On Being Moved... (The Preface of a New Manuscript I'm working on)

There are so many things in this world that move the soul. Some are moved by a restful sunset, others by a new adventure in life.  No matter the vehicle we are all wired with the capacity and the desire to be moved.  The point and purpose of this book is to pose the simple yet evasive question, “why?”  Why are we created to move and be moved.  You can look at the lives of countless others, movers if you will, and you are left scratching your head and asking what moved them to act.  Whether you look back into the annals of history to some of the great movers like Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Martin Luther or to the wicked acts of those whose movements gathered many followers and caused the suffering of many there was something dynamic, something desirable and attractive to the followers of these men and women.

It seems timely to pen these words as we as a whole are at the pinnacle of a new day.  In the United States we are witnessing changes that have never been seen in our history.  On the world stage the experience is much the same.  There is a world recession, Governments are looking for answers for something greater than they have seen within their own ranks.  As a whole we are waiting to be moved.  In January I sat with a few friends glued to our television watching history be made as the revolt of one young man inspired a revolt in Egypt that toppled an entire Government.  I was in a flat in Kuwait watching such great passion as Mubarak renounced his leadership.  Horns were blowing in the streets and there were many celebratory demonstrations as the people of Egypt stood unified after years of oppression.  There was excitement and yet in the back of all of our minds a subtle fear.  We had seen rebellions developing in neighboring countries and there was talk that Saudi, Bahrain, and even Iran may be on the brink of similar protests.  What a terrifyingly exciting moment.  We, Americans, outsiders, had been invited to be in the midst of movement, change, growth and sadly at many points even destruction.  Rumors flew for weeks of civil unrest throughout the region, there were protests eventually in Bahrain and much blood was shed.  People were crying for freedom, literally.  Many of my dear Egyptian friends were constantly watching the news, checking emails, and writing blogs.  They were in every sense of the word intertwined with their brothers and sisters in The Square with arms raised and hearts broken as their homeland was shifting to new unknown territory.  One of my closest friends shared with me that tear gas canisters had been shot through the windows of his Mother’s home.  The canisters were passed their expiration dates and the gas was much more potent than it should have been.  The effects were almost fatal.  We sat many nights and talked about what he would do when he returned to his home.  There was always a settled determination in his voice and he would share of his plans to return home and rebuild.  He was moved by something greater than the revolution, something terribly central to his heart was alive and ready to fight for his home.  Suffering moves us, often in ways that words fall flat to describe.

Months later I was attending a church the founder and lead pastor of the church had passed away the night before the service.  He was a very strong leader, with a charismatic personality that moved those with whom he led in fellowship.  The service was a bitter sweet mixture of sadness at the loss of this shepherd and sweetness as they reflected over the person who had now gone on to the eternal life that he had hoped for and had led others to understand more deeply. 

It is so often the case that in the midst of suffering that we ask the desperate why questions.  Why me? Why now? Why did this happen?  We cringe at the idea that there may be more in the moment than pain alone.  We all have these basic fears, in my opinion they stem from the fear of being alone, abandoned.  The why questions come, as a sort of security blanket for those in the midst of their anguish.  I say this as a man who has experienced suffering, a therapist that has led other through their suffering, but more deeply as an individual who is terrified of being alone.  We develop billion dollar space programs to search for life on other worlds and we ask both in conversations and headlines, “are we alone?”  We want to know but if anyone has watched the movie interpretations of these potential discoveries they are terrifying.  We want to know we are not alone but we are terrified to think that if we are not that we are indeed vulnerable.  This is true not only in the extraterrestrial sense of the word but in the relational sense as well.  When you look at any of the major psychological disorders at their base they isolate the individual.  Depression, Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Paranoia and the list goes on.  At our roots we are terrified of being alone and yet terrified of being known.  We are desperate to be moved but are aware that there are always consequences, both good and bad in being moved.  You and I are created to be moved, we are created to move and in nautical terms from tip to stern we are shaking in our boots to find ourselves anywhere on the spectrum. 

This is an idea that in it’s basic form will be familiar.  We will put flesh on the bones of this age old story and it is my hope that as you read you will be moved.  I will pose one challenge for you that will span from cover to cover of this book, and that is simply, to embrace this great capacity to be moved.  As you embrace it know that it has been placed in you for a clear and noble purpose.  Simply put it is to be known in all of the simplicity and complexity of your being and to carry that knowledge to the world around you.  Know and be known.

As always I would love your feedback and suggestions!

-JRS

The Beginning of All Great Adventures

This is the first post on my new blog.  First, let me apologize for my long absence.  It has been almost 6 monts since my last blog on my old website.  Also I would like to thank you for all the continued emails and requests for new stuff....   With that being said here is the new stuff.

In order to understand the present and even begin to speculate the future, one must take somewhat of an inventory of the past.  As I have begun to settle into my new surroundings in Kuwait I have thought of so many great adventures that I had with great friends in the States.  One in particular has come to mind on several occasions. 
It started one early morning in late summer.  Three guys had been planning with much anticipation a trip that was sure to bring them stories for the future.  This particular adventure began where all great adventures do, in the deep recesses of some unfathomable place where pirate ships still sail and lands wait to be discovered. 
The car left early in the morning.  It was a small sports car packed with three guys, a tent, a grill, two coolers, three fishing rods, and of course three kayaks.  We were all amazed that so much could fit into the confines of the Saab.  I had my usual Red Bull and Marathon Bar.  Dewayne and Sam were ready as was I to reach our destination.  We had been looking forward to the trip for several weeks and had sat so many times talking about what was in store for us. 
The car with it's turbo charged engine roared down the Turnpike towards Miami.  The plan was to hit Miami as soon as possible, refuel the car, stretch our legs and then make quick time to the Keys.  Our destination was a small island located just before Key West, it was called Stock Key.  If all went according to plan we would make Stock Key with enough time to set up the tent, do a little fishing, and possibly make it into Key West to explore Bourbon Street and have dinner.  Inwardly I was excited to go to Sloppy Joe's.  If you've ever read anything by Ernest Hemingway then you need to go there.  Sloppy Joe's is the bar that Hemingway spent many, many evenings. 
Throughout the drive we laughed and shared thoughts and ideas that had stirred in our minds.  We talked about everything from the size of fish that we might catch to the great mysteries of the world.  Dewayne had brought a few of his favorite books to read in the evening as he puffed on his pipe.  He was a brilliant man who would put so much of his heart and mind into an idea or subject. While the rest of us would spout ideas with little thought, Dewayne would sit patiently, listening, laughing at a joke that someone had told, but the whole time in his mind the wheels were turning. A day, a week, maybe a month later he would come back and remind you of that conversation and share his reflections.  He would have thought graciously through the idea and come with a truly humble, and brilliant response. 
I had a copy of some Bukowski collection of poems.  His witt and cynisism felt like great topic for conversation.  I was usually reading something by some nonconformist writer whether it was Keourac, Bukowski, Hemingway, or Bowles.   They had so much to offer and on the inside I felt that I was able to gleam something from them as I have often searched deeply for the places where I truly belong.  Bukowski, on this trip was a hit.  Dewayne and Sam and I read several of the poems only to find ourselves laughing and joking about why some things are published.
The car moved forward to Miami.  We made our stop, admired the less than admirable gas station and jumped back into the car ready for the last leg of our six hour drive from Orlando.  Within an hour we were on the Seven Mile Bridge looking in awe at the endless ocean around us.  It was a deep blue, stained with turquoise and pieces of silver which shined in it's humbling reflection of the Sun.  Paintings and pictures always fall so short of scenes like this.  I think it is because we want to capture something of the thing itself.  The true awesomeness of it, the thing that can not be captured is what lends its boundlessness to it.  You can try to paint it or photograph it but the image that will return will only be that which could be captured.  The illusive beauty, the thing that takes you breath does so only because it cannot be captured.  All you are left with is the memory and an image, as the playful awe inspiring beauty that left it's imprint on your soul dances on only to be seen and sought after at other such moments.  This is the true mystery of beauty.  It is neither an idea to be ascended to nor is it a thing to be attained.  It is by every stretch of the imagination an elusive mist that covers it's subject only for a moment in time then in it's fleeting character moves to the next moment or subject.  It is that for which we all seek to attain whether inwardly in virtue or outwardly in the form of vanity or a muse.  In the grand irony we seek mostly to find something that does not wish to be found only to be admired.
The car roared to it's destination.  Islamorada, Marathon, Bahia Honda, they all passed quickly until finally we reached Stock Key.  It was a small island with only one campsite.  We set up camp, placed the Kayaks with all of their fittings to the side and began to construct the massive tent that was full of possibilities but lacked any specific instructions on how to assembly it to it's intended form.  After a short time of stretching and pulling on the nylon behemoth it rose phoenix like from the ashes of it's originally wrinkled state to the best of our knowledge, what a tent should look like. 
We had time for dinner, a few beers and a quick paddle through the span of ocean which separated the islands.  By this time the sun was setting and we mounted flashlights to the front of the kayaks.  The breeze that came off the ocean was exhilarating and restful all in the same breath.  We saw giant tarpon, the smallest being around six feet in length, several rays and a myriad of other sea life ventured out after the sun sets.  One of the most beautiful sights came only after the sun fully set.  We adjusted our kayaks to face directly in to the current as the current pushed us away from the islands the warm evening breeze countered its push. It created a strange equilibrium that kept us in one place.  We were able to lay back and see stars that we never knew existed.  We were miles from any city and nothing obstructed our view.  It was as if time had stopped and all was right with the world.
After our stargazing and paddling we made our way back to camp excited about the adventures that lay in store for us the next morning.  We sat around the campfire exhausted and thrilled.  We talked deeply and laugh loudly.  This was the first day of our adventure.....

To be continued.....