As the Old Year Dies

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The end of each year offers us the chance to decide who we desire to be in the next. Sometimes, in order for that to happen we must let go of something- things, habits, people, etc. that prevent this transformation. With an eye to that, I consider in this video why it's hard sometimes for us to let go of people and why we really don't let go, and why they let go of us more easily than we can let go of them. All in all it boils down to this: if it matters, it happens. Nothing truly good ever gets away from us, so if it goes, when you can, it's best if you let it.

Actions Have Consequences

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Today, we explore the principle that you reap what you sow, that actions have consequences, and that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. In this video, using a story from my own life, I talk about the attitudes that drive our actions, the different reactions to consequences and how to change the consequences of your actions (briefly) if you don't like the end of the road. Food for thought as we reach the end of this year and consider who we desire to be in the next.

Choose Ye This Day Whom Ye Will Serve

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I watched a video today on the church's website about "choosing to believe in God". Beneath the video, it invited us to consider when we found ourselves wondering, if we had a crisis of faith, and what course we took. Essentially, the video below, you can watch part of MY conversion story, which is not a single moment, but stretches over time and many years. My conversion began beneath the stairs in a small village in Idaho when I was eight years old, and as soon as I began to believe, it was tested, and so will your faith be. Here's part of my story about how I have never left the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and why.

You'll Be In My Heart, Always

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On this day when we talk about things to remember, loved ones lost, and the amazing opportunities afforded in our time and in this nation, I think of those I loved and lost, in particular one who was with me in the darkest times. I've been coping by writing a book. Until it comes out, enjoy these pictures that show our life together, or at least some highlights, like every other social media, with a dog who loved me and appreciated my love. You'll be in my heart always.

Living in the Moment

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People incessantly tell me that my problem is that I don’t enjoy where I am, and maybe you hear the same advice. Most of those people don’t recognize that they’re speaking as someone who already knows how. Most of those people are also people who are surrounded by a significant support network and/or people with a supportive significant other. Most of those people fill their schedules with myriad opportunities to have wonderful moments. Some of us cannot, due to responsibilities at home/work or due to financial restraints imposed willingly or not on our fiduciary outlay. Most of these people seem to talk about living in the moment only after they healed from the pain. The clichés are abundant, rife with logical fallacy, and often insensitive to the circumstances of those to whom they speak. However true or useful their perspective may be, since they come from a position of strength and talk about how they do it AFTER THE FACT, it’s harder for those still in media res to follow suit.

When I first entered high school, the only member of my faith my age was a young boy named Cody. About a year before I got into high school, Cody was hit by a bus and was paralyzed from the waist down. Moments with Cody were hard, because we were never just the two of us together. I was 14, and he required constant care, plus he couldn’t speak and I wasn’t always good at reading lips, so we were often frustrated by an inability to communicate. I tried. Honestly, I don’t think I tried very hard, but for a 14 year old boy, I think my feeble efforts were Herculean and heroic, and Cody’s parents certainly felt that way. When I visited Cody at his house, we talked about things he loved mostly, but they were things about which I was curious. Honestly, I got into stamp collecting because of him. We talked about stamps and stars and volleyball and dating, all of which were actually foreign to me at the time, but they were things about which he knew and was passionate. It’s funny now to think back and realize that all I know about all of those things actually started in Cody’s kitchen. It’s sad to think that a year after we started spending time together Cody died. After the funeral, Cody’s parents gave me something that Cody asked them to give me. He’d had a ring engraved with the initials NGU for Never Give Up, and according to them he wanted me to have it because I never gave up. All of his other friends fled when he could no longer come with them or do anything or even speak, and as arduous as it was to spend time with him, I never had. He had some moments to which he looked forward in his last year because he wasn’t alone.

In summer of 2013, I spent a week in Alaska in the off season. I had some spectacular experiences. On my first day, while waiting for my luggage to catch up with me, I went out to a glacier and just stood there while I watched it melt and stepped out of time. I have no idea how long I was there, because for me time ceased not only to matter but also to exist. I had no schedule, no responsibilities, no companions asking how long we were going to stay or any distractions. However, I pulled myself away from this nearly perfect moment knowing that eventually I’d have to return to “real life” and go back to Anchorage for my luggage, buy food, drive, pay for things, and eventually return to my life, job, and responsibilities in Vegas. I enjoyed being there, but I knew that I could not stay there forever. Eventually I would have to eat, sleep, eliminate, or at least move or, far enough in the future, I’d freeze to death. The worst part of it is that I couldn’t even share it with anyone. Sharing it would have disturbed it, and when some other people showed up and rippled their dissonance into nature’s harmony I reluctantly moved and went back to Anchorage to await my luggage. However, it’s a moment that I would recreate if I could but is so valuable precisely because it cannot be recreated.

As you know if you read what I previously wrote here, my beloved beagle died this May of testicular cancer. What you may not know is that the previous October he fell down the stairs one night and slowly recovered. What you may not know is that I started going home for dinner between work and my night labs to eat dinner with and walk him so that I would know that I spent time with him on days where I spent 12 hours working. Those were some very tender moments. I am not happy that he was injured, but I am happy that as a consequence of his injury we came together and became tight like unto a dish as he recovered from his injury. He was literally in pain. Now, I look back, and the moments were tender because they also reminded me of his impending mortality. I knew that any day he could and would die. I got far more time than I expected, but I went to bed and left for work every day with an extremely heavy heart. On my birthday, after our walk, I sat with him on the front porch outside the door while he gathered up the strength to go inside. We just sat looking at each other; I talked; he panted, and I was just there with him. It was a good moment, and one for which I am glad. I knew based on how hard it was for him to walk and how long it took to rest that he was fading quickly even though I didn’t know how many days remained. That gnawed at the back of my mind through the moment, and it made it difficult to truly enjoy it knowing that he could die at any other moment.

Neal A Maxwell once said that “Moments are the molecules that make up eternity”, and so it’s important that the moments in which you live are as positive and uplifting as possible. As much as we may work toward that end, many moments in our lives are also painful, difficult, and exhausting. Living in the moment is a great mantra that some people find more difficult to apply than to exclaim. Living in the moment is difficult to do alone. Living in the moment is difficult to do when the moments are fleeting. Living in the moment is difficult to do when the moment is painful. Not every moment is fun. Not everyone can fill their days with fun or uplifting moments. I know people who, when I ask how they are doing, respond “I’m currently between trials”, which I know is true even for people who seem optimistic. One of our security guards at work, who is one of the most pleasant people I ever met, spent about four months in a dour, dreary, depressed state after someone close to him died. He’s back to his cheery self now, but in those moments, I felt for him, prayed for him, and reminded him that I was there for him and glad to have him around. My life is filled with good moments. Not every moment is filled, and not every filled moment is good. I may not live in the moment, but I live for those moments and those moments make my life worth living.

Decision Day

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We make decisions every day. Each decision cements one possibility into reality and destroys other venues of opportunity. Around us, other people also make decisions, and sometimes those decisions affect the outcomes of our lives. Today is a day I decided to call Decision Day. It commemorates when, six years ago, a decision was made that changed my life. Unfortunately, it was a decision that was not up to me, but it precipitated other opportunities and led to other decisions with which I am pleased. I don't think anyone's life turns out exactly as they plan, hope, or expect, and it is possible for you to make all the right decisions and still lose. That is not failure; that is life. We are judged in the end not on what happens but on what we decide. Now, most of us like to be judged by our good intentions, but we are not affected by intentions. We are affected by actions, and so the decisions you make put actions in motion and ultimately will determine what you reap in the end.

Many decisions that affect our life are decisions made by others. You don't usually get to pick your parents, your race, your native land, your native tongue, and maybe at least from the getgo you don't get to choose your church, your clothing, or your recreational opportunities. Other people chose these for you, and other people will continue to make choices without your advice, consent, or knowledge throughout your life. Many of these people are politicians; some are more intimately known to you. Six years ago, a woman I cared for deeply decided against a life with me. The decision was never mine. The consequences were. At that crossroad, she decided not to join me. In that moment, despite assurances to the contrary, she killed one potential outcome for our story and replaced it with the one we have today- the one in which I am not even someone that she used to know. Of course, I'm disappointed, but her decisions are not up to me. What I do afterwards is.

When other people make decisions that affect us, all that lies in our power is to decide what to do about it. We can piss and moan like an impotent jerk, but ultimately most of us end up bending over and taking it up the tailpipe. You can get mad. You can get even. You can get up again. You can break down, or you can break through. Of course, setbacks are never fun, and it sucks when someone else closes a door you really wanted to walk through and that held a future that appealed to you. It's not that other potential futures don't appeal; you don't know what they offer, and you know you liked the one denied you. That night six years ago, my beloved beagle decided to dedicate himself to me, and eventually I decided to invest all of my love and concern into him. I don't regret this decision in any way. Of course, my dream life was not to hang out with a dog who eventually went deaf. I had other plans. However, I consider every bit of time, treasure, and attention spent on him to be completely worth it. He came with me on adventures. He comforted me when I had a bad day. He absolutely loved me absolutely. We had an exceptionally good life together over the past six years. He helped me find joy. Maybe it wasn't the joy I originally sought, but I know that we were happy, and I am so grateful that he was there and that we had our time together, because that was amazing.

Unexpected decisions affect our lives. I never planned to have a pet. Ever. I never planned to get close to a dog. Six years ago, he was more of a favorite accouterments to my life than an intimate playmate, confidant and friend. Now, however, I could not imagine my life without my beloved beagle boy of 16 years. I am not happy that this woman chose the way she did, but I'm glad that when she did that he was there and that I chose to love him. I decided today that I will probably get another dog. This is the first time in six years that I'm facing Decision Day without my dog. Sometimes I wonder if the woman was ever worthwhile. As for the dog, I realized that if I'm going to have love and companionship and good memories, it's much more likely with a dog than with another person. My beagle was totally devoted to me. I kept him downstairs because this woman was allergic to dogs, but after she left, he peered around the corner at the top of the stairs one night in 2015 (he was not allowed upstairs), and I invited him over. I have always been glad I made the decision to let him into my life. This decision day, I thank God for providing me with an alternative decision to make and for time and opportunity to choose my dog and then enjoy him for as many years as I did. Even though he died 14 weeks ago today, I still thank God every day for the decisions that brought that dog into my life and eventually brought him into my heart.

Seemingly unimportant decisions (SUDs) abound. We do many small things every minute that we believe to be small. We say pithy things. We don't go places we ought. We go places we know are bad. We engage in bad habits. We decide to befriend strangers. None of these things are as small as we think they are. Some of them transform our lives. At the end of the day, many SUDs become the basis for the future that we build. Each decision entrenches one future possibility and KILLS ALL OTHERS. We excuse many bad decisions as unimportant. "It's my body I'll do what I like. I'm not hurting anyone else". We downplay some good decisions as unimportant. The random letter we sent, the random neighbor we help, and the time spent hiking half a mile with a neice last weekend who thinks you're an awesome uncle. You honestly have no idea how things will play out. All you can do is be honest with yourself about what outcome you truly value and make decisions based on those values. I know that on Decision Day 2013, that woman decided that she valued something more than she valued me. I know that eventually I decided I valued my beagle more than any other person I knew. I know that some small things, some SUDs, cost me quite a bit and that others brought me more joy than I could ever imagine. Today is your Decision Day. What do you truly desire? What do you need to decide to make those things possible in your life? What other venues are there to have that? I'll probably get a dog, not because I prefer dogs to people, but because I know that a dog can bring me joy, and I know that putting my trust in a particular woman left me on a detour but that deciding to get a dog will get me there. He was the best decision I ever made as an adult.

Faith Promoting Stories

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This week, I’ve read two ostensibly faith promoting stories and thought afterwards, “Well, I’m happy for you, but your results don’t apply to my situation”. The authors mean well, and they desire to inspire us by writing about how their faith was rewarded with the blessings for which they strove, hoped, prayed, and waited. Both of them however already arrived in the Promised Land meaning that these stories, as inspirational as they may be, are no longer about faith. You see, if you have faith you hope for things which are not yet seen, which are true. In order to inspire faith, they must talk about things that remain as yet unrealized. Both of these stories feature people who have seen their faith rewarded. In these stories, the stories are told from a position of strength where they ALREADY reaped the rewards of their faith. That’s from a position of KNOWLEDGE. If you know a thing, if you are experiencing it, if you see it, it’s no longer faith, and your inspirational story, as interesting and helpful as it may be, does not actually inspire faith. I don’t know what it inspires, but it cannot inspire faith. You are trying to project your knowledge on me and use knowledge to create faith. That’s not how it works.

Both of them are interesting stories, and I recommend reading these type of stories for the positive messages you can take from them. However, as any rational adult will tell you “past performance does not guarantee future results” and “results may vary”. The scriptures are replete with examples of people who did not EVER get what they wanted, because their decisions put them into places where those outcomes were impossible or because the way they pursued blessings could not deliver. I’m glad that both of these stories ended with happy and healthy relationships, because I know that will continue to help them. However, some of God’s favorite children spent time in longer and deeper troughs than anyone else. Jonah in the whale, Daniel watched believers burned alive in the ovens, Elijah in the wilderness, Abinadi burned to death, Jeremiah imprisoned, Peter crucified, ad infinitum. They did not end up living happily ever after, and they didn’t get the outcomes for which they might have hoped.

In my last congregation, one of the leaders named Todd told me that I was the most faith affirming thing he saw each week. I had no wife, no children, no responsibility, and no friends per se in the congregation, and yet I came almost every week, sang hymns, participated in class, paid my donations, and interfaced with the members. He knew that I had no other incentive to come besides that I believe. He knew that I came because I had FAITH. Many people make different decisions. They remain “faithful” if and only if the blessings continue unabated, and as soon as they dry up, those same people conclude that their faith was in vain. Todd knew I had faith because I kept going even though my faith had not yet delivered the rewards often concomitant with living a faithful life. Moreover, it’s important to remember that just because your faith isn’t rewarded doesn’t mean your faith is poorly placed.

This is precisely the argument made by the devil when he received permission from God to tempt Job. Satan concluded erroneously but as we know what’s true all too well that Job was only faithful because of the many blessings he received and that Job would abandon God if God rescinded His favor and protection. As we know, Job lost everything (except for a few friends who were seriously the worst friends ever in my opinion) but despite the privations, tribulations, and criticism, Job stayed true to God and eventually ended up having his blessings restored and beyond.

All too often, however, we quit when we reach what CS Lewis wrote about in The Screwtape Letters as “a reasonable period of suffering”. We conclude that WE have suffered, endured, and persisted faithfully long enough and that, if God does not bless us with a particular gift by a particular deadline, our faith was in vain or placed in a false god. We project our time line and perspective on a diety, which evinces that we don’t actually believe in something greater than ourselves and that our ‘god’ is located just above our head in the vapid air surrounding us.

The real problem with most of these kinds of stories is the emphasis on the blessing and not on the Mediator. Although both of these stories I read justly ascribe credit to God for helping them through a difficult circumstance, the focus tends to be more in most cases on the destination. When we talk about faith, we talk about faith in the wrong context. We have faith in people, in the rising of the sun, in the progress of the seasons, etc. The principle of faith that we ought to be emphasizing is lost on us because we forget in what we ought to have Faith.

remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.

Our faith is in a Messiah, a Redeemer, a Savior, in Jesus Christ. The faith we ought be promoting is Faith in Jesus Christ, which sustains us no matter the storm, no matter the privation, and no matter how long we must wait. If you trust in Christ, even if you don’t get blessed, you will not fall.

I attend church each week because I have faith in Christ. I don’t like some of the congregants, and I don’t trust others. Most of them I just don’t know very well. I’m not there for them. I’m not there hoping they’ll hire me, or befriend me or help me repair the roof or give one of their daughters to me to wife. I’m not there to please them, to impress them, or because I owe them allegiance. I am there because I want to show Jesus that I love Him enough to keep His commandments and that I believe that in the end He will be the one who frees me from pain, from sadness, from singleness, and from the shadows of anonymity and insignificance. The real point of the stories that affirm faith is that these people continued to believe in Christ, in God’s promises and in the method God told us He would keep His promises, and not in the outcome of the promises themselves. Our lives are a continual invitation to prepare for, wait on, and participate in the marriage of the Bridegroom of allegorical reference and show whether we truly intend to follow Christ and allow Him to rescue us from death, pain, and sin. They are not talking about their continued faith in Christ. They stop the story usually after the part where they obtained the reason why they decided to put their faith in Christ in the first place.

The kind of faith that sustained the prophets aforementioned was a faith in God’s promises and the life and sacrifice of God’s Son. Jonah was thrown from the whale when he acknowledged God’s desire to forgive. Abinadi testified of Jesus’ birth. Peter refused to deny Christ again and asked to be crucified upside down because he was not worthy. Elijah called down fire from heaven to show the Jews who their true God truly was and that He had power to save them. The prophets wrote nothing save it was to remind people of the reality of and their reliance on a Savior. They preached of Christ, they prophesied of Christ, they rejoiced in Christ, and they wrote according to their prophecy so that all the children of men might know to what source they could look to be saved from the struggles, pains, disappointments, setbacks, and heartbreaks of mortal life. They wanted people to turn to Jesus, to the Messiah, and to rely on Him to be saved, and anyone who shares a faith promoting story does well to remember this.

I have not arrived where I hoped to be. I am not wealthy, renowned, as skinny as I like, or even in communication with anyone I hope might be Mrs. Right. I’m still here though. I still go to church, write on my blog, read my scriptures, kneel in the living room each morning to pray and TRUST GOD. I don’t know if or when He will intervene to change the things I hope to improve, but I know that He will intervene in ways that improve my life. One day, maybe my life will change for the better in one of the ways I hope. One day maybe I’ll heal and have a family and know love beyond that of a beagle.

RED Shirt Fridays

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Last term, my female student worker observed that I wear red every Friday. It's very simple, but it's not my idea. My father worked with a bunch of prior military folks who all banded together each Friday to wear red shirts. RED stands for Remember Everyone Deployed. It's a simple thing they do to remind them of people elsewhere doing some heavy lifting in a way that's not too much in your face but that brings some espirit de corps not only to his work group but also to the military assets the organization supported. In some ways, it's similar to the poppy in the UK, but the poppy is worn less frequently, and it's an additional accoutrement attached to the rest of your garb and sold on top of regular shopping for special programs in favor of the fighting man. The red shirt is simple, and that's why it appeals to me.

At the simplest level, the red shirt serves as a way of remembering people. In particular, this observance remembers particular people- people who are elsewhere in dangerous places doing things to make our lives better. Specifically, this observance keeps its eye on military members, but even if you don't know anyone in the military, you do know people who put their lives on the line both literally or figuratively speaking to improve yours. Red, the color of blood, signifies at least in one way sacrifice. We are taught that those who lose their lives in the service of others have the highest degree of love, and when you wear red to remember them, you show you value their sacrifice. Other organizations adopt similar color schemes like Red Nose Day or Red ribbons, or what have you. It's a way to remember those who lose their lives so that we can find a better one for ourselves.

Wearing a red shirt gives you an opportunity to make an outward sign that is not obvious. A lot of people like to proudly proclaim what organization/movement they support. We frequently festoon ourselves with pins or brands or other signets so that people know what we advocate. Sometimes those outward conveyances attract people to us; other times, people assume based on something that they should shy away. I know people have decided based on what I share publicly to part with me permanently. However, wearing a shirt of a particular color without any other provisos besides the color and extent of color doesn't alarm anyone who doesn't know. Being vague as to pattern differentiates you from having gang colors. People who know in secret will recognize you openly, and people who don't know just know you wore a red shirt.

One of the best things about red shirt Friday is the way it provides for a chance to regularly show solidarity as and for a group. We all know about Casual Fridays or Pajama Day in school and similar things, and some people like to wear uniforms or camouflage which might be to show solidarity for military personnel, but we know that sometimes people do that in order to pretend and portend to honors they have not earned. Each Friday, members of my father's workplace proudly don a red shirt and show solidarity not only for the unit but for units of servicemen everywhere. Although those people may not see it, many of them know that's what's happening at home, and the show of support even unseen helps bolster morale.

Many people have fuzzy memories and short lived relationships with people. I see people with note cards, strings around their fingers, tatoos, patches, pins, ad infinitum, all of which they use to help them remember what is urgent and important. Now, you may not agree with our fighting men, but they are urgent and important to someone. They have family, battle buddies, units, neighbors, friends, and often lovers who think of them often and highly. The red shirt is an invitation to remember that there are people out there doing heavy lifting for you. It is said that only 3% of Americans serve in the military voluntarily. For them, it's a small thing, but if you are alone, cold, hungry, and under fire, it's probably nice to know that someone somewhere's thinking about you, remembering you, and showing solidarity with you even if they're not physically there. It's nice to be remembered.

Mourning People

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Normally, I am a morning person. By 9AM most days, I achieve more than many people do all day long. Each morning, I thank God for a good night's rest, for protection from intruders, and for my beagle. Last Christmas, I awoke and heard him snoring and thanked God for my first Christmas gift- that my beautiful beagle buddy was still there with and for me. It was a great morning. On my birthday this year, I awoke and found him curled up, for one of the last times, in a pile of my jeans beside the dresser waiting for me to wake. That was also a great morning. Mornings, however, feel much sadder than they used to be, and Friday mornings are worst. Most people look forward to Fridays, but each Friday morning marks another week since I last saw my beautiful brave beloved beagle buddy, and when I wake, I think about that last morning together. I also find that I cry the most on Friday. Yeah, I know men aren't supposed to cry. So sue me. I actually loved this dog. And I'm not the only person I know mourning. I walked in the building for work this morning and thought of all the other people around here who are mourning and who, consequently, called in sick to work this morning and others I know who are mourning those they lost. Just about everyone you really get to know changes your life, and every life around you changes according to opportunities, trials, circumstances, events, and other living things. When they change you for the better, and then they leave, you often mourn. Often, they just move away or cut you off, but when they also die, the mourning takes a different form. Everyone mourns, and everyone mourns their own things in their own way. How and why we mourn, when we are truly weak enough to be our true selves, tells us alot about ourselves and about those we watch mourn.

Mourning for people you love is part of life. Everyone and everything you know and like eventually leaves your life or is left behind when you die. Materials and bodies decay, and consequently eventually what was must give way for something else. Some people don't make or take much time for mourning, and other people seem to never get over a loss. Since you must lose someone or something at some time or another, most people acknowledge that there is a time for mourning, they just may not like spending time with you while you mourn. I think we know very little about how to help people mourn, and the only thing I can really offer is this: "you didn't always know what to say, buy you knew to listen, and that was helpful". Usually the degree to which we mourn is proportional to how much we value what we lose, and it helps to be able to talk about it aloud even if nobody has any useful ideas. In discussing them, we show that we still value them, and to what degree, and it may be that this helps us realize that they never really leave us per se. I will always carry part of the dog with me. I learned I was a dog person mostly because I'm allergic to cats and that I liked having a pet who considered me a god (dogs) more than I liked a pet who considered me a slave (cats). Maybe the worst thing was that I had a pet late in life. I mean I never intended to have one in the first place and ended up with beagles because of my ex wife, but if I'd lost a pet when I was younger, when my parents were there to shield me from the loss, when I could learn to deal with it, this one might have hurt a little less. At the very least, I learned that, if I get another dog, I'll lose him eventually too, and it changes what I plan to do with another dog if applicable so that parting is less sorrow.

Many people around you mourn. In the midst of my sorrow, I noticed that a wave of death and loss crashed around me. A department secretary died when her cancer returned, another secretary's husband died, and a friend of mine lost one of his inlaws. Just in the last few weeks, several people have died at church from cancer. Then there are people with wayward kids, with sick family, with financial struggles, with substance abuse problems, etc. It's interesting when people can see on my face that I'm sad. I can tell on their faces too, and I think they're surprised and relieved when I ask and they have an outlet. If we were supposed to face life alone, we'd all be on our own planet, but one of the major purposes for us here is to be with and for each other. My dog helped me when I was sad, and now others make an effort who also know loss, albeit of different kinds, and heartache, albeit for different reasons, and we feel less alone in our loneliness.

How we mourn shows us much about ourselves. Some people mourn a lost chance to spend time with someone and show they that they loved them. Other people mourn the loss because their life just changed forever in a way where they feel as if they died too, at least in part. Others don't seem to mourn at all. I don't pretend to know with certitude why, only that it's true that some people feel callous. Just because we don't see people mourn doesn't mean that they do not. We are taught to be strong and that mourning equates with weakness, and some people just sit silently and miss those they lost. Then there is a somewhat unconventional way to mourn. For years, I have told my sister that I don't want a funeral; I want a party with only desserts and a piñata of me (so that anyone who likes can take one last swing at me) filled with candy so that my death will send everyone home with sweet things. I think that's exactly the kind of eulogy my beagle would have liked. Whenever I was sad or bored or lonely, my beagle was there, and I know that he would not want me to be sad. If he were here, he would come and try to make me smile or laugh, because he was joy wrapped up in a beagle. Sometimes, when I suddenly feel calm, I wonder if he is there, especially in the mornings when I used to thank God each day that the beagle was still with me and I inexplicably become calm. He would want me to be happy. I sat Friday night and watched the videos I shot during our last week together; I'm glad I shot them. They remind me of good and tender moments together with a beagle I loved, and I am so very grateful that I captured some good memories of the greatest blessing God ever gave me in mortality.

This morning, like every Friday morning since 3 May 2019, I was in mourning. When I returned to my bedroom following my run, I caught a whiff of his scent. As I left for work, I paused briefly to look back at the carpet in the living room and glance up along the staircase, because that's where he would be when I left each morning, either resting or searching for the treats I threw around the house to distract him from following me out the door starting in summer 2017. It's so very odd to not see him in one of those places. Sometimes, he would look at me longingly, as if wondering why I had to leave, and it was very hard, especially in the last few months, to tear myself away and leave him for work knowing that I might not see him when I returned. That Friday night, I returned to find him dead, and it was the most painful day of my life. I know he's not a person, but I am, and I'm mourning him because he was part of me, my life, my day, my routine, and I will carry him with me wherever I go for the rest of my life, in my heart, and in the ways in which he changed me because he lived. I am still a morning person, and I look forward to the morning of the first resurrection, hoping for the restoration of ALL things, especially the things and people we knew and loved and mourned. Hopefully that will include my beagle whom I love, because that will be a great morning.

Honoring The Memory

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Most people handle a loss by moving on and replacing what they lost with something similar.  When their relationships fall apart, they find someone else to date, and when their pets die they go adopt a new one.  People seem insensitive. My beloved brave best beagle boy was incredibly sensitive to me. He didn't care what car I drove, only that I took him with me. He didn't care how I looked, only how I looked at him. He didn't care how much money I earned, only that I shared what I had with him. He didn't care where we were as long as we were together. He is quite possibly the greatest blessing God ever gave me. I still thank God each day for my Saturn and my beagle as I have for several years now each morning. I honor his memory. I felt God's love through how that dog treated me, and so I honor the memory of my friend by taking time to think about him, to focus on his contribution to my life, and of how he took care of me. It is said that we make time for, take pictures of and write about those things and people that matter to us. Well, I guess it's fitting that, in this current drought of scribblings, I write about and share pictures of a dog I loved and who mattered to me a great deal. Nobody knew more about my flaws, and nobody cared less, and that's why this feels like such a loss to me.

I sense a desire in most people for me to move on already. Most people blithely express sympathy for my loss and then ask when I'm going to get a new dog. I think it's a little early to replace him since I really loved him. Maybe that's because they didn't care about what they lost as much as I care about what I lost. You can't replace him. There will never be another dog like that. Not that I might not get another awesome buddy, but he was unique. I could not have found a better dog if I picked him out of a catalogue. He contributed so much to my life, to each day, to each week, to each season, to the holidays, in good times and in bad, on sunny days and in rain storms. He was there. I let him into my life, and in doing so I feel like I allowed the Savior into my life to provide what I needed and to use my beagle to touch my heart and feel of His love.

Very few people seem interested in or concerned with me. Well, I'm ok, thanks for asking, but I'm not fine at all. A huge part of my life simply ceased to exist. My female student worker asked me if I got some sun one week because I was red from crying, because I miss him. He absolutely loved me absolutely. He fought to stay because HE cared about me. My parents like to, to their credit, reminisce about positive happy memories. They know that helps. My mom understands that this dog was as close to family as you can get without being blood. Rarely does anyone ask if I'm ok. I'm just supposed to suck it up and soldier on without my best friend in the whole world. How would you feel if I told you to suck it up when you lost someone you loved? yes, I know he was just a dog, but he was MY dog, and he was there for 16 years, faithful to the end, and I feel the loss every day for some period of time or another. According to my fitbit I sleep all night, but I have only really rested once in the month since he died. I'm exhausted. He fought to stay because he was worried about me, because he knew that when he died I would be alone, literally. This dog took care of me, and I appreciate his concern for my welfare up to the end.

Some wonder why I don't move or toss out everything. I have a new hiking buddy who told me blithely that I ought to sell my house and move. Easy for him to say; he won't be packing up, finding a new place, or paying the mortgage. In fact, he's essentially a nomad himself, having not lived anywhere for more than a year or two since he finished college. I bought the house in 2010 in part for the dog. It had a dog door and a yard that was "enough" for him to stretch his legs, sniff around and explore when I got back to the house in the evening. The downstairs was all tile to make it easier to clean up after him. Yes, I have places in my house that remind me of him, and I have not disturbed some of them for now, because I feel like removing them shows I don't care about him. In fact, I printed a bunch of pictures, and I'll hang them this week or put the rest in an album so that when I feel like it I can look back at pictures of him that remind me of the good times and better times without having to turn on the computer and without seeing pictures that are not happy. This was our place. He's always welcome there as long as I'm there, and I want it that way. I like thinking about him, because thinking about him reminds me of the virtues of my beagle, of the love I felt from him in the days of trouble.

Growing up, they taught me at church that one of the most important things we could do was remember. Accordingly, I have a new day to commemorate- his birthday. I will always be grateful that my beagle was born, that my ex wife bought him for me, that my parents gave him a place when I got custody until I had a place for us, that we lived 8.5 years in this house together, and for the last two years, which might be the best two years of my life. I have no desire to move on, forget him, to move away, or to purge my life of signs that he lived. My dog will always go with me, in my memory, and in the ways in which I was changed by his presence in my life. For two years at least, I rose each day to happy noises of a dog who loved me stirring, and then I returned from work to find him greet me on the staircase, and I apologized to nobody.  I still do the things we did together, because I was going to do them anyway, and because doing them with him made them better.  I learned with certitude through him that life truly is greater when you share it with someone that you love.  Thank you, good buddy, for everything.  I'll see you soon.

Saying Goodbye

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After a valiant three month fight against cancer, my beloved beagle buddy of over 16 years of age died sometime last Friday after I left for work. I've been consumed spending time with him over the past several months, where I am with him at the house when I am not required to be elsewhere. It's perhaps somewhat poetic that our last car ride together was to go bury him and that it was also my last ride in the Saturn, which I sold Saturday morning. Since then, of course, everything has changed. This morning I was thinking about how the last time I went through such a drastic lifestyle change was when I left my parents' house for the first time, where I lived for approximately the same number of years.

Sixteen years is an incredibly long time to do anything, and it's an abnormally long time for a dog. Back in February, we buried my parents' male beagle who wasn't even twelve yet, much to everyone's surprise. About a week after that, my beagle finally started to show signs of his age, besides of course the graying hair, and started his extended spiral downhill. However, even up to the final morning before we parted for the last time in this life, he was still active, alert, and attentive to me. Many people don't work the same place for sixteen years, and I don't know that many who drive a car that long. Last year, at Valentine's I wrote at length about my two loves, who were my "sure place" to which I could attach my life when disappointment, discouragement, and rejection veered their ugly heads. I could go jump in my car or snuggle with my beagle, and then whatever bothered me didn't even exist, at least for a few moments. Maybe it was a mistake to invest my heart, my time, my energy, and my trust in something that I knew could not biologically last as long as I was likely to, but two years ago or so, he looked at me one night when I felt low and lost as if to say, "I cannot be your friend for the rest of your life, but I will be your friend for the rest of mine" and he was. Nobody knew as much about my flaws, and nobody cared less.  He lived an incredibly good life. His breeder intended to kill him. I wonder sometimes if he knew, if he knew that the only reason he had a life was because we bought him. It was only about 20 minutes before I left for work last Friday that he seemed to go downhill suddenly, and he was dead by 3PM that afternoon. He's been in my life so long that now that our time is over I don't know what to do with my time. My days literally began and ended with this dog- feeding him, walking him, spending time with him, even if only for a few minutes, and many days when I found him still alive I would smile and swing my arms wide open when I saw him like humans greet friends they haven't seen for years.

I loved this dog so very much. I realized in February just how little I wrote about him in my journal. I really don't have a lot of pictures of him when he was young, mostly because we didn't do anything special together, but I loved him. He had places in my house. He got food from my plate. I let him run around the house for about the last half of his life while I was home. My beagle was the last member of the only family God allowed me to have thus far. Since I got "custody" of him almost 12 years ago, I really haven't heard anything from my ex wife. I don't know what she's doing, and I don't care; she started a new family with another man. Also, I don't expect any of the other dogs we bred to still be alive. Some of them were not loved, and others were probably over bred, and I don't know if they kept any of them after I moved away. The last of the puppies I bred and knew went to my parents, but when Yoda died in February, i was shocked. i expected him to be the last. Now, all the beagles I knew and loved are dead, and since I never had any kids, he's the last family I had. Last fall when he fell ill, I went home a few nights per week when I didn't have lab until 730PM to eat and hang out with him before going BACK for class because I thought he'd die then. I don't know if I would do that for anyone else on the planet.

Everything has pros and cons, but I would trade the pros for me in exchange for the cons, and I won't trade the cons for him just so he could remain with me. I know that this is better for him. He was deaf and weak and hurt and alone most of the time. His body was failing, and I would not want him to keep living in that state. If he could be like he was in 2016 or even last November, that would be awesome, but that's not possible. My house is cleaner and smells better now, and I'll probably save some money, but I would gladly trade the dirt, the money and the stink for his love. Last night, for the first time I can remember in YEARS, I set up things in the house to let me know if someone breaks in, because he was no longer there. Not that a deaf old dog makes a great defender, but having him there somehow gave me comfort, and now I've got obstacles up so that I'll know if someone breaks in while I'm asleep. It was nice to have company when I was sad or bored, to have company on walks, and to share a meal and a laugh with someone I actually liked. I won't have flies and won't have to fill the water trays or buy dog food or wake up at 2AM when he's howling to give him a treat, but I also won't ever have him greet me at the door or play or hang out in the back yard. Of course, he isn't bleeding or uncomfortable or having trouble finding food he actually wants to eat. I shared Sunday dinner with him last Sunday- Chicken Paprika- and I think he enjoyed it because he ate an entire bowl. That was essentially his last full meal. So, I'm glad that his last meal was something he truly enjoyed.

As I pondered the loss this weekend, I reread some of my own posts like Letting Go and Lies About Grief because I needed to remind myself of what I think, believe, and feel when I go through heartbreak. I'm pretty adrift. He was my anchor in the storm. Of course, is there something I'm honestly supposed to do? Losing someone who is dear to you is one of the three most traumatic things that a human can experience, and trauma takes time to process. I think it's important to let myself grieve and to leave some time without feeling like I'm supposed to do something or be a certain way. Grief is individual, personal, and unique. I shared a house with this dog for 8.7 years, and I shared evenings and weekends with him for years. He was a huge part of my life, and now he's gone, and saying goodbye sucks. The worst part was that he was so far along when I found him that I had to bury him immediately. I could smell the Putrescine and cadaverase when I found him, and I handled him without gloves, but 130 minutes after I found him, he was completely buried, and even then I had to go shower because I could smell death on my clothes. I really didn't get to say goodbye. However, I sort of did. This is the last thing I said to him, even though he didn't hear it, and I take some solace in knowing what my last words to him were.

Thank you for everything, my very good boy. I'll see you soon.

Not Part of the Solution

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For the past several months, since about the time my parents' beagle Yoda died, I've been watching a lot of MGTOW (Men Going Their Own Way) videos. Of late, God warned me of the philosophies of men mingled with scripture that make this appealing but damaging to good men. It appeals to me, because I empathize with the stories and appreciate the perspective. I also fear that there is a danger in the attitudes men take as a consequence of going MGTOW towards women and towards the future outcomes of their own lives. I worry about the reactions, and I worry that I almost got swept up in the essentially religious fervor with which these advocates preach if not for God's timely warning. It's actually a form in some way of hate speech, albeit clandestinely. Men like George Adams and Richard Cooper may not know this, but what they preach is actually a form of hate speech because it foments enmity between men and women. As I thought about my own decisions, my own way if you will, I came across this mean-spirited video which prompted me to write the following response:

My first reaction, which is still a true thing I feel, is that your video makes me feel a lot less cynical and bitter than I thought I was. I mean, you really could just distill all your coaching down to "ignore women unless you want to hit them and quit them". There is really no need for anyone to watch any of your other videos, pay you for advice, or listen to anything else you say. After watching five or six, that's the takeaway message I get from your "coaching". If this video truly represents how you feel, then there is no need for any further coaching. That being said, I found the following observations interesting and valuable.

1. even though the woman made zero contribution to acquiring or maintaining an asset, or some women make a token contribution, they become entitled to an equal or larger share because their name gets on the paperwork due to "community property". FYI, even if their name doesn't end up on the official paperwork, the courts will consider it joint assets anyway if you get divorced. My wife didn't appear on the house loan documents because her credit was so trashed that if she was on the loan we couldn't get one, but she was entitled to more than half because she didn't have the education/earning potential I did.

2. before you commit, the women take an equal interest and sometimes make a fair contribution to entertainment, but after you wed, the onus is entirely on you to keep them entertained, and if you don't they sometimes use that as rationale to justify infidelity because "he just doesn't get me" or "i'm not in love with him anymore" or "there's no spark". You have to do all the work. That's exceptionally astute and incredibly frustrating, because it's true with just about every woman I have ever met. Even my very conservative Scottish paternal grandmother told me once shortly before she died that the young women she knew were "dingbats looking for deadbeats who only wanted to be continuously entertained". That was an interesting visit.

3. the courts do seem to leverage against men to take whatever they have in an effort to countermand her insult with your security. Yes, many women like to use that against you to their own advancement. Isn't that a human thing to do? Don't most people take advantage of opportunities? Let's not pretend that most of the men considering your advice are the moral authority.

Who hurt you so badly? I guess either my experiences weren't that bad or that I've healed more than I thought.

You present yourself as a coach, someone in a better place who can lift me up, but I don't think you really are either in a better place or capable of elevating the men to whom your videos are ostensibly addressed. I get the impression that you view women as chattel with which to slake your lusts and that you use the MGTOW empowerment movement in order to "clothe your naked villainy in odd old ends stolen forth from holy writ and seem a saint when most you play the devil". There is a real danger inherent in this kind of attitude towards women that you espouse. This is some serious He-Man Woman Haters Club stuff you're preaching. It does not behoove us to give men the impression that all women are and always will be unworthy, that the only thing for which they are useful is the satiation of biological urges. How would you like another man to think of your mother, your sister, your daughter that way? Do you seriously want us to think that if I pumped and dumped your daughter you'd give me a high five and send me on my way? I see a very real danger that this kind of MGTOW advice runs the risk of converting men into Edmund Dantes of Monte Cristo fame, where our every effort drives at revenge (or pleasure in this case) to the detriment of our own opportunities. That countermands the civil society for which you claim to yearn. Many of the women you decry rationalize their own miscreant mistreatment of men based on the notion that "all men are the same/only want one thing" and then you seem to advocate becoming the very men they despise. They look down on us because enough men give them reason to, and they consider all men guilty by association. Yet, that's the very thing you're encouraging reciprocally to women. As Dantes was told, "do not commit the crime for which you now serve the sentence". Do not earn their vitriol or encourage other men to do so. You can go your own way without despising, denigrating, and abusing women because of a perceived slight or a putative one. You don't have to treat them like a means to your own pleasure. You can simply ignore them and go your own way without them. That's what I've been doing since 2013, and I work in academia, where a constant hit parade of young, vivacious women crosses my path each term, where the next group is as equally attractive but also equally clueless as the last, and even though I know they won't make an even passing partner for me, I don't have to treat them like they are scum on the bottom of my shoe. You can be a gentleman, chivalrous, and neighborly to women. In fact, it's fun sometimes to be kind to or compliment them without an ulterior motive because they expect to be able to slap me down when I hit on them, but I don't. Just because most women have done wrong by you does not mean that all women will. Continuing to think that will both invite and justify the ire of women towards men. Even sour grapes make better wine than no grapes at all. Maybe it's time to think of something we could do to earn their respect and veneration even if they withhold it.

This Greg Adams guy is very angry and very self-centered. Too many people in the MGTOW movement seem to have flipped 180 degrees from caring about others to only caring about themselves, which is precisely what the devil would desire. Satan wants each man preoccupied with himself; Christ wants each man to think about his neighbor. To achieve this, satan redefined family, discouraged marriage, and now he's trying to stop men from caring about women one whit. Now, I have my own problems, but this is serious, and it's dangerous, because it puts men and women at odds, such that MGTOW men are encouraged to actively engage in hostile behavior towards women. How will we get good marriages, families, and societies, if men subscribe to the notions Adams espouses? This is a form of priestcraft, and he's having success and making money so much that he really believes now that it can and will lead to a better world. It won't. I thought of Nehor and Korihor who taught the people what was pleasing to the carnal mind. I mean, there is truth in what Adams says. There is also sophistry. This is a popular movement, and it's extremely profitable. The men earn significant amounts of money. As they have success/validation, it makes their ideas seem true. However, even though they contain some truths, they also preach adultery, fornication, and suppression of women, which are expressly repugnant in the eyes of God.

Civilization relies on good men. Back in 2009, a student told me that even if I had no children, I needed to pass on what I was because the world needed men like me. I suspect that civilization persists as long as certain groups of men exist, from each of which I know representatives. The first bailiwick is men who won't copulate with women they don't actually know. The second is men who won't copulate with women they don't actually love. The third is men who won't copulate with women they did not marry first. As long as a sufficient number of that type of men exist, civilization prevails. However, many MGTOW advocates actually advocate licentiousness and lasciviousness, as if an evil attitude can create a virtuous outcome. If men are incentivized and then encouraged to copulate without reservation, civilization cannot persist. Instead, the new norm is that many MGTOW coaches and Pick Up Artists are actually encouraging men to be debauched and debasing, and they are teaching men to simply use women.

Personally, I have been burnt and badly by women. I admittedly spend a lot of time complaining about that treatment and wondering if it's worth my time to pay any attention to women. However, you will not see in any of my ramblings any incentive to or suggestion that men go out and do unto others before they do unto you, to treat women as if they exist for your enjoyment, to treat women as if they are beneath you. I do not believe that this leads to civil society. I do not think this pleases God. He created women too. I am cynical and bitter, but I do not think that an eye for an eye will improve our vision of the future. I don't necessarily need a woman, but I like to look at them, and I would like to have a good woman if I can meet one who is actually interested in me. I won't get one if, in the modern world where you can search the internet, she reads or watches a series of seething posts/videos about how women are at fault for all the crap in my life. Well, I did pick them, and sometimes I wonder at my selection paradigm, but that onus to choose wisely is still mine as well as the consequences when I choose poorly. I'm cautious now, perhaps more than is necessary, and that's where MGTOW and I align. Honestly, I don't like most women, but I have a mother that I love, a sister who is dear, and several precious and thoughtful nieces whom I hope will find good men with whom to build families of their own. Just because I don't expect to find that doesn't mean that I feel justified to go out and lie to women I meet about my motives just to slake my urges or excuse you because you do so or that I'm justified to treat all women as if they hurt me. Women hurt me, but their past is not your future. Civil society is based on healthy families. Healthy families emerge from husband and wife (married) who love one another and are committed to the mutual success of each partner and the family unit they create. A society is only as strong as the families of which it is comprised. Unless the behaviors your espouse incentivize families, you're going to damage the society just as much as other behaviors you may decry. If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the precipitate.

Unexpected Friends

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As I pondered lost love and dead or dying loved ones, a rather odd thought struck me. Excluding family, the best relationships I’ve had are ones for which I was not actually looking. The best friendships and relationships are with individuals that I would have not ordinarily considered for the role. Essentially, I wasted a great deal of time pursuing other people, other opportunities, in other places, trying to force a relationship out of an encounter. When I moved to Vegas, my sister gave me a book by Paul Brandt, and it can be summarized in this one excerpt from his book: “Spend your life living happily and let God bring the people into your life who belong.” The people God brought are the only people in my experience who were worth meeting for my part. Often, they were beings I would not have noticed or with whom I would never have interacted without the interpolation of the Almighty.  I know this is not the conventional wisdom.  Most people tell you to get out, put yourself out there, and take risks.  I can only speak from my experience.  I have found that conventional wisdom does not work out for me the way that people who spout it hope it will.

Relationships I sought ended ultimately not only in disappointment, but in dejection. One young man with whom I hiked frequently used me as a foil by which to entertain a series of women he wanted to date at my sole expense. As I became aware of this, I stopped inviting him to see if he would invite me to things; he continued to hike, but he never invited me. I only found out he married when I had his wife as a student years later. One young lady I pursued romantically about the same time finally acquiesced to date me for a period of barely six weeks after I pursued her for 8 months, including taking her with me to Washington DC, only to seek an exit strategy and ultimately dump me because I wasn’t skinny enough, ambitious enough, or rich enough, and because she wanted to date a previous ex and see if they could make it work. The past several months, I have been stood up by people who accepted my invitation to hike or go shooting even though they initiated contact only to break plans last minute if they notified me at all. Very few students talk to me after they get their letters of recommendation, and even members of Sunday School find me forgettable. In January, I encountered a prominent family from my last congregation on a hiking trail, two of the daughters had me in Sunday School, who didn’t acknowledge me if they even recognized me. Many women I find attractive ghost me, and most of the people with whom I used to go places now go to those places with other people. In fact, with the one exception to follow, I could have ignored every woman I have ever met as a romantic prospect since I was divorced, and my life would be exactly the same. For me, it appears to have been a complete waste of time.

I never thought I would come to love a dog. Growing up, I harbored no intentions of ever owning any pet let alone a dog because my brothers had pets, and I shied away from the responsibility. The only reason I have a dog is because my ex-wife wanted to “start a business” with her parents breeding beagles, which was their way of roping me in as free labor. I never saw a dime from that business, and I didn’t even get to pick him. He was a “gift” for my birthday. Of course, I didn’t ask for a dog or for this dog or get to pick this dog, but I did get to pay for it since she paid for the “gift” with my Discovercard. She never really liked him after he arrived, particularly since he refused to mate with the dog from whom my wife wanted a litter of pups. After we split and I moved away, she used him to manipulate me into coming back, telling me that if I didn’t come get him she would have him euthanized, only to tell me once I arrived that I had to pay $1000 to redeem him from her. When I bought this house in November 2010, I bought it because, in addition to things I desired, it had a yard for him to explore and because it had a dog door already so that he could come inside when I was away during the hot summer days. I’m not precisely sure as to the timeline, but by winter 2012, he was sleeping inside downstairs each night on blankets near the dog door/sliding door, and by Summer 2015, he was sleeping wherever he liked. Last year when he got sick, I discovered that I cared enough about him to drive home for dinner and then drive back for my night labs three nights per week (one night there was no time to go home and get back). I am not sure I would do that for ANY person I have ever met in my life. I love this dog, and I never even intended to meet him. When he dies, part of me will die too.

My two close human friends are also people I sought out for other reasons. My best human friend and I both served as a character witness at a trial for a gentlemen we both knew. He was there for the defense; I was there for the prosecution, but we both said the same thing, and that’s how we met. I never thought I would make a friend in a courtroom. At first, we would just talk, but we found we had enough common ground besides Benjamin W that he invited me out to visit him near Philadelphia, and that’s how I made my first trip to Independence Hall. Only Thom survived of my friends from before I was divorced. My other close human friend was a friend of a former student. Shortly after a woman I really liked rebuffed me in 2009, Tracie insisted that the two of us meet at Taste of Vegas. I would have never gone. I am still not sure why I actually went. Nevertheless, he persisted, and within a year, we were hiking together, talking together, and spending time together at least 40 days per year, sometimes from 8AM to midnight. Neither one of these were men I would have met any other way let alone people in whom I would have been interested in forging a friendship, but I’m glad that I did.

The best romantic relationship I ever had was with a Geautiful Birl many years ago now. I enjoyed her company and conversation, but owing to circumstances of her life, I decided to eschew a romantic relationship with her. Nothing was wrong with her; it was perceived discontinuity between her life and mine, which turned out to be the only thing that mattered, but I digress. My close friend in Vegas persuaded me to consider her, and after prayer and talking to her, we dated, and I’ve never cared about any woman as much as I cared about her. This blog is replete with invitations to her to return and revisit our love, an outreach that ended only after I found out she was living with (and probably schtuping) some other guy. I never intended to get to know her romantically; I wasn’t looking for someone like her. However, scared as I was at the prospect of fatherhood, she remains the only woman I’ve ever known with whom I actually wanted to have children, and she remains the only woman for whom I “changed” to be my best self all the time without her chiding me or requesting it of me. I wanted to be the best person I could be for her of my own free will and choice. She inspired me. Yet, I met her at the only time in my life I ever would, and she remained interested long enough for my friend to persuade me to give her a chance. I’m just sad that she didn’t work out, but if she had, I think I would be far less attached to and interested in my Best Beagle Buddy.

People come and go. Sometimes people come into our lives only for a season. Sometimes that season is shorter than we like. I spent a great deal of time trying to make friends, nurture friendships, and pursue romantic opportunities with other people. The ones that lasted for any period of time pale in comparison to how well they changed my life to those that I did not seek. Now, I know that these choices are not necessarily a waste. Sometimes we are also a node in the nexus of many lives. “It’s A Wonderful Life” shows us the myriad ways in which a simple, single life, can change the course of history in the lives of those around him for the better even if things appear relatively bleak and unsatisfying for him. I don’t know if I contributed directly to bettering the lives of those I encountered. All I know is that the accidental friends I made bettered my life immensely. I loved my Kat. I love my dog. I thank God for a few friends, none of whom I actually set out to make a wife, a pet, or a friend. I would have never known to ask for these blessings, but maybe because of Paul Brandt I was open to the possibilities, and maybe God will bring others into my life who actually matter.

A Dog's Life

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As I reminisce about the lives of my beloved dogs most of which are now buried beneath the dirt of the good earth, I think about the things they taught me and how they gave me an example of how to live a better life. Maybe I should have given some thought to this while they were here. Maybe that would have made my life better, our life better, while they were around. Whenever you learn these lessons, I think dogs teach us some powerful lessons about life. Besides the obvious, I identified the following small but significant behaviors/attitudes/lessons I derived from the lives of my very good beagle buddies:

1. Anytime is a good time for a treat. Any time. Nobody gets out of this life looking like they did when they were in their prime. Eat right, exercise, die anyway. You're not going to get out of here alive, so if you get a chance to eat a treat, to have something that you really enjoy eating, take it. The Sunday before last, I gave him too many treats, upset his stomach, and watched as he vomited at my feet. However, the treats were still well spent. He enjoyed eating them.

2. Let the wind blow through your hair. When we went on road trips or storms blew through the valley, my beagle liked to find a way to let the wind blow his ears around and go through his hair. I don't know why, but when I think about it, I find it a simple joy of life to let the cool breeze blow through your hair. Up on the mountain, if the wind rises, I often remove my hat, muss my hair and enjoy the sensation. So did he.

3. Smell things. Most people know that dogs rely primarily on their sense of smell. My dog didn't really like touch, but sometimes he would hover in front of my face and sniff, and whenever I came home, he'd check for other scents. It's how he knew where I was, how he partook in things along the way. I managed to record a video of him while driving where he is sniffing at all the smells as we head up the road. It was an interesting pleasure for him, and it's akin to "take time to smell the roses".

4. Stretch when you awake. After getting up and checking to see where I was, my beagle always stretched. It was cute. It was also practical. A lot of our injuries as humans could be mitigated if we stretched more. In a more figurative sense, each day gives us a chance to stretch ourselves a little more than yesterday in doing the things we like, we ought, and that make us better. I find that I get more done early in the day, so I try to stretch as much before lunch as possible.

5. Make eye contact. One of the cutest things about my dog was his face. Those brown pools of mud he had for eyes spoke volumes. I knew looking into his eyes how he felt. Back on 9 August 2013 when I had a particularly bad day, bad enough that I remember the date, I remember him looking up at me from the floor as if to say "I don't know what's wrong, but I still love you." Beagles don't usually make much eye contact, but I didn't notice some of his faces, his proclivities, and his personality traits until he lost his hearing and had to make more eye contact in order to communicate with me.

6. Enjoy any chance to walk. I managed to shoot video of him this year before we took a walk. He would get so excited to go get out even if just to be in my neighborhood and see what was new (or in his case smell what was new). It's a simple pleasure, but it's just as good for us as it is for them. My mom told me last week about how she walked them all separately when she hurt herself, and think of the steps she got, the calories she burned, the fresh air to which she was exposed, and the things she might have seen because she got off the couch and out the door. Get outside!

7. Find a good, comfortable place to rest. My beagle had many beds. Couches, chairs, piles of clothing, basically anywhere that smelled like me that was comfortable suited him, but when he injured himself last fall, I made him several beds of old BDUs in the house so that he could sleep somewhere comfortable. I told my dad that I wasn't going to refill the cordoroy poof chair in which he slept until he died because it provided a nice bed, low to the ground but sufficiently cushioned to rest his bones and sufficiently insulated to keep him warm. Basically, he spent most of his last few months in that poof atop the mink blanket my mom made so that he could be with me and be comfortable in case he fell asleep which happens when you're that age.

8. Take frequent naps. More now than before, my beagle sleeps, but where he sleeps, when and why changed. He sleeps when he's near me. He sleeps in the sun. He sleeps in places that are comfortable. A well rested body makes for a better life. It's a pure pleasure of life to awake rested and recharged somewhere where you'd like to be, whether it's a favorite chair, near a favorite being, or in a favorite light. Maybe we'd be less testy as people if we rested more.

9. Play whenever you can. I confess I didn't play with him as much as I ought to have. Sometimes I would, but more than anything, I would take him to my parents' house to play with their dogs. We have fond memories of him running laps full speed in the back yard having the time of his life. On a simpler note, sometimes, he'd just bounce around the room and try to get me to chase him. We don't really play anymore. We may enjoy ourselves, but there's something refreshing about getting your heart rate up by having fun and playing.

10. Make sure you keep an eye on those you love. Especially in the last year or so of his life when he lost his hearing, my beagle positioned himself most of the time so that he could keep an eye on me. Even last night when he slept, he positioned his head so that if he opened his eyes and I moved he could investigate if he chose. When he could hear, he would look up EVERY TIME I made noise, even if I was just readjusting in my chair so that he could go and be with me on an adventure or to get a snack or whatever.

11. Be ready for an adventure. One of the choicest things I was able to capture this past winter after God granted me more time with my dog was his face when we rode in the car. I grab the leash, attach it, and he's stoked. He would head right for the door and go out into the world. After I rolled the window down in the car, he would put his head just behind the head rest, pleased as punch, and sniff and look and take it all in, wherever we went. I think we're too slow sometimes to get up from our comfortable position, but no matter the temperature or conditions or time of day, when he felt well, he would jump up and go with me, especially if he caught evidence that we were going outside the property boundaries.

12. Driving is best with the window down. I loved watching his ears blow in the wind as it blew past him. You miss a lot of the experience when you drive with the windows up. The sights are dimmed, the smells are blocked, and the pure physical pleasures of speed, sun, and wind vanish in the climate control. It also helped cool him naturally since beagles pant in order to cool off, so moving air helped.

13. Double check before settling down. Everyone with a dog has probably seen them circle before they plop down in place. I think if I were more circumspect about my surroundings I might avoid pain, avoid people, and avoid circumstances that would have or did cause me discomfort. I have rip marks in my jeans from his nails when he rearranged the clothing to be a better condition for him, either because it wasn't cushioning enough or so that he could prop his head up on something and see me from where he sat.

14. Accept any attention, particularly to your head and back. Every morning when I came home from exercising, I would go in and scratch his head and rub his back. He would close his eyes, breathe rhythmically, and purr sometimes with pure pleasure. I remember the last time I had a back rub. in fact, I pay to have my haircut sometimes just to have someone run their fingers through my hair. Physical touch conveys emotions in a way that no other sensation can. If you get attention to your head and back, it is usually not too sensual, but it just might provide the sensation you need to feel better or convey love in the way you actually need.

15. Two of the best things in life are chicken and cheese. Towards the end of his life, my beagle became a particularly picky eater. I gave him chicken every day for the last few months to first of all make sure he ate but also to show him that I cared about him. He also really liked the taste of cheese. I always let him lick the bowl/plate in this last year if he desired to, and I threw him pieces of my food that he found delicious. Life is something you should enjoy, and so I gave him some of his favorites so that eating would be a better experience and to show how much I cared.

My beagle may die any minute. Every day I leave the house, I wonder if it is the last time I'm saying goodbye, petting him, and rubbing his head. He can't hear me, but I tell him how much I love him. Every night when I get home, I wonder if I'm going to find his lifeless body. He has lived a pretty good life. Sure, it's a dog's life, but what's wrong with a dog's life? He has someone to care for him, food when he needs it, a comfortable place to sleep, and regular company. He has been worth every bit of cost to me, yes even marrying my ex wife without whom I would have never had a dog let alone this one. Without that, I never would have met him. Without that, he never would have had a good life, and he never would have been such a blessing that enriched mine. After class tonight, I'll pick up burgers to share with him again for Valentine's Day, hope he is still with me, and then walk him, eat with him, and snuggle with him if he's interested. He made my life better. I have tried to make this past year a great year for him too. Thank you, Lord, for the love of Dog, the love of my dog.

For Free in the Land of the Free

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Concomitant with my desire that freedom increase, and since I earn "enough" and to spare from my primary employment which I enjoy, I decided to remove all monetization from social media. Here's the video attesting thereunto:

Refraction at Many Angles

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I know it's old news now, but it's a good reason to remind ourselves all about how important it is to gather data before jumping to conclusions. I'll go into lab this week and once again reinforce the importance of gathering as much data as we can before we really know what we have, because there are two major problems with facts, data, and evidence. First off, you rarely, if ever, gather every bit of information that is true, meaning that we rarely if ever understand anything completely. Secondly, sometimes the data you acquire is wrong either outright lies or because it's in the wrong context, meaning that any conclusions you draw from it will likewise propagate those flaws. Last week, the internet exploded over the grinning teenager who stood down a drumming Shawnee Indian on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, and people jumped up to take sides. I guess everyone wants to be first rather than be correct. I guess people want to know who is right instead of what is right. I guess we never learn, and so this advertisement from the UK Guardian is as prescient as ever:

I  know that our media is biased.  I read the Guardian and the Telegraph when I want to know about what's going on in America. I know that these two periodicals are too, but I know that since they are from the UK they are biased to not sugar coat anything that happens in America, and so I learn things about what happens here that I don't learn from the alphabet soup of media in this nation. I also know that even the Guardian doesn't show all angles. It turns out that this "menacing" kid was actually approached by the Indian, and if you watch the video of their interaction, you can see that the kid, while grinning awkwardly, is actually not that sure, since he blinks in fearful anticipation with each strike of the mallet against the drum. It turns out that the "noble" Indian is actually a known rabble rouser. They really should find someone more nondescript to trot out because this guy sticks out like a sore thumb. Investigation of his story shows lots of holes. The kid? Not so much. The more we learn, the less we see that the kid is the problem, just like the skinhead in the Guardian commercial.

People like to be able to judge quickly and be correct. We like to attach demographics to people so that we don't have to get to know them better. Earlier today I was complaining about a certain VWR employee who was condescending towards me and mentioned that he sounded by his name that he originated from the Indian subcontinent, and someone listening said, "well that explains it all." It does not. I had a good friend from Sri Lanka in High School who was awesome. There are good people everywhere and bad people everywhere. Stereotypes and generalizations may usually fit, but they don't always fit. There is an exception to every rule except for this one. People are people,, but we are all unique.

Two weeks ago in Sunday School, I talked with my class about the conversion of coal to diamonds. The reason why natural diamonds are considered valuable is not because they are particularly rare. I have several myself. I also have some that I created in lab, just because I wanted to prove I could do it. Lab created diamonds are worth less because they are ALL THE SAME. Natural diamonds are valuable because they are unique. The way they shine and the light they cast comes from the fact that although they share good structure they all contain different flaws in different places, just like every person. It's no coincidence in my opinion that we talk of good people sometimes as "diamonds in the rough". Every diamond has flaws, but as they are cut and cleared and faceted and polished, they shine, and each one shines differently, but all of them are brilliant. Only when we let the light refract through them at many angles can we truly see of what they are truly made and the goodness that is in each of them. I share CS Lewis' sentiment from his introduction to the Screwtape Letters: "I do not believe that if you take away all that is good in man that you are left with a bad man. I think you are left with nothing at all." Even graphite can be useful. At the very least it's non toxic.  Cast in a certain light, when you cast a different light on things, you can tell which diamonds are lab created and which are unique.  The light we use shows us whether they are truly diamonds or simple facsimiles, and our willingness to use different lights shows others the degree to which we are open to finding out the truth about someone we meet or an event presented by the media.

You may not notice the brilliance of a stone or a person unless you can learn to see them from all angles. You may not see the flaws of people either unless you cast them in unflattering light.  The light you apply tells me much more about you than the light reveals about the person on whom you shine it.  I once knew a woman who thought I was the bees knees. I think that she, for at least a time, could see the diamond deep in the rough of my soul. I think she saw what I could be if you were willing to reveal my other angles and look at me through them rather than through what is easy. Every person is flawed, and every person makes mistakes. If we assume at first glance that we know everything we will miss quite a bit. My Sunday School class did not recognize what uncut diamonds were, and none of them knew that diamonds and coal are the exact same material. I know that because I'm a chemist. I know that because I have learned and studied. As you look at other people, the following advice is something I try to apply, particularly once I become conscious of a negative bias towards a person or group: "When you cannot love someone, try to look for the hidden rudiments of the child of God in their eye" (F Enzio Busche). It's difficult betimes. It is however true. Whether rough diamonds or coal, we are all made of the same things, even if you don't like the other people who stand toe to toe with you. It takes time to get to know people. It takes a willingness to look at other angles. It requires us to see what they are made of because of not only what they do but why and how. Much of what you see is a play.