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Winning and Losing

3/3/2018

“For when the One Great Scorer comes
To mark against your name,
He writes - not that you won or lost -
But how you played the Game.
"Alumnus Football”
--Grantland Rice

Recently I play a tennis match at the Washington State Tournament at the Seattle Tennis Club. Gorgeous day.  Amazing setting.  My lovely wife Hattie and great friend Denny were watching.  I competed well in a 2 and 1/2 hour match against the 2nd seeds in the tournament.  I played with Joe Cannon, a friend of over 40 years, in an experience which drew us closer and cemented our relationship.

But we lost.  So it sucked.

Two weeks later I played in another tournament with much more challenging conditions.  My partner Joe had injured a stomach muscle and had to serve underhanded during our matches.  Some of our opponents were nice, one in particular was downright surly.  At times the whole experience felt like a trial by fire, and not just because we played in the stifling heat of an indoor tournament in August.

But we made it to the finals of a national tournament.  So it was really cool.

Sports is about winning and losing, isn’t it?  That’s why we like it so much.  In our lives filled with nuances and quandaries and indecision and uncertainties, we can gravitate to the dualistic thinking of sports.  We hear about a game or match and we ask: Who won?  Cut and dry and simple.

Unlike the rest of life.

Which is why I tend to poo poo my lifelong addiction to sports, both as a participant and a fan.  Isn’t it just a diversion, an escape from the more important things in life?  The stress on winning and losing is polarized thinking; truth is usually about both sides having merit and infinitely more.

I must be a loser to be so caught up with winning.

But if truth is about both sides having merit, isn’t there something to say about wanting to win?  There is in the Bible.  1st Corinthians 9:24 says: “Do you know that those who run in a race all run, but only one receives the prize?  Run in such a way that you may win.”

Hmmm.

Maybe it’s just important to not run from the paradox.  Winning as doing your best and competing against yourself and using your gifts is good.  So is losing, as in losing your life to gain it, losing yourself in love, losing your self made protective props.  And the balance can be found with that Loser/Winner Jesus, the itinerant preacher was born in a stable and died on a cross but who changed the world like no other person in history.  He’s my Great Scorer, and through Him I hope to play with perspective.

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Day I Die

12/23/2017

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There is the story of a golfer who loved the game so much he wanted to make sure the afterlife included his favorite sport.  So he marched into a soothsayer’s office and asked: “Is there golfing in heaven?”  The soothsayer looked at her crystal ball for a few minutes and said “I have some good news and some bad news.”  The good news?  “Yes, there is golfing in heaven!”  The bad?  “You’re teeing off tomorrow at 10.”

For most of my life I’ve conjectured, soul-searched and ruminated about the day I’ll be teeing off (or for me as a tennis player, getting my Court Time).  And it’s not so much post-exit as pre: what will my last day on earth be like?  Will I feel panicked?  Enlightened?  Both?  Will I be Kubler Rossing through all 5 stages from denial to acceptance?  Will I die well?

I understand there’s a solid chance my last moments will be out of my control, especially since suicide isn’t an option.  I could die suddenly in a car accident.  I could be in a coma for months and then simply check out.  Or, blessing of blessings, I could die in my sleep as my saintly grandmother did.

That being said, I’ve always envisioned a bit of a Hollywood ending to my life, where I’m laying in some hospital or bedroom, surrounded by family, and my last moments are spent saying goodbye, tying up loose ends, or dispensing hard earned wisdom.  This is at least what I would want to happen.  I want to die with love and perspective, being able to put aside my fears of the unknown with the known qualities of my beliefs and desires.

But though I hope and pray my best self appears, I’m afraid it won’t.  The fact is: death scares the hell out of me and always has, not only intellectually but viscerally.  It’s the Big Unknown, the Big Loss of Control, and I don’t do well with either.  Although I believe in a happy and fulfilling afterlife, I can’t GUARANTEE it exists, and if I’m wrong, I’m not the type that can comes to grips with a gazillion years of eternal nothingness.

And then of course there’s the potential pain.  I’ve been writing recently about the famous psychiatrist Dr. Gerald May, where I describe his last weeks in the hospital as “torturous, an extended stay of sleeplessness, extreme discomfort, and even temporary psychosis.  His son Greg said his father at times was ‘scared, anxious, so very sad, hopeless, hurting, and lost.’”  Yikes.   And this is a guy who was one of the great Spiritual Directors of all time.

But if possible, I want to face it all.  I want to die with a sense of integrity and even nobility, even if the pain and suffering is more than I can handle.  Most of my life I’ve prayed to that end.  Part of this is related to how I see death--not as an end to existence but as a start to an incredible adventure-- and I want to embrace the latter with my words and actions.

An ego thing?  Maybe.  Part of me likes the idea of being William Wallace in Braveheart when he has the courage to yell “Freedom!” as he’s being tortured to death.  But it’s also a legacy thing.  How a person dies is related to how they’ve lived, and I want to show those coming after me that love and hope can win the day.

Of course this will take a boatload of grace to pull off.  I’m praying for that too.  I can certainly imagine a scenario where I’m burdened by suffering, regret, and paralyzing existential fear.  I will need help to be my best and most courageous self.  And it will probably help to start dying to myself on a daily basis beginning now.

With all Dr. Gerald May went through at the end of his life, he had one more thing to say before departing.  Surrounded by his wife Betty and children and grandchildren, Jerry simply said “Trust in love.”  Not some bedside beatitude to make everyone feel better or psycho-spiritual “Rosebud” meant to be unpacked and interpreted over the generations.  These simple words, repeated for emphasis, were expected to fall on knowing and receptive ears.  And they were.

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My Two Clubs

9/24/2016

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Who am I?

Ah, a question of the ages. It’s 59 for me, and coming upon a “past middle age if you do the math” landmark brings introspection. Somehow I feel I know myself too well and not enough, the latter being the most surprising, considering I’ve spent more than 20,000 days and night traipsing about the planet.

But I haven’t given up--still searching for self. And what tells one about one’s self? Likes? Dislikes? Fears? Joys? Sure. Thoughts? Values? Opinions? Beliefs? Absolutely. But some clues need to be looked for at the scene of the crime, where actions and decisions outwardly express all that interiority. That’s why I’m stopping the Rick Grant Get To Know Myself Tour at my two clubs.

One is the Rainier Club, a bastion of tradition and gentility which has been catering to Seattle’s movers and shakers since its inception in 1888. My wife and I joined when we moved here in 2011, and embraced the shaking since then. The other is the Chief Seattle Club, an outreach providing essential services to the American Indian and Alaska Native community, especially those who are homeless. Here I’m not so much a club member (you need to be Native American ) but a board member (I recently finished a 3-year stint).

So what does this tell me about me? I must be a mover and shaker with a heart of gold! What a guy! Have I moved into the sunset of semi-retirement just sitting around eating salmon at the Rainier Club? No! I donate my time. Have I become a chronic do-gooder foregoing my God-given right to embrace the good life as my dotage approaches? No! I embrace my inner entitler.

Establishing my credentials as a well-rounded schmuck aside, I know there’s more to learn here. Like what caused me to become involved in these two clubs in the first place? And why do I feel nervous when I show up at either place?

I know I joined the Rainier Club for the loftiest of reasons--my parents and wife wanted me to (and since my parents are dead-would’ve wanted). My parents were depression era nouveau richees whose joining of the exclusive Jonathan Club in Los Angeles established themselves as somebody. I’ve followed suit, wanting to be a non-nobody. My wife is a baby boomer who has become successful who likes the security of the club and the interesting lectures and programs. I’ve followed suit, because I’m married.

I’m a bit unsure why I became involved with the Chief Seattle Club. Caucasian Guilt? Authentic compassion? The fact that my wife is half Native American? The fact that my schedule had openings? All of the above? Is it because I feel sorry for these people whose faces often appear ravaged by years on the streets? Do they feel sorry for me in the awkward way I approach them with some pseudo-bonhomie?

I believe the latter question answer is yes, and it’s an indicator of why I tend to feel nervous at both these clubs. When I walk in, I feel like an impostor. At the Rainier Club, I feel like an underachiever and wonder who might notice. At the Chief Seattle Club I feel like the members are seeing through me.

So what does this tell me about me? I must have a fear of both success and failure! What a loser! Have I learned to enjoy the fruits of my life’s labor and started to relax into savoring the food and fellowship of a cool club? No! I wallow in insecurity. Have I allowed myself to give and receive at an outstanding outreach to those in need? No! I embrace my inner saboteur.

So you can see why I’ve had a hard time finding myself. My inner voices are all over the place! I go from saint to sinner in a second, subjectively screening everything in my path. And this path leads to nowhere.

But the answer to who I am has to be more than just careening through my wayward thoughts and emotions. Who I am is a synthesis of how I experience myself and who I choose to be. And at this point I choose to see and embrace my two clubs more objectively. I do honesty enjoy the intriguing people, impeccable service, and interesting programs of the Rainier Club, and sometimes feel worthy of all this abundance. I’m also enamored with the honesty, authenticity, and gratefulness of the Chief Seattle members, and sometimes allow these characteristics to penetrate who I am.

And what is the objective truth about these clubs themselves? They have a great deal more similarities than just being 4 blocks from each other. It may seem like the privileged vs. the disadvantaged, the inner sanctum vs. the left out, but the clubs are more about human beings who want to feel safe and interact with each other. Sure the people have different needs, different opportunities, and sometimes different social skills, but all want to know and be known, to love and be loved.

The Apostle Paul talks about being acquainted with both want and abundance, and learning to be content with whatever he had. This contentment was based on his relationship with God, who taught him not only about what he had but who he was. With all my voices and fears I need “I Am Who I Am” to tell me who I am, and what I’ve learned from my two clubs has helped draw me in that direction.

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Cut It Out

8/19/2016

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When I was an undergraduate at the University of Washington a student living in the dorms decided to take the words of Jesus literally.  Responding to Matthew 5:29-30 (“if your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away......and if your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away.” ), the student gouged and cut his offending eye and hand and then walked into the cafeteria during lunch.  Suffice it to say it caused a disturbance.

My attention was drawn to this chilling incident recently when one of  my patients referred to these controversial words of Christ in a different context.  I am a psychotherapist at Eviva, a medical weight loss practice which specializes in the Lap-Sleeve surgical procedure where 80% of a patient’s stomach is removed.  “You know that verse in the Bible about the cutting out the eye deal” she started, “I’m just doing the same thing with my stomach. Cut it out because it’s not doing me any good.”

This was the second time a patient had drawn a reference between the surgery and the words in Matthew, and both times I was taken aback hearing the analogy.  It is obvious Christ was speaking metaphorically when he talks about gouging and cutting body parts, and any literal reference to it in any way seems a bit spooky.

Should it be?  Most of the people who have the Lap-Sleeve surgery are morbidly obese (over 100 pounds overweight), and most would say they are addicted to food.  Why not then take out most of the offending appendage, that which has caused you to stumble?  Some may and do disagree, but considering the benefits of significant weight loss (the rise in self-esteem, the overcoming of diabetes, hypertension and other weight related comorbidities), wouldn’t most any means justify this important end?

Which seems like the question Christ was addressing with his attention getting metaphors.  Take them literally?  No.  Seriously?  Yes.  The discussion is about what causes us to stumble.  Eyes?  Hands?  Attitudes?  Fears?  What?  There is such a thing as sin, and although we are forgiven, we also know sin has its consequences.  As former U.N. Secretary General Dag Hammarskiold wrote in his famous book Markings: “You cannot play with the animal in you without becoming wholly animal, play with falsehood without forfeiting your right to truth, play with cruelty without losing your sensitivity of mind. He who wants to keep his garden tidy does not reserve a plot for weeds.”

Most importantly: what gets in the way of us dedicating our life to God and loving Him, others and ourselves?  The end isn’t not doing something, the end is experiencing and participating in the life God would have us lead.  We instinctively know with Augustine that “Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.”  And often the path needs to be cleared before our heart finds what it’s looking for.

We in the 21st Century don’t like to hear about sin and its ramifications.  But we are familiar with addiction, and the hold it can have on our lives.  In his powerful book “Addiction and Grace,” psychiatrist Dr. Gerald May talks about the attachment we have to addictions that enslave us, from alcohol and narcotics to such things as relationships, work, and even ideas.  We want to live loving lives, but our “energy is usurped by forces that are not at all loving.  Our desires are captured, and we give ourselves over to things that, in our deepest honesty, we really do not want.”

And what is the solution to the challenge of addiction, a multi-faceted and complex issue which is also a disease?  The answer for May and many other addiction experts is surprisingly simple: stop the behavior.  “The mind tricks of addiction make it excruciatingly difficult to come to any clarity about how to act.”  But “the simplicity of addiction is not to do the next addictive behavior.”  Just don’t do it.  Just say no.

In other words, cut it out.

Was this what the young man in the dorm was thinking?  Nobody knows for sure, but it could be conjectured it was some combination of mental illness, a desire for attention, and a misinterpretation of the Biblical passage.  Those having the Lap-Sleeve surgery would have their  own drives and desires.  And all of us need to take seriously those things in our lives which need subtraction in order to become additions.

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Letter to Lily

6/11/2016

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My Precious Granddaughter,

From the moment your mom revealed you as a blueberry in her stomach, I’ve been excited and thrilled about being your grandfather.  Along with my desire to love and protect you, I want us to get to know each other.  Let me start with a few things about myself:

I’m in.  You can count on me being your champion, on your side and in your corner, for as long as I live and beyond.  That being said I’ve heard warnings about spoiling your grandchildren.  I plan to completely disregard them.

I’m imperfect--your mom and Grandma Hattie know that.  The thought I will let you down someday bothers me, but it will probably happen.  So I ask for forgiveness in advance, wanting to learn from my mistakes, as you will yours.

I’m here.  Let me know what you need from me.  At times you might need me to draw close, at times to keep distance, and at times to move a few mountains for you.  I will look for a balance and want your feedback on how to do so.

And about you......

You are loved--surrounded and nourished by the love of your parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, friends, and people from church.  Bask in this love and enjoy this love but don’t take it lightly--others often don’t have what you have.

You are you--special in God’s eyes and to the rest of us.  You are a unique blessing to this world, a gift everyone you come across can benefit from.  Don’t be scared to both find and reveal yourself, although both pursuits will take courage and a lifetime.

You are born into a fallen and uncertain world.  No matter how much we try to protect you, you will still sometimes feel scared, bewildered and disillusioned.  Life is beautiful and challenging at the same time.  What you can try to do is to accept what is.

And take it to God, whatever you find Him to be.  You will find out soon enough you were born into a family of faith; the same group of parents and relatives who love you love God.  We will want to share that faith with you, hopefully not because we’re trying to dictate your beliefs, but because we want to share the joy we’ve found.

But you will discover your own faith in your own timing--all of us will respect this. As for me, I can say two of the great blessings of my life was when your mom came to know Jesus, and when she married your father, a deep man of faith.  I can also say I will be blessed by whatever choices you make as you search and embrace what can be made your own.

On my desk at work is a picture of me holding you in my lap when you were a few days old.  You were asleep, vulnerable in my arms, and I am looking down at you, enraptured in grandfatherly love.  I look forward to continuing to love and take care of you, as I look forward to watching you grow and passing this love on.

Rick Gramps

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In The Cathedral

5/29/2016

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It was a Ministry of Presence, but I wasn’t.

Pope Francis I had proclaimed 2016 the Year of Mercy in the Catholic Church, and our church in Seattle (St. James Cathedral) responded by setting up a daily Welcome Table to greet those who might come through our doors.  This was considered a Ministry of Presence, a way to embrace our neighbors and visitors, and I had volunteered once a month for a four-hour shift.

But 30 minutes into my first Welcome, I was feeling unwelcoming.  Bored, to be exact.  People weren’t coming by my table, it was too too quiet--I just wasn’t being entertained.  Three and a half more hours of this?  And as often happens when I’m uncomfortable in church, I started shoulding on myself, starting with the requisite “Should I be praying?”  Or in this instance “Should I be leaving?”

But then I began to look up.  I noticed light nudging its way through the stained glass windows.  A slight wind motioned the murals.  Candle flames bounced and bobbed.  And even what wasn’t moving was moving: statues and shrines with winsome expressions and peaceful demeanors.  I became intrigued with tabernacles and altarpieces, organs and pipes, and, of course The Chairs (Presider’s Chair, Seat of the Archbishop--St. James Cathedral is Chair Heaven).

Soon my other senses were engaged.  The sweet spiritual smell of incense wafted alongside the altar flower fragrances.  I listened to the wind on the windows, the opening of doors, the lowering of kneelers; even the intermittent silences seem to speak with subtle cadences.  And all in all I was.......touched.

And surprised.   Once my God Goggles were on, I saw the place as it really was, teeming with activity and spirituality.  Not to mention people.  All sorts of people.  Out of town visitors and in town re-visitors.  Dressed up and dressed down--people from work and people from off the street.  Elders moving slowly--kids too fast.  Bowing, standing, kneeling. pointing.  Smiling, frowning and expressionless.  Woman kneeling at the base of the cross, touching the feet of Christ.  Men doing the same.

Why are they here?  Worship.  Looking at the architecture.  Getting out of the elements.  Needing to cry and confess.  Seeking something.  People wanting to feel community while being alone.  Maybe God will be home today, and they don’t want to miss out.

They are coming to church.  And what is a church?   More than a building of course, but at least that.  Over the centuries many have decryed the amounts invested in church buildings, thinking the money was better spent doled to the congregants.  But it was rarely the congregants complaining; they knew through experience their church was a dynamic, enervating place and
by investing in a church, they were investing in themselves.

As I was by coming to the Cathedral for my once a month shift.  Yes I stayed that day and have continued, sometimes bored but often enthralled by all that’s going on.  My God Goggles have stayed on, as has my belief that although God is indeed everywhere, He is somehow especially here.

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Thinking

5/28/2016

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Should I or shouldn’t I?

With my beer drained and hamburger served, I was contemplating ordering a second (beer that is).  The affirmative started strongly: “Rick, you did designate this Comfort Food Night, as anyone would who spent 45 minutes exercising and survived 3 tough clients at work.  You go boy.”

But as I was about to call the waitress the opposition rebounded.  “Have you forgotten this week’s goals?  Little to no alcohol!  Downing one’s an integrity stretcher, two a soul seller.  And didn’t you designate five Comfort Food Nights last week alone?  Count your losses, eat your burger, and at least walk out of here with your head held high.”

OK no then.  Except......that first IPA was awfully tasty and isn’t it time I stop shoulding on myself and let go a little?  Sure, but.......a goal is a goal is a goal.  Yeah, but.......I’m getting older and sick of being enslaved to my newest Rick Reformation project.  Good point, but.......you know what they say about alcohol and Alzheimers.......*

Think maybe I think too much?  Me too.  My cacophony of voices leads to hashing and re-hashing five different interpretations on ten different perspectives.  And with every air tight case deflated and molehill mountained, you think all this thinking adds up to more clarity?  Me neither.

So why do I overthink so much?  Well for one thing......wait--don’t want to overthink this question too.  Suffice it to say I’ve always been one to mull over minutiae so I suspect there is some OCD to it.  And I’m no stranger to stress, which seems to fire up everything, especially my brain.

But more than anything it has something to do with control.  Somehow facing the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune becomes safer when I can analyze and categorize.  Heaven forbid I would allow myself to just experience life as it is, what with all the potential heartache and messiness.  Indeed for me the unexamined life isn’t worth living because it is just too scary.

So should I just give up thinking in order to face my fears?  Not possible, nor even advisable.  I was given a brain for a reason, and God knows there is much to ponder and consider in making decisions and seeking truth.  I can certainly learn from our culture’s present emphasis on emotions and intuition but need to think to separate the wheat from the chaff.

Balance, as always, seems to be the key.  As for thinking, this balance can be expressed in the difference between introspection and rumination, with the former the goal.  Introspection can be a healthy examination of self and soul; rumination, defined as “chewing the cud,” can be contemplating your navel when you already know you have an outie.

Spiritual balance is also needed, especially concerning the head and heart.  Theologians of old spoke of “the mind descending into the heart,” with the Old Testament proclaiming “As a person thinks in his heart, so is he.”  Integration is the key, with listening to the Spirit the component to bring the two together.

As to my own challenges with overthinking, I’m trying to subscribe to the 12 step maxim of progress over perfection.  To test this, I “allowed” my good friend Denny and myself to get locked out of a cabin in the middle of a freezing night in Montana recently, with nobody in earshot.  At first, it was an overthinkathon, as we designed several Macgyver type scenarios of us tying together belts and socks and shirts to shimmy our way down 20 feet to the front door.  Perfect idea for a couple of 60 year olds.

But we didn’t succumb to temptation.  We put our thoughts to the side, prayed, and picked up a piece of patio furniture and chucked it through the window.  Messy, but it worked.  A nice example of underthinking. Thinking about it, I think I’ll do my next blog on the pros and cons of underthinking.........

* For those scoring at home the back and forth lasted through the last burger bite so the “No” won because of time management issues (Downton Abbey was starting at home in 10 minutes).

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The Indoorsman

5/28/2016

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“I am two with nature.”

Woody Allen

Our house in Seattle is blessed with amazing views of the surrounding topography.  The upstairs bedroom is like a treehouse, overlooking a panorama where we can see the Olympic and Cascade Mountains, Mount Rainier, Lake Washington and Portage Bay.  When the weather is nice the sun rising over the Cascades can be seen drenching the mountains with a golden hue.

Too bad I never look out.  But I know it exists, because my wife mentioned it the other day.  “Isn’t it amazing how the sun rising over the Cascades can be seen drenching the mountains with a golden hue?  “Amazing,” I said.  Of course I was looking at the pork bellies opening on my laptop at the time.

What can I say--I am an avid indoorsman.  I belong to that hearty breed of Seattle self-made men and women who actually doesn’t suffer from NNG--Northwest Nature guilt.  I live by the motto: I don’t bike, hike, or anything I don’t like.  And I don’t like going (or looking) outside.

What’s out there anyways?  Wind, rain, sleet, and snow.  Bugs, varmits, and eco-hipsters.  Contrast that with the comforts of home, the even 70 degree temperature and re-circulated air.  Hungry?  There’s the refrigerator.  Gotta go?  There’s the bathroom.  And of course it’s a great place for emergencies--just yesterday I noticed my pajama tops and bottoms didn’t color coordinate and I was immediately able to rectify the situation.

But even though the lifestyle benefits are obvious, there are still some who look askance at indoorsman.  Like many groundbreakers in history who’ve lived out their convictions, indoorsman can be vilified and misunderstood.  To make sure this isn’t you, see if you’ve harbored any of the following misconceptions:

Misconception #1: Indoorsman never go outside.

Sure it’s an ideal, but just like John Muir had to use indoor plumbing occasionally, indoorsman sometimes venture out.  I for one will go out to get the paper if my wife’s out of town.  Unless of course it’s too hot, or cold, or moderate.  Then I pay the neighbor’s kid to come over and chuck it to me.

Misconception #2: Indoorsman are lazy.

Balderdash.  I personally have every piece of exercise equipment known to man--Ellipticals, Ab Coasters, Treadmills--you name it.  My wife bugs me occasionally because I haven’t taken them out of the box yet, but knowing their there is helpful.

Misconception #3: Indoorsman don’t enjoy breathtaking views.

Complete fabrication.  One of my favorites is from the corner of 5th and University Downtown, where the transcendent beauty of both the Rock Bottom pub and the Tap House Grill (and its 160 taps) can be seen simultaneously.  I of course enjoy the scenery from the inside of Starbucks; seeing the splendor in Seattle’s sucky weather would obviously spoil the view.

Misconception #4:  Indoorsman are unhealthy.

Hello?  I am tanned (regular at Cafe Soleil Tanning, Hair, and Espresso) and toned (currently using the Trump Products “Orange a la Donald”).  And speaking of thrillseeking adventure, just last month I went on a cave exploration (taking full advantage of Nordstrom’s “Man Cave” sale).

Sounds great, doesn’t it?  And don’t think you can’t get in on the in.  Just lose the NNG, pull up a chair, and embrace The Great Indoors.

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October 30th, 2015

10/30/2015

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The Dag Yes

10/29/2015

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“Night is drawing nigh.
For all that has been-Thanks!
To all that shall be-Yes!”

At the end of 1952, Dag Hammarskjold was at crossroads.  The dutiful son of  Hjalmar Hammarskjold, the Prime Minister of Sweden, Hammarskiold had taken an ambitious career path but had often found himself unfulfilled and overburdened.  For many years he had written down the insights and challenges of his life (his Markings), and these writings unveiled a man torn between doing his duty and personal despair.

But something changed in the beginning of 1953, when Hammarskjold wrote the above phrase and an affirming tone took hold.  What happened?  Hammarskjold later wrote: “I don’t know Who-or what-put the question, I don’t know when it was put.  I don’t even remember answering.  But at some moment I did answer Yes to Someone--or Something--and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and that, therefore, my life, in self surrender, had a goal.”

And the rest was indeed history.  Hammarskjold became one of the great peacemakers of the 20th Century, a one-of-a-kind man of tireless action amidst perceptive contemplation.  Later in 1953 he became Secretary-General of the United Nations, and soon after his election he wrote: “To be free, to be able to stand up and leave everything behind, without looking back. To say Yes.....”

Ah, Yes.  Yes means I’m in.  Bring it on.  An assent and an affirmation.  It means I’ll cross the Rubicon, saying no to going back.  It means I’ll climb the mountain, assessing the risks but moving ahead.

Yes is thrilling but also challenging; unfortunately, often too challenging for me.  Fears of failure and desires for control make me more of a no guy, knowing much more of what I don’t want to do than what I do.  And even when I do want to pull the trigger my no’s morph into maybe’s, a paralyzing assessment of all options which often leaves me stuck in the middle.

But I deeply want to be a yes guy, and Dag has much to teach me.  With my fears I need motivation to say yes, and the fact that my night is drawing nigh (I’m 59) means time is of the essence.  And although regret over my life of no’s can distract me, I can give Thanks over what has been and how God can turn into what will be.

And as Hammarskjold emphasized, Yes doesn’t come in a vacuum, it is said to Someone or Something.
Yes to God, the ultimate Someone.
Yes to myself, and what I can be.
Yes to life, in all its dimensions.
Yes to surrender--of self--to life.
Yes to suffering, Yes to death,
Yes to now.

And even Yes to No.   When reading through Hammarskjold’s spiritual classic Markings, you find the Dag Yes not based on some vapid positive thinking but grounded in the challenging realities of life and growth.  “You cannot play with the animal in you without becoming wholly animal, play with falsehood without forfeiting your right to truth, play with cruelty without losing your sensitivity of mind. He who wants to keep his garden tidy does not reserve a plot for weeds.”

Hammarskjold earned his Yes’s in life and death: recently the UN decided to reopen an investigation of the tragic air crash in 1961 that took his life on a peacekeeping mission to Zambia (then Northern Rhodesia).  He who became “certain that existence is meaningful” lived an amazingly meaningful life, a life of Yes to life’s challenges and fullness.

“You dare your Yes --and experience a meaning.
You repeat your Yes--and all things acquire a meaning.
When everything has a meaning, how can you live anything but a Yes?”

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Winning and Losing

Day I Die

My Two Clubs

Cut It Out

Letter to Lily

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Thinking

The Indoorsman

October 30th, 2015

The Dag Yes

RICK GRANT

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