There's More

Maybe you read it, too.  Hurtling through space, NASA's Kepler Telescope has sent back images of an ancient solar system; a sun with circling planets similar in many ways to our own.

It's not all that far away, either--only about 117 light years.  Why, that's practically around the corner!  Yet it's not its close proximity to us that is the remarkable thing about this neighboring solar system, but how old it is.  Scientists at the University of Birmingham (England...that's even closer--just across the pond!) are saying somewhere around 11 billion years old.  I thought I was getting old!  In comparison, the Earth is a relative teenager: by the time our Earth was formed, the planets in this newly discovered but far from new solar system were already older than the earth is now (about 4.5 billion years old...give or take).

Whether old or new, near or far, it all reminds me that my own little world is kind of small.  I tend to think and live within my own self-drawn boundaries, a relatively miniscule sphere of influence and activity, as if this is all there is.  That's kind of sad, really.  Because, in reality, there is so much more--much of which--MOST of which has yet to be discovered.

Science is a wonder.  It continues to insist that there is more, and continues to prove it, too.  Religion, on the other hand, more often closes rank on a rule-based world in which all that exists is already well-defined.  No wonder the two often clash, and that's too bad.  Because GOOD religion is not incompatible with science--in fact it seeks to do the very same things that science does: to live in the mystery while searching for greater understanding.  The challenge, for those religiously oriented, is to steer far and wide from any notion that we have it all figured out.  Because as soon as we say "we know it all" a new discovery will remind us that we don't...not even close.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, 
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. 

When the Dog Bites

It's mostly healed now.  Mostly.

On Christmas Eve, with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head, I went out for an afternoon jog around the neighborhood.  Just up a nearby street, a small dog (with sharp teeth!) ran out to "greet" me with some Christmas cheer.  I limped home, but not after asking the man who'd called out after the dog if the dog had all his shots.  I wasn't particularly interested in getting a case of rabies as a memento of the holidays.

"Not my dog," he said, as he quickly walked into a house.  "Just helping a friend."

Now, you might expect that once he, or perhaps the dog's caretaker, learned that I'd been bitten there would have been some sign of concern for my well-being.  Unfortunately, whatever spirit they were in, it was not one of care or (dare I say it?) remorse.  Not even an "Are you OK?"

Like I said, the dog bite is mostly healed now.  There was no infection, no rabies.  But I have to be honest, there's a little more healing needed.  You see, the lack of concern shown me has left me bitter and angry toward these strangers.  I've thought about ways to get back--maybe calling animal control or putting up warning posters on their street...I even stopped by the police department to see if they could do something.  And while I have a genuine concern that the dog may be a menace to others less hale and hearty than I, at this point my real concern is this:  how do I let it go and forgive?  How do I truly heal?

Maybe you've been bitten a time or two in the past too. Maybe you've walked away from a situation or encounter feeling wounded.  Time has helped heal things, sure, but beneath the surface there's more healing that needs to happen.  What can you do?  Should you just let it gnaw away at you?  Would you feel better if it could somehow be resolved?  Is there something you can do to help heal the wound?  And what if the other parties involved aren't interested?  Then what?

Forgiveness is a tricky thing--it's hard to do alone and hard to live without.  But in the end, if we don't even try, those old wounds will never heal.  And maybe, in the end, it's in the trying--in the reaching out--in the desire--that the real healing happens.

"How many times should I forgive?"

Here's to a 2015 overflowing with healing and hope: less growling and more healing!  If you enjoy reading, pass them on--invite your friends to subscribe to these occasional posts too at www.realacorns.blogspot.com.

(c) Steve Fiechter, 2015

It's (not!) All In My Head

Not long ago I found myself challenged by some circumstances at work.  As I shared what was going on with a friend, I was (wisely!) reminded that there are many things that are out of my control.

"Steve," he said, "just remember, it's not all in your head."

It was good to be reminded that some things happen in due time and at the will of powers beyond my control.  There are limits to my reach.

There are also limits to that philosophy. Some things ARE within my reach and under my control.... things like my attitude and how I react to the situation at hand.

The trick?  It's in knowing myself and knowing the difference.

And maybe that's a good way to start off a new year--with a heightened sense of awareness:  what can I change, and how can I change?

So here's to a new year:

The serenity to accept the things we cannot change...

The courage to change the things we can...

The wisdom to know the difference...

Wishing you a joyful 2015!  If you enjoy reading, feel free to share, and encourage your friends to follow at www.realacorns.blogspot.com.  Thanks!

(c) 2015, Stephen Fiechter