Suicide: Getting to Resilient

                        

            Five percent.  One out of twenty.  That’s the reality of our community, our country.  Within the last year, one out of twenty adults seriously considered ending their life.

            Suicide.  It is an epidemic, and we don’t talk about it much.  Suicide talk is taboo.  Don’t go there.  But, we must.   

            Every person needs to be connected to at least one other person, and to be able to reach out, talk about depression, sadness, and hopelessness.  We all need hope, an expectation that there is a tomorrow, there is opportunity for change, that our lives make a difference, and that life is worth living. Life’s problems can’t be only on our own shoulders. 

            Last week, I was part of a workshop, getting trained with skills to take on this intensely personal problem, to be a first responder in addressing suicide in our culture.  Applied Suicide Intervention Skills Training (ASIST) is a national movement to develop a first response model in our communities.  Evidence based models and techniques gave us the tools and the confidence to reach out and connect with someone who is possibly contemplating ending their life. 

            Invite a conversation, and plunge into the “perfect storm” that is roaring through their lives, and make connection.  When the signs are there, find the courage to “ask the question” and begin talking about suicide, and options for change, connecting them with you and connecting them with resources to be able to move ahead with their lives, and regain hope. 

            Suicidal thoughts have stormed through my own life, sometimes ending lives far too early, or paralyzing people with deep depression and isolation.  Surviving family and friends are wracked with uncertainly and chaos, leaving profound questions unanswered and lives thrown off track. 

            Making connections is what changes lives and saves lives.  What I’ve learned in life, and relearned at the ASIST training, is that you do connect.  You do reach out, engage people, and show your genuine concern for them and their well-being.  You connect with your own humanity and your fellows, and make that vital one to one connection. 

            Showing concern and empathy, and making that connection often saves lives and gives people a new sense of hope and possibility in their lives. 

            Help make them safe now, and help them develop their plan to be safe now.

            When you have that conversation, make those connections, one to one.  And, help them connect with others; not only with friends and family, but professional care givers and health care providers.  Be the gatekeeper for them and help them find their way. 

            The National Suicide Prevention Hot Line, 1-800-243-8255(TALK) is a  valuable resource. I’ve added it to my phone contacts.  Other resources: http://suicidepreventionlifeline.org, Youthline (1-877-YOUTH-911) and their text: TEEN2TEEN@839863.

            Connect with your local mental health services provider.  In my hometown, Tillamook, their crisis line is 800-962-2851.

            All of these services operate 24 hours a day, because suicide is a 24 hour a day issue of community wide concern. 

            Help build a resilient, safe community.

            ----Neal Lemery 9/1/2016 

Really Listening

                                                Really Listening

I listen to the quiet between the words.  In that interval between the sounds of us talking, the true, deep meaning is to be found, if only I am gentle with myself, and the speaker, moving into the space of the depth of true understanding.

If I listen to myself and to you, truly listen, then I will hear your true voice, and mine.  I will hear the message that I need to listen, deeply, intentionally, and with love and understanding.  In that lies my intention. I will connect with the heart of our true conversation.

Yes, the words have meaning, and stories are told from the words, and then some.  More.  I listen to the sentences, the rhythm of the speaker, inflections, the rising and falling of the cadence of the words.  I am led gently down the path of the storyteller, and shown the meaning of the words.

What is really being told here, I wonder.  There is more, there is always more.  My task is that of the explorer, the miner digging for the gold in the midst of the rubble, the ordinary chit-chat that often passes for conversation. Herein lies something even greater. So, truly listen.

Go deeper, I am sensing.  There is more to this than just what I am hearing, what is being said.

Underneath this, there is more.  I can feel it deep within me.

There are many layers to this tale, and I listen harder, taking in the silence, strewn among the spoken words, wanting everything that is revealed. I am seeking the message of the silence, exploring its vocabulary, its nuances.  What are you really saying here? And, what am I being called to really hear?

We feel the silence now; the spoken words uttered.  There is tension, the tension of the anticipated, the expected, the comforting patter of more words, more sounds. 

I am on edge; we both are.  This space between these words is new, irritating, literally dis-quieting.  I find myself yearning for a word, a phrase, to keep the banter going.  Part of me is reticent, to not really listen.  Do I prefer banality? Being on the surface, and not going deep.  Can’t I stay here, gliding on the mere surface of our conversation? Then, I won’t have to ponder the silences, and hear in my heart the real meaning of what your heart is saying.

Now I hear your breath, and mine.  There are other sounds, too.  Clothes, papers rustling, air moving, the ordinary background noises of whatever kind of place we are in, the place of normal, everyday conversations, the detritus of our daily lives. 

Yet, when I go deeper, beyond this ordinary sound clutter, my mind literally opens up, expands, so that I can take in all that you are expressing to me, the stuff beyond conversation, beyond the plain words of everyday conversation.

My senses broaden  ---  feeling, seeing, hearing, touching, and yes, even smelling all that you are offering me, in this near vacuum of experience between us. Yet, it is rich and full, and not vacuous, a contradiction.  Or is it? This is rich territory, and, so often, new to me.

If I would only truly sense what you are offering me, I would understand so much more.  You have so much information, so many ideas to express to me, if only I would be open to you, truly open. If I do this right, my senses, my intuition, the entirety of my entire array of sensory neurons would be on fire, overloaded with all that you are telling me.

You share with me in so many ways, ways that we both would agree would be of such enormity that neither of us would be deemed to be competent to assess, even measure.

Henri Nouwen wrote: “Somewhere, we know that without silence words lose their meaning, that without listening, speaking no longer heals; that without distance, closeness cannot cure.

He calls us to visit that “somewhere”, which is beyond our daily, mundane experience, and open ourselves as far as we believe we can go, into new territory of our existence, our humanity. 

He calls us to embrace the silence, and truly listen, to stake out that space between us, and let us be able to reach out to each other within that emptiness, and finally grow.

Now, I can’t reach any further out and listen harder, for the harder I work at this, the more difficult it becomes.  Another conundrum.  But isn’t that life?

The more I try, the less I succeed. No, I need to be now, just be, in all my humanity.  I must listen more gently, easier, more fully with all of my senses, with all of my feelings, on the edges of my soul, my very being.  On the rim of my existence, I must stretch further, letting the experience become in and of itself, beyond mere thought.

In that, I will truly listen to what you are telling me, and I will, at last, hear you, in all of your wonderful mystery and beauty.

                                                --Neal Lemery

                                                11/11/15

Thoughts About Mentoring

“Teach them the quiet words of kindness, to live beyond themselves. Urge them toward excellence, drive them toward gentleness, pull them deep into yourself, pull them upward toward manhood, but softly like an angel arranging clouds. Let your spirit move through them softly.”
― Pat Conroy, The Prince of Tides

When I mentor, I seek to listen, and to respect them, and honor their voices. Perhaps for the first time, they are listened to.

I’m being mentored, too.  I have sent my book manuscript to an editor and have begun the publication process at CreateSpace, at Amazon.  The kind folks there are gently guiding me through the process.  I hope to see the book out in the world at the end of December.  More updates to follow, on this new journey in life. Mentoring Boys to Men: Climbing Their Own Mountains will soon emerge from my cocoon!

More at http://facebook.com/NealCLemery .

Healing

“Until you heal the wounds of your past, you are going to bleed.  You can bandage the bleeding with food, with alcohol, with drugs, with work, with cigarettes, with sex; but eventually, it will all ooze through and stain your life.  You must find the strength to open the wounds, stick your hands inside, pull out the core of the pain that is holding you in your past, the memories and make peace with them.”

   —-Iyanla Vanzant 

Healing

Today, I am healing from surgery, from lasers cutting eyelid skin, sutures lifting and resizing my eyelids, restoring my peripheral vision  I am healing so that I can experience the world in a richer, more complete way.

This morning, I walked down the lane, greeting the early morning sky with a new enthusiasm, with literally a new vision of the new day.  I am re-experiencing the miracle of sight, and of experiencing the world.

Now, my task is to heal.  I rest, I sleep, I eat healthy foods, I manage my pain, and I tend to my wounds.  All of my day’s tasks is focused on my healing from my surgery.  Time is on my side, as I rest and heal, and do the work that is needed to do to recover, to take care of my body, and to celebrate the precious gift of sight.

As I lay back, ice pack on my eyes, letting the cold sink into the skin, into my head, into the wounds, I let the miracle of the cold bring fresh blood to the wounds, more nutrients, more of my life force.  My nature is to seek warm, to be comforted by heat, to soak up the sun and bask in the cozy comfort of my bed, reveling in the last bit of drowziness before my day begins.

Yet, it is the cold, the adversity, that brings the healing.  To be tested, to be on the edge, and to have to struggle a bit, against the cold, that makes my body stronger, that brings the healing energies I need.  

This process is a metaphor of my struggles as a man, to be able to see my wounds, and to take the steps I need to heal, and to be a complete, whole man.

As I grew up, and as I lived through childhood, teenage life, adolescence, and young adulthood, I was wounded.  I struggled, and my questions of who I was and what I was all about were unanswered, even mocked, ridiculed.  I faced violence, indifference, degradation, and falsehoods.  I was led into the wilderness, and then laughed at when I became lost, uncertain as to where I should walk to find my future, my sense of place, my sense of being in this world.

Love of self, and love of others remained a mystery to me, and I was left in the cold, unsure of who I was, unsure of what my role in this world was to be.  I was lost and needed to be found, and to find myself.

Those wounds did not bleed like the wounds on my eyes this week.  Those wounds were not so easily treated, with sutures, and salves, and the healing powers and potions of my surgeons and nurses.  Those wounds were not easily cleansed by sleep, and food, and the loving care of my family.  

Yet, those wounds were the most painful, and the most dehumanizing.  I was led to believe they did not exist, yet they were the most infectious, the most unnerving, the hardest to treat.  

Other men embraced me, encouraging me to push my shoulders back, to open my eyes, and embrace these wounds, and to embrace the challenges of becoming a whole man, a healthy man, a man who has his place in the world, and a destiny to fulfill.  

Yes, I am a good person, I am a child of God, I am healthy, and strong, and I have purpose in my life.  I have a place in this planet, and I am valued.  I am important, and capable of fulfilling my destiny.

I have work to do.  I have missions to accomplish.  I have tasks to complete, and I am called to be a citizen of the world, and to do good in my life.  And, in preparing for that work, in undertaking that work, I must tend to my wounds, and I must do the healing that is needed in order to be healthy, to be strong.

Real health, and real strength comes from embracing my manhood, from seeing my wounds, and treating them.  It is my task to open them, and less the puss and infection drain away, and then it is time for the healing.  I have a duty to heal, and to give time to myself to be tender with myself, to clean the infection, and to medicate myself with unconditional love and understanding, with acceptance, and with a friendship with God, so that I become healed.

Others helped me.  Others showed me the paths to take, and the medications to use.  Others offered advice and direction, and comfort.  But, most of all, they offered me unconditional love and acceptance, of who I was, and who I was becoming.  They accepted me on my journey, and offered support, and kindness, and understanding.  They offered patience with me, giving me time to grow, and to heal.  

The real work was done deep inside of me.  I needed time and confidence, I needed to find my own tools, and to learn how to use them.  I needed to go deep, and to connect with God, and to find who I am really am.  

I needed to be on my journey, and to take on the leadership that my soul needed to move ahead in life.  I am the captain of my ship, and I needed to take the wheel, and to sail through the storms, and to plot my course to the safe harbors.  Yet, I needed to be tested and to discover, for myself, that I am strong, that I am capable, that I am filled with love, and that, if I put my soul into a struggle, then I will succeed, and I will find my destiny.

Today, I heal.  Today, I move on, learning, accepting, meeting the challenges of today.  Today, I embrace my manhood, my humanity, my cloak of being a child of God.  I am loved, and I am loving.  I know my destiny.

—-Neal Lemery, 2/21/2014

Towards Becoming A Better Person: Ubuntu

Towards Becoming A Complete Person

In the Xhosa culture of South Africa, there is a word, ubuntu.  Roughly translated, it is the concept of "a  person is a person through other persons".  That is, I am not who I am really meant to be in this life, unless I am in service to, and compassionate towards other persons.  It is only through empathy, compassion, and service that I fulfill my mission in this life to God to be whole, to be complete.  One's life is not fulfilled and does not have complete and honest meaning unless one is of service to others, and is fully compassionate.

Desmond Tutu writes of this concept, this essence of culture and humanity, in his book, God is Not A Christian: Speaking Truth in Times of Crisis. (2011).

Much of Western thought is exemplified by Descartes' maxim, "I think, therefore, I am."  Yet, Archbishop Tutu urges us to think outside of Western thought, and view our lives in terms of "I am because I belong."  We need other human beings to survive, and to find real meaning in our lives.

Each of us is different, and we each have gifts.  Our gifts are not the gifts of our neighbors, and our neighbors' gifts are not ours.  In that, we have need for each other.

"Ubuntu speaks of spiritual attributes such as generosity, hospitality, compassion, caring, sharing.  You could be affluent in material possession, but still be without ubuntu.  This concept speaks of how people are more important than things, than profits, than material possessions.  It speaks about the intrinsic worth of people not dependent on extraneous things such as status, race, creed, gender or achievement."  (Tutu, p 22)

In Xhosa culture, ubuntu is cherished and coveted more than anything else.  This quality in people distinguishes people from other animals.

Western society has made enormous progress, because of our personal drive and initiative.  Yet, there are substantial costs to this "progress".  People are lonely, and there is an obsession with achievement and success.  Such a culture views failure as a personal, even moral, disaster.  We tend to not forgive and to accept people who have "failed" in the eyes of society.

Such a culture does not give much value to forgiveness and compassion.  We tend to not understand suffering, or to identify with people who are suffering, including ourselves.  In that experience and view, we risk becoming less human, less fulfilled.

In other cultures, such as the Maori of New Zealand, and Aborigines in Australia, each person is highly valued, and each person has a a clear identity and role in their culture.  Everyone has value, and everyone's participation in society has a cherished value in that society.  Everyone is worthy, and everyone has a story to tell.

Indeed, we are here so that we can tell our story, and the story of our people.  In that story is the connection with others, with living our lives with and through other people.  And, as we go about our lives, we are in service to and living for the benefit of others.  Compassion and forgiveness, rehabilitation, and acceptance, are all strong and cherished values.  In life, we are here to help others connect with God, with their people, and with the stories of our brothers and sisters, our neighbors, and with the world.  We are interconnected, and in that interconnectedness, there is love and purpose.

Not that the Xhosa, the Maori, or the Aborigines have perfect, ideal cultures, and not that they are always happy and fulfilled.  Like any people, they have their problems, and their stresses, as well as their struggles and deep questions.  Yet, they have a strong sense of community and they deeply value every member.  Everyone has a role to play, and a mission in their lives to serve others, to be a part of the greater whole.

Forgiveness is a challenging topic.  Contemplating true forgiveness, for me, is often a struggle and a dilemma.  I do not find easy answers and easy solutions to the hard questions and the difficult anxieties and challenges I have about many things.

Yet, if I approach my wrestling matches with a sense of Ubuntu, and passion towards finding forgiveness deep inside of my soul, then I can see that much of my struggles are eased, and that there is a way out of the wilderness, and that I am moving forward on my path to trying to live better, to live more honestly.  The burdens I have are lifted a bit, and I can see a glimmer of the Light ahead in my journey.

Neal Lemery
2/9/2014

Giving Back

"Why are you still volunteering and helping out those kids?  You're retired now, and, they aren't your kids.  They shouldn't be your worry."

Someone asked me that the other day, their words strong, edgy with bitterness.  They were wondering why I was helping others out in the community, giving of my time, helping other make something of their life.  It wasn't my job, right?

I was taken aback.  After all, being involved in my community is something I've always done.

  As a kid, I'd help with chores, or run an errand or mow the neighbor's lawn when they were gone, or feed their pets.  I'd help out on my grandparents' farm, and get involved in some project.  At dinner, there'd sometimes be an extra kid, and a little more love flying around the kitchen table. When there was a need, you just did what was needed.  No questions asked.

That idea of helping in the community has always just been part of my life. It never occurred to me to me to wonder why, or think that being helpful wasn't just part of living in a small town, or even the world.

Other people helped me, without me asking, too.  It is just what we do.  When I was a kid, a lot of people gave me the support I needed to apply myself, set goals, and work hard.  And, when it is my turn to be the cheerleader, that voice of encouragement, I  speak up, and I take action.

This summer, I've spent some time helping a young man focus on getting ready to start his junior year at a university.  He's worked hard the last few years, taking on line classes, and doing well, making time to study and write his papers in between all the other demands of his busy life.

Now, he's able to actually be on campus, sit in a class and be involved in college life.  He's making that transition from the technology and isolation of a computer, to the excitement and interaction of a busy university campus.  And, I've made the time to be supportive, to sit down with him and his advisors, watch him plan his schedule, and attend to the countless details that are needed to be a successful college student.  It's tough doing that on your own, and when you're the first one in your family going to college, it's also lonely and scary.

He's not my kid, but then, again, he is, an important part of my family.  He's lived in my village, he's part of my community, and his brains and ambition are part of the real treasure we have in our young people.  He's everyone's kid. When he gets smarter, the village gets smarter, and we all benefit.
 
He's already a leader and a problem solver.  He's got the ambition and moxie to move ahead in his life, and to realize his dreams.  I want that energy building our village, and our country.  I want that kind of problem solving and leadership out in the world, taking on the tough problems, and thinking outside of the box.

The little I do, some words of encouragement, a trip to the campus, a visit to the bookstore, and a steady hand on his shoulder when the path gets a little rocky, is about the best investment I can make in the future.  And, not just his future.  His future successes and smart ideas, and focused leadership is also going to improve my life, and make my village a better place to live.

I've received, and I've given back.  I've come full circle in the helping one's neighbor view of the world.  I've seen the planting, and the harvest, season after season.  That kind of farm work, the raising up of others to achieve their dreams, and to reach for the stars, is what we are here for.

And, in the end of all that care and compassion for our fellow humankind, we might even end up with a better world for everyone.


Neal Lemery, 10/1/2013

Wisdom I Heard This Week

Eckhart Tolle

“May I suggest a deeper and somewhat unusual perspective on who you are?

You are not just a person, and you are not IN the Universe.

You ARE the Universe, which IN YOU is awakening, experiencing itself, becoming conscious. That consciousness is who you are in essence. We are all fleeting expressions of it. The Universe awakens THROUGH experiencing challenges and limitations. That means YOU awaken and deepen through your challenges, as does humanity as a whole. So welcome or at least accept all that life brings you. Change what can be changed, otherwise surrender to what IS. Feel the Presence within you as the background to every experience. Know that, as Jesus put it, ‘you are the light of the world.’ “

With love

Eckhart Tolle

Johnny Moses, Salish storyteller  

You decide if you want to live, or if you want to die.

If you decide you want to live, you also need to decide how you will live.

Every day is a new start, a rebirth, a new beginning.  You can’t go back.  You have to move ahead.  

Love yourself.  Respect yourself.  The power of loving yourself is transformative.

Every adult in the village can be a parent.  When you are growing up, you need a lot of parents.  

In the Salish language,

the words for singing and crying are the same

the words for death and change are the same

(Life is a process of change.  Embrace that change and move on.  Be reborn.)

In Salish culture, you are not a man until you can cry for your people.  When boys learn to cry and share their emotions, then they become men.

Notes from the Dalai Lama’s Talk on Compassion

Portland, Oregon, May 11, 2013

“Compassion means genuine loving kindness, the wish for others to be happy.  All the world’s religions -- every one -- message is compassion.  We need the practice of tolerance.  We need the practice of forgiveness.”

People of faith who aim to practice these values must be serious about it.  

“In many cases, religious practice is simply lip service.  Talk compassion, do something different.  Sometimes religion teaches us hypocrisy.”

“We can see among non-believers some people really dedicated to serving other people.  Be a compassionate person, not necessarily a religious believer.”

“Compassion is the key factor one one’s own well-being.  We are social animals, but those dogs always barking often remain lonely.”

Compassion includes tolerance and acceptance.  Anger is counter-balanced by tolerance and acceptance.  

Serving others is a tradition of all religions.  All religions have the same potential.

Be truly, sincerely committed.  Everyone needs the practice of compassion, in order to be happy.  Compassion is not only for religious people.

Compassion and affection are biological in nature.  (For example, nurturing a baby.)  As we grow older, greed and self-centeredness erode our compassion.  These are the costs of growing up.  

Religious tradition builds on the biological compassion, to encourage a lifetime of compassion.  All faiths have a tradition of compassion.  

Affection, action, and research are our karma in our lives.  When change occurs, we need to research, re-evaluate, take action, and change.   Action that is positive results in happiness.

A materialistic life is a cultural habit, and is living at a superficial level.  It is animal thinking.  So, go broader.  Humans are able to reason.  Use reason to extend compassion to all levels, all people.  Change your thinking.

Materialism is not happiness.  

The hygiene of emotion.  Our emotional state is as important as our physical state.  We need to educate ourselves and others about emotional health.  

This is “secular ethics”.  “Secular” means to respect all religions and the non-believer.  

Religion promotes basic human values, but, often, religious practices and views corrupt this.  The ruling class can corrupt this, and there is often bullying.  

Institutions get corrupted.  We need to recognize this,  change, and oppose this.  Religion isn’t necessarily religious institutions.  

Sincerely gentle people live better, more peaceful, happier lives, and have more friends.  

Affection, a sense of concern, brings trust, brings friendship.

Fear, hate, and anger eats at our immune system.  Compassion increases our immune system.

People, if they are NOT the recipient of affection early on in their lives, are less satisfied, have a lesser sense of love, are more anxious, and less happy.

Be committed.  Be unified with others who are also seeking more compassion in their lives.

(compiled by Neal Lemery) May 18, 2013

Purging Violence In My Life

Purging Violence in My Life

I think it is time for a break.  

I spent a day this weekend at an environmental summit, in the presence of the Dalai Lama, along with 10,000 other people, people who cared enough about their spiritual lives and humankind's impact on the environment to spend a gorgeous spring day inside, listening and absorbing wisdom and spirituality not only from the spiritual leader of Tibet, but also other wise and thought-provoking leaders.

I came away invigorated, stimulated by the sheer simplicity of their wisdom, and their ideas to change how we live, and what we are here on this planet to accomplish.  

A week earlier, I had gone to the movies with my wife, sitting through a showing of the latest superhero blockbuster, nearly two hours of loud explosions, terrorism, weapons gadgetry, and death.  Oh, the good guys "won" in the end, and all was right with the world, and all the violence and death was just "fantasy".  

I'm not sure my mind could really tell the difference, and during the next few days, I felt disoriented, out of sorts, not in tune with who I strive to be, and how I want to live my life.  

Now, the contrast from watching the movie and listening to an inspiring talk about compassion and one's purpose in life, and how we can serve others, churns inside of me.  The two experiences, a week apart, have left me feeling incongruent, conflicted, not easily reconciled.

I visit our local youth prison quite a bit, mentoring young men who are locked up for six or seven years, men who have worked on their addictions, their anger, their rage, and the abuse they've experienced, and inflicted on others, men who are trying to move on with their lives, trying to find some peace, and some purpose for their rejuvenated, rehabilitated lives.  

Violence and rage hasn't suited them very well, and they are paying the price.  Our society has come up with the simplistic solution of locking them up in prison, with a mandatory prison term, and no incentive to earn time off for good behavior, for truly changing their lives.  Such thinking does its share in contributing to anger and rage, and feeling separated, distanced from the community.  

I suppose there is the argument that society is being protected, and they are being punished.  Yet, there are a lot of costs that we are all paying, and will pay in the future, for such an approach to dealing with kids who've been neglected, abused, growing up without parents, in households ravaged by addiction and violence and indifference.  

Does the possibility of seven years in prison really become a factor in the twisted insanity of drugs, neglect, abuse, and sexuality in a fourteen year old, whose brain has yet to achieve any rational degree of processing and controlling emotion?  Somehow, deterrence doesn't seem to be an effective argument for mandatory prison time for these man children, not in this highly sexualized and drug promoting culture.  

A friend of mine often says, "what we permit, we promote."  

I often wonder what we could accomplish in their lives, if the $200 plus dollars a day taxpayers spend to keep each one of these young men in prison had been spent early on in their lives, so that we invested in their childhood, and offered hope, and opportunity, and emotional support, that they may not have ended up here, watching the calendar, a bit fearful of how they are going to cope with being out of prison, how they are going to manage their lives.  

Not having a father in their lives is the norm with the young men I visit, and they feel physically abandoned, emotionally cut off, flawed.  That hunger eats into them, into their souls.

During family visiting time on Mothers' Day, only eight youth, out of the seventy five imprisoned there, were visited by their families.  As I visited with two young men, hearing more about their lives, their hopes, and their dreams, and hopefully instilling a little emotional support and healthy values as we sipped coffee and played a game, I looked at the empty tables, thinking of families not being there for their sons.

And, that is a form of violence in our world, not being there, not being involved in the lives of young men.  

Such violence is not that far removed from the senseless Boston Marathon bombings, or the gang-related shootings in New Orleans during their Mothers' Day parade, shootings that injured nineteen people out for a day with their families, celebrating a bit of parenting, a bit of maternal love and nurturance.  

There is a simple reason we have gangs in our country.  They offer the  feeling of family, the belonging that young men crave.  

And that blockbuster "super hero" movie, it remains the most popular movie on Mothers' Day weekend.  

I can understand why all the ticket-holders for the super hero movie may not be as eager to spend their time listening to an elderly Tibetan monk share his thoughts about human compassion, and how we can change our intentions and our attitudes, and thereby change how we live, and how our community functions.  After all, there aren't any robotic fantasy gadgets and special effects, no exploding bombs and crashing planes, and bullet defying armor to keep up on the edge of our seats.  There aren't any computer animated soundtracks, and a plot where the good guy destroys the bad guys in a burst of light, and color, and noise, loud enough to shake my seat.

Instead, there is a calm, thoughtful voice, and a thoughtful soul-feeding discussion about who we really are, and what we can truly be capable of, if only we use our brains and our hearts.  

I'm going to spend my time now a bit differently,  more of thinking about compassion, more about living my real values, and a lot less time in the movie theatre, or keeping up with the latest headline news shows.  

Neal Lemery, April 13, 2013