It seems to me that most of us are aware that regular physical exercise increases one's stamina and can improve one's physical conditioning. My cardiologist insists that I spend more time with physical exercise and less time eating. Well, he did say I just need to change some of those eating habits and that just walking twenty minutes briskly per day might add to one's life ."However, rigorous exercise is better" ,he said. But again I knew that.
There are hundreds of exrecises to get us in shape for all kinds of things.Were you aware that Saint Ignatius of Loyola authored something which he calls the Spiritual Exercises?
One of these exercises Ignatius labeled as the "Examen" (http://norprov.org/spirituality/ignatianprayer.htm.) This exercise helps one reflect on the events,the people one has met and the thoughts one has had during the course of a day.Then one can explore where and how God was present.Though I have been aware of and practicing this exercise for years, this expereince of the Examen has been transformed,so to speak, since my CABG (Coronary Artery Bypass Graft Surgery)last August. In the past there were some very difficult periods where God or any good seemed to be quite absent from my life.Though now it seems as though that my surgery opened more than my heart .It opened up my spirit.I have learned that God has never been absent, I just haven't been present to God's presence.
Ignatius has become my "exercise trainer" and I am beginning to experience some serious "burn." I am grateful for the "Second Chance" at getting myself in shape. This was particularly evident when the other day I was having a series of negative stress-filled experiences. I couldn't get my "self" out of this funk or circumstances but then something happened within the blink of an eye and the beat of my heart.Let me explain.
The receptionist at the college office where I work interupted a conversation I was having with a co-worker. She said a student was here to see me.He didn't have an appointment and he wasn't even my student. Annoyed, I responded."Does this person have a name?" The receptionist said "Yes, he told me to tell you that his name is 'Thess' ." Without a second breath I knew right away who it was. I only knew of one person in my life who had that nickname. I repeated outloud his full name and the receptionist said "Yes, that's him!" She brought the man to my office and it was there I was reunited with this man who was a student of mine thirty odd years ago at another college.We hugged and talked as if it were only last week that we last saw each other. I introduced this former student to a current adult student of mine who provided me another "surprise" and gift. My current student recalled that my father had worked at a place called Best Foods that was now defunct. He said he was at an old Best Foods location earlier and he picked up a "Best Foods" pen just for me. Did I mention I say a daily prayer to and for my dad who passed almost thirty years ago? That gift of a pen with "Best Foods" printed on the side was as if my dad was reaching out saying that he is listening. I was moved that this current student had recalled stories I had told his class about my father and work.After my farewell to the reunion with my former student and a "thank you" to my current student I went on to the next unexpected gift as I was about to go and "teach" my next class.
I had asked my "Sociology of Work" students to write personal mission statements for themselves(what are thetr beliefs, values, how they want to be known and remembered etc.)The plan was then to review this statement and to explore any relationship it had their own personal career goal and resume. I had read one of the statements ahead of time and was moved as it spoke about improving one's relationship with God and something about reflecting this relationship by loving and serving others.I had silently wondered"I don't have a priest in this class, do I ?" Then at the beginning of class I put together the paper with a name and face and prior class discussions. At the break I called the busness suit cladded student aside and queried about his spiritual type personal mission. He shared that in a month he was off to join the Franciscan order. I was more humbled and filled with admiration than I was taken back by his comments.His story reminded me of Fr. James Martin SJ who went from being an investment banker to becoming a Jesuit .(See Fr. Martin's story in "In Good Company: The Fast Track from the Corporate World to Poverty, Chastity and Obedience "(Sheed & Ward: 2000.) When we returned to class my prescribed lesson plan drifted to a collaborative enthusiastic exchange about self actualization and doing what we love and what we are called to do.
"At the Day of Judgment we shall not be asked what we have read but what we have done; not how well we have spoken, but how holy we have lived."— Thoma A' Kempis Imitation of Christ: Book I, ch. 3
[This experience of meeting Thess, the gift of the pen and my student's vocation and subsequent class dicussion helped me recall reading another one of James Martin's book's "Becoming Who You Are: Insights on the True Self from Thomas Merton and Other Saints" (Paulist, 2006.)]I felt I have been given a lot to think about and to be grateful for. I read somewhere that the term vocation comes from the Latin "vocare"- "to listen to the voice within."]
The next morning during my pre-dawn reflective "Examen" time it was quite obvious where God was in my life the previous day. It was time to begin my spritual workout .The three uplifting incidents at the close of the evening before provided a quiet illumination on the graces of my second chance.It was not quite light yet when I spent the time in a silence only to be broken by the sound on a morning bird greeting a new day. (I had a sudden urge to dance...You know dancing is considered to be a great form of exercise for the heart and the spirit!)
Post Script:
Years ago when I had the privelege to witness a good friend taking his final vows as a Jesuit there was a special liturgy held in his honor. During this Mass a nun performed a spiritual slow jazz-ballet type dance in celebration. My youngest,Leigh, who was about 5 or so at the time, bolted out from the congregation to dance with the nun during the Mass. An older more reserved priest became anxious and signaled to gather up my daughter before it got out of hand. Was he worried that everyone would start dancing?
I didn't really realize until recently how special that incident was!! Thank you...Leigh, Nancy and Lou!
Post Post Script
My wife and I went down to Philly to attend a Sorority function with Leigh at St. Joseph's University last Sunday. After the function we went off to relax in Leigh's apartment. I put on TV and a neat movie about a real "Second Chance" person,Jim Morris, was on,"The Rookie." Of course one of my favorite flicks. Jim Morris, a high school teacher and baseball coach,was given the opportunity later in his life to take a shot at playing major league baseball. He sought some advice from his father about taking a chance to play major league basball so late in life. The father quotes Jim's grandfather "It's ok to do what you want to do,but there comes a time to do what you are meant to do." I asked my wife it were me would she mind me taking off for a second chance. Leigh and I looked at her... waiting for her answer.
Post Post Post Script
Coincidentally I read the following quote from St.Catherine of Siena on her Feast Day of April 29,2009
" If you are what you are meant to be, you will set the world on fire"
Friday, April 24, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
The Day the Poetry Died
A couple of weeks after my CABG (Coronary Artery Bypass Graft) in 2008 I found my way to the Dodge Poetry Festival that was held a few miles from my home. Still physically weak , my soul also required a shot of spiritual adrenaline and I was called to this gathering of poets from around the world.It was a festival that was held for the past twenty two years every two years in of all places Northwestern New Jersey!It's been featured on PBS television and written about in books and magazines. I had the opportunity to attend five of these festivals previously and was present to see and hear Poets Laureate Billy Collins, Robert Pinsky, Stanley Kunitz, Ted Kooser, Robert Hass, Ed Hirsch and master poets such as Mark Doty, Lucille Clifton and my hero of early poetic and manly journey - Robert Bly. "The Woodstock of poetry" has been its label.One year it rained all weekend and I believe I heard Carlos Santana's drummers off in the distance as we slid in the mud from tent to tent.
http://www.dodgepoetry.org/
Coming from a narrow escape from the grips of the grim reaper I was grasping for hope and optimism on what would might become my last visit . I was so anxoius that I sought out and met with poet Ted Kooser,a businessman turned poet, and shared with him my surgery,my new life and yet to be celebrated newly found song of the second chance dance. Though he looked at me with an uncomfortable sympathetic grin he autographed signed my book. I was a seeker and I found him!
But this visit to these hallowed grounds was also just days since my friend's tragic suicide.He had lost hope . His favorite poet was Robert Frost and it seemred he didn't take Frost's words to heart.It seems his drastic painfilled act was a precursor to the major economic catastrophy of what was about to consume the the world. I still wonder if he knew what was coming. He was very close to major players in the investment banking world and if you saw him or saw where he worked you wouldn't expect him to be a lover of poetry.Maybe it was as simple as banking and poetry are like oil and water.
"A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that music(poetry) used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, theyd be happy for a while.
But february made me shiver
With every paper Id deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldnt take one more step
I cant remember if I cried..." (from American Pie, Don McLean)
We all know what happened to the economy at the end of 2008 and beginning of 2009.It was February 2009 ,I think, when I read another shocking obit.The Dodge Foundation was cancelling future poetry festivals. The economic plaque of the world had found its way to clogging the arteries of the heart of poetry. But the Dodge Foundation assured the world that even though the festival was gone poetry was not dead and the foundation would still find ways to serve,but on a much smaller scale. Sounding much like my cardiologist, "courage" they said.
Someone mentioned"As long as some hearts hope and ..as long as trees bloom, birds fly and sing , rivers flow and mountains kiss the clouds,...there will be poetry." With death there is life.
Listen to Billy Collins read his poem "The First Night." Here is a link of reading three poems including the second "The First Night" at last fall's festival.That's me over on his right side about 3/4 the way up in the audiennce.LOL
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kKFe0wY-7-A&feature=channel_page
I have also included my little farewell and thanks to the festival.
Dodge Requiem
I didn’t know it would be the last gathering
Of voices calling out
In the wilderness.
I didn’t know that when I first heard
The greek chorus chanting
That some economic wind
Would try as hard as it could
to blow out their flame .
I didn’t know that it would come to end before
My own soul would transcend this existence.
Part of my heart’scheduled rehabilitaion -
I wonder and wander now,
weathered worn journeyman,
“Was all this just some cruel joke or ploy.?”
Remembering…Companion searching souls
On our way to Emmaus
Together we anxiously listened
To the weekend’s wind,
Fed together at the mecca of words.
I parked myself at heaven’s opened gate
But the meter was running out of coins and time.
Remembering…Another year, another day
Brown eyed rock and roll woman to be
a seeker numbered 21
Became consumed with delight
A spirit inebriated by a unique Collins.
Arisans ,philoshophers, searchers,
discovers of the eight or nine great mysteries
Seers and Finders of a light in their own right
deserved of the crown of laureate.
Inspirers, consolers, wisdom word weavers.
Over the years their blessings cast out
To the throngs yearning for something more.
One crowned prince peeled back his layers
Humbled recollections of his own illumination
From his private odyssey,
The best was yet to come.
Would I do anything different
If I had known that this pilgrimmage
would be one last procession in collaborative communion?
Filled with hope and champagne
hopped the bus with the troubador
To Atlantic City where everything comes back.
-- J. Sobecki
http://www.dodgepoetry.org/
Coming from a narrow escape from the grips of the grim reaper I was grasping for hope and optimism on what would might become my last visit . I was so anxoius that I sought out and met with poet Ted Kooser,a businessman turned poet, and shared with him my surgery,my new life and yet to be celebrated newly found song of the second chance dance. Though he looked at me with an uncomfortable sympathetic grin he autographed signed my book. I was a seeker and I found him!
But this visit to these hallowed grounds was also just days since my friend's tragic suicide.He had lost hope . His favorite poet was Robert Frost and it seemred he didn't take Frost's words to heart.It seems his drastic painfilled act was a precursor to the major economic catastrophy of what was about to consume the the world. I still wonder if he knew what was coming. He was very close to major players in the investment banking world and if you saw him or saw where he worked you wouldn't expect him to be a lover of poetry.Maybe it was as simple as banking and poetry are like oil and water.
"A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that music(poetry) used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, theyd be happy for a while.
But february made me shiver
With every paper Id deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldnt take one more step
I cant remember if I cried..." (from American Pie, Don McLean)
We all know what happened to the economy at the end of 2008 and beginning of 2009.It was February 2009 ,I think, when I read another shocking obit.The Dodge Foundation was cancelling future poetry festivals. The economic plaque of the world had found its way to clogging the arteries of the heart of poetry. But the Dodge Foundation assured the world that even though the festival was gone poetry was not dead and the foundation would still find ways to serve,but on a much smaller scale. Sounding much like my cardiologist, "courage" they said.
Someone mentioned"As long as some hearts hope and ..as long as trees bloom, birds fly and sing , rivers flow and mountains kiss the clouds,...there will be poetry." With death there is life.
Listen to Billy Collins read his poem "The First Night." Here is a link of reading three poems including the second "The First Night" at last fall's festival.That's me over on his right side about 3/4 the way up in the audiennce.LOL
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kKFe0wY-7-A&feature=channel_page
I have also included my little farewell and thanks to the festival.
Dodge Requiem
I didn’t know it would be the last gathering
Of voices calling out
In the wilderness.
I didn’t know that when I first heard
The greek chorus chanting
That some economic wind
Would try as hard as it could
to blow out their flame .
I didn’t know that it would come to end before
My own soul would transcend this existence.
Part of my heart’scheduled rehabilitaion -
I wonder and wander now,
weathered worn journeyman,
“Was all this just some cruel joke or ploy.?”
Remembering…Companion searching souls
On our way to Emmaus
Together we anxiously listened
To the weekend’s wind,
Fed together at the mecca of words.
I parked myself at heaven’s opened gate
But the meter was running out of coins and time.
Remembering…Another year, another day
Brown eyed rock and roll woman to be
a seeker numbered 21
Became consumed with delight
A spirit inebriated by a unique Collins.
Arisans ,philoshophers, searchers,
discovers of the eight or nine great mysteries
Seers and Finders of a light in their own right
deserved of the crown of laureate.
Inspirers, consolers, wisdom word weavers.
Over the years their blessings cast out
To the throngs yearning for something more.
One crowned prince peeled back his layers
Humbled recollections of his own illumination
From his private odyssey,
The best was yet to come.
Would I do anything different
If I had known that this pilgrimmage
would be one last procession in collaborative communion?
Filled with hope and champagne
hopped the bus with the troubador
To Atlantic City where everything comes back.
-- J. Sobecki
Finding your voice and your dream
During an English class I was teaching this morning I showed my students a video of Susan Boyle who is a contestant on a British talent show. You have probably seen it or heard about it.
I asked the students , "What does this video have to do with poetry?Why did the audiennce who witnessed this performance react the way they did ?"(I am not going to describe the video event here as it is ineffable and you have to see it for yourself.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY
The contestant,Susan Boyle, had decided to sing "I dreamed a dream" from Les Miserables. After witnessing the video my students began to discuss how the performance exemplified the significance of holding on to one's dreams. One student volunteered that the relationship between this video and poetry is about finding one's voice. "Our voice is our spirit.Our voice is who we are." There was a consensus that those who witness this woman's performance are lifted up with admiration for her but they are also fed a sense of hope for this contestant as well as for themselves.In many ways the singer has proven her own words of her own song to be wrong.One who dares to keep the dream alive can live the dream. She sings for us as well as for herself.
I couldn't help but to think about one of my favorite poets,Mary Oliver, and one of her poems ,"Autumn Poem." Here Oliver writes about persistence, hope and finding one's own voice. This is not a celebration of accomplishment or success but rather a desire for an awareness of becoming who we are meant to be completely. It's been said that "where you heart is there is your treasure also" Matt 6:19
A good friend, Pat, reminded me today that we need to celebrate our second chance every day we wake, and pray that this will be the day that we find and celebrate our own voice(our own heart our soul.) Somedays I feel like a contestant in some great master talent show. Somedays I feel like a plain Susan who has been given a second chance to live my dream by finding my voice and to have it heard. I hope today is your day.
Autumn Poem
In the last jovial, clear-sky days of autumn
the mockingbird
in his monk-gray coat
and his arrowy wings
flies
from the hedge to the top of the pine
and begins to sing — but it's neither loose, nor lilting, nor lovely —
it's more like whistles and truck brakes and dry hinges.
All birds are birds of heaven
but this one, especially, adores the earth so well
he would imitate, for half the day and on into the
evening,
its ticks and wheezings,
and so I have to wait a long time
for the soft, true voice
of his own glossy life
to come through,
and of course I do.
I don't know what it is that makes him, finally, look
inward
to the sweet spring of himself, that mirror of heaven,
but when it happens —
when he lifts his head
and the feathers of his throat tremble,
and he begins, like Saint Francis,
little flutterings and leapings from the pine's forelock,
resettling his strong feet each time among the branches,
I am recalled,
from so many wrong paths I can't count them,
simply to stand, and listen.
All my life I have lived in a kind of haste and darkness
of desire, ambition, accomplishment.
Now the bird is singing, but not anymore of this world.
And something inside myself is fluttering and leaping, is
trying
to type it down, in lumped-up language,
in outcry, in patience, in music, in a snow-white book.
- Mary Oliver
I asked the students , "What does this video have to do with poetry?Why did the audiennce who witnessed this performance react the way they did ?"(I am not going to describe the video event here as it is ineffable and you have to see it for yourself.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY
The contestant,Susan Boyle, had decided to sing "I dreamed a dream" from Les Miserables. After witnessing the video my students began to discuss how the performance exemplified the significance of holding on to one's dreams. One student volunteered that the relationship between this video and poetry is about finding one's voice. "Our voice is our spirit.Our voice is who we are." There was a consensus that those who witness this woman's performance are lifted up with admiration for her but they are also fed a sense of hope for this contestant as well as for themselves.In many ways the singer has proven her own words of her own song to be wrong.One who dares to keep the dream alive can live the dream. She sings for us as well as for herself.
I couldn't help but to think about one of my favorite poets,Mary Oliver, and one of her poems ,"Autumn Poem." Here Oliver writes about persistence, hope and finding one's own voice. This is not a celebration of accomplishment or success but rather a desire for an awareness of becoming who we are meant to be completely. It's been said that "where you heart is there is your treasure also" Matt 6:19
A good friend, Pat, reminded me today that we need to celebrate our second chance every day we wake, and pray that this will be the day that we find and celebrate our own voice(our own heart our soul.) Somedays I feel like a contestant in some great master talent show. Somedays I feel like a plain Susan who has been given a second chance to live my dream by finding my voice and to have it heard. I hope today is your day.
Autumn Poem
In the last jovial, clear-sky days of autumn
the mockingbird
in his monk-gray coat
and his arrowy wings
flies
from the hedge to the top of the pine
and begins to sing — but it's neither loose, nor lilting, nor lovely —
it's more like whistles and truck brakes and dry hinges.
All birds are birds of heaven
but this one, especially, adores the earth so well
he would imitate, for half the day and on into the
evening,
its ticks and wheezings,
and so I have to wait a long time
for the soft, true voice
of his own glossy life
to come through,
and of course I do.
I don't know what it is that makes him, finally, look
inward
to the sweet spring of himself, that mirror of heaven,
but when it happens —
when he lifts his head
and the feathers of his throat tremble,
and he begins, like Saint Francis,
little flutterings and leapings from the pine's forelock,
resettling his strong feet each time among the branches,
I am recalled,
from so many wrong paths I can't count them,
simply to stand, and listen.
All my life I have lived in a kind of haste and darkness
of desire, ambition, accomplishment.
Now the bird is singing, but not anymore of this world.
And something inside myself is fluttering and leaping, is
trying
to type it down, in lumped-up language,
in outcry, in patience, in music, in a snow-white book.
- Mary Oliver
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Good Search Helps Charities and Not for Profits!
Did you know more than 900 of the top Internet retailers and travel sites including Amazon, eBay, Target, Apple, Expedia and more have joined forces with GoodShop.com to donate part of every purchase to your favorite charity or school at no additional cost to you (more than 72,000 nonprofits are now on-board)?
It takes just a few seconds to go to www.goodshop.com, select your charity, and then click through to your favorite store and shop as usual. SEE THE LINK ON THIS BLOG PAGE.Thanks!
Also, Yahoo has teamed up with GoodShop's sister site, GoodSearch.com, to donate a penny to your cause every time you search the web. This is totally free as the money comes from advertisers.
To give you a sense of how the money can add up, the ASPCA has already earned more than $23,000!
Please tell 10 friends about GoodShop and GoodSearch today. They've been featured in the NY Times, the Wall Street Journal, CNN, Oprah Magazine and more.
Charities need our help to spread the word now more than ever!
amdg
It takes just a few seconds to go to www.goodshop.com, select your charity, and then click through to your favorite store and shop as usual. SEE THE LINK ON THIS BLOG PAGE.Thanks!
Also, Yahoo has teamed up with GoodShop's sister site, GoodSearch.com, to donate a penny to your cause every time you search the web. This is totally free as the money comes from advertisers.
To give you a sense of how the money can add up, the ASPCA has already earned more than $23,000!
Please tell 10 friends about GoodShop and GoodSearch today. They've been featured in the NY Times, the Wall Street Journal, CNN, Oprah Magazine and more.
Charities need our help to spread the word now more than ever!
amdg
Friday, April 10, 2009
Not alone - Hidden Epidemic
Just before I went into have my heart bypass surgery an old friend sent me a cute e-card message saying something like the heart surgeon was about to be surprised as he would discover that I had a "big one."(heart) Of coure I said "awww." As you can expect the feelings were mixed for a variety of reasons.In some ways I was glad I was ignorant, or chose to avoid learning , about heart disease and surgeries.
When attempting to recuperate from surgery in a hospital bed there were numerous opportunities for reflection , contrition and regret. I thought I was one of a select few who has had this experience. Of course my intellect and education should have helped me know how naiive I was or am. There were all those relatives and friends who have died or suffered from some type of heart condition.But I looked at us as some type of perverse posse and I just happened to have "lucked out." I felt alone.
"Why me?"
One discovery I had was that genuine prayer is almost impossible while taking percocet. But to paraphrase Thomas Merton ...my desire for prayer was in fact prayer and pleasing to God. Without warning ,plans or anticpation during my post surgery rehabilitaion I happend upon a PBS program on TV while relaxing in my lounge chair, it was a program called "The Hidden Epidemic." It shared how the millions of Americans who through poor diets, the lack of exercise, genetics and/or stress about the world have developed some form of cardio vascular disease.
Another disovery...I was not alone.It is all not my fault! My disease is treatable (and avoidable!)Read and see for yourself and pass this on.
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/takeonestep/heart/video-ch_01.html
My enthusiasm grew while in recovery and in a few weeks after the surgery we were invited by Lindsay to join her in the Heartwalk(an American Heart Association fund raiser.) Her company was a major sponsor. Some of Lindsay's friends even had donated money to the cause in my name and when we all arrived at the Heartwalk location we found thousands had come to raise money for this cause. There were numerous companions singing the songs of the second chance dance,
By the way the link for this year's Heartwalk is http://heartwalk.kintera.org/mercercountynj/secondchancedance. Join the team and if you can join us on walk-day! You will not be alone!
Have you had that check up lately?
When attempting to recuperate from surgery in a hospital bed there were numerous opportunities for reflection , contrition and regret. I thought I was one of a select few who has had this experience. Of course my intellect and education should have helped me know how naiive I was or am. There were all those relatives and friends who have died or suffered from some type of heart condition.But I looked at us as some type of perverse posse and I just happened to have "lucked out." I felt alone.
"Why me?"
One discovery I had was that genuine prayer is almost impossible while taking percocet. But to paraphrase Thomas Merton ...my desire for prayer was in fact prayer and pleasing to God. Without warning ,plans or anticpation during my post surgery rehabilitaion I happend upon a PBS program on TV while relaxing in my lounge chair, it was a program called "The Hidden Epidemic." It shared how the millions of Americans who through poor diets, the lack of exercise, genetics and/or stress about the world have developed some form of cardio vascular disease.
Another disovery...I was not alone.It is all not my fault! My disease is treatable (and avoidable!)Read and see for yourself and pass this on.
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/takeonestep/heart/video-ch_01.html
My enthusiasm grew while in recovery and in a few weeks after the surgery we were invited by Lindsay to join her in the Heartwalk(an American Heart Association fund raiser.) Her company was a major sponsor. Some of Lindsay's friends even had donated money to the cause in my name and when we all arrived at the Heartwalk location we found thousands had come to raise money for this cause. There were numerous companions singing the songs of the second chance dance,
By the way the link for this year's Heartwalk is http://heartwalk.kintera.org/mercercountynj/secondchancedance. Join the team and if you can join us on walk-day! You will not be alone!
Have you had that check up lately?
Sociology and Work 101
I have been teaching a Sociology of Work class at a local college to adult students for years now. At the opening of each class I ask the students to write a paragraph or so in response to the following " If I didn't have to worry about money I would spend my time doing..." What has intrigued me the most is that out of the hundreds of adult students I have taught only two have said that they wouldn't change a thing. One was an active mother and IT consultant and the other a mother which six children and working as a librarian.I must admit I am jealous.Imagine the significance of this response? These individuals really must be completely vocationallly actualized. After getting to know each student a little I believed that they are what they do and they did who they are.
Additionally,if I look back over this unscientific research in the ivy covered walls I would find that many of the male students responded to this query by saying they would try to find something that would allow them to spend more time with their families.Most of my students have described volunteering, helping the poor or sick as an alternative to traditional jobs if earning money was not an issue .
Of course the irony here is that I have been a college counselor for undeclared majors trying to help students to decide on a major and career path. Also, I served as a Director of Outplacment services for a consulting firm and provided counsel and assistance to laid off employees to find new work. I had even started a non-for- profit , with my old mentor Herb, to give career guidance to unemployed adults through religious institutions around the country. I was featured in newspapers,magazines and even interviewed on a national television program about career choices and job hunting. I was the "subject matter expert" of sorts. Here I was,and am , a college admin, college professor, high school teacher, mangement consultant, salesman, management training facilitator, spiritual director and facititator, basketball coach,tennis coach, golf coach, semi professional musician and non for profit board member.("Teacher,teach thyself!") I still pray about my own callling(vocation.)
There is a lot of research out there about the relationship between job satisfaction , stress and cardio vascular disease.
I read somewhere that the prime time for heart attacks for adult men is ealy Monday morning...before we go to work!
This fact even makes my own work and bout with arterial sclerosis even more interesting. Here I have been teaching and preaching about job stress and focus to clients and I end up having a double Coronary Artery Bypass Graft Surgery (Heart Bypass Surgery, CABG.!!) This is just the beginning as I know there is much more to say and write about this phenomena.
It would be interesting to hear from a few folks to find out what they are doing now,their gender, age and description of what one might do(work,travel,family,volunteer etc ) if one didn't have to worry about money.There isalso a short survey on the side panel that might be interesting,
Additionally,if I look back over this unscientific research in the ivy covered walls I would find that many of the male students responded to this query by saying they would try to find something that would allow them to spend more time with their families.Most of my students have described volunteering, helping the poor or sick as an alternative to traditional jobs if earning money was not an issue .
Of course the irony here is that I have been a college counselor for undeclared majors trying to help students to decide on a major and career path. Also, I served as a Director of Outplacment services for a consulting firm and provided counsel and assistance to laid off employees to find new work. I had even started a non-for- profit , with my old mentor Herb, to give career guidance to unemployed adults through religious institutions around the country. I was featured in newspapers,magazines and even interviewed on a national television program about career choices and job hunting. I was the "subject matter expert" of sorts. Here I was,and am , a college admin, college professor, high school teacher, mangement consultant, salesman, management training facilitator, spiritual director and facititator, basketball coach,tennis coach, golf coach, semi professional musician and non for profit board member.("Teacher,teach thyself!") I still pray about my own callling(vocation.)
There is a lot of research out there about the relationship between job satisfaction , stress and cardio vascular disease.
I read somewhere that the prime time for heart attacks for adult men is ealy Monday morning...before we go to work!
This fact even makes my own work and bout with arterial sclerosis even more interesting. Here I have been teaching and preaching about job stress and focus to clients and I end up having a double Coronary Artery Bypass Graft Surgery (Heart Bypass Surgery, CABG.!!) This is just the beginning as I know there is much more to say and write about this phenomena.
It would be interesting to hear from a few folks to find out what they are doing now,their gender, age and description of what one might do(work,travel,family,volunteer etc ) if one didn't have to worry about money.There isalso a short survey on the side panel that might be interesting,
(First) Song of the Second Chance Dance
Mary’s melancholic mockingbird metanoied me
The soul sanctified with solo song sweet sentiments.
By the hour the sun shed a final fiery flash
In her horizon departure
Not forgotten was the robin’s baptismal melody
At the advent of another consecrated dawn.
Immersion ,Redemption, confirmation, actualization,
Almost twenty two thousand days to discover
The name I was given before I was born.
The spark surprisingly fading quickly
Yet the chimes sang gently shaken by the breath of God ,
Thoreau’s morning wind , the spark transformed burst to flame.
Waves of tears flowing from your hallowed eyes.
blessed your flushed cheeks with smiles.
Answered prayers caressed your hearts.
My holy trinity had lowered this paralytic
into the presence of the great consoling healer.
New gift, original gift revisited
Humbled and undeserved
whispering “yes” to your invitation
Softly singing the songs of the second chance dance.
The soul sanctified with solo song sweet sentiments.
By the hour the sun shed a final fiery flash
In her horizon departure
Not forgotten was the robin’s baptismal melody
At the advent of another consecrated dawn.
Immersion ,Redemption, confirmation, actualization,
Almost twenty two thousand days to discover
The name I was given before I was born.
The spark surprisingly fading quickly
Yet the chimes sang gently shaken by the breath of God ,
Thoreau’s morning wind , the spark transformed burst to flame.
Waves of tears flowing from your hallowed eyes.
blessed your flushed cheeks with smiles.
Answered prayers caressed your hearts.
My holy trinity had lowered this paralytic
into the presence of the great consoling healer.
New gift, original gift revisited
Humbled and undeserved
whispering “yes” to your invitation
Softly singing the songs of the second chance dance.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
The Second Chance Dance Begins
Cousin Billy taught me my first Buddy Holly song on guitar. Billy would pass from a sudden heart attack while puffing on a cigarette sitting on the edge of his bed one morning. Cousin John ,who was like an older brother, played basketball like Pistol Pete. John’s ticker gave way while coaching his son at courtside.A weak heart sidelined his own basketball career. They say he was a transplant candidate .His sister ,Clare, passed for a similar reason years later.We had dinner with Clare and her husband one night while we were on vacation in Orlando. We came home to Jersey the next day to hear the news that she was gone. I turned right around back to Florida.
Cousin John and Clare's mom, my dad's sister, also passed because of some heart condition. Their father died in his sleep before they left and their neice,my cousin Christine, died of heart problems while giving birth.
My dad ,an overweight,smoker, drinker, butter and salt on everything eater just had one chance. I got that call we are always afraid to get. It was the middle of the night right after the Americans had experienced a miracle at Lake Placid by defeating the Russians in ice hockey at the 1980 Winter Olympics. No one expected the Americans to win. It was also the night Ginny,my wife, and I reconciled after being separated for a few months .It was three nights before my thirty second birthday and seven days before I would run my first marathon. It was a night to be remembered.No one expected this phone call or this incident. First my mother was on the phone and then a police officer who just said if I live nearby to come down quick. I expected a miracle but I didn't pray much then. When we finally arrived at my mother and father's house our fears were realized, dad was gone.
I was told I had a heart murmur as a kid but it went away and wouldn't be an issue. Obviously Sgt Pepper had nothing on my family!
Uncle Herb, a relative in name alone, and Good Ole Pete were mentors to me in the ways of consulting and the journey of the soul. I had very unusual enlightened blended conversations with them separately and never knew what to expect. Herb worked 24/7 ,made a lot of money, dieted on snickers and eggs benedict which he called “bullets of death.”He was right about the name of that delicacy. He had a quadruple by-pass and 15 years later his heart gave up on Good Friday. My girls ,who knew and loved him, wondered if Herb expected to comeback again that following Easter Sunday.
Pete on the other hand had by-passess , stints and a pacemaker. Ginny,my wife, wondered if I had selected a good profession as I was a consultant like Pete and Herb. One night while on a retreat the "Spirituality of Work" with Pete there was a knock on my door and Pete collapsed in my arms whispering to take the tiny nitroglycerin tablet and place under his tongue. Little did I know then that years later I too would eventually carry my own tablets. Once in Tulsa Pete and I were dining with a client in a Mexican restaurant. At dinner suddenly Pete stood straight up ,and collapsed backwards. In a flash a patron was at his side rubbing Pete's chest and whispering in his ear. The patron said he was a doctor and asked if Pete had a pacemaker. He looked at Pete’s place at the table and saw the half empty frozen margarita. The patron ,a local doctor, said Pete had frozen his pacemaker. Pete and I shared many cigarettes and adult beverages together over the years until the day they couldn’t place any more stints in him and the pacemaker gave way.
It's a small world isn't it.? No too long ago I met with the man who's company invented arterial stints. As a matter of fact he built his company's headquarters just minutes from my sister's home in Santa Rosa, California.Did I mention that my sister has had heart fibrilations? Then there's my mother who didn't want to worry her children when she went in the hospital to have an arterial stint put in her. She rationalized that it was an outpatient procedure. But then she also get's upset if we don't call or visit her regularly.
Now Brad,who was a former client and now good friend, gave me the bad news on the third hole on a round of golf. He needed a new heart. His original one was at 15%. We didn’t laugh that much that day.I told my friend Les,who had once been Uncle Herb’s business partner, about Brad’s plight and Les called his rock star cardiologist, "the Doc." I had heard story upon story about "the Doc" that would fill a book. The Doc saw Brad and and corrected the diagnosis and had a pacemaker and fibrilator placed in Brad’s chest. Brad did not need a transplant.A few years have gone by now and Brad’s still alive with his wife living in Arizona.
Years after dad’s passing I was playing golf in Princeton with Bernie , a good friend and the man I ran my first marathon with 28 years earlier. During my second shot about 170 yards from the green and over some trees I took out my seven iron and tried to place it over the trees . After a high arching back swing I mishit the ball which found its way on a line drive through the trees right to where I had planned to place it. What I had not planned was the pain that suddenly raced across my chest.Some gorilla must have stepped my chest while I wasn't looking. It could also have been a muscle pull as I tried so hard with the shot. Maybe it was the horrible hot dog I gobbled down before the first tee-shot. A little light headed at first I smoked a Cohiba and finished the round. Afterwards I met up with Lindsay,my oldest daughter, and her boyfriend Joe at a Mexican restaurant and the frozen margarita seemed to bring back the chest pain. I knew I didn’t have to worry about freezing a pacemaker as I had none. Lindsay was worried and I became concerned. Two days later I saw my doctor who sent me to a cardiologist who had the bedside manner of an undertaker in the Good the Bad and The Ugly.A friend,Hal,in Providence just had a stints put in and he spoke to me with faith and encouragement. So I made a call to Les about my circumstance and without hesitation he called good ole Doc and before you know it I was in to see the doc the same day. We spoke about the C.O.U.R.A.G.E. trials of treating my condition with meds and diet and scheduled an angioplasty and the prospect of possible stents. But on the day of the procedure the Doc looked and decided against stints. He said I had “rusty pipes” and a by-pass was in order as he consoled Ginny with a hand on her shoulder. This was one of those time where my brown -eyed comapnaion showed some emaotion and concern .Doc said he had already called the best surgeon in town to look at the films of his procedure and to talk about what he would do,how and why. I was about to be invited to the second chance dance.
The surgeon said that I could have the CABG(by-pass surgery) right away or wait a year. The problem was that the family and I were about to see Bruce Springsteen at Giants Stadium as my sixtieth birthday gift and then Linds and I were to go to Boston to Fenway Park to see the Red Sox play. I asked if it was ok to schedule the surgery the day after the return from Boston. Leigh,my second daughter, also wanted me to have the operation before she returned to college in the fall.She didn't want to worry while away at school. The surgeon put in a call and voila the appointment was made. So the new journey , a new adventure would begin. I accepted my invitation begin the writing songs of the second chance dance.
I never wanted to forget....forget the emotions, prayers and experiences that engulfed me before, during and after the bypass surgery. So I started to write. I was finishing a book I had been working on for two years and put it aside to begin to assemble my reflections in poems and a few short narratives about my recent experience. Most of these pieces in this blog are about how I felt,prayed and reacted during that time. Family,friends, life, work and my odyssey would become center pieces to these reflections. So here they are. Included are also reflections from another book I have written and excerpts from other commentaries and conjectures.
amdg
Cousin John and Clare's mom, my dad's sister, also passed because of some heart condition. Their father died in his sleep before they left and their neice,my cousin Christine, died of heart problems while giving birth.
My dad ,an overweight,smoker, drinker, butter and salt on everything eater just had one chance. I got that call we are always afraid to get. It was the middle of the night right after the Americans had experienced a miracle at Lake Placid by defeating the Russians in ice hockey at the 1980 Winter Olympics. No one expected the Americans to win. It was also the night Ginny,my wife, and I reconciled after being separated for a few months .It was three nights before my thirty second birthday and seven days before I would run my first marathon. It was a night to be remembered.No one expected this phone call or this incident. First my mother was on the phone and then a police officer who just said if I live nearby to come down quick. I expected a miracle but I didn't pray much then. When we finally arrived at my mother and father's house our fears were realized, dad was gone.
I was told I had a heart murmur as a kid but it went away and wouldn't be an issue. Obviously Sgt Pepper had nothing on my family!
Uncle Herb, a relative in name alone, and Good Ole Pete were mentors to me in the ways of consulting and the journey of the soul. I had very unusual enlightened blended conversations with them separately and never knew what to expect. Herb worked 24/7 ,made a lot of money, dieted on snickers and eggs benedict which he called “bullets of death.”He was right about the name of that delicacy. He had a quadruple by-pass and 15 years later his heart gave up on Good Friday. My girls ,who knew and loved him, wondered if Herb expected to comeback again that following Easter Sunday.
Pete on the other hand had by-passess , stints and a pacemaker. Ginny,my wife, wondered if I had selected a good profession as I was a consultant like Pete and Herb. One night while on a retreat the "Spirituality of Work" with Pete there was a knock on my door and Pete collapsed in my arms whispering to take the tiny nitroglycerin tablet and place under his tongue. Little did I know then that years later I too would eventually carry my own tablets. Once in Tulsa Pete and I were dining with a client in a Mexican restaurant. At dinner suddenly Pete stood straight up ,and collapsed backwards. In a flash a patron was at his side rubbing Pete's chest and whispering in his ear. The patron said he was a doctor and asked if Pete had a pacemaker. He looked at Pete’s place at the table and saw the half empty frozen margarita. The patron ,a local doctor, said Pete had frozen his pacemaker. Pete and I shared many cigarettes and adult beverages together over the years until the day they couldn’t place any more stints in him and the pacemaker gave way.
It's a small world isn't it.? No too long ago I met with the man who's company invented arterial stints. As a matter of fact he built his company's headquarters just minutes from my sister's home in Santa Rosa, California.Did I mention that my sister has had heart fibrilations? Then there's my mother who didn't want to worry her children when she went in the hospital to have an arterial stint put in her. She rationalized that it was an outpatient procedure. But then she also get's upset if we don't call or visit her regularly.
Now Brad,who was a former client and now good friend, gave me the bad news on the third hole on a round of golf. He needed a new heart. His original one was at 15%. We didn’t laugh that much that day.I told my friend Les,who had once been Uncle Herb’s business partner, about Brad’s plight and Les called his rock star cardiologist, "the Doc." I had heard story upon story about "the Doc" that would fill a book. The Doc saw Brad and and corrected the diagnosis and had a pacemaker and fibrilator placed in Brad’s chest. Brad did not need a transplant.A few years have gone by now and Brad’s still alive with his wife living in Arizona.
Years after dad’s passing I was playing golf in Princeton with Bernie , a good friend and the man I ran my first marathon with 28 years earlier. During my second shot about 170 yards from the green and over some trees I took out my seven iron and tried to place it over the trees . After a high arching back swing I mishit the ball which found its way on a line drive through the trees right to where I had planned to place it. What I had not planned was the pain that suddenly raced across my chest.Some gorilla must have stepped my chest while I wasn't looking. It could also have been a muscle pull as I tried so hard with the shot. Maybe it was the horrible hot dog I gobbled down before the first tee-shot. A little light headed at first I smoked a Cohiba and finished the round. Afterwards I met up with Lindsay,my oldest daughter, and her boyfriend Joe at a Mexican restaurant and the frozen margarita seemed to bring back the chest pain. I knew I didn’t have to worry about freezing a pacemaker as I had none. Lindsay was worried and I became concerned. Two days later I saw my doctor who sent me to a cardiologist who had the bedside manner of an undertaker in the Good the Bad and The Ugly.A friend,Hal,in Providence just had a stints put in and he spoke to me with faith and encouragement. So I made a call to Les about my circumstance and without hesitation he called good ole Doc and before you know it I was in to see the doc the same day. We spoke about the C.O.U.R.A.G.E. trials of treating my condition with meds and diet and scheduled an angioplasty and the prospect of possible stents. But on the day of the procedure the Doc looked and decided against stints. He said I had “rusty pipes” and a by-pass was in order as he consoled Ginny with a hand on her shoulder. This was one of those time where my brown -eyed comapnaion showed some emaotion and concern .Doc said he had already called the best surgeon in town to look at the films of his procedure and to talk about what he would do,how and why. I was about to be invited to the second chance dance.
The surgeon said that I could have the CABG(by-pass surgery) right away or wait a year. The problem was that the family and I were about to see Bruce Springsteen at Giants Stadium as my sixtieth birthday gift and then Linds and I were to go to Boston to Fenway Park to see the Red Sox play. I asked if it was ok to schedule the surgery the day after the return from Boston. Leigh,my second daughter, also wanted me to have the operation before she returned to college in the fall.She didn't want to worry while away at school. The surgeon put in a call and voila the appointment was made. So the new journey , a new adventure would begin. I accepted my invitation begin the writing songs of the second chance dance.
I never wanted to forget....forget the emotions, prayers and experiences that engulfed me before, during and after the bypass surgery. So I started to write. I was finishing a book I had been working on for two years and put it aside to begin to assemble my reflections in poems and a few short narratives about my recent experience. Most of these pieces in this blog are about how I felt,prayed and reacted during that time. Family,friends, life, work and my odyssey would become center pieces to these reflections. So here they are. Included are also reflections from another book I have written and excerpts from other commentaries and conjectures.
amdg
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