The Trouble With Talents

I like Jesus.  He has some pretty cool stories.  I like the ones about helping people and the ones about forgiving.  Of course, his parables are open to interpretation, and that is when the trouble starts.  One parable that has troubled me most of my life is the parable of the talents.  This post is not intended to be a Sunday School lesson, so I will not get into the details.  If you have questions about the parable, Google it.

The trouble I have with this parable is the definition of a talent.  As a younger man and through most of my adulthood, I sat through the same classes that echoed the importance of talents from the parable as modern talents (like dancing, singing, and playing the damned piano).  I don't have many fancy talents; I don't dance, sing, or play the piano, so I often felt this lesson didn't apply to me.  I always felt bad for the last guy.  He only got one talent (cooking maybe) and didn't want to lose it, so he just focused on the one talent and kept it safe.  Why should he get in trouble when he kept his talent?  Makes.  No.  Sense.

Unfortunately, when something doesn't make sense to me, it keeps percolating through my brain until it finally rings true.  My answer: A talent was an extremely large sum of money--enough to take care of a household for several years.  Talent=Great Worth.  Something of great worth in a spiritual story is a Truth.  Talent=Truth.

Now tell yourself the story using truth for talents.  Three people are given huge amounts of truth and knowledge.  Two of them use those truths to build up their understanding of the cosmos and explore their world (art, poetry, chemistry, biology, history, philosophy, astronomy, architecture, religion) --adding to their initial truths (good for them).  The third person is also given a tremendous gift of truth, but chooses to ignore the rest of the world around him.  He sticks to what he knows because he believes learning anything else might take away from what he was given (not advisable).

The thing about Truth is it's everywhere.  Don't limit yourself to just one book, church, country, philosophy, religion, god, dance, song, or piano.  We all start out with the basics.  What do you do with yours?

Darkness

A few months ago I listened to a fantastic podcast.  Krista Tippett and Joanna Macy discussed a variety of topics but mostly focused on the work of the German poet Rainer Maria Rilke.  I confess that I had not heard of him before, but I was enthralled with their discussion and his poetry.

The poem "Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower" captured my attention, and I listened to it several times.

Quiet friend who has come so far,

feel how your breathing makes more space around you.

Let this darkness be a bell tower

and you the bell. As you ring,

what batters you becomes your strength.

Move back and forth into the change.

What is it like, such intensity of pain?

If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.

In this uncontainable night,

be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,

the meaning discovered there.

And if the world has ceased to hear you,

say to the silent earth: I flow.

To the rushing water, speak: I am.

Sonnets to Orpheus II, 29

Rainer Maria Rilke

We are bells in the darkness. The harder we are hit, the louder we ring. What I love most is the final stanza. We are told to claim our space. We must affirm our existence and not leave it to chance. The world may ignore us, but that does not diminish our value. We may feel lost, battered, and alone, but we are connected to the earth, to each other, and to the Creator of us all.

ValentiNACHOS!

The Egbert family likes nachos.  A lot.  We continually try, and are disappointed by, various New York establishments that serve nachos with chili or mozzarella cheese on top of stale tortilla chips.  I am not looking for artisan nachos; I am happily satisfied with the cheesy gloop at Del Taco.

Today we went somewhere new:

And were blessed with these:

Were they good?

Oh yes.

We went on a little stroll through one of my favorite places and headed home for a nice winter nap.

 Happy Valentine's Day.

I Believe

I believe in God.

This seems like a simple statement, but it is not.  Perhaps I am over thinking the importance of words, but belief and God carry different meanings to different people.  When I believe in something it means that I trust it to be true, and I trust it.  When I say that I believe in God, it means that God is real, and I trust God.

Defining God is tricky.  As a life-long member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I share many of the traditional Mormon ideas about God.  Mormons believe that God is an exalted being that once experienced his own mortality the same way we live today.  I find comfort in this theology as it shows that God is capable of change.  I like that God can grow and become better tomorrow than he is today.  I suppose that gender pronoun also reveals that I think God is male.  But I don't think that he is alone, and the divine attributes of creator, comforter, and nurturer seem like there must be more to God's personality than an angry, white bearded man floating in the cosmos.

I have a much harder time accepting other concepts and definitions.  Many theologians claim that the only God worthy of our worship is immutable, omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, and omnibenevolent.  I don't agree with such absolute definitions of any god.  In an attempt to prove one religion is better than another, humans continually redefine their God to be the best version.  Somewhere along the discourse one person claimed that their God was perfect and basically trumped the rest.  Now we are stuck with this impossible idea of a perfect God.  But what if God wasn't perfect?  What if perfection isn't an attribute but a process?  Would people still believe in an imperfect God?

I do.

When I think of God, I feel something real and tangible.  I don't understand God as some cosmic puppet master pulling on our strings to control our daily lives, but I see him as a guide--a wiser mentor-- urging us forward through the storms of life.  I see God in the world that surrounds me.  I feel God through the love of family, the kindness of strangers, and the compassion of human race.  We are not perfect, but we are getting better.

We Like Chocolate

Do you like chocolate?  We do.  This past weekend we had a magical adventure:

We took a bus to Union Square

Obligatory funny face gif

Behold the Max Brenner

It is a chocolate themed heaven

The waffle fries are dusted with cocoa powder!

The snozzberries taste like snozzberries!

We walked around after to digest it all and enjoyed this store.

He has no clue... in about 10 years he will appreciate it.

He can appreciate a Captain America door handle.

Max, see you soon.

Star Student

When one is the star student of the week, one must read each letter carefully.

What Do You Believe?

I have a lot of questions about God.  Here are a few:

Is God perfect? 

           gendered?

           real?

           limited?

           absolute?

           corporal?

           devious?

Of course just answering any of these basic questions leads to more questions about the nature of God.  I am not looking for any great theological debates over the existence of God, but I want to know what you believe.  Not what your church/religion/family/nation believes, but what you believe. 

Life as the Reluctant Optimist

This blog had many titles before I finally settled on The Reluctant Optimist.  Some of the titles captured important life moments or just had a quirky pun that made me seem hip.  Every few months I would put up a new title that would revolutionize my corner of the internet.  Eventually I realized that my weblog needed a lasting title, and this one just felt right.

In many ways it seems like some strange contradiction to be a reluctant optimist.  We tend to imagine that an optimist walks around with some goofy grin on their cherubic face happily ignoring the crumbling world that surrounds them.  The optimist is perceived to have their head in the clouds while their counterpart, the pessimist, always seems to be the wet blanket that ruins the party.  While I firmly abhor most every binary system on earth, I make allowance for this one.  A person is either an optimist or a pessimist.  Neither is good, and neither is bad; they just are.  The dichotomy between an optimist and a pessimist is frequently subverted by clever bastards that claim to be realists (a term which I don't understand--we are all realists--no one is pretending to see a dancing unicorn--it doesn't make them seem any smarter--just call yourself a pessimist and get over it).  You can even switch sides if you want, but you can't be in the middle because this concept is all about hope.  You either hope something will happen, or you don't.  You hope for a better world, or you don't.  You feel it in your gut, or you don't.

I am an optimist, and I hate it.

I want to be an ornery man that can grumpily turn my back on all the disappointments in my life, but I can't. A pessimist is rarely disappointed, and when they are it is because something fantastic happened!  I am tired of the disappointments that come from being an optimist, but I cannot change what I feel.

I have hope, and I hate it.  I hope my church will move out of the dark ages and recognize the value of all humans.  I hope my country will move past partisan politics and focus on improving the life of all God's creatures.  I hope this world will realize how we all need each other to survive, and we all live on the same small rock hurdling through space and time.  Even though I will certainly be disappointed by my church, my country and my fellow humans, I still believe in a bright future.

I am an optimist because I want to see the good in people even after they have shown their worst.  I am an optimist because when I hit my lowest points and want to raise my fist to the heavens to curse God, I pause in gratitude because it is a beautiful day and I feel fortunate to be alive to see it.  I am an optimist because no matter how dark the night, how deep the water, how powerful the storm, I feel a better life coming.  I suppose it really comes down to what I have that will always be stronger than life's worst trials:

I have these guys in my corner, and I wouldn't trade them for the world! (I know the picture is blurry on their faces, but I still like it, dammit)

How About Today?

This is a perfect day to start posting on this blog (again).  For the last couple of years I wanted to write about a lot of things:

I wanted to write about my classmates at Columbia and what it was like to bond with such a diverse student body (they were an amazing group of scholars to work with).

I wanted to write about my graduation ceremony and finally getting a BA in Religion (it was incredible to finally finish).

I wanted to pontificate about all that I learned and sum up my studies by giving my personal definition of religion (Religion is the language used between people to communicate the sacred).

I wanted to share our adventures of moving to Harlem and running around NYC (it has been fantastic).

I wanted to record my frustrations and disappointments regarding my never-ending job search (it really sucks but I keep hoping it will pay off).

I wanted to talk about how incredibly happy we are as a family (because we are incredibly happy).

I wanted to share all these things with my friends and family that read this blog, but I didn't.

So here is another attempt to type out the justification of my existence (with a little help from Auto Awesome).

Over the last couple years we:

Played all over the city

Spent time in Utah and Maryland

Were sealed in the Draper Temple

Played with kittens

Found new places to kick back and enjoy life

Became rock stars

Oh, and I got a Cookie Monster book for Christmas!

My (Grandpa's) Ring

Around 1949 my Grandpa Egbert was a missionary for the LDS Church in the South-western United States.  While in New Mexico, he purchased a turquoise ring that he wore throughout the rest of his life.  He loved his ring.  The rest of the family loved his ring because we all loved Grandpa.  

After Grandpa died, my father became the new owner of the ring.  As my dad does not wear jewelry of any kind, the ring's last few years have been quiet.  On my recent trip to Utah I asked if I could "hold on to the ring for a little while," and my dad said yes.

Now that we are back in NYC I have had some time to think about this new heirloom and what it means in my life.  I emailed my Grandma Egbert asking her about some of the history, and I have been looking through family photos finding images of Grandpa with his ring.  Grandma told me that Grandpa always wore the ring on his right hand, and I came across some neat pictures (you might have to squint to see the ring).

I found a picture of Grandpa holding my uncle David:

One with him holding my dad:

I found another picture of him at his 50th wedding anniversary standing with his brother:

There was a picture of him studying:

And a picture of him with his wife and children:

The ring was with my Grandpa as he raised his children.  This ring was on his hand as he finished his schooling.  This ring was on his hand as he grew into the man we all loved.  

Now the ring is on my hand.  Grandma asked me to treasure the ring as he did, and I will.  This ring will be with me as I raise my children.  This ring will be on my hand as I finish my schooling.  This ring will be on my hand as I attempt to grow into the type of man he taught me to be.

Awesome!

Columbus Circle is one of my favorite places in the city.  This doesn't mean that I am some die-hard Italian or ignorant to the abuses that still continue in our post-colonial world.  It is just a great place to sit and watch the city go by.

We have been there a lot.

Summer 2010

Summer 2010

Summer 2011

Summer 2011

Summer 2012

Summer 2012

When people ask me where they should go, I always say to just head to Columbus Circle.  You have access to Central Park, Times Square, Lincoln Center, and 5th Avenue within easy reach.  There are plenty of benched to sit on with a great fountain circling the monument.

Yesterday we experienced Columbus Circle in an entirely new way-- in Christoper's living room.  

This art exhibit is one of the best things that I have done since being in the city.  We were only there for about 15 minutes, but it was incredible!  After climbing the scaffolding we entered into a room that was built around the 19th century statue.  Everything from the carpet to the wallpaper was intended to capture the iconic nature of NYC living and the fantastic world we are fortunate to live in.

I had a great time, and this visit was another great reminder of why I love living in this city.

Time Flies

It has been said that time flies when you are having fun, but it also flies when you are crazy in love.

It has been over one year since Kim quit her job, said goodbye to family and friends, sold off most of her belongings, and relocated to NYC from her happy life in SLC just to be close to her boys.  It has been a rough year; between drama with the other mother,  stressful jobs, cancer, school, and semi social isolation, we have had some tough days.  However, it has been a very happy year; with unlimited cuddle time, marriage, family adventures, and making new friends, this has been one of the best years of my life.

I am in love, and it just keeps getting stronger by the minute.

Thank you, Kim for making our house a home, for keeping your boys loved, and for making this grumpy old man smile again.

Some Enchanted Evening

I had an interesting night with my family yesterday.

We had decided to surprise Kim at work and took the train to see her in action.  While we were on the train Gabriel looked up at me and asked: "Daddy, why did you have tantrums with my mommy?"

I didn't see that one coming.

We got off the train and as we were walking I asked him where he learned about my "tantrums."  He said that his mom told him.  I asked what else she told him, and he had several more things to say.  I asked him how he felt when he heard about what happened, and he said it made him sad.

It made me sad too.

My marriage with Gabe's mom was not easy, nor was I a perfect husband.  Gabe's mom has valid reasons to not like me.  I will not dispute them.  I have spent too much time in therapy coming to understand the difference between guilt and regret, and when the time is right I will talk with him about the whole truth.  He deserves to know the mistakes that both of us made, but he also deserves to be a kid.  We divorced to create new, happier lives separately, not to relive past memories of sadness. I like to remind him how lucky he is to have two dads and two moms that love him so much, so why focus on the things I can't control?

Gabriel is forced to never forget a past that he cannot remember.

I put him on my shoulders and I promised him that when he was ready we would talk about what happened. Right now he doesn't have the right vocabulary to grasp the truth, and he will know the truth eventually

Don't worry, there were some funny parts to our evening too!

We made it to Kim's work, and Gabe saw Kim from the sidewalk and started pounding on her window.  While she finished up her day, we went to the park across the street to play.  When it was too dark to play any longer, we started walking to the bus station.  My phone started ringing, and it was Gabe's mom.  I asked him if he wanted to talk and he said no. I let the call go to voicemail.  In our most recent custody arrangement it states that both parents but make "best efforts" for phone contact every 48 hours.  As he was not even close to the 48 hour mark, I decided to not press the issue.  (Lately Gabriel's mom has sent me some emails claiming that I have denied Gabriel access to call her.  Through a series of electronic communications I repeated my stance that I would not force him to talk if he didn't want to.  When we get close to the time limit, I tell him that the judge wants him to call his mom, and he does.)

I asked him a couple more times if he wanted to call his mom, and suddenly he remembered something and wanted to call her.  This is a great relief to me because the more he talks to her, the less I have to.  They chatted for a few minutes, and at the conclusion of his call he asked her: "I get a treat, right?"

Aha!!!

I couldn't figure out why he decided to cooperate so quickly, and then all the pieces came together.  After he hung up he told us that he gets treats if he calls his mom.  We just started laughing and told him that was nice.  That kid cracks me up.  He sees every opportunity as a negotiation, and he has no problem asking for a little extra.

We came home, bathed, read stories, cuddled, and had family prayer.  Gabe said that he was grateful for the "good love" that was in our family.  You know what?  So am I.  There is a good love in this family, and it gets better every day.

Some things make me sad, but they always seem to be overpowered by the things that make me happy, and my family always makes me happy.