If I were a priest, I’d have a confessional just for people with Gadget Sins.  And I’d be first in line to confess.

(OMG, she said “Sin!” Is this blog turning religious? Will I be offended if I keep reading this??)

Not exactly. And maybe.*

Let’s talk about sin for a minute. I’ve noticed that most people do not want to talk about sin. We’re either stuck in guilt or quick to say “you’re not the boss of me, God.” Either way, that feels bad. No wonder people don’t want to talk about it.

What if we stop thinking about how we feel just for a minute and consider what we are doing?

My over-simplified opinion is that sin is any action that separates us from God. Part of how we experience the divine is in relationships with each other: we love each other even when we’re hard to love and we share what God has given us. Ergo, if we’re really stinking it up in our relationships, we’re not choosing to experiencing divine love at its fullest.

Recently, I had a wake-up call about this kind of disconnect when someone told me that she was painfully frustrated with her husband and his Gadget Du Jour. Their young child said “Dad misses a lot.”

Wow.

It was a piercing feeling to know that my family could say the same thing.

I had to ask myself: what am I doing that is not honoring my personal relationships and could be harming my connection with God?  What am I putting ahead of my relationships?

Sometimes, it’s being obsessed with gadgets. I love things that fit in my hand and light up and fetch email and play games remotely and take messages and tweet and vibrate when something vaguely notification-worthy happens. But, at times, I have put gadgets and their bright-shiny distractiliciousness ahead of dear, living, breathing people. I have Gadget Sinned.

Are we really in love with gadgets? No, we’re just smitten with the sense of power that they offer and the way that they reinforce certain beliefs, like…

We must stay connected to get the job done!

We must be available 24/7 for people to consider us reliable!

We must not drop the ball!

Guess what? Big, fat lies. Big, fat, unsustainable, suffering-laden lies. At least for me.

Why do we believe the lies? Because they keep us feeling busy (or in control or significant) instead of feeling the gaping question, “What have I been missing?”

Here’s my truth:

I will disconnect and get the job done.  (I can’t surf/tweet/facebook and write, for example.)

I choose not to be available 24/7, but I can be reliable by setting expectations that I can realistically honor.

I will definitely drop the ball, because I’m human. And I can make amends and improve every time that I do.

There is a silver lining to sin: we get to learn from it. I think sin exists as a constructive way to help us grow, not to make us feel guilty or unworthy. The pain of it makes us crave reunion with pure, divine love. That’s a powerful motivator for me!

If we can ride out the pain of asking what we have been missing and forgive ourselves and each other for letting that pain lead us into distraction, then miracles abound.

Those miracles are warm, squishy, sometimes good-smelling, sometimes poop-making, make-you-feel-alive people.

People who love you. Tender people who want your love. Generous people who want to love you back. People whose spirits are much brighter and shinier than any gadget or the false buzz that it offers.

Don’t worry about leaving a comment. Unplug and go hug somebody instead.

*For what it’s worth, I’m an enthusiastic Episcopalian who is constantly curious to see how God works in and around us. I’m not dogmatic about faith, especially other people’s.

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mailboxes2

Yesterday, I did something that I truly love: gave a workshop about blogging*. Offering it at my local library made it all the more yummy for me because I believe public libraries are one of the greatest inventions ever.

But Mother Nature almost spoiled it – it’s March in Atlanta and IT SNOWED. It’s supposed to be spring!  The signs are here: warmer light, daffodil tips, hopeful buds.

All day, I wondered if the library would close early and cancel the program. And part of me wished it would:  snow, sleet, panic!

As a native Southerner, I am terrified of driving in winter weather. I have an over-the-top fear of the dreaded Black Ice. My Inner PowerPoint flashed images of me skidding off in a ditch and hiking out with my laptop and my projector bag.

And then I had a thought: I am going to be a freakin’ mailman**.

“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”

I had an appointed round and I was determined to be that courier. The Black Ice Fear wasn’t gone but I asked it nicely to, well, chill. I was willing. I was open. I wanted to deliver the goods much, much more than I wanted to be scared of ice that might not even be there.

About a dozen wonderful people summoned their mettle and made it to the presentation. I learned a huge thing from them: wise, older women are about to BUST OUT as bloggers. They had great questions and inspiring topics. The energy of the group left me buzzing. If I had choked and canceled early, well, that would have been tragic. Not über-evening-news-tragic, just tragic that our sparks would have missed each other.

This pattern of dreaming about doing something truly sparky and then hitting the crazy Black Ice Fear at the moment of fruition is totally predictable. And, yet, it’s so easy to consistently be shocked when it happens.

Here’s my confession: deep down, I had a fear of something worse than Black Ice. I was afraid of the sparks, especially mine.

Talking to people about their big dreams, I’ve learned that we all have a Black Ice Fear that can be a very convenient cover for a deeper fear of something truly meaningful. The Black Ice is not your imagination. Physical challenges DO come with the territory of creating things and making them real. Things go wrong at the last minute. But that doesn’t mean that your egg isn’t supposed to hatch.

It’s worth peeking under the Black Ice to see what’s really there – fear of failure? Fear of success? Fear of realizing your dream? Fear of letting go of your story about why things are still hard? Go ahead and spill it. I’ll listen.

And then after you’ve taken a deep breath because you are not alone

Be a freakin’ mailman.

Lord knows, the world needs all the wild, creative sparks it can get – my funky presentation, those new, wise bloggers, and, yes, your next thing, too. Please deliver it.

*Here are the notes and links from the blogging workshop.
**I understand that the proper term is “mail carrier” but my thoughts aren’t always proper.

image credit: nainil

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skatingfallWe’ve been spending a lot of time watching the Olympics at my house and the women’s skiing has drawn the most excitement so far.  My son likes the crashes and my husband tipped his hand when he remarked, “Skiing attracts very good-looking women.”  How could I argue with him?  The women are stunning Amazons.

All these hours of being a spectator have even touched my dream life.

Last night I dreamed that Lindsey Vonn, the women’s downhill gold medalist, had just finished competing in figure skating. The skating judges were being extremely critical of her performance.  In the dream I was thinking, “Well, of course, they’re being critical. How could anyone expect her to be a great skater just because she is a gold medal skier?” And I wondered why she would even try to win a medal as a figure skater.

And, yet, don’t we each do exactly that? We have deep strengths to which we are very committed. And we are energized by pursuing them.  Yet, we put ourselves in a different arena and get upset when we aren’t perfect, encouraging the Inner Critics do their thing.

I think those critics are performing an extraordinary service.

First, they help you notice where you are diverging from your strengths. When it is a conscious and deliberate choice, then enjoy the turns around the new rink and don’t worry about the critics. It doesn’t matter if you win the medal when you are experimenting and trying new ventures. In fact, it’s an essential part of innovation. Spin, jump, fall, get up. Most of all, get up. Enjoy knowing that not every outing is a competition. Try asking your critics to refrain from judging while you try your new moves.

If you’re playing outside your strengths in an unconscious way, then the critics bring that into focus and give you the opportunity to make adjustments. Never forget: there are Olympic teams.  No one person could possibly compete in every sport.  Why should you try to do it all when you are creating, marketing and running a business? If you love throwing yourself down the side of a mountain, then don’t feel bad if you choose to outsource the triple jumps.

photo credit: wynlok

What’s your inner Gold Medalist going after? Where do you want to try a new arena? Do you have any tricks for silencing your Inner Critic?

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