A Sunday Idea

A Sunday Idea

“The rush and pressures of modern life are a form, perhaps the most common form, of contemporary violence. To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything is to succumb to violence.”                        —Thomas Merton

Pretty strong words.Young handsome man working

Have you ever thought of busyness in terms of violence? I have. Many violent things happen both silently and insidiously.

200px-Future_shock

Was Toffler right?

Back in 1970, Random House released Alvin Toffler’s book, Future Shock. I remember it well though I was only fifteen. Toffler maintained that the pace of life was increasing exponentially, bringing “too much change in too short a period of time.” The psychological results of stress and anxiety would be profound. The book sold over 6 million copies. A documentary film followed in 1972 with Orson Welles as the on-screen narrator.

Does your To Do List feel overwhelming?

Do you have information overload every time you tune in the news?

Do emails and social media feel like a constant barrage?

Is multi-tasking the new normal?

Do you lay awake at night thinking too much?

How have we handled the stress of “future shock” over the last 44 years?

I recently watched a science show on the NTGEO channel called, The Numbers Game. The episode was called “Could You Be A Better Boss.” One experiment referenced Navy SEAL training and examined the ability to focus under stress. Participants were shown two similar pictures that differed in small details. At first, it seemed easy to differentiate.

Then stressful distractions were added. Continue reading

Internal Bearings

Internal Bearings

One evening, I tuned into a TV drama. I watched a female character succumb to an affair—a disappointing compromise. She was restless and discontent. Her lover questioned her about what she really needed. In effect, she said…ask me what I think and feel—all day—every day—for a long time.

Her comment struck me. I know what it’s like to feel invisible. Maybe you do too.

When others don’t give us “place,” we can’t necessarily alter their mindsets. And yet, in a way, finding place has more to do with us than them.

Dorothy travelled a long yellow-brick road to find her way home, but the change in her heart was her ticket all along. Rosa Parks reached a tipping point and claimed her bus seat. Her God-given confidence set in motion a movement that would give others their rightful place.

George WashingtonGeorge Washington relinquished a place of power by refusing to be a king. He wanted freedom from tyrannical rulers for our country. And that decision released a new thing in the world—a government by the people, for the people.

What’s the same in these examples? Continue reading

Treasuring Divine Happenstance

Treasuring Divine Happenstance

Last week I shared about why I bought this painting. God had woven together three things: a pregnancy dream, a talk by Ray Hughes about saying “Yes” to God, and the symbolism in the painting. The message?

Continue writing.

Patrisha's painting at the Ray Hughes conference

Patrisha’s painting at the Ray Hughes conference

But a fourth piece to this puzzle remains. I didn’t explain the wave. Did you notice the wave coming over the land and not the sea? In mountainous areas like Montana, massive waters like a sea or an ocean don’t exist.

To complete the story of this encounter with God, I have to give you another piece of divine happenstance. Soon after finishing my first book, I had another vivid dream:

I am crossing a landscape scarred by a hurricane long ago. Wreckage is strewn about in all directions as far as the eye can see. Jagged planks of lumber, shattered window frames, pieces of boats, empty cans, broken wooden chairs, driftwood, shells and other rubble fill every square foot of land. Any stench is long gone, and the debris looks clean—whitened by the sun.

I carefully step over the wreckage, making my way toward a beautiful azure sea that is a mile out. I can see the thin strip of deep blue water on the horizon. The sky is crisp and clear with no hint of haze. A few lovely white clouds dapple the atmosphere.

This picture is as close as I could find, but doesn’t quite capture the miles of sun-bleached remains.

This picture is as close as I could find, but doesn’t quite capture the miles of sun-bleached wreckage.

Way out in front of me, I notice one other person. It’s Kathy Tyers, my first writing mentor. She seems to be making the same trek. She gestures dramatically, waving a complete sweep of her arm again and again, as if to say, “Come on, Susan! Keep going! Don’t give up! Follow me!” But she’s so far ahead, I can’t hear her voice.

It could take awhile to get there. I continue, step by step.

All of a sudden, I hear a faraway low rumble. Perhaps a plane is taking off. It starts to increase in volume. Something powerful begins to roar—a noise so loud it sounds like several planes, then 100 planes, and now 1,000 airplanes taking off all at once. The ground vibrates in violent unison, as I look backwards…Continue reading