Real Joe

The oldest son of a local family whom we’ve known since we moved to town shot and killed himself on Friday. He and his brother attended the same small elementary school with my kids. He was 27, a teacher, and had gotten married just two months ago.

To most people I’ve talked to, he seemed to be a happy, well-adjusted guy. He didn’t leave a suicide note so everyone’s perplexed. In the receiving line at the funeral home last night, his dad said that he’d been a little down lately, but other than that, he had no clue.

Anyone can surmise a complex set of factors that contributed to his suicide. Maybe they were serious and of a long-standing nature, maybe not. Family issues? Brain chemistry? Environmental factors? But I learned from a close relative last year that when she was hospitalized for suicidal depression, both the individual and group therapy sessions emphasized the importance of understanding how Mistaken Thinking can contribute to depression and prevent recovery… a basic cornerstone of Cognitive-behavior Therapy.

I was trying to explain Mistaken Thinking to my daughter yesterday as we talked about this guy’s suicide while I drove her to school. I told her that whatever his circumstances, it was likely he was entertaining thoughts about his life and his world that were misguided, that he didn’t have a response to emotional pain that went “If I’m suffering, it must be because there’s something I don’t understand. Life’s trying to teach me something. I’d better find out what it is.”

I know, I know, it’s simplistic. But it never ceases to amaze me how few people seem to be aware of its power to help deal with life’s problems, big and small.

Of course, I’ve only learned this recently myself — and I was a family therapist for ten years. Go figure.

I haven’t really taught it to my kids in any explicit way… just this blog and an occasional comment. I now worry, though, that it’s not enough.

I’m five days into a new morning routine, parts of which I’m trying to turn into a ritual.

I get up at 5 or 5:30 and put some coffee on while I shave and dress, doing the 555 mental exercises/meditation the whole time. I take my first sips of coffee sitting in a comfy rocking chair in our living room where I can look out the east-facing window as the sky starts to lighten. I take a few minutes to appreciate the morning, the coffee, the chair, the sky, whatever comes to mind. I think of it as a prayer but since I don’t imagine these things as gifts from a Supreme Being, some might object to my using the term that way.

I then do a type of meditation for 5 minutes, focusing on one object with my eyes open. When I notice my mind wandering, I bring it back with “that doesn’t matter now. What matters is to just sit here with a quiet mind.” It’s an antidote to my mind’s tendency to gravitate to WANTING MORE, which I first learned about in How to Want What You Have. I then do my lower back exercises, a set of balancing exercises, and then a series of exercises with a small dumbell to strengthen my rotator cuffs — keeping up the 555 bit the whole time. I then either go to my office or the local coffeehouse to plan my day and write for an hour.

I’m feeling confident I can keep this up because in just five days, I’m already reaping the rewards. My back feels better, my shoulder aches are nearly gone, I’m getting more writing done, and my brain is less noisy and scattered. The virtuous cycle of reinforcement has kicked in — the more I do my routine, the better I feel. The better I feel, the more I’ll be inclined to keep up the routine. Plus, this small personal victory gives me some confidence that I’ll now be able to tackle a few more habits that I’ve not yet been able to pull off: 1) the fucking email in my inbox; 2) the overflowing basket of household financial papers to be filed; 3) lifting weights; 4) more rigorous writing and reading; 5) mental toughness/sports psyching exercises.

The latter I think I can add to my morning routine without much problem. I don’t know when I’ll do the weight lifting. In less than a month, I hope to be riding a new motorcycle, a Montesa Cota 315R, practicing up for a season of observed trials competition. And if I don’t improve my overall muscle fitness, I’ll be more injury prone. And I’ll be less motivated to learn and practice riding harder obstacles. I guess I’ll have to cut back on the racquetball to just 3 times a week. As for the other items, I don’t know yet.

A couple weeks ago I came across this piece by Tom Brazaitis, the Washington senior editor for the Cleveland Plain Dealer: A chilling time, yet no one feels a draft. I thought of it again today when discussing the movie Gods and Generals with some buddies over dinner. All of us have sons and daughters in their late teens and twenties… potential draft age. If there was a draft in effect now, would those of us who are hawkish about war with Iraq be still as hawkish? Would those of us who are dovish about war with Iraq still be as complacent about our opposition?

Brazaitis quotes Joseph Califano, the former aide to Lyndon Johnson, who in 1999 during the war in Yugoslavia wrote: “An all-volunteer Army relieves affluent, vocal, voting Americans of the concern that their children will be at risk of going into combat. That makes it too easy for politicians to embark on dangerous foreign missions without thinking through every downside and facing, up front, articulate, skeptical citizens.” Or, for that matter, having to wory about the lives of their own draft-age children.

Brazaitis observed during a recent speech to a college campus: “The students were concerned about going to war in the same way they are concerned about AIDS in Africa or poverty in America. It is a problem, but not one that affects them directly… Whether the draft is a good thing or not, because of Nixon’s action, young men who might otherwise be in uniform or leading anti-war protests now look at war as a spectator sport.”

I had lottery number 195 during the Vietnam War and so I didn’t have to make a tough decision. It pretty much was a spectator sport for me after that. Currently, none of my sons has enlisted (yet) so if we go to war with Iraq, it will be a spectator sport for me as well. I’m suddenly aware of this. And uncomfortable.

Footnote: while searching for the URL on the Brazaitis column, I stumbled on a column he wrote last week titled Hawks should let God stand down that does a much better job than I did of poking at those who proclaim God to be on their side in this impending war.

Colleague Mike Fraase forwarded me an email from the managing editor of Arriviste Press, RA Miller: “This is a brief note to alert you to a forthcoming digital publication, called Arriviste Press. Founded by a handful of young (or almost young) journalists & creative types, Arriviste Press is launching to serve a perceived need in the 18-34 year old demographic. We’re positioning ourself as slightly more literary than the Maxim/FHM set, but not quite as cerebral as the Atlantic Monthly set.”

Here’s hoping they survive, as my three sons are in their demographic and they could use a pub “slightly more literary than the Maxim/FHM set.” I wonder if Arriviste sees the impending demise of Salon (NY Times: Web Magazine Facing Failure) as boon or bane?

I’ve not been particularly bothered by President Bush’s religious references in his speeches since becoming president. But this AP story titled Bush Increasing Religious Allusions caught my eye. The article notes that in his State of the Union address, Bush said, “We Americans have faith in ourselves, but not in ourselves alone. We do not claim to know all the ways of providence, yet we can trust in them, placing our confidence in the loving God behind all of life and all of history. May he guide us now, and may God continue to bless the United States of America.”

At first glance, it seems innocuous… the usual presidential blah blah at the end of a speech. But a closer reading makes me think that his line of thinking is along the lines of “I’ve prayed for guidance, therefore I’m confident that what I’m about to do in Iraq is God’s will.”

Turning to God may very well have been the difference in Bush’s overcoming his drinking problem. But that’s an emotional and spiritual struggle. It’s a mistake for him to assume that God is guiding his political decisions, just because he’s asked for help. We don’t know the any of ‘the ways of providence’ when it comes to war or football or any other human events, big or small.

I’m going to see the new movie Gods and Generals on Saturday. I expect to see something similar there.

I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do because I notice it always coincides with their own desires. - Susan B. Anthony

That’s my Onion-like headline that came to mind when I read this opinion piece in Sunday’s NY Times: The Smart Way to Be Scared. The author makes a good case for ignoring the government’s suggestion to buy plastic sheeting and duct tape in case of a biological or chemical attack. “Your risk of dying in a car accident while driving to buy duct tape likely exceeds your risk of dying because you lacked duct tape.” Better to pick up some potassium iodide pills to prevent some effects of fallout in case a dirty bomb goes off.

Here’s the perfect story for nervous types: Terrorism ‘Not Likely’ Cause Of Fire At Local Laundromat.

I first heard about the 555 meditation technique in Garrison Keillor’s Thanksgiving monologue on Prairie Home Companion last fall. He described a teenaged girl who used it to relax when she was playing the piano (if you listen to the Real Audio of the show, the description begins at the 4:15 minute mark). Towards the end of the show, he paints a scene of her dad using it to calm his anger towards his brother at Thanksgiving dinner (13:30 minute mark).

The idea is simple: quiet the noise in your head (especially if it’s producing anxiety, tension, fear, anger) by making a mental list of five things you see, then five things you feel, and five things you hear. (If possible, you can list five things you smell, too, but that’s pretty rare.)

I first started using the technique if I found myself getting nervous before a racquetball game. It’s more effective than just trying to do abdominal breathing and muscle relaxation. My busy, noisy brain tends to win out over those techniques. Lately, I’ve also started to use it at other times during the day — while shaving and doing other bathroom sink duties in the morning, going out in the garage to get in the car, walking anywhere, doing household chores like vacuuming or doing the garbage. It’s turning out to be a good way for me to both quiet the noise in my head and take more notice of the world around me and its small pleasures.

Like Ferris Bueller said: “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it.”

Anne Lamott not only knows how to write, she knows how to pray. “I know that every time I call out for help, the phone rings, or the mail comes, or I get that noodgey Holy Spirit feeling inside, and enough of an answer to take the next right step. I know that I need to let go, or I am going to get dragged. Letting go is definitely not my strong suit.”

And be funny: “After a year in that church, I started to call God “Jesus.” I wish that this did not worry people so much. My friend Neshama calls God “Howard,” as in “Our father/mother, who art in heaven, Howard be thy name,” and this does not seem to worry people. When I was still afraid to call God Jesus, I called him my Higher Power, or for the sake of brevity, my old H.P. Then I started to think of Him as my old Hewlett-Packard, and that worked, and it worried people a lot less than this Jesus business.”

Read her piece in Salon: Every sandwich: As the world falls apart around us, the only answer is to stick close to each other.

If this face was from a fistfight, then my dad would be proud:

Alas, it was only racquetball. I took a ball in the goggles on Monday in the left eye, and one in the right eye yesterday. Doubles can be tricky, though mostly it’s taking an occasional ball in the back of your legs, leaving a Target logo as a temporary tattoo. This was definitely weird.

It is good for laughs, though. When people ask, “What happened to you?” I respond with a “You don’t want to know. But don’t fuck with me, man!” I’ll have a good time with it at my motorcycle club’s annual banquet later today.

Our local paper carried a story this week about local religious leaders organizing prayer and fasting days from now till Good Friday. They’re being careful to not pitch it as an anti-war effort. “Prayer and fasting are spiritual disciplines that have been with the Christian church since the early times. In times of a national crisis, it’s appropriate to offer those disciplines to be in touch with God and to invite God’s wisdom to the nation and to the individual.” But I imagine that most people who attend will be praying the type of prayer in which they ask God to not let the impending war with Iraq happen. Some will pray to try to affect President Bush’s behavior. Others, Saddam Hussein.

I watched the first half of the movie Gettysburg (based on the novel Killer Angels) this week with a couple of friends — part of our year-long war movie series. The prequel, Gods and Generals, is due out soon.) Several scenes had combatants, especially Robert E. Lee, not only invoking God’s help in winning the battle but in guiding their decisions on how to go about it. Once a decision had been made, it became “God’s will.”

Last week President Bush evidently said at the National Prayer Breakfast: “I believe in prayer. I pray. I pray for strength, I pray for guidance, I pray for forgiveness. And I pray to offer my thanks for a kind and generous Almighty God. In this hour of our country’s history, we stand in the need of prayer. We pray for the families that have known recent loss. We pray for the men and women who serve around the world to defend our freedom. We pray for their families. We pray for wisdom to know and do what is right. And we pray for God’s peace in the affairs of men. May God bless you all.”

Not a bad prayer, really. But it’s pretty clear that if Bush decides to attack Iraq, he, like General Lee, will believe it’s God’s will. And millions of others will believe that he’s gone against God’s will.

The tendency is to admire these men for their faith as they struggle to deal with extremely grave circumstances. But it some ways, it’s ridiculous — not all that different than the prayers for victory offered by opposing football teams. We already have the Presidential Prayer Team racking up the prayers on the sidelines. The Iraqis better get their act together to match this impressive showing because surely God is up there somewhere, observing all this, hands on the war levers, waiting to be influenced, not quite sure what to do.

If war happens, we’ll start praying for the safety of our troops and the Iraqis will start praying for the safety of theirs. We’ll pray to win, and they’ll pray to win. Few will be so honest as the aged stranger in Mark Twain’s War Prayer: “O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells…”

My prayer? Oh Lord, please help us humans learn to quit with these stupid prayers.