Happy National Record Store Day!

After my recent excursion in the hospital (see my post from April 16), I've thought a lot about self-care. Frankly, that is an area I have not excelled at in recent years. I love ministry, but I do occasionally need someone to tell me to go home and enjoy the sunshine - which is what happened when I went into work the day after being released from the hospital.

Then, I heard about National Record Store Day - a celebration of independent music retailers. I am a vinyl fan, and saw this as a great opportunity to make a date with myself. There are several record stores in Greenwich Village and the weather forecast was fantastic. So, this morning, I set out for a day of wandering and spending copious amounts of money that I don't have without caring.

My day started with two discoveries I had not expected. One was to finally find a coffee importer that would spare me from drinking grocery store drek, and the other was a marvelous little book store called Unoppressive Non-Imperialist Bargain Books. The owner was a delightful woman and she had an amazingly good selection of books for even more incredible prices. My son has suggested that I read On the Road for some time, so I decided to buy the new edition that is the original scroll that Kerouac created for his first draft.

Then, it was off to the quest of the day - records! First stop was House of Oldies (Petula Clark's Downtown and the 2-LP Doobie Brothers Farewell Tour). The owner told me that he had been in business for 40 years. I can only imagine the changes he has seen in that neighborhood since the Summer of Love. Next came Bleecker Street Records (Theolonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrane at Carnegie Hall, Stephen Stills' Just Roll Tape April 26, 1968, and The Young Rascals). I also picked up The Pretenders' special 7" red vinyl disk made for National Record Store Day.

Next, I stumbled across Strider Records. The owner, another long-time retailer, presided over a crowded space packed with 45's and LP's of all types. I relieved him of two original John Coltrane albums (Crescent and Sun Ship). Then lunch at The Slaughtered Lamb Pub. I had been sitting for some time, enjoying the open window and my shepherd's pie before I even noticed the life-sized sculpture of the werewolf and his bride, pictured to the left. In a gaudy, Madame Tussaud's way, it was actually kind of cool. Speaking of food, I forgot to mention the insanely decadent chocolate concoction I ate with my morning coffee. I honestly felt sorry for the other people sitting in the park, watching me caress the delightful dessert.

Last was Generation Records. Although here I was interested in CD's, since these groups (Evanescence, Lacuna Coil, Sirenia, and Epica) do not produce vinyl releases. My bundle grew heavy as I strolled through Washington Square Park (which BTW has the cutest little dog park I've ever seen). I figured that I had pushed my body about as far as I could and headed for the subway home.

This week, I looked at my life through a different lens. My goals remain the same. I want to become a minister, a great preacher, someone who inspires and rocks proverbial boats. I want to be a cool grandfather someday. And, whatever form it takes, I want to love greatly. National Record Store Day let me declare that I will not allow money or any other trivial reservations keep me from being happy and from living life.

An Atheist's Prayer

My life has seen abundant change in recent months - leaving my old job and starting my internship, moving to a new home in an amazing new city, becoming actively single for the first time in over 25 years. The transitions have been smooth and exciting, perhaps a little too exciting.

I entered the emergency room Monday afternoon with short breath, dizziness, sweat, and extreme worry. They quickly connected me to monitors and tested my heart, blood, and lungs. The next day, I was transferred to a larger hospital for an angiogram.

When I wasn't worrying, I tried to read Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love. Why had I brought that book with me? I picked it up a few days before. While definitely not my normal reading material, I thought that I should get in touch with a book cited by many as inspirational.

Early in the book, the author recounts a conversation with a friend, expressing her desire to petition to God for help with her personal life. However, she believed that asking for specific help from God showed a weakness of faith, or a desire to avoid facing a challenge in life. Her friend politely responded, "Where'd you get that stupid idea?" The friend continued, "You are part of the universe...You're a constituent - you have every entitlement to participate in the actions of the universe, and to let your feelings be known. So put your opinion out there. Make your case. Believe me - it will at least be taken into consideration."

I have led prayer in worship. I have prayed with hospital patients. I have prayed for others in times of struggle. But, I have not prayed for myself since my bedtime prayers of early childhood. It seemed like a good time to try praying for myself. So, I wrote the following.

Power of all. Please help me. I want to come fully in touch with everything that is - all of the forces, fields, energies of existence. I want to help people find meaning in their lives and to encourage them to pursue their goals in life. I have worked hard to get myself into the position to do this for and with as many people as I can. For right now, though, I need help getting through my doubts, loneliness, and fear. I cannot help but worry about whether or not I will accomplish my goals of becoming a minister, a husband again, and a grandfather. I am afraid that my body will prevent me from achieving my goals. Please help me through this crisis so I can do the work I have committed myself to do.

I thought about the people in my life who would join me in this prayer, most of whom did not even know I was in the hospital. I imagined the strength that would come from them to support me in my doubt and fear.

Anyway, I am home again. The diagnosis at this point is great. No apparent physical damage to the heart or lungs; just a slightly under active heart muscle and thyroid, for which the doctors prescribed medication. Reminding oneself periodically of all of the connections in the world is a good practice. Practicing healthy self-care is the best basic prescription to pursuing one's goals in life. And, reaching out and asking for help when we need it taps us into the web of power and energy that flows between us and among us in the universe.

An Atheist's Easter

Among the religious paths one may travel, that of the atheist can be unique. Our biggest pitfall lies in defining ourselves by our nonbelief, rather than our beliefs. When combined with anger, with shame and guilt, and with the ever freshly-laid macadam of betrayal, we may find ourselves wandering in our own wilderness. Once the first surge of courage subsides, comfort lies in the sure knowledge that one has rejected that to which so many others adhere.

Easter can present particular challenge for the atheist. Even the marginally religious find their way to church leaving the atheist to taste once again the bile of discarded myth and the oppression of social paradigm. We might get edgy and may be a little shorter of patience at this time of year. We love the crocus, the daffodil, and even the dandelion, but we resist the unbridled joy of springtime metaphors in favor of a balanced appreciation of all seasons.

The lesson for me came when I realized that atheism is not an end, but a freeing and glorious beginning. Released from the constructs of sacred and supernatural, the atheist plunges into the wonder and mystery of the cosmos as an equal partner with all existence. Freed of the tyranny of science and sentience, the atheist examines the unknowable fields and forces surrounding us

The atheist can know epiphany without a risen Christ and can appreciate the man Jesus and his message. The atheist can know the triumphal redemption of Passover beyond the temple rules and the bound of any one folklore. Easter and Passover represent the celebration of renewal, a feeling we all can marvel in and share.

This Easter, I will sit in my congregation’s worship service. I might actually listen to the words being spoken. But, mostly, I will be present with others, stretching out beyond this identifying shell to commune with the minds and souls around me. I will feast on the quick energy of chocolate, the sustaining strength of my fellow humans, and the raw power of the universe.

Gun Deaths in Pittsburgh

I may be living in New York City now, but I am a long-time Pittsburgher. Today, I can only think of the heartache being felt in my City after the senseless deaths of three police officers at the hands of yet another disturbed gun owner.

When will this ever end?

I've heard all of the arguments before. Tell them to five girls who have lost their fathers, and two wives and a fiance now left widowed. Please, tell them to their faces why these men needed to die to protect your right to own firearms.

How about a silly example. Let's say that I loved bowling more than anything in my life. I bowled every day and owned 16 different balls for different lane conditions. But, every year, thousands of people were being murdered and injured by people with bowling balls. Yes, I can argue that I have a constitutional right to pursue happiness. Yes, owning a warehouse of bowling balls is legal. And yet, I would not for one second think twice about giving my passion up completely if there was any hope that getting rid of bowling balls (or at least making it marginally difficult to obtain them) would save innocent lives. I place the value of human life above a legalistic fanaticism to maintaining my rights and to the pursuit of a unique form of pleasure.

Pick your study. Gun-related deaths per capita in the United States dwarf those of other developed nations. In some instances, our rate of gun violence is 10 or even 20 times that of other developed nations. Quibble away with the statistics, but this is simply unacceptable.

A long-time friend said that the shooter was opposed to 'Zionist propaganda' and was fearful that his right to own weapons would be taken away. "He always said that if someone tried to take his weapons away he would do what his forefathers told him to do and defend himself." Is this the right the gun lobbyists in this country really want to defend? I say that the right of the police, as well as hundreds of millions of innocent citizens, to live their lives free of fear and violence trumps paranoid delusions and reactionary propaganda about what the founders of this country really intended.

This madness will not end until enough citizens petition their legislators to enact sane gun control laws. We cannot hope to address this issue until the voices calling for reason and responsibility outnumber the dollars of the gun lobbyists.

Ya Gotta Love Facebook

Any doubts I might have had about Facebook are gone. Today I received an email and friend request from a person I had lost track of and who utterly changed my life more than 20 years ago.

In 1985, I was taking doctoral classes in Business, mainly as a credential for advancement in the university administration. Things went well for a couple of terms. But, during the summer of 1986, I was fed up with the way doctoral students were treated. A fellow student named Joyce sensed my frustration and talked me into going out for a drink.

As I ranted about everything from classes to the state of the world, she told me that I sounded like a brochure she had just picked up at a church the past Sunday. The brochure was an introduction to Unitarian Universalism, of which I knew nothing at the time.

Within weeks, I belonged to a fellowship. I only lasted one more term in the doctoral program and lost track of Joyce until today. And here I am, getting close to the end of my preparation to become a Unitarian Universalist minister.

Would I have found this religious tradition anyway? Who knows? I had not found it after 30 years of life and 20 years of searching for a religion that made sense. But for that chance conversation, and for Joyce's compassion and caring, I might never have started down the path toward my call to ministry.

Is it any wonder that I believe in synchronicity? We just never know what impact even the smallest effort of reaching out to another person can have on their lives. Joyce, thank you so much for reaching out to me and starting these wheels in motion.

The Value of Good Times

One of the reasons I began blogging was to express opinions about "big picture" issues and to discuss matters of ultimate importance. Usually, my posts border on the serious (perhaps ranting), because something has riled me up or otherwise made my hair stand on end.

Not today, folks. Today, the house special pizza with everything on it is free to all. Pull up a chair for yourself and your own muse and enjoy a slice on the house.

Oh, don't get me wrong...the world is still a mess. The economy is in the crapper, basic human rights remain in jeopardy across the globe, and our vision of beloved community seems a distant dream. Tomorrow, I may well go nuclear and blast some new injustice.

But, today, I am happy. And, there is nothing wrong with that. In fact, I highly recommend it to everyone.

Why am I so happy that I risk my daily pizzatorium profits sharing my joy with you? There are many reasons, but the biggest of them is that after years of worthwhile work raising a family and helping others, I am pursuing my dream. I am preparing for a life in ministry - a life of hard work and commitment, a life that is enormously rewarding, and a life that my experiences have forged for me. I am living in a tiny apartment watching my life savings dwindle away, and I couldn't care less because I am doing what I love to do.

I've got my computer, Coltrane on the stereo, fresh-brewed coffee, and you, gentle reader. I'm working at a church that is amazing, but still can use my talents. I am meeting interesting people, exploring the greatest city on Earth, and entering a living historical tradition of courageous men and women who changed the world. And, for the first time in a long time, I've got the ability to appreciate it all and know just how lucky I am to have the chance to do the same.

That, of course, is the issue. Every day, people tell us how to live our lives. Companies spend millions to tell us what to buy, what new disease lurks in our future, and how to eat, smell, and look. Bosses tell us how to act and think. Society tells us what is right and wrong. And all of them pretend to tell you how to be happy.

Do you know how to be happy? This is how. Sit down and figure out for yourself what you want to do with your life. Then go do it. It really is that simple. Write down your goal on a piece of paper and post it on your refrigerator. Then make everything in your life serve that goal.

Is it easy? Of course not. Nothing worth having ever is. But, no one in the world can do it for you. And here is the secret. If you are putting off your goal because you are trying to help someone else achieve their goal, it doesn't work. Because, in the end, you can't fully help others until you have helped yourself. Until you have pursued your own goal, you are not in the right frame of mind to help another achieve theirs.

Is entry into the ministry a sacrifice? You bet - just ask any seminarian. The discernment process of becoming a minister is painful and frightening, and successful completion of the process causes wounds and loss. But, only by surviving this process, by thriving in this process and achieving this goal, can we as ministers help others to do the same.

So enjoy your pizza. Because when you leave the pizzatorium, I want you to think about your goal in life, whether you are on a path to achieve it, and if not, why not.

Grand Reopening of the Pizzatorium in New York!

My muse sleeps soundly in a corner of the kennel, resting after another challenging January of classes at Meadville Lombard Theological School. In the meantime, my life flies like pizza dough, stretching, awaiting an unknown assortment of toppings. After 42 years in Pittsburgh, I moved to New York City this week. I am now living in a first floor apartment in Forest Hills, just a few blocks from the 71st Street subway station and access to all this metropolis has to offer. After taking my son to Penn Station for the return train ride home, I walked up to Times Square. I stood in the center traffic island, along with the throng of tourists, gawking at the sight.

Throughout the week, I walked and explored the neighborhood. I am a five minute walk from groceries and hardware; laundry and pharmacy; bank, bagels, and Barnes and Noble; and any number of restaurants. Today, I found half a mile south on Metropolitan Avenue: a comics/collectibles store (run by a Pittsburgh Steelers fan!), a German restaurant, and an Irish pub.

And my apartment is small enough to force me to venture out often. I have all of the necessities of life -- books, music, my World War I posters on the walls, computer, and a bed. Sadly, I actually must begin working in another week. In the meantime, I was invited to the Metro NY LREDA winter retreat, which will provide a chance to catch up with some old friends and meet new colleagues. The retreat takes place in Murray Grove, the historic Universalist landmark of Thomas Potter and John Murray. What an awesome way to begin my internship - by touching base with this significant heritage of our movement.

So, my dough lies waiting. I can only imagine what inspiring condiments life has in store.