Memory Wipe Out?

I confess that I do not own an I Phone. In fact, I don’t own an I Anything. I know; I know. I am so out of the loop---as obsolete as a four-on-the-floor, stick-shift car. But there we are.

The phone could happen; I think it probably should happen. It just hasn’t. I do have an old, fold-over cell phone for emergency purposes—in case I should drive into a snow bank and need help. It works fine.

 Although I am not at all interested in “selfies,” it might be nice to have one of those phones that does just about everything but empty the dishwasher.

 Still, I am cautious. Recently a much-younger friend told me that she often finds herself trying to remember the name of something and, unable to do so, she immediately reaches for her cell phone.

“It has become a part of me, an extension of myself,” she told me, “I don’t have to remember anything anymore; I just grab my phone. My phone is my memory,” she said, her voice shaded with concern.

I got to thinking about that. What happens to those neural-pathways in the brain that we are supposed to keep free of cobwebs? I’ve already got some of those pathways going flimsy on me even without a cell phone. If we don’t use our memory, insist that it drag information up from its depths, will those pathways become even more narrow and rigid than we might normally expect?  If we don’t use our memory, will we lose it?

Long term—I am thinking of evolution here--will the parts of the human brain that store and retrieve memory shrivel from lack of use? The way the invention of fire eliminated the need for hair on our bodies? Because smart phones haven’t been around all that long, I suspect the impact of these phones on memory function has only begun to be imagined, much less analyzed.

I’m in favor of creating new neural-pathways whenever we can. Breaking up our patterns. Taking a different route to the grocery store, brushing our teeth with our left hand if our right is the usual choice, saying, “yes” to something benign that we have habitually said “no” to--acquiring any new skill.

I am no scientist but I can tell you this: when the day comes that I do buy a smart phone, while I am learning how to use it, I know I will be blasting new neural-pathways through my brain—or at least awakening flabby ones--and I will be grateful.

I will also make every effort not to surrender my memory to that phone.

A Note To Ukrainian Readers

From the New York Times this morning:

"While the United States and its allies cheered the ouster of Ukraine’s pro-Moscow president, Viktor F. Yanukovych, who fled Kiev on Feb. 21 and is now sheltering in Russia, Moscow deplored his removal as an armed putsch led by fascists."

Ukrainian readers:

We continue to cheer for you and pray for you in your determination to maintain your independence. You are a brave country. 

Looking Past The Bumps In The Road

 “As the holy weeks of Judaism and Christianity come to an end, we ask: How do you picture God? How do you pray? How does your belief in God connect to your daily life? Karen Armstrong, Krista Tippett, Mark Epstein and the Rev. James Martin join us for this special family meeting.”

This was the introduction to The Brian Lehrer Show, God and You, Monday, April 21, 2014.

I caught only some of Lehrer’s remarkable show. I was heading for the store and, turning the ignition key of my car, the radio immediately caught my attention as I recognized the well-spoken, English voice of theologian, Karen Armstrong. So intent was I on what she was saying that I almost drove past the entrance to Stop and Shop. The Brian Lehrer Show on WNYC (93.9) can do that to you.

 Once having parked, I sat in my car to listen further and heard Armstrong tell us that---I am paraphrasing here—only the modern world separates religious beliefs from culture. In the ancient world all cultures were imbued with religious beliefs. To be a politician was considered a sacred act, Armstrong said. Imagine! Politics as a sacred activity?

I was loath to leave my car but . . . time to go!

On the way home, Fr. James Martin, Jesuit teacher and writer, was discussing various forms of prayer: centering prayer—a Catholic, God-centered form of meditation---and “imaginative” prayer—a form of Ignatian contemplation in which one uses all four senses to place oneself inside a gospel scene. I’ve done this practice; it can be very moving.

 Along with Lehrer, Fr. Martin responded to people who called to share what prayer means to them. It seemed every point of view was expressed: from “I don’t believe in a personal God, so I never ask God for anything”—Fr. Martin disagreed---to expressed belief in God’s fatherly and personal presence.

One caller said something I thought wonderful. (Again, I am paraphrasing.) The man said that he knew that life was full of bumps in the road. He knew also that if he focused on each possible bump he would surely hit it. Therefore he prayed daily that God would guide his vision in order that he might always be able to see past the bumps to the clear path ahead.

Every spiritual teacher I have encountered, from Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, (The Power Of Positive Thinking) to more recent teachers, Fr. Richard Rohr, for example, (Everything Belongs) agree that remaining as positive as we can—even in the face of adversity---and not focusing too intently on the bumps in the road, helps us to get through the difficulties of life more easily.

Let’s face it. Not one of us wants to be seriously tested. But, simply put, a positive attitude can make life more enjoyable in every way. Let’s look where we want to go. Let’s look past the bumps toward the clear path ahead and pray in gratitude each day that that path is revealed to us.

***

 For the Karen Armstrong interview, click on Social History of God: and/or for the whole show, God and You: A Two Hour Special at http://www.wnyc.org/shows/bl/

No Simple Steps

The theologian, Karen Armstrong, has been wise with her book, Twelve Steps to A Compassionate Life. Instead of one of her customary tomes, she has produced Twelve Steps as a handy read that you can easily tuck into your bag. Furthermore, the words “Twelve Steps” resonate throughout America and if I can become a compassionate person in twelve steps, I’m all for it. Buy the book!

Begin reading and you find yourself in the company of a theologian who knows more about the history of religion than perhaps any one in the world. You will also discover that there are no simple steps to becoming a person of compassion. But then there wouldn’t be, would there? Developing compassion is a complex business.  Nonetheless, one can, guided by Armstrong--who is guided by the historical greats--make some major moves in that direction.

I think we are far more able to be compassionate toward others than toward ourselves. We are pretty quick to show up with the chicken soup for a friend in need. We are perhaps less compassionate with strangers and certainly with ourselves. Self-compassion lies buried beneath the layers of “shoulds” and “have tos” that direct our lives. When did you last cut yourself some slack?

Only last week I had to catch myself as I waited while an elderly and infirm couple ahead of me in the checkout line, slowly and carefully lifted each purchase out of their cart. A laborious process for both, it took them ages to empty their cart.

 I thought because she-- his wife, I am assuming-- was standing behind the cart, that she was in charge of pushing it forward as they progressed.  Not so. The cart did not move forward and therefore, I could not begin to empty my own. The husband was standing ahead of her and their cart. When he had finished fumbling with his credit card and they were finally checked out, he reached back to pull the cart gently forward while his wife, her fingers clutching the rail, her feet somewhat dragging, moved haltingly along behind him.

I watched them leave, the man pulling the grocery-laden cart, the woman, leaning forward, supported by the rail.

My head? I went from annoyance and impatience: why did I choose this line? I am going to be late if they don’t get moving. To curiosity: is there something the matter with these old people? To a kind of sadness: They are both so very old and wobbly. To, ultimately, a surge of respect for their enormous effort, their heroic steps to forge ahead in life. They had left home and safety to purchase their food.

In a few minutes I had shifted from being an absolute crank to having a heart full of compassion for those two people.

Perhaps some of you move to compassion more swiftly than I or possibly inhabit compassion 24/7, in which case, God bless you, you are healing the world. I can be a bit slow sometimes, but these days, instead of berating myself, I thank God that I do get there, most of the time, and that I am aware of my process as I move from one emotional state to another.

 Over time, I have learned to be gentler with myself and I am grateful for self-compassion when I allow it to arise.

***

American compassion continues to flow to the Ukraine.

***

Looking To Develop More Self-Compassion?

Check out Unleash Potential, offering personal growth groups in Fairfield on the first Thursday of the month. Experts, Caroline J. Temple and Lisa Jacoby, are the compassionate leaders of Unleash Potential and my companions on this journey of reflection and self-discovery.  Click here for more: http://www.unleashpotential.us/events/

A Quick Note

Good Morning Readers: 

FYI:

 I am pleased to report that as of this morning there are now eleven readers of Life Opening Up in the Ukraine. Not a word from anyone, but I continue to hope.

At least the eleven are receiving from us---thanks to your comments-- our prayers and hopes for resolution and peace in their country. 

Greetings Dear Readers:

This will be a different sort of blog. First let me say thank you for reading Life Opening Up. I am very happy that you are out there enjoying, agreeing, disagreeing and responding to the blog.

I am able to follow the numbers: how many people are reading and which blog and when. I even know when people are reading from a foreign country. I can see when a few people are reading in New Zealand, Germany—there is a constant 2—Switzerland, Italy, Russia, Sweden France, Israel, Belgium, England and more. I marvel! Generally speaking, those readers come and go.

I know nothing about any of you, unless you respond either by email or on Facebook or directly on my blog.

But this week has really pricked my curiosity. At the beginning of the week I noticed 1 reader from the Ukraine. The Ukraine?  Where bombs are going off? Where people are being dragged through the streets, imprisoned, executed, and terrorized? Someone is reading Life Opening Up? Is it an American? A Ukrainian who speaks English? Who is this person, I wondered?

A day later the number from the Ukraine revealed 2.  I thought: a friend. That happens, I’ve noticed. If 1 person shows up in a foreign country, it’s likely that shortly there will be 2. They may hang around or disappear, but in the case of the Ukraine readers, over this week, the group has grown to 8.

So, briefly, I am writing to those 8 people right now, hoping that they will read this blog.

We are thinking of you and praying for an end to the violence in your country. America yearns for peace in the Ukraine, a resolution to your political differences and the opportunity for the Ukraine to fulfill its unique destiny: the highest, best outcome for all Ukrainians.

 If you 8 readers are Americans living in the Ukraine, I hope and pray that you will stay safe.

I would love to hear from any of you and if you do write, I will, but only with your permission, pass your comments along without publishing your names.

If English is not your first language, please do not worry about it. Anything you might write would be most welcome.

I am honored that you are reading Life Opening Up. Thank you and God bless you all.

***

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Can I Deliver?

Tonight I will speak before a group of people I do not know for a purpose I believe in. It’s not a long talk I have put together, but I hope it expresses the passion I feel for the cause.

I leave in an hour. I have to change my clothes, appear pulled together, maybe even look really nice, so as to present myself in a good light, thus helping to gain their ear.

So many years have passed since I have done anything like this, performed in this way. Is that person still inside me who actually used to enjoy this sort of thing?

I fear not. It seems to me that someone entirely different exists, someone less sharply pointed, less ambitious, someone less of a performer. She has mellowed with age and now there is a milder me not needing to score, just hoping it will work out, be all right, please those who asked me to do this thing—or at least not make them wish they hadn’t. None of this mellowing makes me less anxious. If anything, I’m more so. I have to dig deeper within myself to come far enough forward to deliver.

Will I be able to do that?

There are butterflies in my stomach—as always. The same butterflies from past years? From other speeches given? Or perhaps these butterflies are the grandchildren of those earlier butterflies: a new crop altogether, even more fluttery and intense because I am older and less able to accommodate them.

Still there is a familiarity about their presence. A familiarity that makes me smile. “At least this part of me is the same,” I’m thinking.

I will sweat right through whatever I am wearing. I always have, so I choose my clothes carefully. I don’t care what the commercials tell you--- there is no foolproof deodorant for this person when she addresses an audience. Annoying, but there we are.

All this angst is so familiar it is almost comforting.

Time to go. I laugh out loud and decide to trust the butterflies, the adrenalin, even the pernicious self-doubt. Grabbing my bag and coat, I go forth. I know that somehow, in some miraculous manner, when introduced, I will stand up, smile at the people and suddenly be there doing exactly what I intended to do.

After all these years I know this to be true.  Over and over we go through our “stuff”--whatever it is--and God willing, we are delivered to the other side.