Sara B. Gauldin's Blog, page 16

Faith

The concept of faith has been a source of focus for me for much of my life. Some of my earliest and fondest memories are of the sense of spiritual peace I had when attending prayer services at my school as a young child. I recall that I knew with absolute certainty that my prayers were heard and each thought and deed was being accounted for. Truly I tried hard not to vary from this. For my parents faith was a different variation of the same concept. Both of my parents were raised Lutheran and proudly expressed the fondness of being “home Lutherans” meaning that they maintained an affinity with the religions background but did not feel the need to have an intermediary in their relationships with the almighty. Further, my anthropology loving parents encouraged me to learn about and explore the beliefs and customs of any culture that happened to make itself available. There was no sense of rejection of others values, only a curiosity that was inscribed in my mind.

As with most things there are two sides to every coin. The welcoming sense of love and innate curiosity was to be short lived for me. Around the age of nine I was introduced to the concept of using a veil of religious piety to express exclusion and hate. My “home Lutheran” parents lived behind a church. We did not go to church on Sunday. I attended a Catholic school and was receiving a strong Christian education. One Sunday morning I was playing in my garden which ran directly behind a local church. I noticed some children playing outdoors after the service and to be honest I was wishing they could come over and play. As I observed them a few parents came outdoors and called the children to them. The next thing I knew the children was running down the hill towards me. I was elated. The parents had told them to play with me… but that was not the case. As they approached the children began to pick up rocks and dirt clods form the garden and hurl them at me. “Stone the heathen” they shouted. The parents yelled and egged them on. They were invoking a biblical penance for my perceived religious short comings.

The sense of a connection to a greater purpose and the worship of a deity are not new to human kind. Although most people choose to dwell on the details that can be staunchly different I choose to see the many commonalities. Most faiths derive a sense of purpose from faith. They believe that their short human life span has more significance that the physical drive to survive that they will ultimately lose. It is a cheery thought to be firmly convinced that we are not simply awash in a scientific chain of events that allows a brief mortal heyday before snuffing out our very existence. Almost all faiths have a conviction that there are powers greater than themselves that set things into motion and continue to have influence over all that they omnisciently govern. We as Christians call this deity God, as do the Jewish people. The Buddhists refer to Buddha, in Hinduism Shiva is worshiped, the Muslims call their deity God as well, but they do not follow the teachings of Christ. Native Americans make reference to a “Great Spirit”, the Wakan Tanka. Although many contemporary religions mistrust the practice as being dark, the premise of the Wiccan faith is being in tune with nature. All of these systems of beliefs have the secondary purpose of providing a set of moral and ethical guidelines with which one may live a more spiritually correct life in the context of their faith. Truly these tendencies are more alike than different.

So what does this broad presence of a need to find faith and relate oneself to a higher deity come from? In a broader sense it could be said that the presence of common markers of faith across cultures is proof that a higher power does in fact exist. How else could diverse cultures, once isolated from one another in the world come to such similar conclusions and sets of moral mores? Recently a researcher by the name of Dean Hamer did extensive DNA testing to postulate his theory that we as human beings are genetically hard wired to have a sense of faith or religious affiliation. According to his “God Gene” research there are specific genetic markers that contribute directly to the draw organized religions has to a given individual. Of course there in the faith based argument that the creator could also hard wire the tendency to be knowledgeable about the spiritual element of humanity directly into the creations. Either way, the universal need to find faith and belong to a set of religions guidelines cannot be denied.

This brings me to my quandary. The positives of organized religion are tied to a darker element. Religiosity itself seems to hinge on a Yin and Yang effect. I refer back to the people I mentioned at the church earlier. They perpetuated hate and violence in the name of a religion that is based on love and acceptance. They turned that model on its head and used it to be exclusive and intentionally cruel. Could it be that the human need to compete, to crawl towards the top at the expense of others is at direct conflict with the sense of spiritual connection they seek to achieve. We have in this world a multitude of people who do good things and live a virtuous life in the context of their religious beliefs, amongst those who seek to use faith competitively, to exclude others, to set themselves apart, to believe themselves to have transcended the status quo. This darker element is also somewhat universal. I read about a suicide bombing in Pakistan over differences in faith only today. There were the terror attacks on the world trade centers, the murder of the “savages” the Native Americans by the US government for hundreds of years, the attempted genocide of the Jewish people in Nazi Germany, the strange protests held by the extremist of Westboro Baptist Church. These are just some to the extreme cases of people behaving badly based on a misdirected moral compass. It seemed the purity of spiritual morality is easily sullied by human shortcomings and prejudices.

Not all shortcomings are so dramatic. There are multiple churches that firmly believe that their church is the only one who can ensure entry to a positive after life. They believe that the entire rest of the world is doomed to a horrible afterlife or lack thereof merely because of the unfortunate occurrence of not attending church in some specific location. There are those who resent others for having differences in religious affiliation. There are those who share common religious values but put down each other for the perceived lack of devoutness of one another’s faith. I refer to the example of a man who lived his life in India. He worked his entire adult life and gave every penny he had ever earned to charity for the betterment of others. He himself lived a life of poverty. Had he been of the Christian faith his life of generosity and self-sacrifice would have been hailed as a Christ-like life. Truly the man should be canonized. But upon questioning several Christians locally I ascertained that they believed that this man would be doomed to hell, while they themselves enjoyed the reward of heaven.

I intend to continue to raise my children to live a faith based life. As it happens I do consider myself a Christian and adhere to that set of guidelines. As my children mature they will be encouraged to suppress the more base tendencies of those of faith. Too many of this world’s saddest and most savage moments have been carried out in the name of the pious. I encourage all to take a closer look at their faith and ask themselves some difficult questions.

-Is my faith a loving one or is it caustic to others?

-Do I accept the common faith journey of my fellow man as a separate passenger traveling on the same mortal direction, or do I judge other’s progress to make myself feel better about my own shortcomings?

-Do I use my faith for the betterment of the world I live in in honor and respect of my beliefs and those of others or do I seek to squash others I the name of a “loving” deity? Truly if a deity is loving, and the Lord who I choose to believe in is, he would not reject his creations based on cultural deviations or geographic location.

Whatever set of beliefs you choose to accept, or to reject I encourage others to take a perspective of tolerance and of camaraderie in this journey called life.

Chapter 1 of To Conspire

Crime is nothing new in this world. There are daily disturbances, robberies, assaults, and crimes of passion that happen every day. These crimes are pretty straight forward. An addict needs money to fund a fix; they steal. A person feels threatened or scorned; they lash out. There is no great secret motivation in the primal needs that govern the everyday crime. As a beat cop I handled every-day deviants. Well enough to move up the ranks and for me to be transferred here, to Alexandria.

The heat and humidity beats down on the pavement. The dark paved expanse that has replaced the natural red clay has in turn intensified the heat and turned the city itself into an oven. The heat seems to lend itself to the mood of foreboding in the otherwise picturesque city scape. My suit seemed oppressive as I moved at a brisk pace from the car to the station. I brushed a bead of sweat off of my brow as I bundled my chestnut hair into a tight bun. I did not break my stride as I adjusted my tresses.

My phone buzzed angrily in my pocket. It seemed suddenly alive. I shifted my weight to remove it. “Hello?”” I answered in one breath. I did not have time to entertain any interruptions. I was being called to the station in order to be briefed on a case.

“Detective Avery Rich?” a man’s voice demanded.

“This is she.” I answered.

“This is Commander Calbert. I need you to report directly to my office as soon as you arrive.” his voice sounded off. I had not recognized it before he gave a name.

“Err, yes sir. I will miss the briefing?” I rushed here from across town to hear about a series of home invasions. Could he need to talk to me about that? I hadn’t been in town long enough to be second-guessed over a judgment call.

“Never mind that, I am putting you on something else. I already let dispatch know not to reroute you until they hear from me. I’ll see you in my office.” His gruff voice ended abruptly as the call ended in a parting click.

I rushed down the corridor that led from the parking garage into the station. I could not help wondering what the commander had in mind. I had not heard of anything on the dispatch or picked up by the paparazzo that was dramatic enough to have him quite so edgy.

By the time I had reached the commander’s office, I was regretting wearing heels. The idea that appearing a bit taller would garner respect really did nothing but slow me down. There were not enough shoes in Virginia to make my five foot one-inch frame seem more formidable. As I opened the door, the commander stood up. His face seemed flushed. There was a look in his eyes that I had not seen before. The man who had hired me had been calm and composed. This man was more akin to a caged beast.

“We have a situation,” He began “Before I get into details I need to make one thing abundantly clear to you; this is not a case like anything you have experienced before. What I tell you in this room cannot be repeated without my express permission. To do so would jeopardize the entire premise. Until we know the breadth of this, it cannot be shared.”

“Yes sir, I understand.” I lied. I could not imagine anything that could not be shared among colleagues. That was the strength within the police system; collaboration.

“You know that I hired you because you came highly recommended. That is only half of the truth. I also wanted you because you have a reputation for working independently. You are tough. You have a sense of integrity that has not been corrupted by years of work in the streets. And you are not from this area. I needed you here for just this type of situation.”

“Situation Sir?” I was beginning to wonder if Calbert was having a breakdown.

“I need you to go off of the grid for a while. There is a situation here that I cannot open a formal investigation on. It cuts too deep. There are officers here who would be a detriment, and it would take a long time to sort them all out.”

“I understand sir.” Who was I kidding? I was worried about this guy. The stress of the job was clearly getting to him. However, being the newbie, I was not going to be outright disobedient to my CO. No, but I would be cautious. Warned or not, I was not going to step on any toes until I knew what was going on.

Calbert scribbled a name on a piece of paper. “Destroy this when you have found him.” He nodded towards the name he had written. “I think you will find him at the shelter over on Huntington Avenue.”

“He is homeless sir?” I wondered why I would need the help of a vagrant.

“He is unconventionally situated; you will understand why when you meet him.” Calbert’s frazzled appearance did not improve. “You are investigating the disappearance of a bank president, Lawrence Shultz. He was recently named the head of First National Bank. He is the third bank president to disappear in the last month.”

“Has he been entered into the missing person’s database?” I wondered if this was on or off the record.

“He has never actually been reported missing, neither have the others. The first one who disappeared was a good friend of mine, Alan Morris. I noticed he was no longer at his office, ever. I asked at the bank; he was always in a meeting. I called his wife at home. He was always unavailable to come to the phone. However, there was something out of place. His wife’s voice shook when she lied. The teller could not look me in the eye when she reported him as busy. It never let up. “

“You haven’t been able to track him down?” I tried to imagine why the people around this man would be hiding him.

“It is as though he was sucked into a void. There is no sign of him anywhere. I think the word got out that I was asking around. A couple of weeks after I was sure he was not around I got an anonymous call. A female voice called me here at the station from a disposable cell phone and gave a tip that a second banker; Jim Maple was missing. The call came directly to me. The caller was very brief. She sounded terrified. I traced the call and found the phone in a trash can near Fort Ward Park. It was covered in blood.”

“And Shultz, how did you notice he was gone?”

“After the second disappearance that was never reported I started doing some digging. I found out that Mr. Shultz was similarly unaccounted for.” He paused. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there were not more that I haven’t discovered. It is strange. Usually when someone disappears, they are missed. Someone reports them as missing. These are business men, not transients. They have families, careers, or roots here. It is not as though they just wandered to a new town.”

“I’ll get right on it sir.” I could not help thinking that these men may not want to be found. “Oh and sir, this Ryan Kain person at the shelter, how does he tie into this?” Clearly, I was missing something.

“Kain was a good cop. He was one of the best here in Alexandria. Somewhere along the line, the way he saw the world became different from the way the department could work. Some people said he had lost his mind. He seemed to believe that there were forces around him that could not be measured by the casual observer. I suppose some call his kind “conspiracy theorists”.” Calbert betrayed no emotion of judgment.

“Do you think he can help, or do you think he is a suspect?” I was confused. Was I supposed to interview the nutcase or enlist him? “Kain cannot work within the system anymore that much has been proven, but he sees patterns in things that others do not.” Calbert glanced towards the clock nervously.

“Do you mean patterns like missing bankers who are not considered missing?” I ventured.

“Exactly.” he returned.

“I’ll be on my way sir.” I was ready to leave the office before Calbert had a stroke or a heart attack. His face was becoming increasingly red. Sweat broke out around his temples. I wondered what he knew that was upsetting him so much. It crossed my mind that I should be concerned that he did not disclose whatever it was.

As I opened the door to leave, Calbert grunted one last warning; “Keep your head low and be careful.” I would do that much.

As I drove to the shelter, I went over the conversation with Calbert very carefully; three missing bankers who weren’t missing, a homeless crazy man who would be my partner if he would have me, and a mission that I could not call in. The whole situation was a trifecta of odd if you ask me. And to think that the day began with normal, solvable crimes and had already transitioned to an open ended quandary.

I pulled up at the shelter and shuffled through the parking lot to the front door. As I entered the building and approached the front desk I sized up the business. The building was obviously a Christian based establishment. There were posters depicting other projects championed by the nonprofit. It seemed legitimate. The older lady at the front desk greeted me politely; she looked at me and sized me up as police and not homeless right away.

“Can I help you officer?” She asked as she pushed her glasses into place on her nose.

“Detective actually,” I paused. I didn’t need to tell her that, it was pride. I quietly chastised myself as I continued. “I’m looking for someone, a Mr. Ryan Kain.”

“You will find Mr. Kain in the kitchen; he is preparing dinner.” She gestured toward the back of the building.

I made my way down the corridor. As I proceeded, I caught glimpses into the various rooms and pieces of life of that day’s residents. There were all walks of people in the shelter, the young, the old, persons of all races and backgrounds. All of them were here because their lives had taken them in a direction that they did not or could not manage. It was a sad situation. I entered the kitchen. It was full of people all cooking together to make a daily meal for those who would otherwise have none. I had to speak loudly to be heard over the din of clanking dishes, a dishwasher running and the many cooks discussing the menu and how to stretch it a little further.

“Ryan Kain?” I asked.

“That’s me.” The man stepped forward. He was probably in his late thirties; not as old as I had imagined him. He had dark hair cropped short. He wore a button-down shirt and a pair of jeans. I noted that he was an employee, not a resident. His blue eyes twinkled as he stepped forward, but his brow creased in concern.

“I’m Avery Rich, a detective for the Alexandria Metro police. My commander, Calbert, sent me here to ask your help. He said you may see the situation in a way we missed.”

His mouth twisted slightly. “I’m off the force Hun. I have been for quite a while. I can’t help you solve a case.”

“It’s not exactly a case, more of a concern. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Kain’s eyes widened slightly. He eyed me, as though I had told his deepest secret. “I suppose I could listen to your situation.” I wondered if I should be afraid. He seemed harmless enough.

Kain led me to an office not far from the kitchen. As we entered he glanced nervously out of the blinds.

“Are you alone?” he demanded.

“Yes.” I answered.

“You said Calbert sent you? Who else knows you are here?” he asked.

“No one.” I looked at him squarely in the eye, and he seemed to relax marginally.

“I don’t recognize you, are you new to the force?” He continued.

“No, I’m just new in the area.” I answered.

“Calbert hired you?”

“Yes, he recruited me.”

I was beginning to think this was going nowhere fast. This guy was grilling me like I had committed a crime. “Look, I’m not here to cause you any trouble. I just need to tell you about a situation and see if you have any input. This is all off the books, not even an active case, okay?”

Kain sat down with resolve, “Say whatever it is you came to say.” His voice was cool. His blue eyes no longer sparkled for me.

I recounted the details of the missing bankers, who were not officially missing. I told him about the anonymous call and the bloody cell phone. As I recounted the details, he listened as though he was completely absorbed. As I finished relaying the few details, I had learned. Kain stood up and began rummaging in a cabinet. He fished out a map of the city and plopped it unceremoniously onto the desk.

“Show me where, which banks?” he ordered. He held out a pencil. I marked the locations on the map as requested. Kain snatched the map towards him and righted it on his desk. He pulled a ruler from the desk and began an analysis if the document. He drew lines with the pencil. “You do have a problem Ms. Rich.” He began. “Your bankers are most likely dead or being kept alive to elicit information.”

I glanced at the triangle shape he had drawn interposed with another angle and wondered about the other locations he had marked. “You can tell that from the map?” This guy was all kinds of nuts. Why did Calbert send me here?

“Some patterns are evident to those who choose to look.” He quipped.

“Would you like to elaborate?” I ventured.

“Perhaps I will at a later time. For now, we must move along. I suspect the man who has been waiting outside has followed you. You are in danger Ms. Rich. If you will humor me, we need to leave through the back exit immediately.”

“What man?” Was he seeing things now? I stepped over to the window. As I peeked through the slit in the blinds I could see a bald man standing next to my unmarked car. He held a phone to his ear and seemed to be having an intense conversation. As he gestured from my car, then towards the building; he was speaking in the direction of another someone who I could not see. I caught a small glint off of the gun hidden on his belt. Whoever he was he was armed. My hand went instinctively towards my own gun. I ensured that it was ready for action.

“It is best that we leave now Ms. Rich.” Kain prompted. “I must confess that I am not glad that you brought this to my door. Observing these evil movements from a distance is different than involving myself directly, but it seems that I am now involved. I sincerely hope we will both survive the experience.” As Kain spoke he packed. He put some food items and some money into a bag. He pulled out some papers and a disposable cell phone. He took a pack already made up from another cabinet. Last he opened a small hand held safe and reclaimed a hand gun which he attached to his belt.

I followed Kain to the back door. “My car is the black Mazda 6. Go, I’ll cover you!” He tossed me the key and drew his weapon. I drew mine as well. Was his brand of crazy contagious? I opened the door, quickly scanned, and then made a beeline for the car. I threw open the driver’s door and took a protective stance. I looked back at Kain. Was he coming with me or donating his car? Then I remembered the pack of materials he still had slung across his back. His long strides brought him to the car almost effortlessly. For the third time, that day, I regretted my choice of shoes. On the run in heels; this is just great. I slid into the driver’s side and scooted across, handing him the keys as he swung into the seat behind me. The car started quietly and soon we moved smoothly out of the back parking lot and were headed for the freeway. I looked anxiously in the side mirrors to see if we were being followed. Kain tucked and turned as he maneuvered the car in a generally Northern direction. Were we headed to D.C.?

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what all of this is about?” I broke the silence.

“It is a rather old story I suppose.” He mused.

“Please fill me in, I feel like I’m missing the big picture. If I am being hunted, I would like to know why.”

“I suppose that would be fair, since you seemed to have been involved in this as unwillingly as I have.” He conceded. As he spoke he turned rather suddenly into the parking lot of a church. We moved towards the back door, and he produced a key from his pocket. He opened the door and held it for me. “After you; Miss Rich.”

“Avery, please call me Avery.” He nodded his acceptance but did not match my attempt at familiarity.

A Culture of Violence

Once again, I find myself witnessing acts of destruction and a complete disregard for the sanctity of human life. It has been suggested to me that in some cultural situations, life is not held with the same regards that we in the western world do. Rather, there are societies that live in such a state of violence and continuous flux that they consider their own existence inconsequential.

Of course, all of us would say that no person deserves to die in a horrible bombing, the least deserving of all being the child whose life was snuffed out before it could truly reach fruition. We as a society say that. We sympathize for the injured and for the loss of the families who have been affected. Many of us will offer sincere prayers for the wronged parties long before we know their faces and their stories. And we ask the impossible question; “why?”

But is the question really impossible for us to answer? If we as a society stubbornly refuse to expand our world view, to look outside of ourselves beyond our individual hedonistic tendencies and appreciate one another for our commonality rather than resenting or even hating one-another for the perception of differences then yes, we will never understand why these acts occur.

Essentially, it is an easy thing to feel wronged. It is simple to resent those who have caused others harm. It is tempting to close ourselves to what is unknown, uncomfortable or unfamiliar in case it may be the cause of future violence of pain. However, it this very process of rejection that causes us to isolate ourselves from our fellow man. Rather than allowing ourselves to see others as fellow travelers on the journey of life, we see others as strange, foreign, and something other than what is comfortable for us to accept. I am not making excuses for terrorists by any means; merely suggesting that they regard our society, culture and way of life as something other than what they can deem acceptable, and in some situations, this rejection becomes extreme. This is when violence occurs.

I am sure that many of my readers are now justifying their belief systems to themselves and making a bold proclamation of acceptance. But are you truly willing to accept others as they are, even if they are culturally and religiously different from yourself?

How many of us who profess to be Christians continue to pass judgment on others? Though Christ, who is purported to be the needle for the moral compass of the faith clearly stated, “Let he who has never sinned cast the first stone.” Many among those who profess to follow the teachings of Christ use eclectic bits from scripture to justify hate or exclusion. They endorse separateness and rejection of those around them who seek different belief systems or life styles.

Do not misunderstand. I do not expect us as Americans or as Christians to embrace the cultures of other individuals around the world as our own, but I ask that we respect the traditions and belief systems of others as we would like our own practices to be regarded. We are the first to express indignation when our country, religion or practices are held in disregard by other nations or groups, yet we as a culture view these groups no more favorably than they regard us.

Even on a local level there is a strong tendency to reject those who are different from us. As a county can we afford to forget the grievous error that led parts of our nation to embrace owning our fellow human beings? Can we sweep away the wrongs we have done to the native peoples of our country with the self-justification of civilizing the land? Can we afford to forget the Japanese American citizens who were rounded up like criminals for their nationality during WWII? Yet what have we learned from these transgressions when we persist to cling to a notion of exclusivity? Of course, those wrongs are in the past, but even now groups must strive for equality, although it seems to be guaranteed by the foundation of our nation’s laws. In today’s world people are harmed because of the perception of who their culture or religion may lead them to be rather than who they are as an individual or as a fellow human being.

This brings me back to the basic question of why? We will never be able to stop or slow the presence of violent behavior while we practice a culture of exclusion. We will see ourselves as the only victims as we isolate and alienate the people and cultures around us, and around the world with the flawed premise that we are somehow the elite in our humanity and morality. We are not. We are as flawed and as cruel as those who seek to harm us. Yet we see our transgressions through rose-colored glasses. We will never understand the why until we can see ourselves and individuals and as a society clearly. The “why” does not justify the violence that has occurred, but it does allow us to understand that we are perceived by outsiders as our society sees them, as something other, soothing that cannot be trusted, something foreign.

If we, as the world’s people could accept one another as human beings, who deserve the respect and dignity befitting fellow man, then much of the violence in our world can be avoided. As long as we attach a stigma to others for race, religion, culture, sexual orientation, or mental illness, we will never be able to see the dynamic we live in a clear fashion. We will never be able to deter a culture of hate and exclusion until we can erase these antiquated judgments of the surface value of others.

Truly, we all were born into this world from a woman. We all were helpless and innocent of the evils of the world. We all were nurtured in some way and educated either formally or through life experience. Somewhere along the line we lose track of this essential commonality and embrace a unique cultural identity. Cultural pride, piousness and patriotism are positive traits if we can learn to pair this ideal with a basic acceptance of our fellow human beings for who they are, not for whom we fear they may be or who we would like for them to become.

Peeking out

As an introvert, I frequently take time to observe the social patterns and habits of others. I can tell a lot about a person by how they posture themselves. Some individuals place a far greater value on the image that they allow other people to perceive than others. Personally, I tend to fall under the category of less -is- more in terms of public presentation. People’s reactions to one another are the most intriguing part of people watching. All of us; myself included have a public self and a private self. Most of us have more than one version of the person we present to others and the need for the separate genres of an individual’s identity are trained and dictated by society from an early age. As infants we learn what is appropriate and what is allowed in the context of our home and our families. Those of us who are fortunate enough to be raised in industrialized nation learned key social skills, such as potty training and the appropriate way to be fed and to accept food. These practices in the USA are in no way universal, but we think of them as commonplace. As we age, we must learn an entirely new set of standards attached to the institution of education. The rules and expectations at school will natural differ on some points when compared to the standards at home. This is normal and to be expected; yet learning that there is more than one set of appropriate behaviors is a difficult but critical lesson for some children. These lessons in context continue to expand in breadth as an individual ages. The manner in which a professional comports themselves in a business venue will be entirely different that the same individual may behave at a social or family gathering.

While all of the pretenses are normal and natural it can create some issues as we go. There will be times in all of our lives that we come across persons who are fundamentally different from us, not outwardly, but on a deeper intrinsic level. It is this element of differing fundamental framework that I find especially difficult to navigate. It is easy to ascertain the image that an individual wants you to see; but the scaffolding of values, principles, morals, academics and general attitudes about all elements of life lurk beneath this façade like an ever present mine field. When probed by situations beyond an individual’s comfort level specific differences can lead to major rifts between individuals who are not so different in other respects. Being able to see others’ point of view does not give you the background to truly appreciate what the person’s learned behaviors, attitudes and experiences have done to shape the person they are under the mask that they present to the world. Of course there are many individuals more skilled than myself at navigating these mine fields. Personally I am reasonable self-assured that I have tested most of the beliefs I have and tempered them with experience. I feel my beliefs and values are valid. The ironic thing is; so does everybody else. So if we desire a peaceful existence with our fellow man, on either a minute or grade scale we must be willing to accept that people are fundamentally different than us, and that is okay. We are made up of the sum of our experiences, and no two individuals are the same. This being said, I will leave off my thoughts here and attempt to mend fences; fundamental differences of self, when stumbled upon will knock you flat every time.

Repeating

Repeating

I have often heard Albert Einstein quoted as defining insanity as “repeating the same action over and over and expecting different results.” I can understand that premise, but I am not sure that I fully agree with the idea.

In my experience, we all repeat ourselves. I postulate that it is in human nature to repeat ourselves. The qualifier in this behavior is the specific nature of the action that is being repeated. Personally, I repeat achievement. I have a desire to achieve things during my life time. The specific achievement changes over time, but the act of determining a desired goal and pursuing it relentlessly is the pattern that I repeat. I repeated this course of action to graduate from high school, college, and college again, to learn the trade of computer networking, to learn the skills needed to be an educator, to parent my three sons, and most recently to hone the trade of becoming a published author. I repeat this goal setting and pursuit pattern over and over. The pathway is not always smooth and success is not guaranteed, but I continue to push forward.

I see others around me who are also repeating a pattern in their own means and manner. Some of them repeat a very positive pattern. They are not always successful, but they tend to have an overall positive lifestyle based upon the patterns they repeat. For some people, the pattern involves education. For my husband, it involves becoming more effective in his job. For others, the pattern that they follow is what brings them the troubles they see in their lives. If a person repeats the same mistakes, be they financial follies, missing opportunities, bad relationships, negative home lives and many other troubled courses, they will always meet the same disappointment and sorrow that come from the negative decision that they repeat.

This brings me to my question; what sets a person’s pattern of behavior? If we as human beings have this tendency to repeat ourselves, what determines what pattern we adopt? What sets some people on a repeating course of positive activity, while others doom themselves to repeat their mistakes?

Of course, with free will in human behavior there will be an exception to the rule. There are those individuals who have the epiphany that their pattern of repeating is the very thing causing the problem or dilemma they are experiencing. These rare individuals are somehow able to change course once they recognize the pattern they have set for themselves. This can be experienced on a small scale; such as the junk food junky which adopts healthy eating habits, or the couch potato that sticks to an exercise routine. Most of us find changing these patterns very difficult.

I postulate that if we could all find the will power to look at our lives objectively and the determination to break cycles of negativity and replace those repeated mistakes with repeated positives that we would all be more content and more productive during our short term on this planet. I just wish I knew how to help others make these changes and how to help my sons set their lives in motion with positive repetitions.

Predestination of the Soul

With my last post, I discussed the existence of soul mates. Upon careful reflection, the existence of soul mates opens the door for another supposition; the predestination of the soul. If we allow ourselves to embrace the possibility that some individuals are perfectly made to compliment another, then we must open ourselves to the possibility that we as human creations are also designed for other specific purposes which we are intended to fulfill during our mortal lives.

Most of us accept that we are individuals. Each of us has unique talents and shortcomings that make us who we are. If this understanding is founded, then is it fair to assume that we are created with our own peculiarities to fill a specific niche in the grand design. Honestly, it is refreshing that not every single individual has the same abilities. If we were all especially talented as artists, but none among us had the ability to implement engineering concepts, or grow food, or any of thousands of other possibilities, then our overall quality of life would suffer in this world of modern interdependence.

Of course not every individual uses the talents that they have, or live long enough to touch the lives of others with the skills they are endowed with. However, everyone still has a role to play in the lives of others, either as a child, a parent, and a friend or in some other capacity. We all touch the lives of others in some specific way. In the words of John Donne, “No man is an island.” Is it then possible that we are all a part of some intricate puzzle in which each of us plays an essential role despite the grandeur or lack thereof of the life we lead?

In my new book, The Corporeal Pull my main character, Terra of the Tweens is charged with the task of analyzing earth bound souls and helping to choose the path that will best lead each individual towards the best fruition of talent and inherent purpose. This task eventually overwhelms her as she is forced to account for the multidimensionality of humanity instead of dealing with only the black-and-white details. We are, after all subject to free will that can lead our lives in an infinite variety of directions.

Sara Gauldin’s Author Central Amazon Page

Sara Gauldin’s Author Central Amazon Page

Here you can follow my publications that are currently for sale on Amazon!

Soul Mates

In today’s modern world, the concept of love has stretched and conformed to the needs of today’s world. Of course, there are many kinds of love present within western culture; a parent’s love for a child, a child for a parent, a sibling for a sibling, a friend’s compassion for a peer, or a teacher for her students. But what has become of romantic love? In a time where the odds of divorce outweigh the chances of a successful marriage, has the concept of true and lasting love dwindled completely? From my perspective love that is deep and legitimate has remained constant. There is a change in societal constraints that allow relationships that cannot find this perfect harmony to form a rift. In another era, these marital complications would have to become part of a marriage rather than a reason for divorce.

I still believe in the existence of real love stories that are intermingled into the chaos of everyday life. This assumption begs another question; is love a spontaneous occurrence which happens when a relationship between kindred persons is allowed to grow and mature, or is there a possibility that some loves are so pure and unavoidable that they must truly be what we commonly refer to as soul mates?

I have been intrigued with the concept of soul mates for some time. Surely not everybody that you fall in love with, from your school yard sweet heart to your college love can all be your soul mate. That does not rule out the potential for any of these loves to be a soul mate, just not all of them. I believe that soul mates consist of two individuals who are constantly drawn to one another in an almost unavoidable fashion that leaves them little option for fulfillment or happiness when faced with the absence of the second party. Frankly, soul mates complete one another and complement one another to the extent that either individual feels incomplete without the other person.

Soul mates were designed to be for one another on earth. Their pull for one another is akin to a magnetic field. The attraction is a raw and primitive force that cannot be denied even with conscious effort.

I have included the ideology of soul mates in my latest novel The Corporeal Pull. My two main characters find that they are destined for one another despite being complete opposites. They are torn from each other’s presence, and their bond is tested in every way humanly possible and beyond, yet they are irrevocably drawn to one another in an unavoidable way. Their destinies intertwine at every turn because they are truly meant for one another.

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Life is a river;

flowing, swarming towards a

common goal;

constantly changing shape

like a sculptor molding clay;

hurling it’s self  headlong

towards the shore;

adverting – at the last moment

but continually flowing,

water reaching each

new corner, rock or dam

to find a way to preserver.

 

Life is a road;

reaching each new step;

goals formed to reach a destination,

unknowing what will change

to make you decide.

Trying and trying

to reach a destination

that is always further away.

You stop, refuel, and move on.

 

Life is a stair case;

reaching each landing

struggling to move on;

rickety, missing, unsteady,

but sometimes smooth

continually moving on

Sara Gauldin’s Smashwords Author Page

Sara Gauldin’s Smashwords Author Page