Healing

Of All The Nerve:   Wheelchairs, Sciatica, And Equality

Of All The Nerve: Wheelchairs, Sciatica, And Equality

"Life" Issues, activism, autonomy, awareness, Challenge, Change, Christianity, Church, citizenship, civics, community, Compassion, culture, disability, empathy, entering into suffering, Equality, Ethics, Freedom, Gratitude, Healing, health insurance, Healthcare, mindfulness, movement, progressive politics, solidarity, Suffering, The long and difficult road
I had never thought much about physical disabilities until the autumn of 2012, when an  airplane flight from Hell from Wichita, KS, to Denver – long horror story ... please don't ask! -- squeezed me into a last-row seat of a tiny Embraer jet aircraft for four hours, resulting in a severely compressed sciatic nerve that basically crippled me for several months. At first, the pain was so intense that I thought I would die, then later on, the pain was so intense I was afraid I would not. (My wife and I slept in our first-floor guest suite for some period of time.) Gradually, thanks mainly to the intervention of an excellent chiropractor, I incrementally, over a period of about four months, recovered to the point that, instead of walking half the length of my driveway, I can now walk perh
Suicide And The Tyranny Of Altruism

Suicide And The Tyranny Of Altruism

"Life" Issues, Abrahamic Traditions, Albert Camus, autonomy, awareness, Broken Heart, C. S. Lewis, Character of God, Christianity, Church, Comfort, community, Compassion, conflict, contemplation, courage, Creator, critical judgment, culture, Discernment, Ethics, faith, faithfulness, God, Grief, Healing, healing moment, in memory of, Lewis, Mystery, Pain and Suffering, Philosophy, Problem of Evil, reflection, relationships, Religion, remembrance, sadness, Suffering, The Divine, Theodicy, Theology, Uncategorized
This “Skeptic’s” column tackles a subject that is both delicate and volatile:  suicide. People who have known me for a fairly long time are well acquainted with a time in my life – during the time in Boston at Harvard and later at Seattle University  during the equally ill-advised quest for the MDiv -- when I was undergoing episodes of very  severe, quite arguably pre-suicidal, clinical depression. So – for the benefit of those people, for “my mariners, souls that have toiled and wrought and thought with me” – I want to emphasize that the following column does not describe me as I am now. Quite the contrary. I am not in crisis. I am not depressed. I am not afflicted with suicidal ideation – a term I came to know all too intimately during the “winter of [my] discontent”. So those of you

time for the temple whores to sleep with insanity

Healing, peace, poem, Poetry
originally published in The BeZine does it bloom, this horror, from my nonEuropean roots from the scent of cinnamon in my blood? the brown and yellow tinges of my skin? or is it just your old soul and mine and this intuition we share on the ground of one another’s battles, witness the fuming anger feeding disenchantment in the street and the acquisitive tendencies of the elite, cowardly saber-rattling, cut off from authority, from that innate expressively honest power of our erotic selves, our instinctive selves, the non-rational knowing that embodies strength, nothing weak or pornographic in its expression, a profound antithesis to the pornography of war and hate that, in the end, is about impotence, about the emboli of narrow minds, grasping oligarchs fomenting triba