The Doctor Takes Frederick

We all love stories, and we all express that love in a wide variety of ways.  Several friends of mine, fans of the long-running BBC series Doctor Who, go to conventions and meet the actors in addition to watching the show.  One of them, Robin, has been working on her Tenth Doctor costume over the past few years, adding another element of interaction with a story that captivates her.

The Bells of St. John are Ringing!

Robin had wanted some photos of her costume for a while, and I have been experimenting with different portraiture to keep myself learning and growing.  A good match!  So, off we went to downtown Frederick on a cold Saturday afternoon.

Don't Blink.

When I photograph people, I am capturing their story, their personality.  It's fun to do that with a larger-than-life character; working together with Robin to bring her portrayal of the Doctor to life was quite the adventure.

Well... !

I am always honored when people tell me their story.  It's fascinating to learn what stories, in turn, captivate them.  I have friends who love the drama of Les Misérables, others who are so immersed in the Harry Potter novels that they may as well have gone to school at Hogwarts, and still others whose hearts ignite when confronted by old poetry and new songs and1950s musicals and the myths and legends of their ancestral homes.

I'm the Doctor, and I save people!

What stories captivate you?

Oi!

Contact Lens Solution and Lessons in Communication

I always forget one thing when I travel.  Just one, and never the same one.

This time, it was my toiletry bag.

I had been invited to spend the weekend with friends for the impending snowstorm, which would dump 2.5 feet on us over the next 48 hours.  The first day ended and i discovered I had no way to preserve my contact lenses overnight.  No one else in the house wore them, so we ended up boiling some water, adding table salt, and finding a bowl into which I put my contacts and homemade saline solution, praying the internet was wrong about amoebas in the water that would get on your contacts and eat your brain.

Snowstorms and amoebas.

The next morning, I asked my friend to ask his neighbors for contact lens solution.  He said he would, but was in the middle of some other things.  Time went by, I asked again, he heard, still kept working on the stuff he was busy with.  I was frustrated.  Then a thought: He doesn't know that I can only see six inches in front of me.  Fear of brain-eating amoebas had kept me from putting my contacts in, so I had remained incredibly nearsighted all morning.  I mentioned again that I needed contact lens solution, this time explaining my nearsightedness.  he heard and began the process of going to the neighbor's house.

Then another thought came: Why are you making it his responsibility to get you contact lens solution?  Do it yourself, you're not six.  I got my act together, trudged through the snow, knocked on a door, and got a travel-size solution bottle.

I was nearsighted that morning in more ways than one.  And I came away with the revelation that asking these two questions of myself will prevent many conflicts and misunderstandings in the future:

  • Have I fully communicated my needs to this person?
  • Am I asking this person to do something that is actually my responsibility?

Next time you get frustrated with someone, step back and examine yourself.  Because maybe you are the one who needs to shift your thinking. Deal first with your nearsightedness. Only after that can you help another person to see better themselves.

Investment is Not About Money

There is an old story about a rich man who invested in three individuals, giving about $5 million to one, $2 million to another, and $1 million to the third.  He went away on a journey, expecting to find, when he was to come home again, that they had stewarded his investments and made a good return.  Upon his arrival, he discovered that the first two had doubled his investment, while the third simply buried it for safekeeping.  The first two, he praised; the third, he denounced as lazy, even evil.

This story, told by Jesus, is not about money, and it's about far more than I will write here.  Nevertheless, perhaps a question behind the story can be stated this way:

What will you do with the life you have been given?

Belle Island, Richmond.

It's easy for me to ask myself this question and feel an immense burden to do something meaningful and lasting and great, in essence paralyzing myself into inaction - afraid to mess up and consequently doing nothing at all.  I have a tendency like that third individual, to put my gifts in the bank and wait.

Bu what if the question is not a burden, but an invitation?  In the story I mention, we see great wrath come upon the lazy man for his inaction.  That cannot be taken lightly.  At the same time, what if God asks of us "What will you do with this life I've given to you?" with something of a grin and a gleam in His eye and an outstretched hand? In the midst of whatever uncertainty or self-doubt or difficulty - will you do the wonderful and difficult work of bringing light into a dark place?  Of leaving the world a better place than you found it?

Will you keep going when you fall, when life's disappointments threaten to overwhelm?  Will you wake up and take another risk?  Will you, like Jeremy Cowart has done, replace the word impossible with I'm possible?  What dividends will come through your perseverance in whatever situation comes to your mind as you read this?

I've got things in that bank vault that need to see daylight.  I need to learn to begin each day with this thought - today I have the chance and the choice to invest in hope. Today I can responsibly invest the gifts I've been given.

So:

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
— Mary Oliver

Choose Meaningful Work

Wen was the last time you found yourself in the midst of a project that was deeply fulfilling and truly meaningful?

Do goats have meaningful goals?  Eating everything and climbing the tallest possible object are solid candidates.

Several months ago, during a job interview, I was asked about my college senior design project experience. Having neglected to go back and refresh my memory of that accomplishment, I fumbled my explanation of our work and my contributions.  Yet, when they asked about my Eagle Scout leadership project, which I had completed in 2005, I had no problem sharing what I had accomplished, the challenges I had faced, and a wide variety of specifics throughout that particular design process.  I'd done no refreshing of memory; I had no need for it.

The key difference? Personal buy-in.

My Eagle Scout project mattered to me. The fence we built for the local conservancy provided a habitat for several goats, much to the delight of countless preschool tours and other guests over the last ten years.  While I'm not generally excited about goats, the chance to benefit an important institution in our community, alongside good friends and my father (for whom I was determined to reach Eagle), drove me forward.

My senior design project was, in the end, about a good grade. We were designing a SCRAMjet test rig with grant money from a large aerospace firm.  Interesting work, good friends on the team, decent progress by the completion of the year, and certainly important research.  Yet, frankly, I had little personal stake in it. It was a responsibility, but not a joy - perhaps mostly because I knew I would not see a direct positive effect on my life and community as a result of our work (at least for many years!).

Whenever possible, seek meaningful work. Seek opportunities that align with your heart. Oftentimes, we must do something because it must be done, but the experiences you remember decades later will be those you chose because they truly mattered.

What meaningful project is just over your horizon?

 

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