From Where I Stand

Tag: mindfulness

  • A bit Screwy: What Screwtape Letters reveals about ourselves and what we want to deny most of all.

    I’ve been on a bit of a C.S. Lewis kick lately, and I’d say “bear with me,” but there’s no need to merely bear with Lewis.

    Yes, I am indebted to his works—as they opened the door to forming a theology that is anything but stale or useless. I’m not a “Christian” alone, nor would I consider an introduction to me as “religious.” Those terms don’t capture the depth of a relationship with the Creator. Instead, I like to say that I’m a believer—but even that feels like saying I saw the sun today. I believe in many things, including the energy that flows through the world and that animals and plants have more purpose than we typically assign them. But I wouldn’t say I “believe” in trees or nature—it’s so obvious they exist that the term feels almost beneath the truth.

    No, I consider myself a child of God, reborn from a previous fallen state by the grace of God and the Spirit’s work in my life—allowing me to see truth apart from the everyday mentality of the world.

    This brings me to a fun little read by Mr. Lewis: The Screwtape Letters. I’m writing about this work because it reveals how easy it can be to lose your soul—and how the smallest, everyday choices quietly contribute to that loss.

    Sure, no one wants to lose their very essence—the thing that makes them them—but as fallen creatures of God, I think we ought to know just how insidious and crafty Satan’s minions are in their attempt to feast on souls.

    Now, a scholar could give you far more than I can, but I’ll do my best.

    My dearest audience,

    You know that little comment in the back of your mind—the one that lingers when you talk to that loved one? It judges what they do while preserving your behavior in context. That little comment of resentment may not be so little after all. It may be the seed of hatred, growing over years into full-grown disdain for all humans—including the One who made such detestable creatures.

    But surely you are not one of them. You’re just telling people the truth. Setting boundaries. Clearing your chest. Yes, the demons love it when you hold on to what makes you better than everyone else. When it’s always someone else’s fault, or someone else’s lack of judgment wounding you. Especially when you justify your snarky response as being “within context,” while the other person is judged at face value.

    Yes, they are hurting you, aren’t they? Making your life miserable. They need to be rebuked. After all, we are in total charge of our environments, aren’t we? Some of us already act like gods.

    Of course, no one says this stuff out loud. That would be ridiculous. We’re not bad people—we’re just misunderstood. We don’t need to change, just correct everyone to be more like us. On our noblest days, we may admit to certain faults—but never the ones we hold others accountable for.

    The other day, I saw a man walking, wearing a T-shirt that read: “Today’s good time is brought to you by WEED.” Well, certainly he was wrong. I stared at him from afar because of it. I even constructed a narrative in my head, depicting him as someone more worthy of disdain.

    I might as well have joined the demons at a local bar and dined with them on my own flesh, for what I chose to do with my mind—investing in thoughts that lead to bitterness and judgment. I could’ve driven my vehicle off a bridge and been better for it than to sit afar, condoning myself while casting a can-you-believe-this look at anyone who’d make eye contact.

    I’ve read the attempts of demons to capture souls, and I must agree with Mr. Lewis—Satan doesn’t want us to think too hard about the state of our soul, or to speak the thoughts in our head out loud. He wants them locked up, hidden, so we can keep convincing ourselves that we’re good people. Maybe even good enough. But never the bad ones. Surely not.

    Nobody wants to be a bad person, do they?

    Stay on guard. Stay bitter. Get yours at all costs.

    There’s your one-way ticket to losing your soul—giving it up to the world, living for dying things, and being only as good as your last success.

    Yes, people will leave you. And you’ll justify it, saying they didn’t “get” you.

    Stay in hiding. Satan loves hiding. He also loves shame. And ego. And just about any activity that keeps you from facing this simple reality: God loves you and wants you back.

    The Law—the commandments—can be summarized with two phrases: Love the Lord your God, and then love your neighbor as yourself. These two things lead to a fruitful life.

    So, shall we heed these words during our brief time here? Shall we trust they are the remedy for the chronic ailment called sin and all its effects?

    Or, like the flesh described in Screwtape Makes a Toast, will we become rather dull and flavorless meat—too passive one way or the other to be of value to the God who made us… or even to the demons who’d feast on us?

    Yours in sincerity,

    Uncle Meier

  • Allegory…Imagination….and Merlin?

    Allegory…Imagination….and Merlin?

    C. S. Lewis seems like he came from another planet—his insights never grow stale; they mature like a good Calvin and Hobbes sketch- becoming more apparent the older you get.

    Speaking as a lay reader(because a scholar could really do these writings justice)—I am merely qualified to say Lewis shows profound cultural and spiritual insight, and inadvertently issues warnings to the culture in his fiction writings.

    The Cosmic Trilogy: A Transcendent View of Humanity

    In Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous Strength, Lewis maps the cosmic drama of humanity’s true nature:

    • Through the Narnia chronicles and The Screwtape Letters, he proves he can “see” with a divine perspective—individuals matter, but they also serve a greater cosmic order.
    • He anticipates modern ethical dilemmas—humanity building Babel, killing morality, creating AI—all before they became our daily headlines.

    Out of the Silent Planet: What do you mean, “more?”

    One of the most chilling exchanges comes in Out of the Silent Planet. Ransom asks the peaceful hrossa, “What if another group takes more than they need?”
    They respond simply: “Why would they take more?”
    This contrast highlights how foreign greed seems to beings who live in harmony.

    The comparison with the pfifltriggi is equally poignant:

    Pfifltrigg: “All the pfifltriggi share the work of mining and stone craft equally.”
    Ransom: “On Earth, some people mine their whole lives so others can make art.”
    Pfifltrigg: “The art is more meaningful because of the hard work it takes to get the stone.”

    On Malacandra (Mars, the actual Silent Planet is Earth because we fell out of alignment with God and therefore is considered silent), labor and reward are intrinsically linked—nothing is divorced from its purpose. Conversely, our world often separates toil from its fruits. That disconnect? Lewis refers it as “bent,” or morally twisted.

    Perelandra: What We Might Have Been

    In Perelandra, Ransom and Weston confront an Eve-like figure, exploring a world untainted by rebellion. Lewis provokes the thought, “What if humanity could have avoided The Fall?” Lewis dares us to imagine our full potential—and contrasts it with the “superior” knowledge and technology we have today.

    That Hideous Strength: A Warning for Today

    The trilogy concludes with That Hideous Strength, where a once-legendary Merlin returns amid a technocratic, demonic think tank (the N.I.C.E.). It’s terrifyingly relevant—our age of AI and corporate control would fit right in Lewis’s world. The scene where Merlin frees animals is equally unforgettable.

    In this, the third book of the interplanetary drama, the way in which Lewis refers to the advancements of human race through the use of NICE mimics the pleasantries of AI and people today in service of potentially harmful intentions.

    Beyond being a Christian apologist (see Mere Christianity, Letters to Malcolm), Lewis crafted stories so readers continue to wrestle with his truths long after he was gone. He didn’t claim perfection—only that his purpose was to write meaningful fiction that points us toward our true calling.

    What Are We Here For?

    What are we meant to do? Are we fulfilling our unique purpose, or chasing everything but that? Lewis was someone grounded enough to tell stories that pointed to difficulties within a culture, giving so much meaning about living in the world, but not of it (John 17:14-16), and brave enough to show us what could happen if things don’t change.

    You: The Universe’s Missing Piece

    Each of us holds a spark that only we contain. Our story is our own—but it also weaves into something far larger. When we live according to what we think we should want, or think we should do, we aren’t living according to what we were actually meant to do, or meant to act.

    This isn’t recommending rebellion for rebellion’s sake, but rather to be you, and live according to what matters the most to you, will inevitably lead to the greatest things, as intended. Much like when sin entered the world and distorted the way of things, we too are like the original Adam, taking the coverup and running from the greatness we were intended for. Stop covering up. Stop living in denial. Be honest with yourself. Tell the truth. Let yourself suck at a sport, but keep playing.

    If nothing else, Lewis points us to Scripture—“there is nothing new under the sun”, Ecclesiastes 1:9—and that the only deeply new thing is rediscovering whose story we are living out, ours, or a parody of someone else’s.

  • Camping Theology and the Great Disconnect.

    Camping Theology and the Great Disconnect.

    A hearty breakfast before worship (God bless it).

    What is it about trees, open land, a pile of pancakes, a dining hall with a modern, cabin-esc vibe, basketball courts and highly weathered balls, not to forget, the ever-humbling Pickleball court that turns even the proud into the breathless… that makes it all feel so magical?

    No, this isn’t just any campsite. This is church camp.

    And yes—I’m 39 years old. I know. Church camp isn’t just for teens with underdeveloped frontal lobes. It’s for grown adults with student loans, aging knees, and deep questions about meaning, suffering, and why camp mattresses are still apparently made from recycled plastic cups.

    No. My foot was not over the line. (Photo Credit: Bre Gray- bregrayphotography.pixieset.com)

    At first glance, it’s a recipe you wouldn’t expect to nourish the soul: communal sleeping with nine other guys, unreasonably early mornings, and food so rich and hearty it feels like we’re dining with medieval royalty (minus the beheadings, plus a lot more cheese). And yet, somewhere between the 16-hour days, the constant change of sweaty clothes, and the silverware I didn’t have to wash, I remembered something.

    Every day had rhythm at camp: morning and evening worship services, time carved out for silence and scripture, group discussions about faith—where it’s lived, where it’s lost, and where we’re still fumbling in the dark. But it’s not just the programming. It’s what happens when we step outside the script of “real life” and into something slow, and never ending.

    At 39…my back starts to feel it.

    Be honest: our daily lives are designed to distract us from ourselves. We march through schedules, crush goals, pay off student loans (until the end of time), scroll endlessly, and quietly wonder, “Is this it?”

    But camp—the right kind of camp—brings you face to face with your own soul. You can’t outrun it out there. There’s nowhere to hide when you’re sitting around a well-crafted cabin table, under a star-pierced sky, holding a thermos of Minnesota’s finest tap, and realizing how long it’s been since you actually felt still.

    One of the biggest things I see as a therapist?

    People are disconnected from themselves.

    Not the version they present to the world. Not the curated personality or the productive employee or the “good” parent. I mean the real them. The one that’s still under there somewhere, buried beneath bills and burdens and the belief that if we just push hard enough, we’ll eventually feel okay.

    But here’s the catch:

    We don’t know why we do what we do.

    We think we know. We tell ourselves stories.

    But often, those stories aren’t true.

    That’s why reflection—real, sometimes uncomfortable reflection—is so important. Because if we don’t pause and reassess, we wake up one day bitter, cynical, and convinced that the best parts of life are behind us.

    Being with middle school through high school students this past week reminded me what it was like to be joyous and live in the moment. They had within them a camaraderie that we often don’t find in the routines of everyday life. These students had each other and they had, well, connection.

    Connection, especially the kind that touches the deepest part of our being, is what we were made for. Not just connection with people (though that’s crucial). But connection with God—the Creator who sees through all our layers and still longs to be close.

    And when we don’t connect with Him?

    We find substitute relationships:

    – With our careers

    – With approval

    – With achievement

    – With control

    But those things will fail us, sooner or later.

    They make terrible gods and even worse friends.

    Yet life isn’t shallow. Not at all. It’s deep and eternally significant. Every moment. Every choice. Every quiet ache.

    The tragedy is not that life lacks meaning, but that we rarely stop long enough to see how meaningful it actually is.

    And no, you don’t have to be at a camp with creaky bunks and bug spray in your hair to realign. You can pause for five minutes between Zoom calls, or in the carpool line, or right before you open another Microsoft Word doc, and simply ask:

    “What’s really going on in me right now?”

    “What do I want to be about today?”

    “God, are You near—and am I listening?”

    If you do that daily—even just for a week—you might be surprised. You might start to see your life with fresh eyes. You might remember that you are more than your resume, your obligations, or your debt-to-income ratio.

    Because here’s the truth:

    You can’t have a great marriage without effort.

    You can’t be a great athlete without training.

    And you can’t cultivate a soul without intentional time with the One who gave it to you.

    From where I stand, the greatest lack in most people’s lives is not time, not opportunity, not intelligence, or even love.

    It’s spiritual disconnection.

    From God. From truth. From themselves.

    But the good news?

    You can reconnect.

    Right now.

    No reservation needed.

    And maybe—just maybe—that’s where the real magic begins.

  • To be honest…

    Honestly? I sat down to write this with zero agenda. Nothing. My genius said, “Just start writing and see what happens.” Always a solid strategy.

    So here I am—two lines deep—and already staring at the blinking cursor like it’s judging me.

    Idea one: What happens when the worst thing in life happens?

    Nope. Too heavy. Not today.

    Okay okay, here’s one: What happens…

    Gross. That’s so vague it could be a free online article…oh.

    Wait—I’ve got it:

    I have absolutely no idea. That’s the idea.

    Yep. No one knows the answer. Not me, not you, not that podcast host with the perfect bookshelf background (which I have-less perfect however). Not your favorite fitness influencer, your mom Facebook group, your stylist, or that one guy at the gym who somehow always has advice for everything except leg day (and diet).

    Forgive my little neurodivergent detour here, but when we’re trying to solve problems we usually end up drowning in opinions, frameworks, TED Talks, and cold plunges. Everyone has a hack, and yet… nothing changes.

    So how the heck are we supposed to move forward and live a meaningful life if we don’t even know what “solved” looks like?

    Here’s a thought: maybe we need to zoom out. Like… way out. Maybe we stop looking just at our brains, or our culture, or even our bodies—and take a peek at that deep, mysterious, spiritual part of ourselves.

    Yep. One of those posts.

    Don’t roll your eyes just yet.

    Because every day, you’re solving problems—some big, some small, some that just involve whether or not you can justify buying another pair of kicks/drip. Behind all those decisions is something deeper—something that drives you, that gives your life meaning.

    Dallas Willard—brilliant theologian and philosopher—once said (and I’m paraphrasing here): “What your soul is connected to determines how well your soul is.”

    Translation: If your soul is tied to your job, your team winning the playoffs, your group chat, or your Sunday routine, then your soul is gonna ride the rollercoaster of those highs and lows. But if it’s rooted in something deeper—like, say, the Creator of the whole show—then there’s a steadiness, a sense of “home,” even when things get shaky.

    Yes, even you overzealous people forgetting to turn off the news every once in a while.

    So yeah. No clear answers. No five-step plan. Just a thought worth sitting with.

    And honestly? I think it’s worth it.

  • Is Fear Making You a Jerk?

    Spend the Ten Bucks, or Spiral Into Existential Dread?

    If someone handed you $10 right now, would you A) gleefully march into a coffee shop and upgrade your sad drip sort of life to a life-affirming double shot, sugar free caramel, heavy cream breve? Or B) stand in the middle of the sidewalk, paralyzed, wondering which of your potential dreams you’ll crush by spending that Hamilton? (Spoiler: It’s just ten bucks. Chill out.)

    This, oddly enough, mirrors a spiritual moment I had during a self-imposed “growth spurt” —the kind where you decide you’re going to get deep, and then immediately regret how deep you went. I can get obsessed sometimes.

    Enter Foxe’s Book of Martyrs. If you’re ever in the mood for a light read that’s actually the opposite of that — like, “ouch-my-soul” level dark — it’s perfect. It’s a collection of stories about early Christians who suffered unimaginable horrors. I used to say unimaginable, but now that I’ve read enough of it to crush any resolve for that week, I wish I couldn’t imagine them anymore. Thanks, John Foxe.

    Much like Christ — who was crucified by the Romans with PhDs in Torture Design — these stories are powerful, brutal, and historically necessary to be aware of. But here’s the thing: constantly marinating in the worst of humanity doesn’t actually help us become better humans. I mean, you don’t get joy by doomscrolling martyrdom, right? Or by seeing others great new thing and telling yourself you’re a loser because you don’t have the same.

    So here’s the twist: whether you’re a CEO, a stay-at-home parent, a single introvert with a dog named Dan, or someone who still doesn’t know how taxes work — life constantly hands us two roads. One leads forward. The other looks like it’s going forward… but turns out to be a really confusing cul-de-sac with a sign that says “Growth Stunted Here.”

    And while we love to say things like, “I just feel stuck,” the truth is, we’re all driving our own little emotional Teslas charged by what we truly desire in life: our mood, our mindset, the narrative we cling to like the cliffhanger of our favorite new show. Nobody’s totally out of control — not even your Aunt Jenny during election season.

    In reality: humans were made in God’s image, with the ability to choose. But instead of staying plugged in to God’s mind-blowing wisdom and presence, we veered off, choosing our own “brilliant” ideas. And surprise! That disconnect kicked off a multi-generational game of Operation: Fear edition. (Don’t step out of bounds, you’ll get buzzed).

    It’s no wonder we fixate on what’s wrong. The world practically dares us to. But being stuck in that pattern doesn’t mean we’re depressed. Sometimes, we’re just being… well, let’s say “chronically cranky.” Or as the street psychologists say: “negative assholes.” It’s a common diagnosis. No copay required. (Send $35 if you’d like though.)

    So the real question is: what are you focusing on today?

    Is it what you fear? What you lack? What you wish were different?

    Or do you believe — even just a little — that you have the power to shift your focus to the good? To be present, even if the present moment involves spilled coffee, a toddler tantrum, or a boss who thinks “urgent” is a personality trait?

    Because choosing to be present — to stop judging, stop spiraling, and just be — that’s the sweet spot. That’s where gratitude lives. That’s where your healthiest self starts waking up and saying, “Hey, this might be okay after all.” After all, life’s a journey, right?

    So, next time you have $10 — or a hard decision, or a tough day — ask yourself: am I spending it on growth, joy, presence… or renting space in Downsville?

    Choose wisely. And maybe still get the best latte of your life. You’ve earned it.

  • Size 15: A Journey

    Again…enjoy your sweet, sweet shoes you small-footed people. 😑

    Let us embark on a peculiar journey—quest, if you will—into the bizarre world of men’s shoes. For this story to be authentic, tis I who is the holder of the size 15.

    Yes, fifteen. A size that sounds less like footwear and more like those small “smart” cars in mid 2000s.

    I invite you, dear reader, to wander—into the labyrinth of online sneaker retailers: Nike, Adidas, New Balance, or whatever new age brand that was forged in the fires of Mount Hype last week. Choose your favorite Jordan, perhaps an Air Max 90 with a color scheme with just the right color palate it screams “you can’t get these!” and here in the sea of exclusivity: size 15? Sold out. Gone. Vanished like your motivation after eating a pack of ultimate stuffed Oreos.

    You might think, “Surely, this foot size would guarantee an overstock!” But no. It turns out that size 15 is a cruel paradox—rare enough to be inconvenient, yet common enough to be competitive. It’s like trying to find a left-handed coffee mug at a right-handed convention. They exist, but there are many people looking for the few that are around.

    Now, you may wonder, “Why on Earth should I care about this man’s odyssey?” Because (enter Forrest Gump accent): life is like a pair of shoes, my friend.

    Let me explain.

    Scarcity breeds value. Exclusivity inflates desirability. That same Jordan in a size 6? Might be on clearance next Tuesday. But a size 15? Full price and sold out in a minute. Maybe even resold for double. People camp out, not for warmth or camaraderie, but to clutch that elusive grail of rubber and laces. And suddenly—bam!—it’s not just a shoe, it’s a statement. A status symbol. A “flex.”

    This, friend, (we are friends now btw) … “Hello friend….Brother (Hulk Hogan voice) anyway…this “exclusivity” is what the sneaker world calls hype. And what we, in the world of hyper-fixation and compulsion might call… a trap.

    Because sometimes, what we want most isn’t actually what we want—it’s just what everyone else seems to want. Context is everything. That prized possession in one mindset? Utter trash in another. Like a prom tux at a Midwest wedding (jeans or cargo shorts only please) or a fork at a hotdog-serving venu—out of place, unnecessary, even ridiculous.

    So what if, just consider here, the thing you’re so obsessed with—the job, the relationship, the approval, the Yeezys—is only precious because of the mental lens you’re wearing right now? And what if, instead of focusing on doing less of the “bad” things, you simply added more of the good stuff—friends, purpose, vulnerability, laughter, a damn shrug the shoulders every once in awhile in the midst of stress 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷‍♀️?

    Maybe then, the cycle breaks on its own. Not through deprivation. But through distraction… by something better.

    Maybe your success isn’t about what “not to do,” but what to do.

    So next time size 15 is sold out, maybe take it as a reminder to think of me, or better the message (yes, the message): you don’t need that shoe. You need a new lens. And maybe take some time off and let little interferences go by saying “wow, look at those trees…just a blowing in the wind. How powerful those branches are to hold up to that.” Though we concluded on trees, we started with feet, my feet, and how through obscurity…we can find something useful, if we look for it.

  • Care? Or think you SHOULD care?

    So, I was watching the news the other day—like a responsible adult who pretends they’ve got a handle on the world—and in true chaotic fashion, a political clip flashed across the screen. You know the kind: stern faces, firm declarations.

    My brain lights up: “this matters a lot!”

    Is this good?

    Is this bad?

    Is it secretly both?

    Is the media spinning it? Am I being spun? Who really is informed?

    And just like that, I was off—launched into a 25-minute internal monologue that involved four hypothetical scenarios, five imaginary conversations, and me mentally arguing with some “representative” I’m not even sure what they do.

    But let’s skip the 600-word descent into that madness and cut to the punchline:

    I didn’t really care.

    I thought I cared.

    I believed I should care.

    But deep down, beneath the mental gymnastics and obligatory sighs of concern… I didn’t.

    Not really.

    And you know how I knew that? It became extremely boring to try to care. I cared more about caring than the topic I was SUPPOSED to care about.

    Now before you report me to your local “Citizen Who Should Care” hotline, let me clarify.

    I do care. I care about people.

    I just didn’t care about whatever thing was being discussed by angry man in a suit.

    There’s a difference. A big one, actually.

    When you truly care about something, it moves you—it compels you to act, to reflect, to engage.

    When you think you should care, it’s usually because someone else told you it’s important. Or because X did. Or because the anchor on the news got Very Serious™ with his voice.

    So there I sat, mildly stressed, semi-guilty, sipping coffee and wondering why I was so mentally invested in something I had no intention of doing anything about.

    And then it hit me: I was borrowing someone else’s care. Like a care-on-loan program and I have a horrible emotional credit score. The cost of the interest would floor me if I took that on.

    But here’s the strange and glorious twist: admitting I didn’t care, it gave me peace to be that honest.

    Because what I do care about is how people respond to news like that. My heart isn’t in the headlines—it’s with the person who’s afraid because of them, who’s confused, or angry, or overwhelmed.

    Even when I don’t agree with people’s perspective it’s nice to hear their conviction and walk alongside them.

    So instead of funneling all my energy into a political opinion I didn’t even want, I redirected it to empathy.

    And now, the real punchline—maybe the only part you need to hear:

    You only have so much energy every day.

    Which means it’s a precious resource. Like toilet paper during a panic (or eggs these days).

    So ask yourself:

    Do I actually care?

    Or do I just think I should?

    Practicing that tiny bit of honesty can save you hours of mental spiraling (refer back to my loan and interest metaphors, I was proud of that one).

    Because maybe you don’t care about that thing.

    But there is something else you care about a lot. And living in alignment with that thing makes you rational, grounded, and a lot less likely to throw your remote at the news.

    So go ahead—care less, on purpose.

    And care where it matters.

    Thank you for attending my TED Talk slash coffee-fueled ramble.

    A pic of me doing anything other than watching the news…..maybe she’ll braid it.
  • The Chalk Line

    The Chalk Line

    Elliot, a tall, slender man wearing a large untucked shirt splattered with various mediums of materials sat hunched over his canvas. In his shirt pocket, the box of cigarettes rests on the chest going in and out, deep breaths. His fingers smudged with oil paints digs into the pack, fumbling in the box spreading a dark oil over the bright white filters ends.

    His art never seemed to land quite right.

    The air in his studio was thick with turpentine and frustration.

    Dozens of unfinished paintings leaned against the walls, each abandoned just shy of completion, their potential strangled by his relentless pursuit of perfection. He had spent weeks, months—sometimes even years—on a single piece, only to despise it in the end. Like his cigarettes, the weight of expectation pressed against his chest, also like the smokes, a suffocating reminder that his art no longer felt like creation but a battleground between ambition and failure.

    One afternoon, weary from the endless cycle of doubt and revision, Elliot stepped outside for air. The city bustled around him, indifferent to his turmoil. His feet moved without direction until he found himself at the park, where laughter and life carried through the crisp autumn air. There, just off the pathway, a child crouched, a piece of chalk clenched in his tiny fist, his face scrunched in concentration.

    Elliot watched as the boy’s hand glided across the pavement, sweeping blues and yellows into the gray stone with an ease that seemed almost careless. A streak of orange, a swirl of pink—no hesitation, no erasures, just movement. The boy paused, squinting at his creation. For a moment, Elliot thought he recognized that familiar doubt, that paralysis of knowing something could be better. But then, just as quickly, the boy dropped the chalk and sprang to his feet.

    Without a second glance at his work, he bolted across the park, following the unmistakable chime of an ice cream truck. Elliot stood there, stunned. He waited, half-expecting the boy to return, to kneel back down and tweak a line or blend a color more carefully. Minutes passed. The chalk rested where it had fallen, abandoned like the artwork itself.

    Curiosity got the best of him. He turned his gaze from the unfinished drawing and scanned the park, spotting the child sitting cross-legged on a bench, an ice cream cone clutched in his sticky fingers, laughing with a group of friends. Elliot hesitated for only a moment before approaching.

    Kneeling, he extended the chalk towards the boy. “Do you want to finish your drawing?”

    The child barely glanced up, licking a drip of melting vanilla from his hand. “It’s done.”

    Elliot blinked. He turned his head slightly, looking back at the pavement where the colors sprawled in wild, unapologetic shapes. He had expected an explanation—some reason, some justification. Instead, there was only certainty.

    It’s done.

    Those two words landed heavier than all the years of critiques, rejections, and self-imposed expectations. He had spent his whole life trying to make something perfect, something worth admiring, yet here was a child who created simply for the joy of it. And then, when the joy was over, he let it go.

    For the first time in years, Elliot felt something shift inside him. A loosening. A breath of relief.

    A week later, he started working part-time at a coffee shop. Not because he wanted to quit art, but because he wanted to make art without forcing it to pay his rent. He wanted to create without the suffocating fear of failure. And so he did. Some paintings he finished in a day. Others he never finished at all. And for the first time in his life, he was okay with that.

    Because sometimes, you don’t need to perfect something to make it worth creating. Sometimes, it’s done when you decide it is.

  • Personality Hires

    Personality Hires

    To some extent, people are who they are and to expect them to be someone else, or naturally change into this other “ideal” person isn’t just a waste of hope, but it may lead to crushing feelings of failure for the one whom you want to change.

    There we have it, accept people for who they are and stop trying to change them, right?

    You tell me. When was the last time you had a friend, relative, spouse, roomate, church member, klansman even that you gave feedback to and they took it and ran with it?

    You may expect the feedback to be taken like this:

    “Oh thank you…I never knew I was a jerk. In my forty years of life, I assumed it was everyone else’s problem. Now I know better and will be more approachable.”

    Sure, some of the good ones will notice of small asks such as “take out the garbage,” or “Get those reports done on time.” But more advanced techniques such as “being more empathetic” or “I want my spouse to WANT to do these things” may require a bit more understanding of the person you are talking to. And I know we all love the idea that all people are capable of the same possabilites, but we aren’t all meant to do all things.

    One of the worst things that can happen when meeting with people for a problem they are having is trying to convince them to change who they are.

    For example, I was recently on a daddy-daughter trip through the Mall of America, one of the biggest malls in the world. Stacked sky high full of shopping, amusement park rides, foods, toys, all the items a child dreams of. However, I noticed a few things.

    1. My daughter doesn’t like to be told what to do or even offered options more than the ones she has already considered- she told me this.
    2. I shouldn’t expect anything. From moment to moment, she likes one thing, but then likes another.- She even asked to eat sushi which I never thought would happen.
    3. When she asks for something and I tell her “no” (rare, but it does happen), she doesn’t respond to it. But more than that, she keeps asking. Not in an annoying way or just to manipulate, but because she gets fixated on it, like can’t stop thinking about it. Much like the stuffy we saw on day one was talked about for the next two days! “When are we going to get that stuffy?” The thought would hit her in the middle of swimming, or while at dinner. Just a loop, playing around and around.
    4. If you are not concrete with her, she will find the loophole. Even if you lay out the plan, she is a wordsmith with her ability to redefine the terms of what was said.- “you said “no” earlier, but does that still apply now? And were you meaning no forever or just today?”
    5. She loves talking to adults that respond back to her with useful information. She finds the typical questions of “hows school” odd and doesn’t care to think of an answer. “Good” she says to keep people off her back. But if interested you get her to tell you anything.
    6. She is….well, much like her mom and dad in so many ways that I am hit with reality over and over again how much I need to listen and not get ahead of myself or assume the worst.

    You see, we all have brains that are wired from genetics, through birth and raised in environments that later attend to certain things and not others. We all pick up different details and hold things in our minds in different ways. We were all made uniquely by God for a reason and therefore “limits” as people like to argue, against, aren’t condemning, but freeing to find what we have no business in and then can let go of.

    One theory on human development is that humans learn by association or better, relationships to something else. To understand a concept, or thing, you have to have something earlier experienced to help conceive the idea.

    For example, numbers. Numbers are nothing to a baby. But as the child learns the material world and its significance, she may realize that two of something is more than one. Eventually numbers represent meaning but then the meaning is later exchangeable. Thus, two chores are not greater than one chore…unless you like chores of course.

    My daughter, much like your employee, or aunt, uncle, mother, garbage man, pilot, coroner, they hold things, see things, interpret things in their own way. I am not a better parent to anyones kid because I am formed into being my child’s parent. But it has taken me a long time to better understand her as her own person to live this role as an earthly father for her to influence who she is going to be.

    How many times do we stop seeing people for who they really are, only to see them for how we hold them in our heads, no matter how faulty that is. We stop listening to our friends and family because we “know what they are going to say.” Or we stop looking at our wives, employees, coworkers because we fail to see them as people.

    Side note: Do you ever watch those movies with evil henchmen who just die in masses by the hero? I mean, those people were humans, with moms and dads, lives, hobbies, all of their details were just as important to them as yours are to you. And here we are, watching John Wick go through and lay them down by the dozens. Just saying, I wonder how those families are doing after our “hero” obliterates their loved ones.

    Think of the employee who doesn’t do quality work because they realize they can skip the hard parts and probably won’t get caught. For this person, experience has taught them that there is little value in the work itself and the end product is what is most important. If you place this employee on a performance improvement plan, it can temporarily reinforce the fact they are being watched, but that’s about it. We hope it will instill the work as a priority, but wouldn’t we also hope they knew that already, that as adults they have worked before and that whoever is paying you, we can safely assume, wants quality work?

    Old habits, or core personality traits, and core beliefs about what it means to work and value one has in work, not to mention inner feelings towards community or principle, integrity, deeper elements of quality work, their spiritual relationships, all determine what a person will do in work, long-term.

    Not to sound too much like a tyrant on a Disney movie who says this person can’t do this, or can’t do that, the truth is, some people can’t do what is required to stay the partner or employee needed in the relationship. Not that one isn’t good for anyone or any job, but that this current situation, with their personality, won’t work out.

    Admitting limits isn’t a bad thing, but a peaceful acceptance that you are made for some things and not for others. You aren’t made for everything and sometimes a job will serve mercy and let you go so you don’t have to keep trying to be someone you aren’t. The key from any situation is to accept it for what it is and use the opportunity to figure out what your strengths are and where you can best leverage these strengths.

    Maturity, new information, new situations, encouragement or discouragement, all things can change a person’s perspective, but the change will still be from the person doing it, and will only change if the person sees some value in the change. You can’t make someone care about something, you can only show them and let them decide to care or not.

    So, what’s wrong with a personality hire? As someone who is personable, I find it helpful to work with people who fit more so than someone who might have a better resume, but isn’t willing to change or learn to the human beings around them.

    What’s worse than a jerk who is intentionally mean? Someone who is a jerk, doesn’t know it, doesn’t accept feedback about it, and justifies their mood and approach based on the wrong that has been done to them.

    If you are looking for an employee or partner, from where I stand, I think it is the most critical to find someone who is willing to take feedback and respect boundaries of others and work demands. Otherwise, you’ll be fighting an uphill battle to someone who is the way they are and will be whether or not they get on a performance plan, an ultimatum, or simply just get ignored by people that don’t want to be around them.

    In summary, sometimes your problems in life are you, not them. Take the feedback, meditate on it, ask yourself what matters to you and stop trying to cover inadequacies, but own them as equal parts of yourself.

  • Scared to let it go?

    Scared to let it go?

    Familiar pain is still familiar.

    When you get to a point of pain, let’s say being overwhelmed, how’d you get here?

    Often it’s a series of decisions influenced by perspectives, life events, beliefs about oneself, and a number of other contexts leading to the same result repeatedly.

    When stress is experienced, or rather you feel what you identify as stress as a result of some external stimuli, what do you do with it?

    Nobody wants to admit this but you might be choosing to hold on to stress.

    Truthfully, do you find yourself coming up with excuses as to why the stress needs to be there, why you just CAN’T let it go?

    Story Time:

    Alright, so there I was, another overbooked day of people to see. I get a message about a referral for a new person. My immediate thought says that I should take the referral. I pause a bit, thinking about my schedule and realizing I have no slots left.

    I say, “yes” to the referral under the justification that I will figure it out later.

    I get stressed about scheduling this person immediately. I put off the decision, “I will reach out later to schedule.” I waited. The next day, I needed to call this person. I am thinking to myself about what to say, fearing that what they want I can’t offer.

    “Luke, why did you do this to yourself?”I say to myself.

    I start to spiral and think of every decision I make and how I am such a loser for not being able to be better.

    I regurgetate this feeling throughout the day and feed on it. I lose sleep over it. I go to the gym and feel guilt for being so selfish, for not being better.

    I don’t want to tell my wife because I know she’s going to say that she told me so, to not take on so many people.

    I fester on this for days.

    I call the person, finally, and they admit that they weren’t looking for anyone as a therapist, but someone had suggested it; however, they didn’t have it in their schedule just yet.

    The call ended. Crisis averted, right?

    No, I then say “why didn’t she want to see me, am I not good enough?”

    I start to think about how poor of a therapist I am and how I should never see another human being again. I fester on this for a few more hours. It turns into a slight lull. I tell myself that I have to carry on with life functions because I have guilt over that too.

    Stress was my fuel here. I felt stress and held on to it, unable to give it up. I justified why this stress existed and I justified why I couldn’t let it go. I took on something that caused the stress in the first place, which I have done repeatedly.

    Why can’t I just accept that I overthink and try to overplease people, that I struggle with insecurity and therefore revert into self-defeated thinking and just let it be? Why do I have to pressure myself into trying to be better, as though I am capable of doing so? Why don’t I just let the thoughts go, let the stress pass, while I hold on to my values and be the person I want to be? Not the ideal me, or alternative me, but actual me, me with anxiety. What stops me from accepting this person, love this person, be kind to this person?

    When I make a mistake and revert to over busying myself, again, instead of getting high on my own stressful spiral of thoughts and then the thoughts of judgement towards myself, I can say, “yeah, I do that sometimes.” It is here, acceptance, that I can then work to live according towards what I care about, the wellbeing of someone else.

    From this place of acceptance, I can set boundaries and end up being honest and assertive and saying “no.” As we all should sometimes. Being honest is simply living in reality. I could have said “no” the first offering, or called and said that I have no availability, a number of things. But to do that, I need to sit with my first thoughts (people pleasing and stress addiction)and let the emotion pass (let it go) to then make a rational decision.

    So, I needed to check my addiction to stress and ask myself if I really am willing to let go of the stress.

    From where I stand, “letting go” is really not as simple as we all thought. In reality, many of us want to hold on and feel that stress. We might be habituated to stress, addicted to it. Stress becomes baseline, a reason to complain, a distraction, justifies victimhood, a number of reasons stress exists and is scary to let go of.

    Be honest with yourself and work at identifying if you truly want to let go of the pain and be free from it. Maybe you are choosing to hold on to stress to justify being a miserable person.

    Yes, people do that.