Dr. R. Scott Colglazier

May 22, 2013
by Dr. R. Scott
2 Comments

Starting. Over.

Oklahoma is beyond description. Beyond imagination. The loss. The destruction. The human stories. Compassion. Courage. Everything we love about being human comes into play in the midst of a disaster. Families and friends. Strangers helping strangers. Everything is local in a tragedy. Nothing is theoretical. One step. And then another. And then another. Getting up. Cleaning up. Going forward.

It’s a waste of time to compare one tragedy to another. Is an Oklahoma tornado more horrific than a Boston Marathon bombing? Is a Boston Marathon bombing worse than a factory collapse in Bangladesh? Losing everything is losing everything. Suffering is suffering. And heartache is heartache. It strikes me today that at some point everyone has to start over in life, and while starting over is never easy, it’s always possible. It’s the “possible” that matters most.

Take a Breath today. A Bible passage declares, “With God all things are possible.” That doesn’t mean God wipes away the past, anymore than God stops a storm or a bombing or a factory from collapsing. It simply means that starting over is possible. Always possible. Life after the death. Life after the divorce. Life after the surgery. Life after the storm. At some point everyone has to find life after something.

Many years ago I wrote this prayer in one of my journals: “I know where I’ve been. I’m not sure where I’m going. O God, help me.” Perhaps you would like to pray it today, too. Whoever you are. Whatever you are facing. “I know where I’ve been. I’m not sure where I’m going. O God, help me.” I feel certain that people in Oklahoma, in their own way, with their own kind of tears, are praying the same prayer.

May 21, 2013
by Dr. R. Scott
2 Comments

Inspire.

Think for a moment that there’s something inside you. A certain kind of energy. It’s your way of looking at the world. A living collection of experience that belongs to you and you alone. It’s your wholeness and brokenness. The quirky you. And running through all of it is thought. And feeling. And what you value. Perhaps it’s the idea that you believe the world has more good than evil. You believe it. Even in the face of contrary evidence. Or perhaps you have the idea that making something beautiful is what makes life worth living. And so you live for beauty. Celebrating it every chance you get.

Take a Breath today. Take the uniqueness that is you and inspire someone. Yes — You. Can. Inspire. Someone.

Inspiring is not the same as impressing. Don’t worry about impressing. It’s only when we give up on impressing that we actually begin inspiring. Inspiring is not about being good enough or smart enough or famous enough. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking that “as soon as I improve, then I’ll begin to inspire.” That’s not how it works. You don’t have to be better; you do have to be generous. An act of kindness can inspire. An encouraging word goes a long way, too. Doing the right thing, even when you think no one is looking, inspires people. And here’s one: Being who you really are inspires, because too many of us spend way too much time trying to be something we’re not.

Take a Breath today. Take the uniqueness that is you and inspire someone. Yes — You. Can. Inspire. Someone.

May 14, 2013
by Dr. R. Scott
1 Comment

Real. Reality. Really.

It takes such courage to tell our story. But when we tell it — without shame, without self-consciousness, without embarrassment — there’s hardly anything better. I’ve been thinking about that lately as I celebrate the publication of a new book by my friend, Karen Leahy. Her book — The Summer of Yes — is an insightful look into the life of a teenager who makes the decision to become a nun, and her subsequent journey into adulthood and spiritual maturity. I love the fact that Karen had enough awareness, not to mention guts, to tell her story in a real and meaningful way. You can find her book on Amazon, and needless to say, I found her story fascinating and inspiring. But why? The way I would frame it is this: I’m always inspired when I hear a human story that moves a person closer and closer to his or her real reality. Take a Breath. Read a book. It’s the real reality that really matters, and I found it in Karen Leahy’s new book — The Summer of Yes.

May 13, 2013
by Dr. R. Scott
2 Comments

Monday. Perspective.

So, the problems you had last week are still with you this week. How do we find new perspectives on our problems? There’s not a simple answer to that question, yet how we answer it often determines our personal happiness. To have a perspective means we choose a certain way, a different way, a unique way of looking at life. Some problems do not go away, which is why choosing healthy perspectives is so essential to our living.

A few suggestions for a Monday morning . . .

1. Choose to look at this day with gratitude. To be grateful doesn’t mean everything is okay; it simply means you have the perspective that today is a gift and you want to live it with as much joy and dignity as possible.

2. Choose to see that there is a difference between having a problem and being a problem. Everyone has problems, but not everyone has to allow problems to define the totality of his or her life.

3. Choose to view your problems as learning opportunities. Every person, every experience, every moment of life is infused with the miracle of a didactic opportunity; there’s nothing that brings us more life than learning.

It’s Monday. Take a Breath. Embrace, if only for today, a new perspective.

May 7, 2013
by Dr. R. Scott
5 Comments

The “Great” Gatsby.

My suggestion is several decades too late, but really, F. Scott Fitzgerald should have used quotation marks around the word “great,” because by “great” in his book The Great Gatsby, he meant “not so great,” as in, ironically speaking, what appears “great” isn’t that “great” at all. In fact, what is “great” in The Great Gatsby is sad and vacuous. A wingless bird falling through the sky. The word is used ironically, and at the beginning of the 21st century, irony seems to be on the endangered species list.

I just finished reading Fitzgerald’s iconic American novel, and I loved it again and again and again. The language. The story. The dialogue. But Jay Gatsby is like someone you meet at a Hollywood cocktail party — interesting and appealing and about as substantive as a mouthful of cotton candy. What is there? Is there any there there? Style? Yes. Substance? Hmm . . .

Take a Breath. Read the book. Watch the movie. (Both versions of the movie.) But consider this: The appeal of Gatsby is that all of us from time to time want to be something else, someone else, living a life bigger and more exciting than what we normally hammer out week after week. (There are so many different lives within a single person.) But in the end, Fitzgerald was saying: Don’t be like Gatsby. Because sometimes what we think is “great” isn’t that “great” at all.

May 5, 2013
by Dr. R. Scott
6 Comments

Wisdom. Thoughts.

1. Finding your path is more important than finding your location.

2. Knowing who you are is better than deciding what to do.

2. Understanding another person should never include diminishing yourself.

3. Stating your vulnerability is not a sign of weakness.

4. Stating what you want is not a sign of selfishness.

5. Lifting up another person is the most sacred thing you can do.

6. Rescuing another person is impossible, but that doesn’t stop most of us from trying.

7. Toxic people are toxic, and no amount of niceness will change them.

8. Believing tomorrow can be better than today is not foolishness; it is hope.

9. Living life with gratitude doesn’t guarantee that life will be better, but it will be better.

10. Sometimes all we need to do is take a breath, and surprisingly, wisdom arrives.

April 30, 2013
by Dr. R. Scott
6 Comments

Kidney. Stone.

No one wakes up and says, “What a great day for a kidney stone!” Or a heart attack. Or a car accident. Or any number of ways life can take a wrong turn without a moment’s notice. But that’s exactly what happened to me this past Sunday morning — A kidney stone attack, and instead of welcoming new members at church and performing a baptism and preaching a sermon and doing a photo shoot and meeting with a couple for a counseling appointment, I spent the day at the hospital in excruciating pain.

I seem to be doing fine now, and yes for those of you who are interested, I’ve included the above photo of my recently passed stone.

I’m grateful for every single day, but after a kidney stone, let’s just say you’re a little more grateful for good health and the pleasure of an ordinary day.

Philosophers and theologians have longed noted the “radical contingency of all things.” It’s a way of saying that life changes. In fact, life is always changing. It’s even in a state of flux. And unless we find a way to embrace change, we’ll spend the rest of our days wrung out in complete misery.

Take a Breath today. What are you doing right now? What are you planning to do tonight? Will you be present with your life? Will you be here now? Be here with the life you have? Will you notice the little things? Will you make life better for another person? Will you bring a little reverence to your existence? And joy? And pleasure?

Is there something you need to put into perspective? It’s funny how what is important before you go into the hospital, isn’t quite as important when you’re actually in the hospital.

Oh, how this great whirling planet spins and spins and tumbles us all like rocks on a seashore. But I try to believe (some days better than others) that this great tumbling isn’t trying to destroy us; it’s trying to polish us into something more beautiful.

April 26, 2013
by Dr. R. Scott
9 Comments

Stream. Of. Consciousness.

I’m watching Rocky and grieving. Sorry. If you want positive, uplifting, inspiring energy, you’ve come to the wrong place. Just being honest.

Marti is in Indiana and we sold Lucy Hill Farm this week. Our little slice of Paradiso. And Inferno. But mostly Paradiso. Seventy acres. A forest. A meadow. A stream. Boxes packed. Furniture given to the kids. I guess I won’t even have a chance to say good-bye. It’s right, of course, and makes sense. We’re 2000 miles away. Nothing but an expense. Can’t take care of it. Never get back there. Plus, farms are for young people. Too much work.

I’m here in Los Angeles with the dogs and they don’t know what is going on, but they suspect something is up. Like me, the dogs would rather go north to Big Sur and Carmel and Monterey, but tonight they’re looking at me the way Adrian looks at Rocky. Loving. Caring. Bemused. Confused. Homeless. That’s how I feel today. Homeless. How does that happen?

I’m taking the road less traveled, but what about the other road? How do you feel about the road not taken? The relationship you left? The job turned down? The broken heart that never mended?

Even when you know it’s the right thing — you’re done, it’s over, completely wrong for you, something better will come along — you still grieve. Loss is loss, and it doesn’t matter if it is rational or irrational, your choice or the choice of another. Our first Labrador, Lucy, is buried at the beginning of a trail that leads through the woods, past dogwood trees and redbud trees and maple trees that turn so red in the fall that from a distance they look like they’re on fire.

Friday is my day off, whatever that means, and I took it today. I haven’t spoken to another person all day. Me and the dogs. That’s it. Solitary confinement. I’ve been reading. Writing and thinking. Grocery shopping. Cheese Shop in Silverlake. And now I’m watching Rocky. There was a lot more yelling in Rocky I than what I remembered. Paulie. Adrian. Mick practically begged Rocky to be his manager.

I’m thinking that Rocky could have stayed at the slaughterhouse the rest of his life. He was big enough and strong enough. And it was secure. Employment for the rest of his life. What made him think he could fight Apollo?

In the ring. Take a chance. Life changes. Chance and Change are twins like Cuff and Link. No guarantees, of course. You say good-bye with not a hello in sight.

Have you ever wondered: What in the world am I doing?

That’s Rocky. That’s where I am today.

I’ve concluded that we Take a Breath because we don’t know what is next. And in between one breath and another breath, one breath and another breath, one breath and another breath, the piano notes from the Rocky soundtrack drop like oranges to a tile kitchen floor. And God works. And God. Works. And we breath. And God works.

Bono once said that his two favorite songs were: Amazing Grace and Help Me Make It Through the Night. I vote for the latter.

God works. We breath. And we yell for Adrian. Oh my, there are so many different ways of praying.

April 26, 2013
by Dr. R. Scott
3 Comments

42.

I know the critics have said that it’s not a great movie. That it’s more of a television movie rather than a major film. That it lacks grit and complexity. Fine. But I liked the movie 42 and I think it’s worth seeing, if for no other reason than the story of baseball player Jackie Robinson is worth hearing and celebrating.

It’s an inspiring film. One of courage and great heart. It’s hard to imagine now, but as the first African American to play in the Major League, Robinson endured terrible hardship and overcame many obstacles. The film is also remarkable for how it portrays a marriage, and how two people stood beside one another with dignity and love.

There are no car chases. No one is blown up. No gratuitous violence or sex. It’s a moving human story told in a straightforward simple way, and most of all, it’s the kind of movie that will make you stand up taller, live better, and face your challenges with greater courage. Take a Breath this weekend and go and see 42.

April 22, 2013
by Dr. R. Scott
6 Comments

Sculpting. Spiritual. Life.

I recently visited the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA), and was particularly struck by a series of sculptures by the artist Matisse. I normally think of Matisse as a painter, not as a sculptor, but I was amazed by these works.

They’re sculptures of the same person, but over the years Matisse moved from a more literal work of art to one that was much more impressionistic and abstract. This movement from the literal to the abstract is a healthy one, a much needed one in our lives, and one that is especially applicable to spirituality.

As a child I was taught the literal Bible stories. Jesus did this. And then he did that. It was all literal. In graduate school I embraced these stories in a different way. I knew the literal story, but then I became familiar with the history of how that story developed. I learned not to take the stories too literally, because Mark had his version and Matthew had his version and Luke had his version. And today, while I appreciate the history of the stories, I read them much more abstractly. Not so much concerned about what Jesus literally did or what Matthew and Mark literally meant, but I read them with a certain aesthetic in mind, a need to piece together a spiritual / psychological structure that is primarily existential. In some ways the stories of the Bible disappear, and yet they are more important than when I read them literally.

I think the whole of a spiritual life should be moving from literal to abstract. Once cherished, foundational, literal views of marriage are much more abstracted thirty years after marriage. Hard and fast viewpoints on justice become more abstracted with compassion and patience. Or to quote that famous theological duo, Sonny and Cher, the “beat goes on and on and on.” Thinking and feeling evolve. Or at least it should.

I sometimes feel sorry for Christians who lock into a literal approach to life and faith. They know who is right and who is wrong. They know what God’s truth is and isn’t. They know who is going to heaven and hell. Yet, all of this ostensible certainty has been the opposite of my experience. I started out with the certainty of facts, only to discover that the “facts” were opinions, and that what I thought was a monolithic truth was indeed a complex of different layers and nuance.

That’s a humbling moment, of course, to recognize that your certainty is indeed only a perspective, but it’s also liberating. Matisse didn’t intentionally try to create a unified series of sculptures, but placed side by side as they are at LACMA, you see that this is how he grew and changed as an artist. From literal to abstract. From specific to universal. From obvious to mystical.

Take a Breath today. Perhaps the great artist is teaching us something profound about how we live and think and feel. And also how we embrace what we call GOD / God / god / mysterioussourceofallthatisdivineenergymotherandfatherofusalllightandloveandgoodnesseternalandwithoutend . . .