Pursue Happiness, But Kindness Most of All

The UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon spoke at my commencement ceremony. It was fun to see such a high profile figure, who is intensely involved in global affairs, give a talk to the many graduates of the international studies program I was in, but I would have much preferred to hear a different address, one from George Saunders. He gave it at Syracuse this year. It is a remarkable take on the typical staid commencement address. Here is an excerpt, but you can read the rest at the link below:

Do all the other things, the ambitious things – travel, get rich, get famous, innovate, lead, fall in love, make and lose fortunes, swim naked in wild jungle rivers (after first having it tested for monkey poop) – but as you do, to the extent that you can, err in the direction of kindness.  Do those things that incline you toward the big questions, and avoid the things that would reduce you and make you trivial.  That luminous part of you that exists beyond personality – your soul, if you will – is as bright and shining as any that has ever been.  Bright as Shakespeare’s, bright as Gandhi’s, bright as Mother Teresa’s.  Clear away everything that keeps you separate from this secret luminous place.  Believe it exists, come to know it better, nurture it, share its fruits tirelessly.

The rest of the speech. Hat tip to my mom, who sent this my way today.

The Man Behind the Inspiration

Last weekend was a beautiful testament to a great man. I am humbled by how many lives my grandpa's life touched. His service and the weekend spent with family was exactly what he wanted. Below is what I wrote for my grandpa. He had the opportunity to have it read to him almost two months ago. It was important to me, and, I'm sure to him, that he heard it before he left this world. I read it aloud at his service on Saturday.

The Knot

I was young enough to not remember exactly when you taught me. But I was old enough to still be able to picture your hands confidently working the line in twists and loops. It is your hands I am fixated on. They look a good kind of worn, like a man’s hands should be, used and aged, but strong and capable. They are a work of art as you tie a knot you have tied so many times. Your attention to detail and your serious tone convey the importance of this lesson. I follow along and tie the knot a few times myself. The first time the knot does not take, but eventually, it holds true and strong.

The significance of this lesson did not fully register with me until some twenty years later when my father-in-law took me fishing. I hadn’t fished in a long time and I was worried that when we arrived at the shores of the Flaming Gorge Reservoir I would have to ask my father-in-law to tie the fishing knot. And he would have, without comment, because he is a gentleman, but a twenty-eight year old man should not have to ask for such things, whether he regularly fishes or not. So, I didn’t.

I took the fishing rod and reel he handed me along with a few lures down to the shore. Silently standing there, with the water lapping at the rocks, I threaded the line up through the tip of the rod and started the knot. My fingers moved like I had fished every day of my life since you first taught me all those years ago and the knot held fast as I checked its strength.

In minutes I was fishing the Gorge with a great man, but I was thinking of you. You, who knew that, whether I would fish every weekend of my life or just once a year, to tie a fishing knot was a necessary skill to have. And I knew it then, in a funny way, but clearer than ever, that I had passed a great test of manhood simply by tying a knot, by feeling capable, even for a fleeting moment. And that as important as teaching me how to tie a knot was, it was more important to teach me so that I might someday know how to teach my son or daughter so that they would learn from me as well as I have learned from you and, selfishly, that I might be remembered, as I remember you now.

A Man's Man

This weekend my entire family will be traveling to Fort Collins, Colorado to celebrate the life of my grandfather, Bryce Howard Neff. I was extremely close to him and I am honored to have the opportunity to speak at his memorial. I will share those words here on the blog after this weekend. For now, I will just say that I have always loved my name, not just because it is relatively uncommon, but because I am named after such a great, strong, capable man. He was a patriot, Air Force Captain, father, esquire, grandfather, great grandfather, a friend to countless people, an amazing storyteller, and a devoted and loving husband over nearly sixty-two years of marriage. Godspeed, Grandpa.

This is a picture of my grandpa (at right) when he was stationed at Iwakuni, Japan in 1950 and 1951 during the Korean War.

Quote of the Day

"When friends speak overmuch of times gone by, often it's because they sense their present time is turning them from friends to strangers. Long before the moment came to say goodbye, I think, we said goodbye in other words and ways and silences. Then when the moment came for it at last, we didn't say it as it should be said by friends. So now at last, dear Mouse, with many, many years between: goodbye."

- From January 31st in Listening to Your Life by Frederick Buechner.

the War of Art: Redux

I first blogged about The War of Art on April 1, 2009 after reading it because this man recommended the book. Well, I’ve just been hit by a wave of anti-resistance. The resistance I write about in the older blog. You can read about it there. But I just wanted to share some passages that still rock my world. Thank you, Pressfield.

“Late at night have you experienced a vision of the person you might become, the work you could accomplish, the realized being you were meant to be?”

“Resistance will bury you.”

“If you take Resistance at its word, you deserve everything you get. Resistance is always lying and always full of shit.”

“The more important a call or action is to our soul’s evolution, the more Resistance we will feel toward pursuing it.”

“The most pernicious aspect of procrastination is that it can become a habit. We don’t just put off our lives today; we put them off till our deathbed.” Pressfield brings it with this one.

“Anything that draws attention to ourselves through pain-free or artificial means is a manifestation of Resistance.”

“Instead of applying self-knowledge, self-discipline, delayed gratification, and hard work, we simply consume a product.”

“What makes it tricky is that we live in a consumer culture that’s acutely aware of this unhappiness and has massed all its profit-seeking artillery to exploit it.”

Man, I hope one of these quotes just came up into your life and tossed things about like a little tornado in your soul, especially that last one. Read this book. And go do what everyone is telling you, you can’t do.

29 Years Old

Lots of happy birthday wishes today. Thank you! One of them was posted by one of my former swimmers to Facebook last night and I've shared it below...


"29 years ago today the world had no idea it was going to change forever....and be a bit taller."

Triple Threat

Katelyn Sellers Hoge

8 lbs. 7 oz. 21"

11 October 2011 4:35pm

I am thrice an uncle. 

Champions

I helped coach a championship team last year at UWM. It was the time of my life and I love that team like I've loved no other job. That's the funny part. It was my job to show up and be friends with them, coach them, make them faster, yell at them on occasion and swim with them every once in a while. It was my job to make them better and they got better. I never dreaded going to work. Work was exciting. To call it work, that's just an insult. It was a little slice of heaven and winning a championship with them was a dream come true.

Well, last night, these guys did it again. Going into the last night of competition in second place, UWM pulled ahead early on and had an unbelievable night of racing, finishing in first by 27 points. I had to watch the meet streaming over the internet and as painful and somewhat tear-jerking as that was, I am thankful that I could view it somehow. But there is no substitute for the real thing and my heart ached at times, even questioning decisions I have made in the past. But I wasn't questioning how much UWM deserved another championship. They work harder than anyone else. They have a head coach working harder than anyone else. And they have something common in all great championship teams, especially those back to back championship teams. It was printed in bold on their conference t-shirts: UNITY.

They couldn't have picked a better word. Congratulations, Milwaukee!

Christmas Eve

Once the music starts I tilt my head backward and stare at the ceiling, which is not always truly magnificent, but I stare at it like it is and I smile because everything is magnificent tonight. Christmas Eve is an oddity. As I enter adulthood, this night has become the one night of the year when I feel bombarded by the past, like it’s trying to make me feel guilty for enjoying the night. My cynicism tries hard to eat away at the night with thoughts of broken hearts, misplaced trust, and betrayal, but its massive effort fails. On this night, when we celebrate the birth of Jesus, I find that the flicker of a candle is more mesmerizing, the embrace more meaningful, the music more magical, and the mystery and wonder of our God more evident than any other day of the year. Rejoice that it’s easier to forgive and it’s easier to love tonight. And a God that makes us feel that way this day, or for all of them, is worth praising.

Merry Christmas!

Bachelor Party Backpacking Pics

Seven of us hiked up the Greyrock trail on Wednesday, May 26, 2010. We spent the night under the stars/clouds. The weather held after a rainy morning. It was a beautiful start to a long weekend of celebration leading up to Erik and Brianne's wedding. Above: Chris, Erik and Ryan during a water break on the way up.

The man of the hour/day/week, Erik Haagenson with beard, before he would, quote, "GQ it up a bit" before the wedding.

A lookout on the way up.

After we arrived at the campsite, we needed to find firewood. We set off to gather some up by any means possible. Hands, feet, medium-sized boulders, leverage and Kyle's hatchet. This hatchet probably wasn't the hatchet Gary Paulsen had in mind, nor were we the handlers of the hatchet that Paulsen likely imagined. We are large, fit, barrel-chested men, not scrawny, stranded boys. This hatchet could only last so long. Fittingly, Erik was the man using the hatchet when it broke, but it could have been any of us. Above: Matt uses the pathetic head of the hatchet to unsuccessfully split some firewood. Stem of broken hatchet seen in foreground. Broken. Useless. And, I think, plastic. That could have been the problem.

I probably got the best shot of all the group of Fort Collins, pictured above, just beyond the lowly, sunlit foothill. I did have the most powerful camera and the biggest lens. The guys were impressed when I turned my camera off and the lens automatically retracted into the body of the camera. It was a very powerful moment.

Erik and co-best man, Chris, pose near the eastern summit.

I don't mean to toot my own horn here, but I do. Above: Chris and Erik stare contemplatively at the horizon, making for a damn fine picture. When I look at this, I see their adventurous spirit, I feel our bond and I think of their history of climbing, camping and mountaineering together and the reverence they have for God's majestic creation. There isn't much else to capture.

Erik and I, trying to gameface.

Our campsite, just at the top of this pond, was picture perfect, flat, with pre-formed fire pit and accessible water. Chris can be seen climbing down from the rock outcropping in the lower-right corner of the shot.

Nearing sunset, taken from the eastern summit. This is my desktop background right now and it is destined to be blown up and on a wall soon.

Collecting firewood. Chris and Erik with a prized catch, a piece of wood which probably burnt up in five minutes later that evening.

The aforementioned hatchet buried in wood after throwing many a small to medium-sized boulder at it. No one will free this hatchet.

Facing west from the summit of Greyrock.

Wes facing westward.

Ryan and Chris with his significantly weaker camera.

Ryan, taking in the view, and Erik, thinking about being a runaway groom.

Ryan, still taking in the view, and Erik, with a reversal of mood, deciding to now go through with it and seeing the beauty in it all.

Chris proudly exhibiting his fascination with man, especially hairy-chested, New Belgium Ranger IPA-drinking man.

The morning after. I was first to wake. I felt very old and thus sat by the burned out campfire thinking about the other times I have felt much older than this group of friends while they slept on.

Sarge. He joined us for the trip. He's awesome, massive and a great hiker.

Our last stop before heading down to Fort Collins was our traditional cliff-jumping spot. Only three people jumped. Above: Erik jumps and begins his rotation for the gainer that he successfully and safely completed before plunging into the snowmelt.

Matt takes a leap into the frigid Poudre River, ending the festivities in the mountains.

Time For A Little Bromance

The man in the middle is getting married next week. I'll be driving out for the occasion. Leaving Sunday. Doing it in one shot. 1,045 miles to Fort Collins, a beautiful horizon, best friends and the wondrous outdoors, like only Colorado can deliver them.

I have four books on CD, Red Bulls and a case of New Glarus beer in the trunk for Mac. Bring on the open road.

NYC - Day 1

Over the next few days or weeks I will be posting some pictures from our whirlwind tour of NYC in 5 days. We took about 530 pictures. We fell in love with New York. A lot of people do. We aren't set apart that way, but with these pictures and words I have attempted to take a little piece of New York home with us. I hope, with 500+ pictures and many words to come, I have done and will do just that.

Naturally, half of the trip revolved around eateries. The first stop after checking into our hotel in the Upper East Side was the Shake Shack, supposedly New York's best cheeseburger. The Shake Shack is notorious for its lines. Of course, this was a Saturday, so we just had to deal with it. We stood in line for 55 minutes. You can see the curve of the line in the picture above. The wait was worth it. We took action shots of us biting into the burger, not ashamed of our touristy behavior at all.

The Shake Shack is in Madison Square, a beautiful area that has a little dog park in it. There are lots of benches, shade, and respite to be had here.

The Empire State Building looms over Madison Square.

The Flatiron Building on Madison Square. I can't believe how skinny the northern tip of this building is. We just stumbled across it. That happened a lot in our five days there. There are so many iconic parks, buildings, stores, hotels, etc. that you just happen upon them while you are heading somewhere else. This stretches the day out so much you can have lunch at 3:30 and dinner at 10.

Ground Zero. A lot more thoughts here, but what struck me about these pictures is how little has been done in eight years. Construction has truly begun on the new buildings to be put in there, but there is still quite a hole. The place is surrounded by fence, most of which cannot be seen through. On the most crowded street corners near the WTC site, are people preaching that 9/11 was a cover up. They yell. They quietly stand and hand out pamphlets to any interested passersby, who, oftentimes, unsuspectingly take them and discover later on that the information proposes that 9/11 was an inside job. I took several pictures of this scene and I will probably put them up in a later post.

The maze of construction at Ground Zero. The site, no matter how cynical one can be about the way parts of it have been made into a tourist site or another place for locals to sell their NYC caps and shirts, will be sobering to the visitor at some point or another. More about this later, but overall, the whole experience shuts you up and shows you beautiful and grotesque things about our existence.

We walked from Ground Zero to the Hudson (not far at all). I am facing Jersey. Not too long after this a huge cruise ship went down the Hudson. I have pictures of that, but I couldn't post all 100+ pictures from this day.

Yes, we went. We went to Times Square. I was thinking this night, "Gosh, New Yorkers must avoid this place like the plague." It was good to walk through. As you can see, that took some time. But after the walk, Times Square really settles in as just a huge testament to capitalism and crappy restaurants (Olive Garden, Ruby Tuesday, McDonald's, Red Lobster). I know I am forgetting a lot here, but you get the point.

A reminder, you should be able to click on each picture to see a larger version of it.

Quote of the Day

“Indeed, the supposed Christian revival of today has given something very like unlimited moral authority to money, though Jesus did say (and I think a literal interpretation is appropriate here if anywhere) , “Woe to you who are rich!” (Luke 6:24). If this seems radical, dangerous, unfair, un-American, then those who make such criticisms should at least have the candor to acknowledge that their quarrel is with Jesus.” – Marilynne Robinson from her essay, "Onward, Christian Liberals" from The American Scholar as reprinted in The Best American Essays 2007.

This Week: RE-Union in Colorado

What's the countdown at?

Can I see Dr. Benton punch the air one last time?

Besides The Daily Show, there are three shows I watch on a regular basis, all because I am married to Kate. The shows are House, Grey’s Anatomy and ER. When I started dating Kate she was already an ER devotee. She’s been watching House from the beginning and was slowest to warm to Grey’s Anatomy. There are brilliant aspects of each one of these dramas. The characters and ongoing plot twists can make for an addicting show. However, I could stop watching altogether tomorrow and be okay with that. I don’t think Kate could.

Kate is a professional in the field of medicine. The interest she takes in these shows is not comparable to mine. I watch them more for Kate than for any other reason. Stories told in the shows and the hours spent watching them constitute a fairly large gap of time every week. I might be doing something different with that time if I was single, not necessarily because I am married to Kate, but because I love her. And, in a way, (this may sound weird) when I married Kate, I married her favorite TV shows. I married her interests. No matter how inconsequential a TV show may be, it is valuable to me because it is time I can spend with Kate.

After all that time watching TV shows, because someone else is invested in them, one becomes hooked as well on all the peculiarities of character and intricacies of plot. So, it was a little bittersweet last night when ER signed off for the last time. Kate and I have been watching this show for as long as we have been together (the last six seasons) and before that, ER was the preferred television show of Thursday nights at my childhood home, going back to when I was 11 years old. That’s a long, damn time. I’m not trying to gauge what kind of role a TV series has played in my life. The answer would probably be vague and the task a bit shallow, but I know it has played some role and because of that it was a little sad to hear the ER theme music one last time last night. 

the WAR of ART

On a friend’s recommendation, I read a book over the weekend. The book is called the WAR of ART and it is by Steven Pressfield, author of The Legend of Bagger Vance and other prominent works of fiction. The subtitle of the book reads, “Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles.”

Pressfield offers copious amounts of wisdom for aspiring artists of all kinds in this short work of nonfiction. He spends most of the 163 pages of this book writing about Resistance. Resistance is anything that “prevents us from achieving the life God intended when He endowed each of us with our own unique genius.” Quite convincingly, he proves the existence of Resistance and he reminds us that Resistance is a formidable opponent. Resistance is “harder to kick than crack cocaine.” “You think Resistance isn’t real? Resistance will bury you.”

If you have strived to create anything, to stay in a relationship or marriage that is falling apart, to achieve a lofty goal, you know what Resistance is. And those in the business of creating things know most intimately the disgusting shades Resistance can wear.

“Resistance will bury you.” Reading this was like a stake through the heart. It is so damn painful, yet wise. I lament for the times in my life that were buried by Resistance. This sentence, and this whole book, worked as a motivator for me because I don’t want my life to be won by Resistance. There is no life if Resistance wins. The flame is snuffed out and all one will ever know is commonality, a truly boring existence.

Pressfield writes, “The more important a call or action is to our soul’s evolution, the more Resistance we will feel toward pursuing it.” We all have to face important calls and actions, and this book made me ponder all types of Resistance in my life. I am going to sit down and make a list. I hope to share some of it on here, but I encourage you to do the same. Make a list of things that are keeping you from your dreams. Get them down on paper. Strike a line through them. Strike them from your life.

After writing all that, I thought of another quote, but not from the book. There are plenty of good quotes in the book. I recommend you read it, but this quote is from a movie, from The Shawshank Redemption, from Red (played by Morgan Freeman):

Get busy living or get busy dying. That's goddamn right. For the second time in my life, I'm guilty of committing a crime. Parole violation. Course, I doubt they're going to throw up any road blocks for that. Not for an old crook like me. I find I'm so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel. A free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope...

SoCal Visit List

Shamu’s got ups.

In-N-Out is no longer an obsession of mine. I have found their burgers and fries less than ideal for a couple years now. I am becoming more of an epicure and things that used to be great are just good or average now.

On the flights back to Milwaukee I officially went through all of my GRE vocab flashcards without missing a single word. There are 500 words in that box. I’ve been connected to that little box for a while now. At first it represented an almost insurmountable task, memorizing 500 words that I might not use in everyday conversation for the rest of my life. It then became a friend, a loyal sidekick of education. And now it’s my bitch, because I go through the box once a day and I know all of those words. We’re still friends though.

I slept miserably every single night. The Hoge crew has a hand-me-down double bed in the guestroom with an awful footboard on it that makes for difficult sleeping when you are over six feet tall. Kate got the bed. I lasted two nights on it before I opted for an air mattress.

It was warmer in Milwaukee yesterday (high of 74) than it was during any one of the days in San Diego.

The 57-degree water made me miss the 70-degree water of Florida beaches. However, I prefer the west coast.

I am so, so, so thankful I don’t have a kid. For Kate, the feeling is mutual. I was thankful for this exact reason before this trip, but I am even more thankful after spending a week out there. I am also more appreciative of and impressed by people that are good parents and people that actually want to have kids.

I still want to live on The Strand on Manhattan Beach. I think I could put up with people walking by everyday and gazing into my house. That’s what tinted windows are for. I wouldn’t mind a house like this.

Some people in California just have no clue of Lake Michigan’s size. No, you can’t see across the lake. Yes, you can surf its waves sometimes.

My sister is doing a great job of being a mother. Her job, her life, is this girl and that’s incredible devotion and love.