Category: Random

Overactive Mind

Carl Setzer

I’m getting a lot done, but accomplishing very little. I don’t find it satisfying. I enjoy checking off to-dos, but without direction it’s, ultimately, empty. Way too many directions in my life. I need focus.

Examples: the hundreds of email news sources I subscribe to. And the dozen, or more, tasks I load into a day. That’s a weakness in the electronic-tools age. Keeping those emails to read “later” is so easy. Or just shuffle those tasks to another day. Then I get to a point where I have several hundred emails waiting to be read. Or I’m spending 15 minutes moving my collection of overdue tasks to today. It all creates a sensation of “spinning my wheels”.

I’m tacking this, slowly, carefully. First, I’m now aggressively deleting email. And also unsubscribing. For things I’ve been subscribed to for years, I feel discomfort. But with so many I haven’t even opened in years, it’s just time. Time to accept that see the value, but don’t feel. And give myself permission to feel it. Also, I’m culling tasks. Some have lingered for months, even years. My mind is telling me something here. Time to listen.

The next step for me requires stepping back, reprioritizing and focusing. I know it will be painful. Selecting that which I won’t do; ugh. I want to do everything. I see, though, I can’t do even half of everything well. Quality is important. Much more so than quantity. Time to embrace it, and live it.

Perhaps I’ll embrace an agile approach. Re-evaluate every few weeks/months. Ensuring I’m meeting my needs; watching for those needs to change. I like that idea. Allowing my life to flow, fluid-like. Accepting my needs will change, and seeking to be ahead. Rather than waiting until I swirl into misery. There’s zen.

Summer moves to Autumn

Carl Setzer

Cool and grey out my window; Puget Sound’s traditional weather returns. Muted, calm light flows through trees, still bearing mostly summer leaves. A few flecks of yellow and brown, however, foreshadow fall’s approach. Time, I guess, to put away flip-flops and shorts. Cool air and breezes dominate outside. Uncovered feet now hurt. I sit, eyes following leaves pushed by a gentle breeze, wondering what autumn, and the ensuing winter, brings. A bitter winter, perhaps, laden with snow? With a great ski season ensuing, mitigating said bitterness? Or traffic regularly snarled by snow, sleet and hail? Or perhaps a gentler winter awaits? I expect a blend, snowy delights in the nearby mountains, with occasional impacts upon civilization. That, with much drinking of tea and hot cocoa, excite me.

Reflecting on September 11

Carl Setzer

Early in the morning, 10 years ago, I dozed listening to NPR and heard something about a plane flying into a building in New York. Imagining a terrible accident, I rose, turning on CNN. I’m unaware of how much time passed before the second plane flew into the towers. At that point I knew this was deliberate; and horrible beyond imagination. The office manager of a church, I made my way there and we opened our chapel for prayers (it’s an inner city parish; unmonitored open doors are generally a recipe for trouble). A predominately progressive church, but with a diversity of political views, I heard angry diatribes about Bush’s destructive policies, to raging demands of blasting all Arabs to dust. My personal reaction was more complex, more focused on compassion; solidly progressive. Anyway, ten-years out, I’m trying to ascertain how this changed me.

Clearly the world changed. But I wasn’t at ground zero. Nor did I lose friends or family. My personal, direct impact was small. Yet, something(s) changed. For many, the change was a sudden awareness of the burning hatred so much of the world carries for the US. Having read such works as Zinn’s “A People’s History of the United States, I was well aware of my country’s list of offenses. So the venom directed at the US was hardly news. So that’s not it.

Air travel security seems an obvious change for us all. However, I haven’t traveled by air much since. Thus the impact on me; very minimal. I’m hard pressed to find anything else obvious. Perhaps it’s not so clear. So much has changed in ten years. How do I separate out 9/11 vs. the other changes of my life? Perhaps I need to look deeper than these minute details.

I have become more committed to my values. Embarking more deeply Christ’s commandments towards compassion. I see their value at deeper level than before. I am more committed to redemption, to eradicating fear from my life, and to layering peace throughout my life. I also try to think bigger picture. Such things as remembering the less dramatic heroes. Like the Canadian families who took in our displaced citizens when we shut down our airspace. Important acts of kindness during moments of horror. Hold those examples up.

My world is dramatically different now. Separating out the effects of the terrorist attacks is futile. Yet 9/11 influences me deeply; a small, tight thread woven throughout my life. My life, my being is the gestalt. These subdivisions merely academic and, ultimately, empty. Perhaps that’s the most fitting lesson to me of all.

Blogger – New Interface

Carl Setzer

When I logged into Blogger this evening, I was greeted with the option for a new interface. Being forever enchanted with all things new, I plunged forth. I like what I’ve seen so far. The interface is cleaner. From a design perspective, a much better use of white space. None of the old functionality is lost, though some of it looks different (stats is what I noticed right off). All in all, I like it well. And it’s the most significant update from Google on the Blogger platform in some time. My only disappointment is the lack of new features. I’d love to have an auto-publish to Twitter built in. Well, that’s the biggest for me. I would’ve loved to see new features; more than just a new layout. Well, that’s what I have for an hour or so’s worth of exploration.

Big Four Ice Caves

Carl Setzer
Today a group consisting of my family and friends, took to the highways and ventured out to the Big Four Ice Caves. I’ve been hearing about this place for years, and it seemed a great time to venture out there. It’s about 14 miles east of the Verlot ranger station, in eastern Snohomish county. 
A nice hike. Not too intense, not much in the way of elevation gain. There were a few folks in flip-flops, some in sandals (like Tevas) and most in tennis shoes. I wore my hiking boots. With my ankle’s history of injury, I opted for extra protection.
The terminus of the hike was packed snow, which formed the ice caves in the name. There were other caves further along the small valley, but we didn’t venture farther. Some of us went up onto the snow/ice (the ice is compacted snow, formed mostly from avalanche fallout). I, with my boots, was the only one really equipped for that. I stopped everyone once we got to the point where the rocks that fell were big enough to cause serious harm. And I kept my eyes towards the cliffs the whole time we were on there. 
After the ice, we scampered over loose rocks, exploring the area. Saw a bunch of daisies, fireweed and elderberries. Elderberries were out, though we avoided their toxic fruit. Some of the wild blackberries were ripe, most still needing time. Tart, tart, tart.
Every time I’m up in the mountains, I think about how much I love it there. I love the silence, and the forests. There’s something about the trees. Also triggers a desire to study ecology. Perhaps something for my next sabbatical.
We didn’t see much wildlife. Heard what sounded like a loon, and a few other birds. Otherwise, it was extremely quiet. That was probably related to the hundreds of other people up there with us. There were times that our walk seemed more like being part of a parade.
I delight spending time in the woods. Adding family to that makes things even better. I’m inspired to do more. Maybe some skiing this winter. Or more mountainbiking. I’m excited to see where I take this. 

Social Media & The Deer In The Headlights Look

Carl Setzer

It’s not uncommon for the neophyte to look at the mass of choices and just shut down (autocorrect thought “mass” should be “mess”. It feels the same way.) A few thoughts to take the edge off.

First, you don’t want to be everywhere. Start with a manageable piece and grow.

Also, there is no reason this should take hours…until you have a large audience. Even then, most engagement can take just a few minutes at a time. Utilize your DMV wait to reply to Tweets, check in with LinkedIn contacts or Facebook chums. Combined with a mobile device/smartphone, you can fill in those old “boredom productivity gaps”.

See, social media really isn’t as horrible a time-suck as rumored.

Life as a writer

Carl Setzer

I started writing young. Memories of writing comic-books as a fourth-grader my earliest. Always, though, insecurity drove me to destroy them. Fears of mockery, mostly. I knew, even then, how much better it should look. High standards choke productivity.

Junior high brought a new set of fears. God forbid I be found writing stories! Or worse, poetry! I delighted writing poems, but knew the doom of letting that go public. This idea brought shivers of terror. I couldn’t dream of a better way to put the junior-high-social-destroy-me-bulls-eye on. It saddens the forty-four-year-old me how much power I granted “them”.

As an adult, my fears still compell, though with a different face. Now I fear the inner critic, constantly rehashing every error, mistake, or lame word-use. But that’s only a piece. I, also, fear success. The demands of an audience! Wanting more of these characters. Wanting more of me. Success breeds an expectation of more success. What if I can’t?

At least my journals do not face destruction, even as I read them and cringe. I often expect genius in the first draft. Well, “expect” seems too soft a word. Better put: demand! These journals, though, serve as outlet for my need to write. Safety in these words, tucked upon my shelf, only occasionally shared. They served to contain the dream. Keeping me both safe from my dreams, and from the glaring pain of critique. This blog helps, too. Seeing the hundreds of people reading it each month gratifies.

Why do I let fear drive me? Deep down, perhaps, I face a troll lurking in the basement of my psyche. Bearing a monstrous, booming voice which terrifies. If I dare to venture down, seeking its face, I see a minuscule beast. The power in facing fears.