simple recipe exactly. Never mind things like testing out of requirements or making my own path to a mountain summit. Following a recipe should be simple, but instead I have to add things, use less or more of things and make it my own. Last night it was gorgonzola cream sauce, my version of which turned out great and last week it was snickerdoodles, which I thought were pretty good too. I was thinking about it in terms of architecture vs building. A builder takes a plan and builds it as exactly as they can and it’s good, it’s consistent, they know that it works and we need builders. An architect looks at plans, understands the foundational elements and then creates something new. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t, but I think for some we just can’t help trying. We need both builders and architects, cooks and chefs, it’s not about one being better than the other it’s about acknowledging that we don’t all fit in the lines and for some there is a creative fire and a refusal to conform even if we wanted to. There is nothing wrong with the lines and beautiful things come within them, but for me I am thankful for the confidence to color outside them even when I fail.

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The push we needed

There are plenty of times in our lives when we know what we need and we know what we really want, but we are unwilling, unable, unmotivated, afraid to go out and do it, get it, be it. What we need is a push. We need that something to happen, that someone, that opportunity to knock that pushes past knowing into doing and being. There are special people or in some cases things that happen to special people in our lives which help us to realize that we can’t just wait . Their are those people who give us the strength to act and there are the circumstances that reminds us of life’s fragile nature, and what ever it is we need it sometimes even if it’s hard, perhaps especially when it’s hard. We need a push. We need that thing to get us over whatever fear we have, whatever inadequacy we feel, so that we will take the plunge and dive deeper into life. These pushes often come when we don’t expect them and from places we didn’t even know existed, but they can’t be ignored. Even when the push comes from tragedy we have to see it as a gift because otherwise it can overwhelm us. I guess that’s part of the deal in that if we can find the gift in even a tragedy then nothing can truly overwhelm us and the gift is often the motivation to do something positive. It may not always feel like it’s so positive at first and it’s way easier to intellectualize it than to do it, but the good is out there and so are the things to push us even if it feels like they are a long time in coming.

We all get stuck and we all need a push sometimes (maybe even an underdog as my daughter calls for). It’s good to be pushed.
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The Bond of Adventure

Any time you share an out of the ordinary experience with someone it bonds you. When you step outside of your everyday you create lasting memories and when they are shared the memory unites you. It is the legacy of camping trips, mission trips, vacations, explorations, delving into new things and places, experiences which form an anchor for a relationship. I remember vividly a trip with my two closest friends from childhood during the summer after our senior year of high school. We went to Portland and camped in my VW Van so we could watch the national team play soccer and along the way had some adventures for which there is no evidence other than our collective memory. As much as we can share of the trip with others, you simply had to be there. These types of experiences are a gift in life and I make it a mission for myself to seek them and to take the ones that God puts in front of me.

Six months ago I hiked up to Bridal Veil Falls with one daughter in a front pack and the other on my back. Along the way in addition to all the comments from other hikers about carrying two kids up a mountain, we met a seventy year old dad with his forty-two year old daughter. They were hiking the same trail that apparently they had hiked a number of times before since she was a kid. I couldn’t help but dream that forty years from now I am still going off on adventures like this with my daughters. When I was a kid we would go on summer long road trips, we spent time at our family cabin, we had memberships to the science center, we spent time doing things, and I am close to my parents in part because of all that. That hike six months ago was the first with both kids and I would like to think that it started something special. Today we went to another waterfall and it reminded me of that dad and his daughter and how important it is to me that I be intentional about these trips. It reminded me of that special bond that exists between dads and their daughters and the additional bond of shared adventures. Practically every week we find a new adventure to share as we see new things, tackle mountains, visit places that were special to me as a kid and eat treats we don’t have at home. It has been an interesting thing for me because I am a solitary adventurer most of the time or at least I was with very few exceptions. Somehow having the girls with me just seems like an extension of myself, like the me that goes on these adventures just got bigger when they came into my life. As they become more and more the individuals they will be I know that these early adventures will remain a part of them and I really do believe in the bond they create.

Years later I am still connected to those childhood friends (though not as much as I would like to be) and I just did the wedding of one of them this past summer. The thing is even if we don’t talk for a while the bond of all those shared experiences growing up from infancy (literally with those two) remains strong perhaps because it started so young. I guess I believe you are never to young to start sharing adventures and the bond that comes is worth whatever aching bones I may get from carrying two kids up mountains to see a waterfall. I hope that everyone finds ways to share in new things and new experiences with the people special to them because it makes special even more special.
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We need a cake

Today was my daughters first birthday and my older daughter decided that we needed a cake. We didn’t really celebrate and we hadn’t planned on doing anything because we just didn’t feel like she was ready for it. When my three year said, “we need a cake and we need the party hats from your office daddy,” it was hard to say no and I think it reminded me that even though she won’t remember and maybe she isn’t ready for cake, we have something to celebrate and we need to acknowledge it. I have always felt like first birthday parties are silly. I get that people have fun watching a one year old eat cake for the first time, rubbing it in their hair and making a fun and sticky mess, but it’s a ritual that doesn’t really resonate with me. What my three year old reminded me of though was that there are sacred conventions to our celebrations and cake at birthdays is one of them (I still think the hats are optional). At one she can’t really handle dairy much yet and most cakes have milk in them so we searched for a non-dairy cake and ended up with a lemon cake with lemon glaze. The batter and the glaze tasted good and it was fun making it with my three year old, but the funny part is that she fell asleep so we haven’t even tried it yet. Somehow making the cake made the day feel more like it was her birthday and we were acknowledging it more properly. Especially for this little girl making it to one is an accomplishment and we needed a cake. I am thankful for both my little girls who remind constantly of all that I have to celebrate. There are times when it just doesn’t feel right without a cake.

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Playing Games

The Roberts clan (my mom’s side of the family) is a family that gets together often and when we do we play. Day long games of monopoly, bingo complete with prizes, jeopardy, wheel of fortune, texas hold’um, you name it, as long as it’s a game that you have to think for, we play it (games of chance are not allowed). The point is we like games and more importantly we love each other, which makes playing together that much better. As a kid growing up my family used to go out to our cabin on Dow Mountain and the four of us would play games until the wee hours of the night. On road trips criss-crossing the country we seldom went to bed without a game of cards. My daughter is learning the family passion already as we play game after game of Candyland, Lady Bugs, Memory, Chutes and Ladders and Go Fish. This love of games extends beyond just the times when the whole family gets together too and every member just seems to have it in their DNA. I wasn’t surprised when I learned one cousin has a regular bridge night and whenever I gather like I did this week with my colleagues I make sure that one night at least is a game night.

There is something very special for me about getting friends together to eat snacks that we rarely indulge in and to play. It has become a tradition each time we descend upon Wenatchee that one afternoon will be devoted to playing one of the nearby putting courses. A few years ago when I first attended the event, which brings together three hundred United Methodist clergy from Washington and Idaho, I didn’t know a lot of people. I was newly returned from graduate school and was just getting to know my colleagues and make a few friends. There wasn’t much time on the schedule that allowed for getting to know each other either, so we improvised. They had given us a tourist map of Wenatchee and there was an arrow on it that pointed to a “putting
course” somewhere off the map. At that point we weren’t sure what the difference was between
a putting course and mini-golf, but I managed to convince a few people to grab lunch to-go and use our precious little amount of free time to go try it out. The few I knew got a few more and I think eight of us went that first year. We ended up loving it so much we missed a session that I think talked about our retirement plan so we could play the entire course. It was and is a par 70 course of natural grass complete with water hazards and sand traps.

By the second year there were eleven of us and after seeing some of us having such a good time at lunch the Bishop had canceled the evening session so that we would have more time to do things like having fun together. Last year we even got the Bishop to come with us. This year 14 clergy played the course together including a number of new folks who were immediately hooked. Later that night many went out and had great fellowship at restaurants and such, but true to my DNA
I managed to get six to come and play games around a card table in the basement of my hotel that I had scoped out for that very purpose.
The beauty of playing games with people you don’t know all that well and people you enjoy being around is that time gets lost, you get to know each other in a different and I think more genuine way, and you laugh no matter how competitive you are. We played two games that were new for me, which makes it even better, and before we knew it we had been playing for four hours and it was almost 1am.
I believe that there are times which connect us. When a group of people works together, studies together, lives together and argues together, I don’t think the connection can be complete without playing together too and it makes all those other things better. When I was in Geneva a year and a half ago there were some awkward getting to know you moments that in their structured way started to open us up to each other, but it wasn’t until we started playing ping-pong, volley ball and UNO (which I was moved by that inner force in me to buy for the institute) that you got a sense we were finally connecting and building community. Maybe it’s about letting yourself be silly a little or maybe it’s getting in touch with some inner child in all of us, but whatever it is playing together is the root of joy. Even for those who don’t like board games and such it’s really just about playing and letting yourself play together. When we do, something real and I think beautiful comes out. It’s good to play.
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Life Owes Me Nothing

“Life owes me nothing. Let the years

bring clouds or azure, joy or tears;
already a full cup I’ve quaffed;
already wept and love and laughed,
and seen, in ever-endless ways,
new beauties overwhelm the days.
Life Owes me nought. No pain that waits
can steal the wealth from memory’s gates;
No aftermath of anguish slow
can quench the soul fire’s early glow.
I breathe, exulting, each new breath,
Embracing Life, Ignoring Death.
Life owes me nothing, One clear morn
Is boon enough for being born;
and be it ninety years or ten,
No need for me to question when.
While Life is mine, I’ll find it good,
and greet each hour with gratitude.” -Author Unknown
In a world where we are often taught a sense of entitlement, it is when we learn we are entitled to nothing that we become free from disappointment and regret and truly open to joy and gratitude. Life may owe us nothing, but that shouldn’t keep us from trying to get everything out of it that we can. We need to “embrace life” and “greet each hour with gratitude.” When we find a place in our selves in which we can feel blessed by everything, it is in this place where we find the meaning of life. In the midst of tragic times it is the strength it teaches and the way love comes pouring in from every corner that keeps us grateful. In the midst of joyful times it is the humility, which allows us to see that joy as a gift not to be taken for granted that gives us cause for thanks.
We are all rich in blessings. Life owes us nothing, but rather we owe everything to life and must live it as fully as we can.