Starting Over on EXPERT MODE

I can hardly believe that we're about to finish our third year in this small town. Our relocation to Salisbury has proven to be an illuminating experience in a myriad of ways -- especially when it comes to our social life. We have truly started over, and this renovation of our social network has been far from simple.

In our prior life, we had a rich tapestry of close friends. We had a slew of connections from ministry ventures, music projects, and even my own history in my hometown. Perhaps I took it for granted. As a 30 year old in an unfamiliar place, I'm learning how influential these factors were -- music, ministry, and history. The glaring absence of these crucial factors is like resetting a video game and choosing a much harder difficulty level. It's like we started over on EXPERT MODE.

The difficulty of starting anew has made me appreciate our past, and it has also imbued me with a brand new compassion for people who spend their lives socially isolated. I realize I've been privileged to know a life filled with friends and opportunities, and my heart breaks for people who never bask in that same light. We have to face the epidemic of loneliness in our modern world and war against it.

This illumination of experience also reminds me of how important good friends really are. One can audaciously assume that good friends can be found anywhere, but the truth of the matter is much more complicated. Social connection is both vital for your psyche and spirit, and treacherously challenging to cultivate at times. True friendships are crafted through time and shared experience, and they cannot be merely replicated wherever you go.

The larger cultural reality of the matter is this: many adults are facing a crisis of social isolation, and America as a whole is becoming more lonely over time. Often, people in their 30's and 40's become entangled in the trappings of child rearing as they place their own interests on the back burner. Adult friendships atrophy as they pursue family obligations, and this trend continues into their later years. Perhaps it's no coincidence that Americans have consistently reported higher levels of loneliness over the past several decades. Lackluster friendships are a byproduct of our modern way of life, and it's making people miserable... but it doesn't have to be this way.

Despite the multitude of challenges and obstacles that lay in our path, I refuse to accept the norms of the modern social experience. Social connection requires intentional effort and real connection, and a life lacking in these things is truly one that has not realized its full potential. I may be grappling with this new difficulty setting, but I refuse to be defeated by it.

A New Vision for Masculinity.

If you're anything like me, you read lots of good stories and compositions all the time. The same could be said for good TV shows and good songs. Lots of things are satisfactory, but few things really stick with you. Every now and then, though, a writer's work resonates with you. It haunts you; it remains embedded in your psyche.

That's what happened to me back in February after reading an opinion in the New York Times entitled, "The Boys Are Not All Right." This piece was composed in the wake of a mass shooting, and it brings a breath of revelatory fresh air to the entire debate regarding masculinity and acts of violence. We often find ourselves collectively scrounging for clues based on what we know about shooters -- their ethnicity, their motives, their religious backgrounds. We often gloss over the most prevailing common thread of all, though -- their manhood.

More often than not, men are the aggressors. Men are the shooters; men are the abusers. Men are astronomically more likely to inflict violence on the people they know. We have to wrestle with this undeniable truth that stares us in the face. When we're talking about rape, or school shootings, or gang violence, or violent robberies... we're talking about men.

I recognize the biological component in this, of course. The presence of testosterone can be an aggravating factor in the psychology of men in general. However, we are not merely at the whim of our biochemicals. We are more than that. So... what the hell is happening to men in our nation?

The aforementioned article argues that our nation's boys are not okay. They're broken and shipwrecked with no real direction and no real measure by which to understand themselves. We don't even know what it means to be manly.  By contrast, women have stepped up and made tremendous strides to better themselves and liberate themselves culturally. Women are continually telling one another, "do what you want. Be what you want. Pursue the best you."

Men have stumbled in this regard. We have been sold a cheap imitation of masculinity that is more defined by what you can't do. A man shouldn't _______ because that makes him girly, or heaven forbid, gay. That monumental fill-in-the-blank has come to swallow masculinity whole. It's suffocating our boys everyday. Boys are defined by what they can't do, whereas women are making progress by broadening their definition of what they can do. I see it in the lives of my daughters constantly.

In light of this, I would like to propose a new vision for modern masculinity that liberates men to become all of what they can be. I want to see a return to the idea of The Renaissance Man -- a man who has a breadth of knowledge and experience and excels in everything he does. Leonardo Da Vinci was the icon of this lifestyle. A true renaissance man feels equally comfortable writing a poem as he does throwing a basketball. A true renaissance man feels at home in the kitchen and in the weight room. A true renaissance man pursues the arts and the sciences with diligence and curiosity.

And that one word -- curiosity -- is the key to this equation. More than anything else, the renaissance man is defined by a fervent hunger for all of what life has to offer. He is intellectually curious and that burning curiosity guides him in his pursuits. Maybe he's not knowledgeable of everything... but he wants to be. He wants to do it all. He wants to open all the doors and follow every path he sees.

This stands in stark contrast to the modern macho man, which wants to know nothing and discover nothing. Modern masculinity is defined by what you can't do -- cook, clean, write, sing, dance, self-care. Modern masculinity is a never-ending cascade of slamming doors. Renaissance masculinity is marked by all that you can do. It's defining characteristic is possibility.

When I look upon the horizon at men I respect, I identify renaissance men. They pursue multiple fields of interest and they hunger for excellence in the things they do. In that light, I want to be that kind of man as well. I want to understand athletic matters as well as artistic matters. I want to be able to converse about history, literature, world events, and pop culture. I want to discover the world in all its forms, and I sincerely hunger to understand.

It's no surprise that our highest office in the nation is currently held by Trump, a man who embodies the superficial hollowness that is modern masculinity. He stands in defiance to the entire notion of renaissance manhood -- he has the world's secrets at his fingertips, and yet he hungers for no knowledge. He delights in ignorance. It's pathetic. But I suppose that's another topic for another post.

I believe the boys of our nation have hope, if we can aggressively seek to open their eyes to a new way of life. Furthermore, it must not fall on the shoulders of women to do this. They have worked tirelessly to liberate themselves -- they can't do the mental and emotional labor of men too. It's time for fathers and men in the community to shake off the chains of modern masculinity and trade in those shackles for the key that will unlock all of what the world has for our next generation. It's time to let go of what used to define masculinity in our nation's past.

How I Became Pro-Choice.

Abortion is a contentious topic, and with the nomination of a new Supreme Court Justice, this issue promises to be more pivotal than ever in the public discourse. For many voters, this is the only issue that really matters. Two candidates can run for President, a villain and a hero, but if that villain is superficially pro-life, he gets the vote. Every time. (Oh, and SPOILER ALERT -- that will possibly be the scenario in 2020. Mark my words.)

In that respect, abortion can be a golden ticket that allows many people to bypass any need for civic engagement. Why be involved or knowledgeable about the issues when you can just pick the pro-life candidate? I know this because I used to be one of those people. I used to hold pro-life ideals in such high esteem that, practically speaking, nothing else mattered by comparison. I gave my money, my time, my prayers, and my political allegiances to the person who championed the pro-life movement.

So what changed? A lot of things, which I'll outline below.  Before I do, I feel compelled to state this: I believe abortion rights are a women's issue, and that our society does not need another white male voice joining the cacophony on this topic. However, I also recognize that the pro-life movement and the evangelical right are dominated by white male voices, and this is my effort and endeavor to speak truth into those minds. Beyond that, I'll gladly take a seat to my feminine superiors on this subject.

The Role of Faith

My journey into the pro-choice camp was marked by a few key realizations. Although it's no secret that I have complicated feelings about religion in general now, I began this transition before my departure from the church. After a great deal of studying, I realized that the actual scriptural support for the pro-life movement is flimsy at best, or nonexistent at worst.

Simply put, there is no biblical prohibition on abortion. None. Instead, there are a variety of vaguely sentimental verses like Psalm 139:13-16 that are instead spun into anti-abortion arguments. Jeremiah 1:5 is another classic example of this -- a poetic phrase about god's knowledge has become molded into a theology all its own through a great deal of extrapolation and interpretation. In reality, Jeremiah 1:5 could just as easily be manipulated into an argument against contraception. And truth be told, the entire anti-abortion argument can be boiled down into those two words -- extrapolation and interpretation. Church leaders have cherry-picked a few romantic sentences from the scripture and stitched them together into a theology that just doesn't exist without the church propping it up.

Once I realized this, I saw the naked truth of the matter: the pro-life movement is not a matter of pure theology, but instead, it's a matter of orthodoxy and social dynamics. Church attendees are pro-life because pastors are pro-life. Pastors are pro-life because the leaders above them are pro-life. There is a kind of social trend, an unspoken agreement, that Christians must be pro-life. We call that orthodoxy, and it is hollow of any substantive theological power. It's no different than the many churches that have forbidden drumsets from the stage, or prohibited women from wearing pants in the sanctuary. The pro-life movement is not underpinned by the bible -- it's largely just an agreement among the white men in power. Many people are pro-life for social reasons, not spiritual reasons.

After walking away from the hulking machinery that is religious thought, I began to search for my own truth. Deductively speaking, abortion is either murder, or it's not. If it's murder, it must be outlawed. If it's not murder, then any intrusion into abortion rights are a major breach of a woman's bodily autonomy. Abortion is either an egregious destruction of life, or one of mankind's greatest technological achievements. It either kills a person, or allows women the capacity to totally control their own reproductive choices.

I believe that the foremost question that must be answered regarding abortion is this: where does life begin? More specifically, where does a distinct and separate life begin? After all, a mole on your nose or a tumor may be living cells, but they are not distinct. They are... you. So when does a fetus become a person in its own right? We can search for these answers, but only after recognizing that the bible will not and cannot provide them. And that's okay.

In my own journey, I became acquainted with a very lively debate about where life ends. For a long time, death was defined as the cessation of a heartbeat. However, medical advances have allowed us to keep humans alive with no functioning heart at all. But is that life? Emerging voices have called for death to be defined as a cessation of brain activity. Your heart is just a muscular pump, but your brain is you. When you are brain dead, you are just dead.

Without a doubt, the exploration of life's beginnings and endings can be murky and complex. The most important part of this is acknowledging that these definitions are not gifted to us from a god or a divine being. There's a lot more to be said on the science regarding defining life, but the point remains clear. Many people in the pro-life movement have mistakenly assumed that their beliefs are backed by scripture, so they've sought no other opinion. They've ended their search for answers. In light of the reality of the bible, that seems rather lazy.

I am still on my own journey to figure out where life begins, what life is, and what happens at its conclusion. In the mean time, I will advocate for women to have access to resources that grant them greater control over their bodies. I will also value their voices and remain vigilant for movements that aim to harm women whether intentionally or by happenstance. Lastly, I would like to share one more insight regarding my change of heart.

As the saying goes, you are what you eat. However, I think that applies to the information you consume as well as the food you devour. One of the habits that has most molded my perspective has been changing where I get my information from. I began to follow news blogs written by female voices and other websites owned by minorities. I sought diversity in my media diet just like anyone should in their nutritional diet. I turned away from the raucous echo chamber that reassured me that all my opinions were already airtight, and that truly changed everything.

I don't have all the answers, and I probably never will. However, I have opened myself up to a slew of new truths and possibilities. I have liberated myself from the arrogant presumptions of my former life, and I want to encourage everyone to do the same. I'd like to hear your thoughts on this topic! Comment, email, message... Let me know where you stand and most importantly, why you believe your truths to be real.

The Spirit of Liberty

Exactly one year ago today, we buried my mother. Her tragic passing has been on my mind a lot this week. In the wake of that sudden loss, I've searched for answers, pondered the past, and questioned what we could have done to prevent it. However, all of that ruminating has faded from view as I have sought to honor her memory over the past few days.

I feel disappointed that, in general, our society does not have more poignant ways of preserving the memories and legacies of our loved ones. Quite frankly, we do a terrible job of remembering those who came before us. Their entire life's trajectory just evaporates over time. I want to do better than that. I want to find ways of preserving and memorializing my mother and anyone else I lose over the course of my life. I want to teach my children stories of the people who came before them.

In other cultures, it is quite common to honor the spirit of your ancestors. In some societies, it is totally normal to pray, reflect, or meditate upon the spirit of your ancestors, seeking them for guidance. As skeptical and critical as I can often be regarding all things religious, I can say with honesty that.... I get it. I understand that reflex, to seek your ancestors even when they're long gone.

Where is my mother now? Does her spirit remain with me, or is she just alive in the recesses of my heart & mind? I don't know. Does it matter?  Whether she abides as a spirit, or she just abides in my memory.... she's there. She means something to me. Some people would say she was "larger than life". Instead, I'd say she was always more mythological than motherly -- she was always more fiction than fact.  She was a character, an embodiment of something greater. And I want to honor that; I want to find a way to cherish her with my actions.

So, in an effort to preserve my mother's memory, my little family made a trip to the beach on the day of her passing. When I was a child, my mom would often take me to the beach to gather shells. In honor of that, Eisley and Maebry gathered shells to place around her gravestone, and we spent the day having fun and visiting relatives in the area. In this way, I believe we created a ritual that would honor her in a way that fits her. This is what she would have wanted.

Throughout this week, I've also paused to reflect on what she meant to me.
She taught me to seek beauty.
She taught me to be expressive.
She taught me to be unashamed of who I am.
She taught me to be free. Really, truly free.

My mother is the spirit of liberty in my life. Her body rests in the soil of Onslow County, but her spirit resides upon the waves. Her spirit walks the shoreline, and her spirit walks with me too. I want to celebrate her, and the liberty she imparted upon me. I want to teach my children who she really was, and I want to show them how to cherish the loved ones that leave this world.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

I am not your ally.

A curious thing has happened to Hannah and I over the past several years. On a variety of occasions, people will interact with us in a seemingly normal, sociable way. We exchange small talk and formalities, and then, in the midst of a superficially banal dialogue, a shift occurs.

And out comes the racism. Out comes the sexism. Why does this keep happening?

When we first moved to Salisbury, Hannah visited a local veterinarian, and the vet interacted with Hannah for less than ten minutes before confiding some very awkward, highly racial opinions to her. Somehow, we keep finding ourselves in this situation, with acquaintances and strangers alike. Racists and sexists find themselves emboldened in this age, ready to spout off their nonsense anywhere.

So let me make this clear.
I am not your ally.

We are not allies of the racist, the sexist, the bigots, the homophobes. We are not your confessional booth, and we will not be complicit in your inane war against decency. Do not mistake my skin color or my gender for permission to disseminate your poison. It will not be accepted or permitted in my world.

We are the allies of the downtrodden, the oppressed, the marginalized, the hurt. We vote that way, too. We consider these people groups when we give donations, when we volunteer, and when we cast our ballots for local and national leaders.

I would encourage every reader to search their soul and ask themselves where their allegiances lie. Who have you aligned with, and who have you placated? What concepts have you let reign freely in your life and in your social interactions? The time for change is now, and the time for tepid disagreement is over.

To the racist,
the sexist,
the oppressor,
the aggressor.....
I am not your ally.

A World Without Closets

June is LGBT Pride Month, and this very fact tends to conjure up some interesting reactions in people.  Recently, a major leader within the popular fitness company Crossfit was embroiled in a firestorm after stating that LGBT pride was a grievance against god. It wasn't long ago that I was firmly planted in a world that felt that way, and yet, it all seems so foreign now.

Perhaps the most perplexing piece of this mentality is the rejection of pride itself. Now,  I realize that many faiths condemn homosexuality as a sin, but the reactions against what we celebrate in June don't make sense, and here's why:

Pride is a natural outcome of honesty.

As I've written before, we live in a world rife with closets. People remain closeted about their sexual orientations, their gender preferences, their beliefs, and so much more. The celebration of LGBT pride is a natural by-product of the fact that many people are leaving their closets behind, and they are profoundly glad to see the light of day. Regardless of where you stand on the topic itself, you should be thankful for that... because at least we are having honest interactions.

Imagine a world where everyone became shockingly, unapologetically themselves to their friends, family, and coworkers. Imagine a world where the curtains drop to reveal the things we conceal for the sake of our reputations. It would be a shocking atmosphere, for sure, but more than anything, it would be real. It would be honest.

Now, closets exist for a reason. Tragically, many people have to conceal themselves for fear of rejection, or discrimination, or even violence. This is the true abomination. Instead of railing against the rainbow-colored bumper stickers you see, consider the cultural phenomenon that makes pride even matter.

People have pride because we live in a society where just being you can require a tremendous sacrifice and risk. That's the grievance against whatever god may exist. That's the travesty.

So, wherever you stand on the topic of homosexuality (or any other nontraditional lifestyle), you must realize that the dismantling of each and every closet is a good thing. Because when the last closet door opens, we will live in a world where we can be candid without fear of mistreatment or harm.

It's time for us to work towards a world without closets.

A Promise Ring Rebuttal

So let's talk about promise rings.

In case you are not familiar with the phenomenon, promise rings rose to popularity during my upbringing. It became customary for many Christian fathers to give these rings to their daughters as a symbol of chastity and the virtue of celibacy. Sometimes, fathers and daughters would even have ceremonies wherein vows were exchanged, cementing the child's dedication to the noble cause of abstinence. Despite this glorious occasion, many teenage girls stumbled just the same.

Honestly, writing all of that out feels profoundly creepy. It's also worth noting that promise rings only existed among gendered lines -- fathers gave them to daughters, but you did not see mothers nor sons involved in similar exchanges. This smacks of sexism and it's pretty damning to our patriarchal experience writ large, but alas, we'll save that tangent for another post.

In essence, promise rings tethered fathers to the sex lives (or lack thereof) of their daughters. The intent seems innocent or even honorable at face value -- Christian fathers want the best for their children, and purity (whatever that means) is best. Although it seems like a kind gesture, the reality of the promise ring often proved to be very different. In my observation, it proved deeply harmful.

Promise rings, and the typical Christian family's obsession with abstinence, seems like protective parenting, but it may have done more harm than good. In my experience, I have heard countless stories where daughters succumbed to temptation and saw their relationship with their parents wounded in the process. After all, their father had a vested interest in the child's virginity, and losing it was an act of betrayal.

That's not where the injury ends, though. Even women who waited until marriage felt utterly sullied by the totally harmless and seemingly holy act of marital sex. They spent years wearing a ring that reminded them that sex must be avoided at all costs, and when the day came that they were liberated from the ring itself, it still left an imprint on their psyche.

The promise ring is a symbol of ownership over something that cannot be owned. As I recalibrate my own values and beliefs, I question how I can raise my daughters in a different vein than the things I have both witnessed and observed in the past. What does it mean to be a successful secular parent?  I'm still figuring that out, but needless to say, I won't be handing out rings to my children or demanding chastity pledges from them. The mere thought of doing so seems idiotic at best, and profoundly harmful at worst.

As Trevor Noah wrote in his book Born a Crime, "you do not own the thing you love." Parents must never mistake possessive behavior with love. I do not want to demand pledges and oaths of my children -- instead, I want to make pledges to them. It is incumbent upon me as the parent to be the one who forges a path of unconditional acceptance and support in their lives.

One day, when they'd old enough to fathom this conversation, I will give them this vow.

I promise not to own you.
I promise not to hinge my love on how you use your body.
I promise not to stake a claim on your personhood or your sense of autonomy.
I promise not to pit your love for me against your desires or choices.

I'm sure there will be times when this is difficult, but I'm choosing to let go of my old paradigms regarding parenting. I'm letting go of my old, broken definitions of love when it comes to being a father, and I'm searching for a new and beautiful definition in the process.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

The Road Not Taken

The arts play an important role in our shared human experience. Through the power of music, writing, dance, and visual arts, we celebrate our victories and we mourn our losses. We reminisce and we pine for better days. We flesh out our vulnerabilities through the arts. Perhaps even more crucially, we learn to understand ourselves.

As a creative person, I recognize that one role of the artist is to provide insight into emotions themselves. A well-written song can provide clarity to a feeling you don't even fully comprehend. Sometimes, the verses of a poet can be revelatory, unearthing the truth beneath our muddled mental processes.

So, when I have an emotion I cannot articulate, I feel incredibly uneasy. This is supposed to be my territory, my expertise... right?

A few summers ago, I was a youth pastor, firmly set on a path towards lifetime ministry. Now, that path has utterly dissapearred from sight. I can hardly recognize the landscape around me. In light of that, I feel a strange sort of visceral response inside when I pass a church or see a Facebook post about ministry. It's not a matter of missing that life. It's also not simply an impulse to object to the issues in the church. It's something else...

It's the shock of beholding the road not taken.

We all have diverging paths in our history. We all have paths we chose not to pursue. It seems, though, that there is a particular and oppressive emotion that  wells up when you actually gaze upon the roads you left behind. We see this romanticized on a relational front when you hear songs talk about "the one that got away". We face the notion of what could have been, and our insides seize up like old machinery. How do we understand this feeling and what do we do with it?

I'm beginning to think that the key to overcoming this feeling is a matter of accepting life as you've lived it. You have a unique trajectory that has led you to this place. Perhaps some of the steps you took were ignorant, and perhaps some of the choices you made were not entirely of your own volition. Regardless, we must all wrestle with the reality of where we've been and how we got here.

I also think a key to processing this feeling is knowing how to mourn your losses. We accept that we can mourn people -- a friend, a family member, a former classmate. But dreams die too. Plans disintegrate. Visions vanish. It is not only acceptable, but crucially necessary to learn how to grieve the losses in your life, in whatever forms they may take.

So, as I recognize that feeling inside of me -- the unease of the road not taken -- I will choose to accept the paths I traveled, as difficult as that may be. I will mourn my losses for what they are. I will live each day seeking to understand, process, and accept my life as I try to bend my trajectory into a new and enlightened direction.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

A Multitude of Closets

I want a better world for my children.

We often reflexively connect the idea of "people in the closet" with LGBT individuals, but I've come to broaden my understanding of this social phenomenon recently. You see, we live in a world where individuals that deviate from the norm often feel compelled to shroud their true selves for fear of being persecuted, or worse.

I've come to recognize a multitude of closets.

There are people in your life that hide their true selves from you. They conceal their religious beliefs, they suppress their sexuality, they're embarrassed of their substance struggles or psychiatric issues because of a deep abiding fear of social consequences. Closets abound, everywhere you turn... you just have to identify them with empathy and understanding.  You have to be looking for them.

Beyond the intrinsic worth of empathy, we need to lay hold of a better future wherein people can be honest. Deeply, thoroughly, painfully honest. We are currently operating in a social climate that is, above all else, intellectually dishonest. People have to lie to survive.

I was listening to President Obama speak on a podcast recently. He was waxing poetic about his own legacy, stating that he'd rather remember his time in office as a moment where diverse ideas were included instead of fixating on the minutiae of daily politics. He concluded that, if this legacy of inclusion could be cherished, the fine details of how we eventually overcome climate change or how we provide insurance for millions of Americans won't matter. It's the social philosophy that prevails. We have to champion inclusion as a society.

I identify one poignant truth in all of this: you are either part of the problem or part of the solution. You are either inviting people out of their closets or pushing them further into the darkness. You are either advocating for the marginalized and oppressed, or you are opposing them. Choose a side.

My children deserve a future where diverse ideas are included, because they could very well find themselves on the wrong side of that thin line that demarcates "normalcy". No matter your beliefs regarding the holiness and the divine, all people must recognize the fundamental need for human liberty. It's time to set the captives free.

Free from shame.
Free from condemnation.
Free from the closets we built for them.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

Finding Joy in the Ephemeral

"Beauty is its own excuse for being."

That's what my teacher Mr. Dove taught me in my creative writing class back in high school.  Here I am, more than a decade later, and the quote remains true as I ponder the fullness of what it means. At face value, I get it -- beauty needs no pretense, no excuse, no functionality. Beauty speaks for itself. I want to synthesize that mentality, though, and bury it deep down in my psyche.

All things are ephemeral.  Your relationships, your most valued possessions, your body itself -- all of it will one day fade into obscurity. The universe itself will one day cease to function. Every person who has looked mortality in the eye has had to wrestle with their own finite nature. Nonetheless, beauty exists in these temporal structures. Expiration is not damnation.

Just because something is temporary, doesn't mean it's not valuable.

Lives begin and lives end. One of my goals during this season of introspection has been to find joy in the ephemeral. It requires a degree of courage to accept loss without painting the past with a negative and remorseful brush. You can bid farewell to the past without burning it to ashes. You can accept the path behind you.

Everything you hold dear will once cease. I think about this in simple terms to remind myself of its simple truth. Think of one of your favorite belongings for a moment. I, for one, am very attached to my guitar. I find joy in it -- it helps me to relax and find peace in a hectic world. One day, it will no longer function properly. One day, its existence will reach a conclusion.

The conclusion does not nullify the beauty of the narrative that precedes it.

The same could be said with friendships, job experiences, and so much more. I want to learn how to find joy in the ephemeral, because life requires us to say many tearful farewells along the way. I want to reflect with gladness as I mouth each goodbye. As loved ones pass away and time takes its toll, join me in the search for joy in the ephemeral.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

Damnation.

It seems tempting to envision a world where people are truly free to believe their own truths and pursue their own paths. However, the reality before us is this: people care about what you believe, because the consequences of disbelief and doubt are supposedly quite severe. Your beliefs are a matter of heaven and hell.

In light of this realization, I understand that friends and family mean well when they wonder about my beliefs. Nonetheless, in the past year I have become dreadfully concerned with the concept of damnation itself, because it strikes to the heart of God's nature. Our thoughts about damnation reveal profound truths about ourselves and how we relate to the divine.

A great deal of religious thought is predicated upon a simple notion:

You're not just flawed -- you're evil. 

The Christian worldview, among other religions, demands the adherent to accept their own filthy nature. It is a prerequisite for all that follows. It is the cost of admission to the entirety of the real church experience. And it troubles me, as a human being and as a father.

This mentality is not necessarily reflected in a child's church experience, though. It's a curious phenomenon that the tone of Christian teaching in a church tends to change dramatically as the participants grow older.  Young children are taught innocuous concepts like "God loves you!" and "teamwork is good!". However, by adulthood, the self-deprecation begins to be woven through each and every message.

You are broken. You are guilty, from birth.
And what is your crime?
  Existing in the second degree, I guess.

I don't know if I can look my children in the eye and tell them they deserve to be tortured eternally.  I don't know if I can embrace that paradigm as I behold their sleeping bodies, laying peacefully in bed at night. I don't know if I can purchase that ticket. I don't want to... and I don't feel sorry about it either.

Now, not all Christian denominations believe in eternal Hell, or in the naturally damned state of man -- but many of them do. That's what scares me.  The majority of the Christian world believes that man is created in a damned, evil state, and that he is on the wide path to eternal torment... and you're telling me the problem is humankind?

Why is Hell eternal, and why is the road so wide and often-travelled? How can my existence be both pre-ordained and inherently evil?

If you believe that God is going to sentence me to harm for BILLIONS or TRILLIONS of years because I am exercising my natural skepticism right now, perhaps you should bring your questions to him. Is that harsh? Maybe... but so is damnation. After years in the Christian bubble, I am re-calibrating what mercy, justice, and love really means. I have daughters to raise and a world to change, and I refuse to despise either for the sake of tired dogma.


Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

The Sympathizer

Millenials love being categorized. That's important to keep in mind for the remainder of this blog post. They seriously adore being defined by shallow labels. Don't forget it.

Every person on Earth is covered in name tags. These stickers remain unseen, but they dictate so much about our lives. Christian, white, southern,  married, democrat, athlete, musician, leader... the list goes on.  Although my generation (millenial and proud, deal with it) has taken great strides to peel off these labels, they remain... and they matter.

People, by and large, distrust and despise atheists. A variety of statistics flesh out the fact that atheism is considered one of the most toxic labels one can wear. Even in our Islamophobic post-9/11 nation, studies indicate that the average citizen have less faith in an atheist than a muslim.

I find this phenomenon particularly baffling considering that, most people tread the path of the atheist (or at least agnostic) through their daily lives. Practically speaking, most humans live their days as atheists, claiming religious allegiances for the sake of family pride or social connection. They do not consult the gods regarding what to wear everyday and where to go -- they live a decidedly humanistic and material existence. They're just... people.

In light of this, the demonization of the unbeliever is a particular kind of travesty. Here's the thing -- I'm not an atheist*, but I am the atheist's sympathizer. I am the atheist's advocate. Bear with me on this one before you violently chuck your laptop in anger, OK?

Here's the deal... In the corners of the internet where I often dwell, atheist thought abounds. Scientists, skeptics, you know the type. I don't always agree with their assertions... but I do understand. That's what I want to embody in my life and that's what I want to see: more understanding and less pious categorization.

Perhaps one of the most commonplace philosophical arguments against God as we know it comes from the Greek Epicurus. He stated:

Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?

Now, Christian, I am not asking you to agree. I am asking you to understand. Can you fathom a life wherein a person reaches the same conclusion? I can. If I lived in some war-torn country where I watched my children wither from starvation, yeah. I'd agree. I'd feel incapable of believing otherwise, probably. That's just one simple scenario, but we could unravel a multitude of similar ones.

We are all learners, gathering evidence about God's nature from the life we live and the things we witness, both beautiful and horrifying. Who am I to insist that someone should bend their conclusion to fit into my contours? This is the height of audacity -- discounting the human before you in favor of your own preconceptions.

So when I read an atheist meme on Instagram or Facebook, or I see a quote from Dawkins online, I seek to understand the human dynamic within it. People of every faith must do the same if they have any hope of serving the people they adamantly insist that they love. If you love the "lost", listen to them. They have stories to tell -- tales of heartbreak and skepticism, belief and disillusionment.

This is not to say that all atheist thought is borne out of suffering or bitterness -- I certainly don't think that. Indeed, skepticism is a cornerstone of intellectual thinking in general, and every person of faith should test their own beliefs to determine if they are worthy of believing.  If you must plug your ears to avoid the claims of the skeptic, perhaps your paper-thin doctrines deserve to be destroyed.

In any case, my general approach with all trains of thought regarding belief and truth are to seek first to understand. I'm letting go of the partitions that I used to build around my heart and mind. I want to grant the basic dignity of listening to those with whom I disagree. I want to seek truth in a manner that is profoundly curious and unrelentingly compassionate. 

*how I categorize my faith is none of your business. Enough with the labels!

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

Lessons in Music: The Ostinato

   The arts can be revelatory -- we can learn about the world and about ourselves through music, films, and books. As a musician, I also find insights and revelations in the creative process as it unfolds. The creating experience itself can be a mechanism for introspection and self-discovery.

Lately, I've had one particular idea on my mind -- the ostinato. In music composition, an ostinato is a continually repeated phrase or idea.  It is a motif, a common thread or theme that prevails throughout the entire composition. I've come to realize that our lives and the grand arc of our families can sometimes contain these repetitions and themes as well.

In light of this realization, one question beckons for an answer:

    How do we break the generational patterns and cycles that ensnare us?

Think about your family history. So often, the same frustrating patterns repeat over and over. In my family, suicide has been prevalent -- my mother and both of my grandfathers took their own lives. This knowledge can be heart-breaking to reflect upon, but I have to go beyond mere thought and step forward into intentional action. In the wake of this tragic history, I must embrace two critical steps:

1) Realizing the reality of this generational burden...

2) ...and choosing to defy my past on a real and daily basis.

Whether it's substance abuse, or chronic health problems, or self-destructive tendencies, we must face the repeating motifs of those that came before us. We have to dissect and understand the motivations, the deficiencies, and the missteps that perpetuated this ostinato. This may look vastly different to each person, but the underlying truth remains the same:

We must face the burdens of the past to overcome them effectively. 

I'm still unraveling what it means to defy my family's past. As I continue to discover and unpack these ideas, my hope is that I can press forward with intention and consistency.  I may be powerless to alter the past, but I still want to change my future -- I want to rewrite this grand and overarching melody for the benefit of my children and my community.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

The Story of Your Life.

"Are you happy with your life?"

This central question is so simple, but it casts a long and chilling shadow.  Everyday, people traipse through their lives, yolked with a heavy burden regarding what could have been.  Each person wants to feel that they've reached the height of their potential, but how many of us actually achieve this?

I just celebrated my 29th birthday (woohoo), and whenever my birthday approaches, I get this heavy and introspective feeling in my chest. I examine myself and what I've done with my life so far. I measure myself against my own (often unreasonable) expectations. I pick myself apart. I feel overwhelmed with the sound of ticking clocks as they wind down and drown out my surroundings. Does that sound crazy? Yeah, maybe, a little bit, but here's the thing:

I've decided to let go.  I've resolved to overcome this mindset.

One of the most important revelations of the past few years for me is so simple: learning to accept your life as you've lived it. What does this look like on a daily basis, though? It means acknowledging and observing the path you've taken to this point, and coming to terms with every choice, both good and bad. It means recognizing where you are and where you've been. It means accepting what's happened to you -- your scars, your trauma, your neuroses.

This manifests itself in many ways -- creative, relational, spiritual -- but one clear example is in the workplace. Sometimes I feel incredibly out of place, like I've missed my exit sign miles ago.  "I can do more than this, I was made for more than this," I think to myself. That's part of why I'm aggressively pursuing a college degree now, to make up for lost time and lost opportunities along the way. Nevertheless, I must remind myself to stop criticizing, and start recognizing the path that I followed to this junction.

Without a doubt, I'd be in a more challenging and rewarding place professionally if I had gone to college earlier. But doing this would've likely meant staying under the thumb of my narcissistic and cruel father, subjecting myself to years of his mistreatment and gaslighting while my schooling was paid for.  So I made a choice -- I decided to preserve my dignity and forfeit my funding. In doing so, I had to carve my own path. Did it set me back considerably? Yes. Was it the right choice? Absolutely.

Perhaps if parallel universes exist, there's some iteration that stayed close with my dad.  Ray 2.0 was a college shoe-in and a close adherent to his father's opinions. He's a republican and an obedient church goer. He doesn't understand BLM and all the kneeling at football games. He think there's a War on Christmas. He does what he's told. I don't want to be that Ray, and I'm glad that I diverged from that path. I am genuinely and profoundly glad.

This is but a snapshot of the grander trajectory that led me to today, but it proves an important point -- your life is the summation of many elements: fate, luck, choice, chance, and the blessings or cruelties that others dole out on you. We do a disservice when oversimplify the complex and compound formula that is life itself.

Each and every person on this planet has a story to tell. Our lives are a series of crossroads and intersections, and with every successive choice, we write our own plot lines. I'm learning to accept the story of my life -- where I've been, what I've done, and what's been done to me in return. In the face of my past, that's all I can hope to do.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

The Trigger Pulls You.

"A perforating gunshot wound to the head."

That's what my mom's death certificate says. Sometimes I ponder on this and I wonder if that's what life amounts to -- a cold, clinical sentence on a government form. When the sun sets and the curtain closes, we become short stories. We become words on a page.

But this post isn't about that. Maybe we'll save that existential crisis for another time. Tonight, I'm fixated on the gravitational heft of a loaded firearm, because the statistics around suicide seem to confirm one idea:

you pull the trigger, but the trigger pulls you too.

There is a silent epidemic of gun violence in our nation, and it conceals itself in bedrooms and among the hushed conversations of traumatized family members. Beyond the drug-related shoot-outs and the accidental misfires, we have missed an entire world of victims -- those who commit suicide with a bullet.

I can already hear the clamor of objections in my head. "If a person wants to commit suicide, they'll find a way!"... right? Well, the facts seem to indicate otherwise. Studies show that firearms present a uniquely convenient method for self-harm, and in the absence of this opportunity, at least some people will choose to not go through with it at all.

Simply put, gun control has the capacity to save the lives of those who have suicidal thoughts.

There are many readers who will vehemently refuse to believe this idea no matter the evidence, and this phenomenon itself is a tragedy. In the last several years, our nation has faced a crisis wherein people believe their own imaginations before they believe the work of scholars or journalists. I pinpoint the racist birther movement (AKA "Obama is a muslim foreigner") with the rise of this mindset. That movement was the beginning of the end for critical thinking.

One would be wise to tread carefully anytime the words "I imagine..." could be used to support your case. (I imagine) a mass shooter will always find a way to inflict harm. (I imagine) that a suicidal person will go through with it no matter what. (I imagine) that Sandy Hook was a false flag operation. Ideas lacking in evidence are products of your imagination -- you must recognize that to embrace any semblance of rational thought.

But I digress. The facts seem to indicate that the specter of suicide is aggravated by the presence of firearms -- so what do we do about that? Well, other countries have seen a marked decline in suicides by gun after enacting stricter legislative controls on firearms, but that seems to be a totally lost cause in our country. If the myriad of violence we've witnessed hasn't moved our leaders, nothing will.

In essence, we have to be the change. We have to take action.

Our government won't protect us or preserve us; we must act on our own. The need for family intervention is critical -- if you detect that someone in your life may be in danger of harming themselves, do something about it. It's unfortunate that both mental health and gun ownership are such sensitive topics, because they intersect in such a tragic and profound way. Nonetheless, we must have the courage to approach this issue with compassionate and proactive dialogue.

If you know someone who may be at risk for suicidal behaviors, and they have easy access to a firearm, talk to them. Ask them if they need help finding psychiatric services, or ask if they think their firearm should be temporarily locked up or taken away. Offer to meet up with them regularly to talk about their struggles. Encourage honesty and transparency regarding self-harm. Do not let the awkwardness of the moment overtake the urgent need for action.

We may not be able to change the world, but we can change our world. With open, observant eyes and a willingness to speak up, we can prevent another life from being lost. The dire state of our surroundings  and the tragedies of yesterday beg us with two simple words -- do something.


Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

Humanity First. (Part 3)

There are times when a church pew can feel like a prison cell.

I have been there. I have found myself frozen in place, trapped beneath the watchful gaze of a preacher who has veered far from the path of reason or basic decency. And no, I am not referring to a long-winded preacher or a person prone to tangents. I am talking about the multitude of tiny tragedies that occur when a pastor values the faith of a person over their very human existence.

Before I go any further, I just want to say this: you don't have to keep reading. In this post, I am going to criticize ministers and the church in general. I realize that many people have a deep abiding affinity for a pastor somewhere, and that's okay. Please bear in mind that this blog is a place for me to dissect the misgivings of my own history. You don't have to make your case for why ministry isn't so bad, and if you feel the unstoppable urge to play Pastor's Advocate, please look away now.

Still with me? Great.

Because it's about to get real.

A woman commits suicide. A friend overdoses. A teenager dies in a car accident. No matter the sorrowful circumstances, pastors are often the ones that our community turns to for answers. Tragically, many clergymen compound the wounds that we receive by fumbling through a half-baked eulogy or an ill-timed altar call. They lose sight of the person because they're too busy seeking the believer. Why?

Perhaps it's because pastors often live in a bubble, wherein their entire world consists of professing believers and Bible scholars. Or maybe it's because they're not actually equipped to be counselors or therapists, though they often try to act the part. Regardless, here's what I know: in the wake of tragedy, the average person does not need platitudes or hollow religious gestures. They need you to see the fractures that run deep through their heart. They need someone to recognize the human in them.

After my mom took her own life, I didn't need to hear a pastor clumsily explain why God probably didn't damn her to eternal torture in Hell. I didn't need theology, I needed empathy. In those initial moments, I wasn't concerned with eternity. I was overcome with the trauma of the moment and the heavy burden silently and continually crushing me.

Look, I get it. Prayers and proverbs are the currency of the Bible Belt, but after my mom committed suicide, here's what I would have loved to hear from a pastor or someone similar.

I'm sorry that happened to you. That's fucking horrible. The universe can be so cruel sometimes. You didn't deserve this, and it's not your fault. (and if you find fault in the use of profanity in that circumstance, you're part of the problem.)

Instead, hurt and lost people congregate at memorial services and church gatherings, looking for answers, and they are smothered with superficial calls to the altar. Teenagers are brow-beaten in a flimsy attempt to be "scared straight". It doesn't work; it never works. These methods fail because they lose sight of the humanity in a desperate hope for more congregants.  In the wake of a tragedy, many pastors cannot disengage from their duty to expand the flock, even in the face of unspeakable horror.

Pastors and clergy are placed in a position where they can speak to the hearts of wounded and traumatized people, and so often, they fail. Perhaps it's a matter of training, or priorities, or insular church culture. Regardless, I know this: I want to recognize the profound and intrinsic value in every person.  I long to see a world where people are known for their innate worth, instead of their potential as a future disciple. So next time, let's drop the altar call and have a real conversation.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

Humanity First. (Part 2)

I spent the vast majority of my adolescence and young adulthood in a band. Overall, I look back with fondness over those years -- I met plenty of wonderful people (including my marvelous wife, Hannah) and crafted a heart full of fond memories. However, I reflect on all of this with some remorse as the season progresses.

This autumn marks a bittersweet anniversary.  You see, I was in a Christian band called The Avenger. We broke up about ten years ago in the fall. We eventually re-formed off and on, but it was never the same. Through our history, our group's interactions and motivations were colored with religious pretenses, and this particular dynamic played a role in our demise. In hindsight, I feel a sense of regret for losing sight of the humanity of my bandmates in the pursuit of holiness, or zeal, or passion. I should have been a better friend, embracing the humanity of my colleagues. (I discussed this Humanity First perspective in my last post... read it!)

There's a saying about losing sight of the forest for the trees. Sometimes, I think believers lose sight of the human for the Christian. Looking back, I realize that the people in my world needed an advocate, a person ardently championing their strengths and celebrating their virtues. A person cheering them on and deeply hoping for their betterment. They didn't need another pastor.

This frustration is a theme that has carved its path through virtually all of my musical experiences. I've been in many bands, and each one was unduly burdened with the expectation of faith adherence. We spent so many nights in The Avenger, arguing about smoking cigarettes or making out with girlfriends. We debated the rights and wrongs. We ostracized otherwise-valued friends. We detonated our connections with one another in pursuit of righteousness. Tragically, This pattern didn't end with The Avenger -- it followed me for years.

The drummer for The Avenger was my grade-school best friend, Ben Evans. I lost actual years of our friendship to a pathetic, legalistic line in the sand. That's not okay. It'll never be okay. I never want to do that to someone again.

I realize it's not fashionable to regret things... but I regret that. I feel sincerely disappointed about how religious obligation has skewed and strained my friendships with musicians for the past decade. It may seem petty to ponder such things, but the facts are simple... real people got mistreated; real relationships were fractured. All of these wounds were accumulated in the pursuit of God's hypothetical favor.

So, on the tenth anniversary of The Avenger's dissolution, I'm letting go. I'm letting go of the mindset that burns down friendships for the sake of the intangible. I'm letting go of my right to scrutinize and embracing the human in front of me instead.

BONUS -- Look up the album "To Cast Ourselves Aside" on Spotify. That's us. 

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find mental health resources for yourself or a loved one. 

Humanity First. (Part 1)

Throughout history, people have tried their best to organize themselves in tidy little categories. I used to see the boundary lines -- I used to heed the demarcations. Now, I long to see the human that's buried beneath a multitude of nametags.

Every person on Earth is a human before they are a _______. I left that blank so you could insert whatever you hold sacred there -- "Christian", "heterosexual", "Caucasian".  Whatever, pick one. Beyond these identities, people are generally compelled by the same biological drives. They are more like you than they are different from you.

Psychology resonates with this same idea.  One look at Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs reminds us that people need to survive and feel a sense of basic safety before we can ponder much else.  We can furiously demand "holiness" (whatever that means to you) from society, but the simple fact is that unmet needs beat nebulous moral constructs, every time. We have to serve the human in others before we can expect to speak in lofty terms of theology or divinity.

Everyone you encounter is a human, first and foremost. I'm going to keep returning to this refrain because I think it bears repeating. We have to do more than acknowledge this as a fact; we must synthesize  it as a framework of our worldview. If you can connect with the inner humanity of others, you can learn to understand faiths, practices, and cultures that are different from yours.  Look past the veneer to the vulnerable person within.

Seek first to understand the humanity in others.  The woman wearing a hijab at the grocery store, or the man speaking Spanish at the bank may seem so utterly other to you.  They're not.  Their lives are governed by the same instincts and impulses as your own.  They grow hungry, tired, and lonely.  They want to survive and thrive.

Perhaps this concept of humanity first has become so prominent in my mind because I have seen it mishandled so profoundly, both in my life and in the lives of others. I used to be so judgmental, so certain of my place in this great cacophony. I used to be so preoccupied with the partitions between people. Now, I simply want to see past them.

I want to understand the humanity in those around me, regardless of the labels they've chosen or the ones that have been thrust upon them.  I have a lot to say on this topic because it is so near to my heart, and I have some stories to tell. I'll tell them soon. For now, I simply ask for you to reflect on the common personhood that transcends every boundary in your world.

PS -- I think "humanity first" sounds kind of like a populist presidential candidate's slogan, in some far flung year like 2092 when the robots have taken over. Humanity First!

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find mental health resources for yourself or a loved one. 

Joy as a Discipline

Stop me if you've heard this one. 

It's been a tough year/decade/life. It's been a busy holiday season. You're sleeping less and working more. Whatever the reason, you've started to notice that your clothes fit a little tighter and you're moving a bit slower than you used to. The burden of a hectic schedule and a heavy workload is taking a toll, and it shows in your waistline.

We've all been there. What I find fascinating, however, is that our society is permeated with a distinct knowledge of how to overcome this plight. Virtually every person of sound mind knows the steps to improve their physical health -- move more and eat less. Make wise dietary choices. Sleep more. We have the answers to this state of physical disrepair, even if we choose not to follow them.

The same cannot be said for mental health. What do you do when you are depressed, or anxious, or overcome by irrational thoughts? What if you find your mind embroiled in something even more tragic, like suicidal ideology? Can you simply will yourself into wellness? We struggle to identify the problem, let alone the solution. Despite our society's progress, mental health is still highly stigmatized and misunderstood. We are not ingrained with a sense of caring for ourselves emotionally, spiritually, and mentally.

I have reflected upon this lack of emotional preparedness quite a bit lately. As I audit my own mental well-being, I have recognized the patterns of my daily and weekly behaviors and how they influence my mental state and my overall wellness. This means that, in some respects, mental and emotional wellness is a matter of daily practice.

So much of life is dictated by what you regularly do. Whether it's weight loss, or learning an instrument, or earning a college degree, self-discipline is the deciding variable in it all. As the saying goes, "we are what we repeatedly do." After what I've been through in the past few years, I want to pursue joy as a deliberate discipline in my daily life.

With all of that being said, here are a few ways that I have tried to interweave emotional wellness into my daily life. They are admittedly small changes, but that's the point -- they're reasonable in their ambitions. I'd love to hear about what works for you. Also, please bear in mind that these suggestions are minor behavioral tweaks that are meant to supplement a generally healthy mind. If you are wrestling with more profound mental issues, it may be imperative to seek professional help.  Anyway, here are my suggestions...

1.) Exercise

The science speaks for itself -- regular exercise releases endorphins in your brain that literally make you feel better and more at peace. Furthermore, when you begin to see results, you start to feel a fundamental sense of control over your life. Life is not just something that happens to you, and I believe this lesson is learned well as you pursue your physical wellness.

2.) Podcasts

The connections we make with people we don't know are curious, aren't they? Whether it's a group of guys on a popular Youtube channel, or a celebrity talk show host, we begin to feel connected with others even if they don't know us by name. Humans are biologically wired for community. Podcasts provide an interesting long-form connection with thoughts and ideas from around the world. Furthermore, many of them are genuinely hilarious and thought-provoking. I highly recommend the dark comedic fiction Welcome to Night Vale and the political comedy show Lovett or Leave it, just to name a few.

3.) Cheesy music

I was sitting in a therapist's office and I overheard another client, in an adjoining room, talk about how she had to avoid certain songs because of the emotional toll they took on her. As obvious as it may seem, this made me realize that the vast majority of music I listen to is neither fun nor joyful. In light of this, I've tried to steer myself into the direction of generally more upbeat music. A lot of classic rock, for example, has a kind of undeniable cheese factor to it -- and that's okay! Whether it's old tunes, comedy albums, or god-awful 90's pop hits, embrace the cheese. I bet it'll make you smile.

4.) Catharsis

I am passionate about writing and music, as you probably know. These creative avenues can provide a profound therapeutic benefit -- in fact, that's one of the reasons I started this blog. However, you do not have to be a dyed-in-the-wool artist to pursue cathartic experiences. Journaling, for example, can be a simple and effective means to explore your thoughts in a new medium. If you are interested in the arts, I would implore you to pursue them as a continuing discipline in your life -- these efforts will pay off over time.


Again, these have helped me immensely, but the daily pursuit of joy and wellness may look different for you. The question that must be answered is this: what does your path to joy look like? What brings you a sense of wellness and wholeness?  Find that path and pursue it as a deliberate discipline. We must all grasp a fuller picture of what it means to be mentally and spiritually well -- we need to understand our daily struggles and the road to recovery from them.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find mental health resources for yourself or a loved one. 

The Audacity of Certainty

What do you know to be true... and how do you know it?

In the aftermath of our experiences over the past few years, Hannah and I have re-calibrated our worldview from virtually every possible angle. As I consider our journey, I find myself less concerned with the specifics of what people believe, but instead how they came to these conclusions. It's the process that matters. Every person needs to understand the mechanisms that drive their core values.

Most people live their everyday lives without even glancing at the internal machinery that drives them. Right vs. wrong, good and evil... we all have basic presuppositions that guide our behavior. Often, our values are some indistinct conglomeration of how we were raised, who we spend time with, and where we get our information. A Muslim raised in northern Africa has been imprinted with a certain impression of truth that may conflict a great deal with the opinions of a Southern Baptist child in Alabama. So... who is actually right?

I'm not here to make that call.... I just want to understand myself and the world around me. I want to recognize the components of the machinery.

Looking back upon my former self, I am astounded by my prior sense of certainty. I was sure of so much, and I continually reinforced so many baseless conclusions in my mind. Now, I've come to find that the notions I once considered stone-cold facts will easily disintegrate under the slightest scrutiny. Especially when it comes to the unseen and intangible, certainty is often a kind of audacity.

As I mentioned in My Daughter's Revelation, I believe we could spend a lifetime searching for the big answers: is God real.... is He good... does He care? In that light, it seems downright audacious to assume moral high-ground on the more minor issues. If we believe that honesty is a basic moral virtue, we have to first be honest with ourselves. 

When you examine the truths about faith or morality you hold dearest, ask one question: how do you know? If you cannot quantify, measure, or observe this concept that you're so sure about, then perhaps it's not as rock-solid as you think. It's time for reasonable people everywhere to parse the difference between knowing and believing, between theory and reality.  False certainties build a partition between us and the dreaded other. We have to bridge that divide.

My outlook is simple now: I want to be sure of the certain things, and I want to be open-minded about the uncertainties.  Anything less would be profoundly dishonest. As I tread the path laid out before me, I want to be a person in continual pursuit of knowledge, instead of a fool who hoards the scraps he's already found.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find mental health resources for yourself or a loved one.