OnePlusYou Quizzes and Widgets

Another resource hogging flash applet thingie...click the gray background to begin loading,

photo

then navigate with arrow keys. You'll need something other than Internet Explorer.

Showing posts with label joy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label joy. Show all posts

Friday, August 26, 2011

I am Stepping up...


Stepping up., originally uploaded by Christopher Rauch.  View the LARGE version

to the plate.
     In soooo many different ways. Dat's whats up. Tonight, on the Starbucks patio, I have coffee at my right hand, and a good cigar in my left. I have been in constant motion for days and tonight I have chosen to sacrifice a little sleep to get my bearings. I am taking stock. I am evaluating a few priorities and taking a personal inventory. 
     I have been accepted into the nursing program. It has taken me over three years to get here (really it's taken about eight... I needed a few years before I could even find the balls to listen to that quiet little voice in my head, and look at the picture I kept seeing...) When I began this journey, I wasn't even a high school graduate. Now, three years hence, I have graduated Magna Cum Laude from the Georgia Military College, and I am awestruck when I pause to consider the sheer enormity of what God has accomplished with an attention-deficit dyslexic who left home at seventeen without ever having learned how to live. I have a degree today, and I am engaged in seeking another one. I dream of one day being able to provide for a family, and impact my world in a positive way for the glory of my God. I also hope like hell that this is not entirely my idea, but my faith in this grows stronger with every miraculously opened door, and I have finally come to a place where I am at least a little bit comfortable with letting God handle his end and concentrating on mine. Concentration is not my strong suite, especially if I am distracted trying to handle God's business.
      As soon as I decided to go back to school, my dying marriage took a nose dive, and I ended up getting a divorce. As I was driving across town to have my wife sign the papers, I got a phone call. My father had died. The next forty eight hours were incredible, and I have never been the same. Depression seems to come and go, and returning to school after a twenty five year break has been indescribably stressful. I got more than a little crazy, and still have a difficult time remembering how I managed to get through school with the grades needed to make it into the nursing program at my college. Several times it seemed that someone else was in the driver's seat, and I am grateful. I have also become aware of how unlikely my success was, in the face of my lifestyle and attitude. The stakes are now much higher, both financially and emotionally. I really don't want to deal with the consequences of dropping this ball, and it has become important to come to clarity about my big picture, what I have been doing wrong, and what needs to change in order to pull this off.
     A little over nine months ago, I heard the clue phone start ringing, and when I answered it... it turned out to be for me. Whaddya know. The voice on the line basically said: "You're fucking up. Not only do I have a much better life prepared for you, but I have a job for you to do, and you're not doing it!"
     I argue with God often, (though he has yet to strike me dead, obviously.) This time, I took the divine asschewing without complaint. I knew I had it coming. I was miserable. I was wallowing in self -pity and had fallen into depression. I was drinking daily, and had returned to some old ways of thinking, which I've posted about earlier. In my anger and disappointment, my prayers became arrogant, accusatory, and infrequent. I began romantic involvement immediately, and began to take several hundred pictures a week. Anything to avoid dealing with multifaceted grief, grow the fuck up, and learn how to live. My life was a mess, and I was ripe for the divine wake up call. I had  gotten off track, to say the least. I am among other things, a mystic. Many of us pray. If the surveys are to be believed, even atheists pray, but as Andy Stanley says, a mystic is someone who believes God talks back...or talks period, I forget which. 
     C.S. Lewis tells us that God "whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, and shouts to us in our pain; It is his megaphone to rouse a dying world." My world was dying, and I heard the shout. I have, along with the every other living creature, experienced my share of pain. I have slowly, stubbornly learned to recognize the voice of my God in these instances, and further- have been growing ever more sensitive to the speaking and whispering. Still, he must shout at me from time to time, because, like D.L. Moody, the sensitivity to God's voice leaks out of me, through the many holes in my character.
     Anyway, I heard the message and made the decision to return to habits and disciplines that had brought me so far, and helped me so much in the past. I began to again seek personal growth, and the struggle to redefine and rebuild my life, this time with a commitment to surrender to God's design for the life of Chris Rauch. 
     Now, a decision is one thing, and for the most part, an indispensible prerequisite to intentional progress, but it is in the theatre of practical application that the rubber truly meets the road. In my resolve, I must answer the question: “How do I do this?" For me, the renovation of life is a process, and it begins with constructive action. I work out before I develop muscles. My inclination is to lose weight, develop muscular definition, and then start going to the gym, but things don’t work this way. I have to figure out what to do. To obtain knowledge I must go to those who profess to have it… and if I am wise, I will go to those professors who are actively engaged in ongoing practical application. The best hospitals are research hospitals, and the best universities are those that research the frontiers of knowledge. 
     Self-actualization, as defined by Maslow, is when the desire for fulfillment drives us to reach our maximum potential. When our life is lacking joy/fulfillment, this absence drives us to grow. So the question for me is "Who is busy today, taking practical action to reach self actualization? Who is doing the research?" 
     I find upon reflection that it is usually not the politicians, not the proponents of religious piety, and not the millions of couch potatoes that claim Oprah Winfry as their guru. In all of these cross sections of western society, those who actively seek personal growth are a tiny minority. Honestly, there is no demographic that that is not dominated by apathy, but there is a global community represented my members of all areas of humanity where the minority seeking to actively improve their lives reaches the point of statistical significance. This is the recovery movement. The Twelve Step Programs. It is the alcoholics, the addicts, the codependents, the gamblers, and the compulsively promiscuous, that are driven by the pain of their dysfunction, to apply spiritual principles in their lives and strive toward their maximum potential. These people with all their failings, are my teachers. 
     
     I'll post next on the twelve steps programs, and my take on how the steps operate, but it is late, and this post has gotten a helluva a lot longer than I intended. 


"Now, With God's Help, I Shall Become Myself" ~ Soren Kierkegaard.
   


       Good Night. :)

Friday, October 23, 2009

Did you get the shot? Can I quit smiling, now?

I wondered if it was worth it to take a camera on some of the rides. Got this pic with a little samsung about the size of your wallet, when you need the clean the junk out of it. I'm pleased. Would have hated to drop the Nikon. I heard someone repeating " My God, oh, My God, please, please." But Shep's not religious. Maybe  it was someone else.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Nice Beginning To a Fall Camping Trip

     I left the battery to the Nikon in the charger. I also did not bring a fishing pole. I ended up buying a rod and reel combo from a Ma and Pa store. Said combo came with what looked like 20lb line. There was no notation on the packaging. Attaching a tiny rooster tail to the ah, rope, I proceeded to catch trout. It was wonderful, one of those times when the fish are biting so well, you begin to think it's YOU. You are a badass. An expert. You can sling a 1/24th oz rooster tail on the end of a freakin' hawser, and catch fish anyway.
     Fishing with this rig is kinda like circumcising with a broadsword. Not just anybody can do it. So I shot this with the little point and shoot, and really like it. The fall colors do it for me, but I'm not gay. The textures of the various lichens and algae on the water-rounded stones, and the scattered autumn leaves tickle my manly fancy. The earth tones, they call out to the  heterosexual outdoorsman within. Too bad I had to shoot it with the low-res fujifilm. I wanted to get it uploaded so I can send the link to some folks I want to make jealous, but that's it. I need to stay off this computer for a couple days.
     Trout fishing is a treat for me. There are no trout where I live, though bream are perhaps a reasonable equivalent, sport-wise. I think it may be the environment. Trout are an oily fish, having oils throughout their body, unlike a whiter fish. Trout are rich in the omega-goodstuff that helps the ticker. These fish generally prefer cooler water, and The local waters around here are like soup much of the year. Usually when I go to North Georgia, it is to hike. As I was leaving this time, Jack my oldest screamed a howling protest. Jack knows what a backpack is for, and my ear and guilty conscience picked up a note of anguished abandonment in Jack's plaintive wail. It occurred to me that I could backpack less, and camp more, until Jack dies. I really don't think it will be long.
     So I changed plans, upgraded a couple items, and threw a second dog in the car, but I forgot my fly rod...and my battery for the Nikon.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Me and My Co-Pilot


me and my co pilot., originally uploaded by use2blost.

I'm beginning to suspect my Girlfriend has a better eye, steadier hands, and more of that mysterious photographer thing, than I do.
But it's still MY camera :).



I had a "snap out of it" experience after a few weeks of being really overwhelmed with domestic catchup, and a dwindling bank account. The school year was approaching, and my ability to generate income is cut by 80% when class is in session. I was stressing exponentially, and this was aggravated by nicotine withdrawal.
The clincher was returning from a camping trip to find a a hundred + pounds of rotten meat in my freezer. Shit. That costs money.(Did you know "Shit" was in the Bible? I told my ex-wife's daughter one time not exclaim "Jesus Christ" but rather to exclaim "Shit", because if Saint Paul can say it, we all can. There was stunned silence and long eye contact as she searched my face for evidence I was... Shitting her. LOL. Now, this didn't bring about a drastic change in her vocabulary, but she started to read her Bible...)
Oops. There went my attention span.
Anyway, I recruited Debbie's grandson, and we hauled my garbage can to the place where all the trucks go... which was a big hit, BTW.
I had to do this. The inexperienced victim would be amazed at how much of their neighborhood is blanketed with the stench of corruption when a hundred pounds of rotting flesh is pushed out to the curb. If I left it there, one of little old ladies that surround me was gonna commit arson. Small girls waiting for the bus would vomit. I had to do something, and I was afraid to go alone. My right hand man Colin, made it clear that he was there for me. I didn't have to deal with this by myself. He was impressed with the effluvia permeating my property. In all of his four-and- a half years, He'd never come across anything like this, and he is an accomplished adventurer.
He always loves to help me "Do a JOB!, Chris" , so we rose to the occasion and handled it like the virile, standard-setting pictures of masculinity that we are, hooking up the trailer and hauling our cargo down to Transwaste where it belonged. Watching my role-model break the heart of the receptionist was so uplifting, I was reluctant to leave his company, and afterward asked if he could help me cut grandma's grass. The answer a man like Colin gives to such a request goes without saying, and after a day of such hard work, we needed to play just as hard to blow off our steam. Drinking was out of the question. Colin is a Man's Man in all other ways, but he simply can't hold his espresso, and I fear the wrath of Grandma. What to do? Colin and I are like barely domesticated wolves, breathtakingly handsome and friendly, but wild at heart and dangerous. Unable to come up with a better idea, we got in the van and began to wander in a southeasterly direction, with the merciless Georgia sun setting behind us, not knowing what we sought.
Great minds think alike, and we both saw the fire station at the same time...OH, YEAH! As soon as we approached, those boys recognized our kindred spirits. They could sense our deep respect for the legendary bravery of their fellowship, and the hospitality they showed to two dirty, smelly, vagabond princes is a permanent notch in the belt of honor shared by emergency responders all over the world.
Fireman Mike rolled out the red carpet, showed us all their stuff,Hell, yeah I wanna look inside the truck!

and even went so far as to induct Colin into the ranks of his brave brothers and sisters, presenting him with the prized talisman, a Red Helmet! (I felt a twinge of envy). Probably nothing was gonna top this, at least this evening, so we said our goodbyes, and returned to our home territory. I dropped Colin off and limped home, nursing an arthritic hip, eager to upload my pictures before bed.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

The occasional visitor from REALLY far away is surprisingly satisfying.