Benevolence

If you could imagine the best: the best place to work, the best friend to have, the best lover in your bed, the best car in your garage, what would it truly be? Would it include a war? Would it include poverty? How much do we have to give as much as receive?

Do we include others in these thoughts? Or, merely ourselves?

It seems to me as a whole we lack a basic sense of humility. Myself included. How could we possibility think and continue to think we know better? That we know more than anyone else? Confident I understand. The arrogance I don't. Iraqis don't want us there. We want them to want us there. And I can't figure out why we are there and continue to stay. If the shoe was on the other foot, how would we react? Someone invades us because they perceive our government is oppressive. Did we ask the Iraqi people? We've made it worse. Get out. Get out now.

Evidence of eagles

Up on the Divide, a rocky patch of Texas earth, I found what I was looking for. The cool air contrasting against the warm sun; it was a day of contrasts and compromises. I found an eagle's feather in the riverbed up at the boneyard. I wanted, hoped to see an eagle and photograph it. But, a feather would have to suffice today, and, by then, it made me happy just the same.

As usual the journey was worth more than the destination. Climbing into the ravine, it looked innocuous. The grass brown from no rain, no flowers left from the summer blooms, and the trees just starting to fade. Nothing to make National Geographic magazine. But, stepping gingerly in the tall crispy grass, I snaked my way down the embankment into the dry riverbed. Pock-marked limestone lay exposed to the sun dried to a cement gray. Sycamore saplings manage to eek out an existence in this moonscape and grow. An mule deer protests my presence and makes sure everything around knows I'm here.

Snapping a few pictures here and there, the light plays with me. This isn't a great day for photography. Crossing under the bridge, I see them. Five or six eagle feathers. Some tattered, some in tact, but all gray and white eagle feathers. Standing still, waiting, I listen and watch for any birds. I can see no nests, no movement. The mule deer has gone silent, but I'm out of her sightline.

I creep along the riverbed to a water gap and the fence is still in good shape. As far as I can go without getting shot, I wait. I listen. Nothing. The feathers will have to do and they are good enough.

whirlwinds, fires and rain

Some can stand in the middle of a storm and it doesn't affect them. Others like me, get caught in the wind, lost in the chaos and turmoil everytime. Sometimes I wonder if I prefer the insanity. I sat in a meeting today and observed. These meetings are always passionate-emotionally charged. All contributors are on edge. But some, remain calm in the heat of discussion. Are able to say what they need to say and that's that. Not me. I run around, emotional. At least I do in my head. Not even sure if I am comfortable anymore when its calm.

snapshots

I went today to take pictures of my grandparents house before it is sold. I wanted to remember it just as it was. I don't know if I'm getting old or just old enough to feel impermanence more keenly now. Grandmother in a nursing home, the house, the center of everything, must move on, too.

My grandmother was and is known for her love for roses. She could grow them in the Texas heat, drought, flooding rains. Whatever Mother Nature threw at them, Granny could always bring them to bloom. Her house immaculate, as well as those rose beds, she was (still is) a stickler for order. She lived in that house for over 50 years; it was her castle, and maybe even the last few years, her prison. I don't know for sure.

Blistering hot, sunny afternoons out back on the porch were spent eating watermelon. Granny said it was too messy to eat inside. Taking turns cranking the ice cream maker. Playing frisbee in the cool grass underneath their giant pecan tree. Sitting around her table at Thanksgiving dinner; eating too much food and unaware of our blessings.

I don't want to forget that place. I don't want to lose it. So many places have come and gone, I can't remember any more. But, this, this place holds them.

Still being human

Despite my tirade about integrity yesterday, I learned something about myself today that's disconcerting. But it ties into that discussion. For whatever reason I don't let certain groups of people (romantic, superiors and mentors) be human. When anyone in that group makes a mistake, more often or not, to hurt me, then I find it unforgivable. I idealize certain relationships/people and can't allow them mistakes. I would expect any of these people to forgive me, and yet, consistently, I don't.

A horrible realization about oneself. Not sure what to make of it, yet either. Outside of this circle, no one is held to this standard, not even my closest friend or siblings. My gut reaction is the action is reprehensible. I'm sure were I got the notion that your romantic partner, your boss or someone you look up to is God-like, perfect. What a set up for failure.

So how do I learn to forgive them/perceive them as human? I don't know. The reaction I have is visceral, unconscious. Ugh. Something else to work on.

Professional....Integrity

Professional integrity. Is it a relic, long gone like rotary telephones, cars made from steel, and real Bugs Bunny cartoons? Or did I grow up an idealist and it never existed? Not sure. Occasionally I catch a glimpse of it. I’m sounding too cynical, but my truth is CYA is far more critical than integrity. How often have you seen someone stand up for a peer in a meeting, your coworker admit he lost a huge client in front of the boss, or an executive who let his management team manage? (Last one’s weak, but couldn’t help it.)

I’m talking about real integrity. Standing up for what you believe in. Is this idealism lost? Not on me. That’s not to say I haven’t done my fair share of throwing people under the bus. I have, sometimes even regretfully. I realize now that it’s done out of not even competition, but of something baser: survival. The killed-or-be-killed mentality that our culture feeds. I won’t take a moral stance right-or-wrong, good-or-bad here. How do I feel when I go home? Icky? Despondent? Weeks have pasted when I couldn’t remember something positive (the gloomy Irish in me). Perhaps that’s mine, for me to take responsibility.

Put personal responsibility aside for a moment; I’ll get back to it. Just as an observation, what is glorified in television, movies, magazines from a corporate culture? Is integrity high on the list? Pay closer attention and see what is being presented.

Back to personal responsibility, as much as it pains me to say this: professional integrity all starts here. Regardless of what others, whether above me or below, do, what I do is what I can change. I’m saying this for myself, more than anyone else. Spending years upset and pissed off about what other people, especially superiors do, I now know my only concern is my reaction and behavior. That sounds so ridiculous when its put on paper. Truth often does.