Steve’s Midlife Crisis

Pigeons. They’re everywhere in Chicago. Whether it’s summer, autumn, winter, or spring, you can’t walk more than a block without seeing lots of pigeons. I don’t know any statistics about this, but from my observation, pigeons have to outnumber people in this city.

These birds are also known as “feral pigeons.” A more complimentary name for them is “Rock Doves”–not to be confused with “Stock Doves.” They are also commonly disparaged as “flying rats” and called by some other unflattering names that I’ll omit here in the interest of good taste.

Yes, these birds can be a nuisance. They make a mess. They commonly drop some foul “gifts” on us earthbound humans at the worst times, like when we’re getting off the bus near home after a really stressful day, or are wearing our best clothes for an important business meeting.

They’re loud. During the mating season (which sometimes seems to last all year), they congregate outside my office window, cooing feverishly as they walk around with crazed, lovesick eyes. Often their cooing is loud enough that it’s difficult to have a telephone conversation, even when I have my window closed.

The pigeons are also very bold. They strut around with a self-importance that seems almost human. They will stand in a man’s path, apparently expecting him to get out of their way. Hurried businessmen and downtown commuters don’t faze these birds. On the other hand, a toddler running toward them will send them hurrying up into the sky for dear life.

They congregate in large gatherings that make Sunday football games seem sparsely attended by comparison. If you see one pigeon, you’ll likely see a few hundred of his closest relatives and friends.

Yes, we human beings have a lot of complaints about pigeons. Even so, I’ve always found them really interesting to watch. Of course, I prefer that they not fly over me, my car, my motorcycle, or my notebook computer, but if they are flying elsewhere or walking around, I like to observe them.

“Why?” you may ask. “Has Steve lost his mind…again? Isn’t he taking some of this meditation stuff just a little too seriously?”

Before you dismiss my comments as the rantings of a madman, I’d like you to consider a few points. (My comments may very well be the rantings of a madman. I’m just asking you to think about a few things before you reach that conclusion.)

First, take a look at those pigeons. Look at them closely. (No, you don’t have to touch them.) What are they doing? 99 times out of 100, they’re eating. Yes, eating. (The other 1 time they are mating, but they do the deed quickly and then resume eating.) Those birds find food everywhere. Everywhere!

Second, out of all the pigeons you’ve seen in your life–the number of them probably has more than 7 digits–how many have been skinny? One? Two? A half dozen at most? The precise figure doesn’t matter. My point is simple: Those pigeons are eating, and they’re eating often and eating a lot. There is apparently no shortage of food for them. They go out and look for it and they find it. No fuss, no mess (well, probably a lot of mess, actually), and maybe just a little bit of smell, and the feast is served.

Third, it’s all about attitude, right? No matter what is happening around them, these birds have attitude. Look again at how they carry themselves. Do they shrink away from the sunlight, holding their heads low in shame, disappointment, or indifference? No! On the contrary, they hold their heads high. They strut around like they own the whole place–all of it. They exude confidence. These birds know who they are.

Do the pigeons look like they are stressed out about their jobs? Are they obsessing over their investment portfolios? Do they look concerned about terrorism or war? No, no, and no. Do they look happy? Yes, they do. They look happy and content, peacefully living in the present moment. They know who they are and they are doing their thing on this planet and somehow, without any plotting, scheming, or contriving on their parts, it all seems to work just fine.

These days when I see the pigeons in Chicago, I like to think of one of my favorite teachings from the Sermon on the Mount. I’ll quote it here from the King James (Authorized) Version.

Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature? And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek: ) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.

But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.

Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

Matthew 6:25-34 (KJV)

Today, in the twenty-first century, as I walk down the noisy urban streets of my hometown, the Jesus who speaks to me uses language that’s a bit more familiar. He says something like:

Listen, Steve, don’t worry about your life. Don’t worry about having enough food. Don’t worry about your body or the clothing you‘ll wear either. Think about it, man. Isn’t life more than just your body? Isn’t your body worth more to you than your clothes? Don’t just take my word for it. Have a look at those pigeons over there. Do they go to school, get jobs, and worry about retirement? No, of course not, but your heavenly Father still feeds them. If He takes care of those pigeons so well, don’t you think He’ll do at least as much same for you?

We can learn a lot from the pigeons. These birds that everyone seems to love to hate have a lot of wisdom. They are modern messengers of the Gospel, the Good News. We need only wake up, open our eyes, and see them.

Don has some great photos of Her Majesty’s birthday celebration.

Happy birthday, Your Majesty!  May you have many more happy ones!

On May 5, 1994, I set out on my own to establish my solo law practice. It’s hard to believe that was 14 years ago, but that’s how quickly time flies. I can honestly say that I have had no regrets whatsoever; I am blissfully self-employed. I have certainly learned many things along the way, and I would probably do some things differently on a second attempt, but no regrets. It’s a great feeling! 14 years–woohoo!

Courtesy of Robert Anasi.

Since Earth Day was yesterday, you’ve probably seen and heard a lot about “green this” and “green that.”  What does it all mean?  If you find the terminology confusing, if you don’t know the difference between black water and a backwater, or if you’d just like to be able measure your carbon footprint, here’s a brief guide to help you better understand green-speak.

On Tuesday, April 22, Petsmart is going to be hosting a Pet’s Birthday Party.  My parents will be taking their dog, Sebastian, to the event.  It looks like a good time.  I’ll probably join them.  Sadly, my friend Mark and his cat Fritz won’t be there.  Apparently, Fritz doesn’t like that sort of thing.  Maybe there will be some leftover treats that I can get for Fritz.  Enjoy!

I know fear; I want to know it more.
I have looked it in the eye.
I have not shrunk away from it.

Fear follows me.
It often walks beside me
Or lurks behind my back.

Sometimes it wraps itself around me
Like a python trying to squeeze me,
But I do not give in.

Well-meaning friends call that courage.
Hah! I laugh heartily about that.
I’m laughing at me, not at them.

They mean to compliment me;
If they only knew the thoughts
That really filled my head!

It’s merely survival, no less,
Nothing more. That’s all–
No particularly brave deed here.

For how can a man live his
Whole life in fear? What kind of life
Would I have were I always afraid?

Yes, I know fear and fear knows me.
We do a strange dance and observe
An uneasy truce just to keep going.

Just to survive, I play this game that endures
In uneasy stalemate. If I can stay and observe
Fear’s tricks, I can deal with it.

Were I to run, I would worry about being
Sucker-punched at each turn. So it’s easy, you see:
I want to know fear because fear knows me.

---

* The title was inspired by a quote attributed to the American novelist Patricia Cornwell.  The quote was uttered during a conversation that the writer of an article about Cornwell had with the novelist. The writer made a comment indicating that she believed in evil. Cornwell is said to have replied, “That’s good because evil believes in you.” See Mary Cantwell, “How to Make a Corpse Talk,” The New York Times (July 14, 1996), available online at http://www.nytimes.com/books/97/07/27/reviews/cornwell-cantwell.html.

One day, while Jesus was walking downtown on his way to having lunch with some friends, he met one of his former students, a middle-aged businessman named Tom. Tom had taken some courses with Jesus after having followed the Buddha for a while and became Jesus’ friend as well as one of his most eager students.

Although Jesus was a bit rushed, having been delayed in a meeting at his office, he was happy to see Tom, so he greeted him warmly and began a conversation.

Tom was preoccupied, lost in thought really, so he was surprised when he saw Jesus, who asked him, “How are you doing, Tom? What’s troubling you? I can see the worry on your face. Are Marian and the kids alright?”

Tom was annoyed that his demeanor had betrayed his angst. “Jesus, they’re all fine,” he began.

Jesus picked it up there, “But?”

Tom smiled. Jesus knew him too well. “Jesus, you always taught us that to reach the Kingdom of God, not just in the future but right here and right now, we have to love God with all our being and love our neighbors as ourselves.”

Jesus nodded.

“But how can I love God? How can love my neighbor as myself? Jesus, I don’t even know how to love myself! How can I even learn that, much less go on to love everyone else?” Tom sighed deeply and his shoulders dropped.

Jesus smiled at him and said, “Practice mindfulness.”

Tom was stunned, “But Jesus,” he protested, “that’s what the Buddha taught us when I studied with him. Mindfulness, mindfulness, mindfulness–that’s all he ever talked about, it seemed. He constantly reminded us to be mindful and asked us if we were practicing mindfulness. I thought mindfulness was a Buddhist idea, and now you, Jesus, are asking me to practice mindfulness, too?”

Jesus smiled warmly and said, “Yes.” After looking at his watch, he excused himself. “Good seeing you, Tom. I’m late for lunch. Be well and keep practicing!”

Tom was even more frustrated as he said, “Goodbye, Jesus.” He continued on his way and after about ten steps, he stopped suddenly. Everything around him looked the same, but in an instant it had become clearer and brighter. He became calm as he noticed that all his anxiety, perfectionism, and sense of doing his spiritual practice “the wrong way” dropped from him like leaves falling from a tree on an autumn afternoon.

In that moment, he became enlightened. He smiled as he continued walking to his office, drinking up all the delicious content he was receiving through his senses.

I think the best, most healthy attitude is an optimistic one in which we think positively and to try to look for the good things in life rather than spending a lot of time worrying and complaining about the negative experiences.  That’s a great idea in principle, but not always the easiest thing to implement in practice.

For example, recently I’ve been dealing with a few fairly difficult situations—I’ll write about one of them here.  I have an uncle who suffers from paranoid schizophrenia.  He lives in the unit directly above mine.  His behavior, some of it undoubtedly due to his illness, is becoming almost intolerable.  He refuses to take all the medication that his doctor prescribes for him.  He does take some of the meds, but he does not take them as prescribed, so the medicine does not have a chance to provide its full benefits.

I believe strongly in every individual’s right to self-determination, which I see as a fundamental human right. While I remain dubious about the degree to which government can and should guarantee such a right, I also believe people have a right to have competent health care available and to be able to make reasonable and informed decisions about the various options for kinds of health care.  However, I also believe strongly in other sorts of individual liberties and those include the rights to be free from harassment, abuse, property damage, or undue damage to one’s reputation; to earn rn a living in one’s chosen, trade occupation or profession; and, perhaps most simply, but fundamentally, to get a decent night’s sleep that is free from constant noise, shouting, pounding on pipes, and irrational ranting.

A problem with my uncle is that he does not follow his treatment plan as prescribed by his doctor.  Mental health care in the United States has come a long way since the 1960s when I was a boy and first experienced my uncle’s tortured, irrational, and sometimes dangerous behavior.  One can argue that the changes in mental health care have been beneficial or detrimental to both the individual patients on the one hand, and their families and society as a whole on the other hand.  However, the law of cause and effect indicates that if one does not follow a competently prescribed plan for medical treatment, then one will not derive the benefits of that treatment.  So it’s no surprise that someone like my uncle, who does not take his medication and does not make use of any of the universe of support services that are available to him such as regular psychotherapy and support groups, is not going to get much relief from his condition.

I’m a man who believes strongly in the right to individual autonomy and self-determination.  My uncle is free to take or not take his medication to follow or ignore his medical treatment, as he chooses.  However, I also believe that being a responsible adult in a free society carries with it the duty to avoid infringing upon the rights of others.  As I see it, my uncle is a free and autonomous adult agent, making his own decisions, but he also has to accept the effects that his decisions cause.  In other words, while he’s free not to take medication, he’s not free to stay up all night, damage plumbing, make noise nonstop, and disrupt my sleep.  That’s not right and I need to do something about it.  The solution won’t be easy—and I need to be cautious lest the cure be even worse than the disease—but ignoring the problem won’t make it go away.

This is obviously a very complex issue that has deep roots that extend further back in time than my being a person on this planet.  I’m not going to be able to explain all of the subtleties in a blog post and am certainly not going to be able to arrive at a solution here.  My uncle’s situation has troubled me deeply over the last year and caused me a lot of difficulty and even hardship for the past year.  (I won’t even touch upon the severe harm that his behavior helped cause me when I was a young boy; it’s far too painful to describe here.)  But because the situation has caused a great deal of stress, and cost me several thousand dollars already.  I need to find a way to deal with it that is respectful to him but, even more importantly from my perspective, that honors respects me, has its paramount goal to allow me to live my own life in a reasonably  content, peaceful manner, and to pursue happiness.  After all, if we don’t pursue happiness in this life, why are we here?  There’s plenty of suffering in life, and no matter how we rail against life’s vicissitudes, we do not have a perfect world.  So my concern is really me first.  I need to make myself happy.

To paraphrase something I’ve heard over the years in many different support groups, I didn’t cause my uncle’s illness, I can’t cure it, and I can’t control it.  I spent many hours trying to get information and support that would help my uncle, but he refuses to use any of it; he just dismisses it summarily.  I lost several weeks of work during the summer of 2007 trying to be supportive to him during numerous all-night conversations riddled with paranoid delusions, and to connect him with various social services that could help him.  He rebuffed my efforts.  Even worse, he paid back my kindness and compassion with slander, threats, hostility, and extreme verbal abuse.

I’m done.  Making me crazy or ill is not going to help my uncle one bit.  Moreover, continuing this kind of care-taking behavior will, if unabated, lead me down the road to ruin.  I’ve been down that road a few times in my life, and it’s not where I want to be.  A while ago, on my previous edition of this blog, I stated boldly that the business of life is really very simple: to love ourselves.  Developing the ability to love ourselves, genuinely, unconditionally, and in a way that comports with the rights of other beings and promotes harmony in our world and in the universe is probably the work of a lifetime; it takes a lot of practice, as I am learning.  Nonetheless, I am determined to accomplish this business of life, this raison d’être of our human existence as I define it.

I still have compassion for my uncle; I’m deeply saddened to see him suffering.  However, until he becomes willing to take his own steps toward recovery and living a happier life, there is nothing that I, my extended family, or anyone else can do.  He has managed to alienate most of his relatives and several of them, including me, can no longer have any direct contact with them, because the experiences are so unpleasant and the emotional fallout from them is so severe that living a normal life becomes very difficult as I have more contact with my uncle.  While I have compassion for him and wish him well, I have done all that I can.  And I need to let go.  If I don’t take good care of myself, no one—and I really mean no one other than I—can do that for me.  At the risk of unintentionally appearing melodramatic, I’ve come too far in my life, overcome too many obstacles and barriers, and worked too hard for me to give in and allow some other person’s behavior to cause such harm to my life.  I won’t do that.

I’m letting go.  Yes, I’m doing that as compassionately and lovingly as I can, but I am doing it.  Uncle J., I release you into the universe, into the hands of God, and wish you well.  I am no longer available to try to do for you the things that you are not willing to do for yourself.  I hope you will follow your treatment plans much more consistently and use the help that is available to you, but I can’t do that for you, and I’m no longer going to try.  I’m putting an end to this particular cycle of Nice Guy behavior, and moving forward with my life.  I’m focusing on getting my needs met, making me a priority, and taking care of myself.

I recently looked at a baby picture of me taken when I was about six months old.  It’s a black-and-white photo and I’m propped up against something that looks like a pillow—probably because I’m still too young to sit up well on my own.  My left hand is at my side, and my right hand is clutching a small stuffed animal: a fuzzy little dog that has eyes bigger than mine and a very happy expression on his face.  Dressed in a white cotton shirt, white shorts, and white baby shoes, I’m gazing forward to my right.  My chin already bears the cleft that I have as a grown man, my hair is combed in a way that bears a striking resemblance to the way I comb it today, and, looking deeply into the face of the little boy, I can already see the face of the man he will be about 44 years later.

When I look at this photo, I see a boy full of the potential of becoming anything a human being can be.  I also see that he is vulnerable; he needs protection and good care—things that he deserves to have.  Guess what?  Dad and Mom are no longer in a position to protect and care for that little guy anymore.  Oh, they still love him are remain important in his life, but now it’s up to me to provide those things for him.

As I continue to look at the photo, at the little boy, the baby who delighted his parents so much when he was born on the Thanksgiving Day last preceding the taking of that photograph, I see that the boy and I are not the same.  Looking at photos of him and me today, though, you would see the similarities I have mentioned, but you would also see a lot of contrasts between that boy and me.  At the same time, you cannot really say that I am different than this child, because without him I would not be here today.  I suppose you can say that I am the continuation of him.  If I am his continuation, and he deserved kindness, protection, in good care, then how can I deserve any less?  Indeed, I do deserve kindness, protection, and good care.  I am now in a time of my life when I can provide those things to me.  And I shall do so with vigor, with enthusiasm, and with no apologies.