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I watched Miracle on 34th Street today.  Samantha had an open house today for Mary Kay Christmas baskets and the theme was Miracle on 34th Street.  She played the movie during the open house, so I watched it.  It had been quite a while since I had sat down and really watched the movie, and so many of the themes caught me off guard.  The most significant message of the movie is actually very simple - faith. 

The kind of faith the movie focuses on is not a religious faith, rather it is the faith we have in ourselves, the faith we have in our beliefs, faith we have in the people we love, and faith we have beyond that which others believe.  One of the characters defined faith as believing when common sense tells you not to.  For Miracle on 34th Street, this was believing that Kris Kringle was Santa Claus even though all the adults didn’t believe that he was.  Common sense said he wasn’t, faith said he was.

I encounter this battle daily.  Working with kids helps me keep this lesson in perspective.  Many times, my students don’t believe they can accomplish something.  Their common sense tells them they can not, and so they succumb to that belief.  When they finally allow themselves to move past that false belief, that fear that holds them back, they find they can really accomplish what seemed to be impossible.  As they hold on to that faith and build their self confidence, their potential is limitless.

Many times this same thought form can be seen in adults.  The American society seems to create people whose common sense tells them to expect the worst.  Their common sense becomes a factory of negative thoughts, disallowing hope.  They hide faith in a little corner in their heart, pulling it out only when they are alone and the least vulnerable.  The more and more they listen to common sense and ignore that flame of hope, the less faith they have in themselves and in the world.  Finding some way to get around that negativity can bring back the faith, renewing their lives.

As we move through the holiday season this year, take some time to slow down and review your faith.  Figure out if your common sense is dictated out of a sense of fear or a sense of hope.  Make a decision about where you are headed and if it is the place you want to go.  Spend some time watching Miracle on 34th Street and find some encouragement in its message.  I know I did.

I remember being intrigued by this statement during my brief experiments with the Catholic Church.  I was young and attended a local church with a neighbor for small amount of time.  I couldn’t tell you if I was truly interested or if it was adolescent curiosity, but needless to say, I am not Catholic today, so apparently my young mind was not hooked.  Anyway, this blog isn’t about why I am not Catholic, rather it is about a statement we made to each other during the service - Pax Vobiscum.

Pax Vobiscum is a very simple Latin phrase meaning “peace be with you.”  It is a statement of hope, an affirmation, and a pledge all in one.  We would shake hands and greet our fellow parishioners with a positive statement of peace, both motivating them to find peace in their life, and giving them a directive to do so.  We were not only directing them, we were in fact directing peace.  Our affirmative statement planted a seed in their brain that peace was in fact within them.  The peace seed could be nurtured and in the right environment develop into a fully peaceful person.  Years later I still harbor the memory of adults and children alike wishing peace on me.  I find the sentiment very kind and encouraging.

As I stated before, my Catholic experiment was very short lived, but my encounters with peace were not.  I take the meaning of Pax Vobiscum and strive to live a peaceful life, encouraging others to do the same.  I work to insert peace into every thought, word, and action.  Am I successful every single time?  No.  Do I stop trying?  Never.

One way I pursue peace is through mediation.  I can’t pretend that I am a prolific meditator, because, unfortunately for the last few years, I have not been.  When I was, for about a year and a half during my early twenties, my perception of life and the universe was more calm and peaceful than it has ever been.  I regard that time as one of the happier times in my life, not necessarily because I had all the things I wanted in life, nor were circumstances perfect to satisfy my desires, but because, regardless of my circumstances, I felt peace.  I credit a significant portion of this peace to meditation.

What is meditation?  Meditation can occur any number of ways, to which I will devote later blogs.  Essentially, meditation is just a focus exercise.  The very first time I meditated in college, I sat on my bed in my dorm, I closed my eyes, relaxed my body, allowing any tension I could feel to seep out of my skin, and focused on my breath.  I fell asleep pretty quickly (not the first time either).  I learned over time to focus on different things and to find the delicate place of meditative peace between sleep and overstimulated awareness.

I actually taught someone the basics of meditation yesterday.  We worked on a very simple method, with a very simple purpose.  We sat cross-legged on the floor, sitting upright without slouching, and closed our eyes.  We focused on our breathing, making sure it was calm, slow, and steady.  As thoughts popped into our head, we acknowledged their presence and then excused them; we did not focus on our thoughts, nor did we violently discard them, rather we just placed them to the side, gently.  We only spent five minutes or so like this, breathing.  At the end of the five minutes, I was focused, calm, ready to move to the next thing.  In a way it was like taking a quick doppio espresso from the Bucks.  The person with whom I was working accomplished their goals, practicing again last night, finding satisfaction in the calming peace of meditation.

Simply taking a few minutes just to focus on breathing, without the weight of the world pressing in, or the drama of life circling around us, can ease our minds, relax our bodies, reduce our stress, and bring a sense of peace and focus front and center.  We can find that peace within for a little while.  The more five minute breaks you can find during the day, the more peace you will nurture inside.  Eventually that little seed will grow, and peace will blossom wholly within.  Pax vobiscum will have a concrete meaning.  

In the spirit of the Catholics, who wished me peace so long ago, I urge you to discover peace.  Pax Vobiscum.

Some people think caring is a weakness.  I think it is a strength.  Caring about something means you are investing in its success, be it a person, an activity, a group.  Sometimes it hurts to care so much because your expectations aren’t met.  We let our walls down and allow our emotions to be involved.  If someone doesn’t work as hard as we do, or something doesn’t go how we expected, just because we cared enough to participate doesn’t mean we are weak.  Sure, feeling the hurt, feeling the disappointment, feeling the let down might turn us off for a little while, but ultimately the act of caring moves us forward.  

Caring is a strength.  Weak people pretend they don’t care about anything.  They are afraid to be hurt and so they fail to put it out there.  These people hide in their shells, afraid to come out.  The result is they never move from where they are, they never develop as a person, and stagnate.  People who care might get hurt, but part of being human is learning how to deal with the pain.  We learn how to deal with our own shortcomings as well as others.  We learn to deal with success as well as failure.  We know it is for the best.  That is why we care.

I don’t care is too easy for some people.  I care is what they should be saying.  Please care, it is so worth it to do so.  This world becomes a better place because of people who care.  Humanity benefits from those who care.  When you wake in the morning, will you feel better that you cared or that you didn’t care, regardless of the result?  I suggest you care and be strong.  Choose strength instead of weakness.  Choose caring.

As my seniors are experiencing their first bit of melancholy from the close of marching season, it brings to mind the cyclical nature of our experience on this planet. Fittingly enough, the season change in Houston provides an appropriate backdrop for this example. This past Friday night was our first “cold” game of the year. Usually, we are battered with cold for the last few games, but the atmosphere decided to save it all up for the last game of the year, ushering in the change from Summer to Autumn as my seniors were changing from marching band to concert band.

As the seniors watched the last seconds of their final high school football game tick away, many of them expressed their sadness that it had to come to an end. They reflected on marching band experiences during the last four years in an effort to hold on, but one by one, I watched them all grow quiet, lost in their own memories. They were watching the door to their past close.

I can’t help but think about my own memories. I don’t remember my last football game; thinking back, I have a hard time thinking about exactly which doors I have watched close during my life. I remember the feelings, the emotions that floated around during those times - they are all typically the same - but the exact memory isn’t quite there. What I do remember is that for every door that closed behind me, another opened.

What my seniors are experiencing is not the end of high school, they are experiencing the beginning of their future. This portion of their life has to end in order for them to move forward into what comes next. They will all keep with them memories from their experiences, but that door can not open again. These students will be forced to make a decision - stand and look at the closed door, or walk through the open door in front of them. Ultimately they will have to move forward, the only variable is how long they linger.

Life presents this opportunity innumerable times: school transitions, relationships, career changes, etc. We will have so many doors close behind us, we should never focus on what we leave behind, but on what is ahead. Sometimes we will bring people with us, sometimes they remain behind the closed door, but always we should move forwards.

I encourage my seniors to remember what the learned, hold on to their experiences as long as they are a benefit and not a hindrance. Move forward into what the universe has provided with excitement, fervor, love, and life.

gingerish:

ballerness

Once again I am going off the beaten path for the blog.  I imagine my list is sitting across the table from me, arms crossed over its chest, foot tapping, eyebrows crowding towards the middle, waiting for me to remember it is sitting right there as I chat up these other topics.  Sorry list, not today.

So I am tired.  Bone tired.  Dog tired.  (Insert odd cliche here) tired.  I was ready for bed when I woke up this morning, but alas, I succumbed to responsibility and climbed from my soft, dark, covers.  I oozed through my day, careful to not let tired turn to cranky (although I have to admit the temptation was overwhelming sometimes), and now draw closer and closer to sleep.  

I am tired for a good cause.  I accompanied 14 great kids to San Antonio yesterday to witness the musical spectacle that is the UIL Texas State Marching Contest.  We left the school at 4am and returned that evening at 11:30pm.  I am surviving on 9 total hours of sleep over the last two night, and while that isn’t soooooo much to complain about (I also had to drive 6 hours and sit in a hard plastic seat for approximately 8), it is taking a bit of a toll on me.

Thankfully my tired has manifested itself as a jolly loopiness.  I am tending towards silly rather than irritated, which I am sure is more tolerable to the people around me.  My overdriven mind has lingered in the empty waffle square a little more often than normal, but my brain is still functioning.  Gone are the days when I could thwart sleep’s sweet temptation, racing through multiple days and nights on the experience of life alone.  Now a flood of caffeine rushes through my veins, keeping me upright and aware.

Now, please understand, I don’t feel old.  I thank the fact that I work with 14-18 year olds for that.  As much as teaching can stress me out, the kids’ fun loving, carefree, positive attitudes lift me beyond the stress, rewarding me with youth of my own.  I will leave feeling old to someone else.  As for me, I will chose to side with the 7th grader who told me the other day that I didn’t look 31 (in fact he looked shocked and offended that I suggested I was that old), but that I look 27.  He will certainly sit first chair as soon as he makes it to the high school.

Anyway, our trip yesterday was very rewarding.  We were all educated on what it takes to make a splash in the marching world.  We uniformly agree on what is boring, what is overused, and what is impactful and exciting.  We look forward to bringing it back to the rest of the students and working to bring our program to the next level.

I also enjoyed my time with the students, just as people.  Teaching is about more than just curriculum - it is about building positive relationships.  Watching some of their faces as we walked through the riverwalk and past the Alamo for the first time made the entire trip worth it.  I had some great conversations with some great people.  They talked with me about their issues and their dreams, and unbeknownst to them, they taught me much about myself.

This trip will be one of those special teaching memories I will store for tough days.  I will remember deep conversations with a snuggie-wrapped student, sharing college experiences with a group of students over burgers, watching some of the kids chase birds, cheering the bands we liked, and singing along to the radio as we rode back into town.

This is what teaching is about.  I am infinitely thankful the universe has brought me here.  I am so happy to be this tired.

I have a growing list of blog topics I dwell on for a little while before I send them out into the public, but every once in a while I have a topic pop up that I don’t plan.  Today is that case.  As I have thought about it this morning, I realize that the idea has been on my mind for awhile, hiding in periphery of my thoughts, gaining confidence until it is ready to present itself.  Today must be the day because, as I perused my list of blog topics, the only thing that kept returning to me was the idea of showing what is in your heart.

Over the last few weeks of the marching season, I have challenged my students to show me their hearts.  I never intended this to be a literal Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom moment, but a metaphor for demonstrating their character, their desires, and accessing what they know they want to achieve.  Frequently, immediately preceding my request, the students would exhibit a lackluster performance of sorts, rife with errors, devoid of emotional or musical commitment.  I know their desire is to do their best and I know their intention was not to cheat themselves out of a good rehearsal moment, but unfortunately, their lack of a decision lead to that result.  I would ask them to show me their hearts; that is where their desires lay hidden - they want to do well, they want to win, they want to achieve.  If they would give over the contents of their heart honestly and earnestly every rehearsal, they would exceed even the wildest of their own expectations.

Now, I know that my blog generally doesn’t revolve around the ins and outs of marching rehearsal, so I imagine you are thinking - Chambers, what are you getting at!?!?  Well, as I have said before I have teachers everywhere, and for this particular blog, my teachers are my students.  How frequently do each of us actually demonstrate what is in our heart to the people around us?  I know that I don’t follow through with this 100% of the time and I am not the best person I could be because I do not.

As a man who grew up in America (and Texas) I know that American social standards influenced the person I am.  Society told me that men were strong, that a man’s role in the social fabric was provider and protector.  Society tells us that emotion is a sign of weakness; it must be buried and hidden from those who might think us weak.  Not doing so risks failure.  

I am an emotional person, and I have struggled with whether or not to allow this part of me to be seen.  As a result I have built a wall around what is in my heart, a wall I strive to break down daily.  Imagine the stereotype of a castle - multiple walls with ramparts and towers, each accessed by successive gates.  The people I encounter every day have different access levels.  Some are allowed to come all the way in, some aren’t even allowed to cross the moat.  My wish, my desire, is that my doors are thrown open, the walls are torn down, and I feel safe enough to allow everyone in.

I imagine the first step is to allow myself to enter my own private sanctuary.  Many of us take our deepest thoughts, desires, and fears and bury them - hiding everything from even ourselves.  We refuse to look at our lesser moments or our grandest desires out of fear - fear we won’t be able to stand who we are and fear that our biggest dreams won’t happen.  We have to come to terms with what is in there.  We have to decide what to keep and what to discard.  We have to let ourselves in first.  Only then can we move forward.

The next step is to allow others in.  Don’t be afraid of what they might think - their opinion about you is none of your business and is tarnished by their own opinion of themselves.  Free yourselves from their opinions and your walls will begin to crumble.  Allow your lesser moments to be teaching moments for both you and other people.  Find strength in your weaker moments and turn them on their head.  Grow.  Remember that Spring comes after Winter, day comes after night.  Show someone how to overcome or to deal with bad decisions.

Love.  Most of us have love in our hearts we are afraid to access.  If you love, you open yourself to being hurt.  Love anyway.  The wealthy man who hoards his riches, never spending a dime or giving anything away, will have nothing to show for his wealth.  We are all rich in love, the question is do you spend it or do you hoard it?  What do you have to show for it?

While the process is difficult, I know I will be a better person if I reveal what is in my heart.  To be successful, I can’t choose to only reveal it to selected people, those who have proven they are trusted or those I know won’t turn their backs on me; I have to show what is in my heart all the time through my thoughts, my words, and my deeds.  I have to access that potential and not be afraid.  I imagine the whole world is looking at me after a bad run during a rehearsal telling me “show us what is in your heart.”  I know that up to this point I haven’t done that.  From today on, I am.  I urge you to do the same.

Upon the dipping of the yellow sun,

when free from sleep sweet nightingale does fly,

the hour of evening barely begun,

A quick sonnet attempt to write do I.

With form at my hand and rhyme near my reach, 

google and the like a short click away,

myself I struggle so vainly to teach

this class of one at the close of the day.

Guests are gone and baristas all leaving

alone I sit brow furrowed with intent

coffee now cold intellect is grieving

my efforts yield only simple lament.

Satisfaction arrives in the last line

My sonnet is complete barely in time.

We have many night lights in our house.  There seems to be one in every room and every hallway.  I am pretty confident I could navigate from one end of my house to the other, avoiding all obstacles along the way, simply because of these small, glowing orbs.  Oddly enough, I don’t really notice the lights until they go out - then it is the darkness, the void, created by the burnt-out bulb that I notice.  Usually, I fail to replace the bulb until multiple lights have been extinguished, leaving the house in near total darkness.

If you have ever woken at night and needed to move about your house, you know that the dark has a weight, it has a thickness, a personality, an electricity you can feel.  The darkness sits there, seemingly poised to strike, crouched and ready.  Spreading the night lights throughout my house banishes the dark into the furthest corners.

I have known people who are like a house without night lights, filled with this menacing presence.  Most of these people did not start this way.  Rather the weight of their problems crushed the light they had inside until only darkness remained.  Personal darkness like this develops its own gravity, it pulls at darker elements.  Invariably, the people I know who were in this place drew darkness to them.  They found themselves deeper in relationships that had no benefit, they turned to drugs and alcohol, they resorted to illegal activities, working to fill the darkness with more dark.  Darkness can never be banished through the addition of more darkness, it can only be removed by returning light.

The instant you enter a dark room and turn on a light, what happens to the dark?  It flees, banished.  Physically, darkness has no substance, it is simply the lack of light.  As soon as light is present, darkness does not exist any longer.  When the switch is flipped, darkness is abandoned and only light is present.

These people that I knew who worked to fill darkness with more dark simply had to find something good, something whole to carry the light again. Had they chosen to seek light instead of dark to solve their problems, they might have followed a different path.  

Sometimes people stuck in this situation need the light brought to them.  Someone else needs to shine their light brighter, helping to illuminate the way.  Frequently, people in a bad place need others to go in after them.  Armed with their own glow, the illuminated can help to return those lost in darkness to the light.

The world can be a dark place if you let it be.  Frequently, I do a mental and spiritual check to make sure I am not allowing myself to slip.  Daily devotions of some sort (be they religious or not), helps to prevent any sort of downward spiral.  Simply being in the presence of positive people, hearing laughter, helping someone out who needs it, or forcing a smile, can help ensure that your own troubles do not pull you down.

Are you the kind of person who seeks darkness to solve your problems?  Are you the kind of person who keeps night lights to keep the darkness away?  Are you the person who will illuminate the way for others or are you the spirit who needs a guiding light to find your own way again?  

As always my suggestion is for you to be the light.  Be the light for someone in darkness, help them find their way back; shine your light on those who need it.  If you are someone who finds themselves in darkness, be humble enough to accept the illumination of others until you find your way again.  Seek out the light, and possibly someday you can return the favor.