Category Archives: random

Really Bad Metaphors (hopefully a four part series)

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I’m thinking it’d be fun to write random posts that are plain and simply really really bad metaphors making absolutely no valuable point whatsoever. Turns out it’s a bit harder than I first thought! So without further adieu…a really poor illustration for life:

I’ve put on about 40 pounds since this whole cancer thing started. Most of it is water weight due to taking steroids. Some of it is actual fat due to inactivity. Regardless I found that it came quite in handy while snorkeling. Turns out I can’t sink. No, seriously, I was so buoyant that as hard as I would try I couldn’t possibly swim three feet below the water. So there I floated for about two hours looking at sea creatures of all kinds. I could barely walk in the water due to the manner in which my legs work/don’t work (we liked to say that I looked like a toddler pretending to be a clown) but boy could I snorkel!

Buoyancy.

Sometimes all we want in life is a little buoyancy. Often times we feel as though we’re walking through life like a toddler pretending to be a clown–stagering and stammering as we swear everyone around us is watching and smirking. Maybe we stammer because we got cancer in our spine that made our legs not work…or maybe we stammer because we drank too much the night before. Regardless, we look awkward, like Jack Sparrow on a tilt a whirl or child who’s dad spun him too fast on the merry go round. If only we could float. If only we could fly. If only we could soar high above the water that causes us to fall. If only.

The answer is simple: drugs. Not drugs in a literal sense, but metaphorically. We all need to be drugged out in life so that we can gain a little weight and thus become more buoyant so we can float above our problems and view the wildlife below. So drink the Koolaid, pick your drug of choice…and may I suggest the drug of love? It’s a pretty good one and I hear it causes havoc on the waistline.

Can’t Help But Hope

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If you live in Vancouver you’ve dealt with disappointment. In the last week we saw our first snowfall of the winter come in all of its glory. It was beautiful, it was exciting, schools closed, the roads were covered…and the rain washed it away before a child could even really play in it. It was disappointing.

I’m realizing that disappointment is something that I spend much of my life avoiding. Disappointment hurts. I don’t want to look foolish by hoping for something that I’ll only eventually be let down by. Hope hurts. Hope causes you to raise your expectations, it creates vulnerability, it puts you in a place where you can be sorely hurt and let down. If you don’t hope for something you won’t get disappointed if it doesn’t happen. If you don’t hope for something you’ve placed yourself in a protected position, hedged against hurt, against potential shame, against embarrassment.

I’ve spent much of my life avoiding disappointment…but I think I’m ready to be hurt by hope. I think I’m ready to be disappointed by hope. I think it’s worth it. And I dont’ think I could have come to this place genuinely without the process that took me here.* In my first seven months fighting cancer my faith journey had to take me to a place where death was acceptable. And it still is. Death is unavoidable, death is nothing to be feared because death has been overcome (thanks for that JC), death has no permanent hold on me. I HAD to come to a place where there was hope even in death (not just despite death but even IN death). I had to believe that God could and would tell a story through my life, my sickness, and my death. But God did not is not leaving me there. God is inviting me to risk being disappointed by hoping for healing. Most people jumped straight to this place, their first (and only) prayer was for healing, their only expectation was that God would heal me. But I couldn’t make that jump both because I don’t fully believe it and because I couldn’t fully believe it until I was willing to see God in healing and death.

Today, and for about the last month, I’m ready to hope to be healed. I’m expecting to be healed. I’m planning to be healed. I might be wrong, I may be sorely disappointed, I may get hurt…but that’s the nature of hope isn’t it? Hope hurts. Or in the words of Foy Vance “hope deals the hardest blow, yet I cannot help myself but hope”

* That’s a bit of a redundant sentence…a bit goofy, though I’ll defend it’s truthiness to the end…and, yes, I did just say ‘truthiness’

A Blog About Narwals

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(that’s right, this is a blog about Narwhal whales. Why? I’m not quite sure. Is there a point to it? No. Is there any great meaning to this blog post? No. Is it funny? As it turns out…not so much. Is this a departure from my usual blogs of amazing depth and valuable content? Most would say no. So without further adieu…Narwhal…)

Narwhal whales are spectacular. They shouldn’t be real…I’m actually not sure that they are. I mean, lets be honest, they’re the unicorn’s of the sea…and we all know that unicorns aren’t real. But Narwhal’s are real. They’re real and they’re awesome. Awesomely real.

A friend recently started using the term ‘unicorn’ to refer to things that aren’t actually ever seen in real life. Think: a husband who does dishes, a cat that’s enjoyable to be around, a successful small business in Vancouver, you get the idea. But Narwhal’s aren’t unicorns, they’re not husbands who willingly watch their own kids. They’re actually whales with a bucktooth. Yes, that’s right, the Narwhal’s spectacular unicorn-like spike is actually a giant tooth protruding from its mouth. The Narwhal is actually more like a beaver than a majestic unicorn. Disappointed? Don’t be. Beavers are awesome too. They make homes in water out of sticks, they eat trees, and they gave Mel Gibson a chance to re-make himself.

The moral of the story? Simple: some things appear to be awesome and others appear to be mythical…some even appear to be both. Chances are, they’re not. Chances are it’s just a beaver with a blowhole. So when you try to be awesome by showing off your magnificent ‘tusk’ remember that you might be more of a beaver than a unicorn…and that’s not bad.

**I’d like to clarify three important things. One, I chose to capitalize “Narwhal” as gesture of honor to the most awesomestly real animal I’ve never seen. Two, I’m not quite sure why I wrote this blog nor what it means. Three, I think the reason I wrote this blog is because Narwhal’s are rocking my world right now.

Help a Brotha Out

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I started blogging back in 2005 because it was fun. I continued blogging for the next five years because it was therapeutic for me. Very few people ever read my blog and it never really mattered to me because I primarily blogged for myself. It helped me to think through my life, to be present with my own thoughts, and to capture my thoughts in a semi-permanent way for longevity sake. More recently, however, people have started reading what I write. It was overwhelming at first because it drew with it a level of accountability–if people read what I write then I’ve got to mean what I say!

My story of fighting cancer thus far has resonated with many people. I think it is partially because I’m not the kind of person that needs much privacy and finds more solace in putting my story out there rather then keeping to myself. Sometimes I’m critical of myself and my story–I question whether I really say anything of value. But I’m learning to trust what’s happening in my life, knowing that I’m not alone in this, knowing that others have experience the same thing and still others are about to engage in a similar journey. For this reason I’m trying to move forward with confidence and therefore would like to ask you to partner with me in sharing my story. If you read a blog that you think is of value would you mind clicking on one of the “share and enjoy” icons at the end of the post? Suggest it to Stumbleupon, Digg, your Facebook page, or one of the other options.

I don’t really know how all this stuff works, but I’m learning. My blog that catalogues all of my cancer posts (http://su.pr/2cadME) might be a good place for some people to find hope or a voice in their own journey…I don’t know…

Thank you to all of you, friends, online stalkers, family, and acquaintances for your partnership in all of this. Oh what a difference it makes!

Peace.

Ryan

Stop Being Spineless and Get Organized

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I’d like to say that I can’t believe that I never realized this before but that would be disingenuous because it’s fairly common for me to not realize things about myself. I shouldn’t really be surprised by this fact anymore.

Jessica and I often lament the fact that we don’t do routine well. All we’ve ever wanted for our family and for ourselves is to be people that are consistent, that live by a healthy set of rhythms, and that have a handful of specific (fun) patterns that shape our lives. Instead we often find ourselves scattered and on the go, random, and a bit all over the place.

Often when we get rid of the kids for a day or two our ideal time together is to go to Storables and figure out what we could buy that would better organize our lives. Maybe its just a matter of having a better calendar, a better app on our phones, or better shelving in our closet…or maybe the problem is just us.

It’s not all bad though. The thing is is that some of our best qualities as a family and as individuals exist in juxtaposition to a routine and organized life. We’re spontaneous, we’re relaxed and easy going, and we’ll generally scrap any plans if it allows us to spend time with people.

Here’s the awkward realization though…I am a fairly organized person and I am a very routine driven person. I shower the EXACT same way every morning, I put on my deodorant, brush my teeth, take my medicines, put on my clothes, etc. in virtually the exact same way every single day. I keep my backpack in a specific way, keep my computer files organized in a specific way, put my keys in the same spot every day, put the same three things in my pockets every day, blah, blah, blah, etc. etc. Routine is actually quite important to how I function as a person.

Jessica is driven by anticipation, by the next fun event. She moves through life looking for the next party or defining experience. She’s an incredible visionary because she has a knack for seeing what does not yet exist, she’s incredibly fun to be around because she’s excitable and entertaining, she’s passionate about moving forward and about growth. But her challenge is valuing the moment enough to live in it (rather than in anticipation of the next moment). So organization and routine do not fit who she is very well, it’s taxing and a great challenge to who she is. I, on the other hand, am driven by creating peace and stability in my environment. I want/need things to be chill, to have few extremes, and to be balanced. My tendency is to change my opinion solely based on whether or not I think it will create a more peaceful environment around me. So I’m easy to be around but I can be potentially spineless and can painfully undermine people’s feelings (if you’ve got an extreme feeling, valid or not, I’ll want to neutralize it in order to make things safer for myself).

The reason WE have a hard time being organized or living by a certain set of rhythms is that I choose not to bring who I am to the table all the time. I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose, I wouldn’t want to unsettle anything in a person or system around me by trying to make changes or hold others to something that I think would be valuable would I? That might shake up the peace…the peace that I crave so desperately.

So, yeah, I’m the problem. In life in general I’m learning to grow a pair, I’m learning to step out and own my own opinions, I’m learning to value others’ seemingly extreme emotions (and to even value my own), I’m learning that peace is valuable but not at all costs, I’m learning that to shut myself down is to be dishonest. I’m learning…at least I hope I am.