Costuming

Many of us have various costumes. We have work costumes, housework costumes, and casual costumes.   Most cultures have celebratory costumes.  If the invitation says formal or black tie one knows the type of costumes that one is expected to wear.   If one is attending a tribal celebration there may not be a formal invitation but it is clearly understood what costume is appropriate - often a slightly different costume for various roles.    In more recent years, especially in the United States, but also, I have notice in many places in the world, costumes have become less varied and more informal.  Body piercing and visible tattoos have also, for many, become part of the permanent costume.  No matter how formal the occasion they are proudly visible.  

For a time there was, perhaps cruelly, photos of costumes worn to the grocery stores, most notably Walmart, which were intended to evoke a laugh - perhaps a self righteous laugh.  Honestly requires that I admit I often laughed at these photos of what I called Walmartians.  Thankfully, I have not seen any of these for some time.

There was a time, as I recently noted in another blog, traveling by train or plane demanded  business or church type attire.  Although one will still see some dressed in business attire, comfort is the chief consideration for many travelers which is consistent with the decreased food service and seat comfort.

Attendance at churches and funeral homes used to require “Sunday going to church costumes”.  Often for many of us these were the same costumes reserved for other special occasions. One had work clothes which doubled as play clothes, school clothes and  sometimes church clothes. School clothes might double as church clothes,   To our mother  and many others our often patched school and church clothes were a source of shame.   In her mind and the mind of some others, patched or homemade clothes told others the financial status of the family.   Financial status was equated with social status which was equated with success which was equated with the extent which one found favor with god.  One of the assumptions was that God favored those who worked hard, were educated, financially well off and thus morally good

Few seemed to notice that one did not have to be a moral or ethical person to amass a significant bank account and, thus, to purchase and wear certain costumes.  

A part of costuming is the mask of emotion shared or not shared via facial expression and body posture.   (For some COVID related masks one wears are also becoming quite distinctive.)

We often use all these aspects of costuming to create stories of those we encounter.  We creates stories about one’s social status, financial success, and even moral worth.   

Costumes can be great fun or they can be as uncomfortable and unhealthy as the tightly laced corsets which many women were once expected to wear.   Stylish shoes, especially for females, can be designed to prevent women being able to move about freely or to escape a potential assailant.  

The most dangerous aspect of costuming is not what a person is wearing (or not wearing) but in assuming that one can know the person by observing their clothing costume, tattoos,  physical postures and facial expressions.  Unless one is very adept at exactly miming the “dance” of the person one is observing and can duplicate that dance for some time, one will have little idea of what the other person is feeling. If one observes a group of individuals at a corporate board meeting (often still predominantly males) one might think one can know these individuals.  If one observes a grieving person who has learned the art of the “stiff upper lip” one might make assumptions about the depth of their grief.  If one is privy to the criminal labels, the mental health labels or or other labels of individuals one might think they can make many assumptions about the individuals.   The labels become part of the costume of the individual.

It may be considered morally admirable to be able to imagine “walking in the shoes of another” or to be empathic.  To be empathetic is usually defined as the ability to share and understand the feelings of other.  Yet, to imagine that we “know” what another is feeling or experiencing - the nature of their life dance - is very dangerous for the observer and the observed.     Unless a person feels safe and comfortable enough to be open and honest with themselves and with another, one will seldom know what the other person is feeling or experiencing.  

Today my spiritual intention  is to not pretend as if i can know what others are feeling while doing my best to be present with others.     i want to be conscious, without judging myself, of how often I use all or any aspects of costuming to make assumptions about others.


Written October 16, 2020
Jimmy F Pickett
coachpickett.org

Gifts
 
My spiritual intention yesterday was to be open to the gifts of the day even if could not immediately see them as gifts.     
 
As I know is true for many other people, I often have an agenda which I marry to the delusion that I have some control over what people and situations I will encounter on any given day.   Of course, as we all know, life shows up on its own terms.  I have known that, at some level, for over seven decades.  I all too frequently,  continue to expect other people and, in fact, the universe. to check my agenda before it makes decisions.   For some reason the universe did not get the memo stating I and my agenda are to be given priority over all other people and even mother nature.  When this does not happen I am often upset, angry, worried, anxious and disappointed.    Even when what arrives is the unexpected visit of a dear friend whom I have not seen for some time I may experience the visit as an inconvenience because it has interrupted my agenda. 
 
Wise mem and women such as my grandma Fannie have often reminded me that “All things work together for good.”  Grandma Fannie was quoting Roman 8:28. Paul goes on to say, “To them who love God.”    Grandma Fannie had a definitive concept of god as did the author of Romans, but many other wise people have understood god to mean the whole of what is.   In fact, in the Old Testament the concept of God is described as “I am”.    Wise men and women, throughout the ages. have known that in some seemingly magical way every event which happens is necessary for us to experience the blessings of this moment.  
 
 
Earlier in the week I joined a new friend for a visit over lunch.  I met this man following the tragic death of his son in an automobile accident.  While I certainly do not see the death of this young man who was this bright, sweet, young man - himself such a gift  -  as anything other than tragic,  the presence of his father in my life is a gift.   I may never have met this man had not his son died.   Embracing all that happens as an opportunity is not a goal for the those of who like neat, well wrapped little packages.   Yes, each event is, for me, an opportunity to grow, to meet new teachers and sources of strength and wisdom, and to be present in love.
 
A friend reminded me this morning that we only have today. If I cannot experience today as an opportunity to grow emotionally, intellectually and spiritually my tomorrow will be less rich.
 
Deaths, disappointments, failures, missed opportunities, loving friendships, joyful play and great sorrow have brought me to this moment.  Even if I had the power to make one fewer mistake or have one less regret  I would hesitate to use that power.   Today I enjoy the richness of mother nature, loving friends, and the excitement of looking forward to a new chapter in my life.  Just one change of the past would make the present very different.
 
Just for today my goal is to embrace all that is in this moment as a gift while not denying grief and other very valid human emotions.  Just for today I will be intentional about not backing away from any event but embracing what is even if that is the opportunity to share sadness or other pain.
 
Written October 15, 2020
Jimmy F Pickett
coachpickett.org
 
​

​Being present
 
My spiritual intention yesterday was to be present to each moment.  Sounds simple enough.   Yet, often, especially when I have a lot on my plate as I now do, I find my attention wandering to the past, to the future,  or to lists of tasks I want and need to accomplish.
 
Even during less busy times, I have a wandering mind.  I regret, play the what if game and imagine versions of my future.  If talking with someone, rather than listening, I may be formulating my response of disagreement or  preparing to share my similar experience.  Rather than listening I may be outlining what the speaker should have said or did.  I may be congratulating myself on not making the exact same mistakes they did or in some other ways calculating the points of myself and the speaker who merely wants to know that he or she is heard. Even with children I may feel a need to share my superior knowledge or insightfulness even if the child has far surpassed my knowledge which is true in many situations.
 
If this process sounds exhausting it is.  Why then do so many of us avoid the simplicity and affirming process of being present?   All of us know how good we feel when someone is truly present with us whether to hear our spoken works or our silence.  None of us appreciate being judged or evaluated.   None of  us enjoy another person thinking they are more adept at criticizing us than we are. If we truly want advice or specific  information we will ask for it.
 
What is it about being present with no other agenda which is so healing?  New ideas or solutions very often arrive when I am being very quiet and not “trying”  to conjure up a new idea or solutions.  I merely need to allow my mind to be clear enough to receive it from the universe or some recess of my mind.  When someone is truly listening with love and respect I hear myself more clearly.  Perhaps only then that part of my mind which knows what to teach children or students is more accessible than the part of my mind which attempts to force ideals or solutions to arise from the depths of my mind.  The folks singer, Arlo Guthrie, on the recording of Alice’s Restaurant, strummed his guitar while waiting for the next line to make its appearance.
 
I know a lot of people who use the steps of the 12-step program to guide them in their journey of recovery.  Step one reminds one that when one admits one is powerless over Y one gains power.  It is only by accepting powerlessness that one gains the strength which allows one to face life on life’s terms.
 
This is the power of  having no other agenda than to be present.  It is the power to begin a chain of “we” rather than  “us and them”. This chain can grow exponentially until it circles the universe.
 
Written October 14, 2020
Jimmy F Pickett
coachpickett.org
 
 
 
 

​Truth
 
October 12, the day celebrated as Columbus Day in the United States – the day that Columbus arrived in what would eventually become the United States – evokes passionate emotions.   When I was a young man, with all due respect to my teachers, the story which was told about the history of this land was presented as “the truth”.   It was not until I was at the University of Maryland studying philosophy that I was formally challenged to accept that there were many versions of every story.   As a child I knew, of course, that adults argued about politics, religions and even about whose family history was accurate.  Aunt V was either a brave feminist or a loose woman.   The political opponents were self-serving, unpatriotic, and perhaps even liars. God was angry, punishing and exclusively present in one brand of church or compassionate and present in all places.  I was told that the stories I was taught in class were the genuine history of a land and people whose blood, sweat, and tears fertilized the very soil upon which we proudly stood.
 
Today we hear stories of fake news, liars, and godliness.   Given the plethora of sources of the distribution of words we can hear or experience many versions of “The truth” within a single hour or day.   We can also experience strong emotional reactions to various stories.  It can seem extremely important that our version of a particular story be accepted as the truth.   We can feel as if only our version acknowledges the achievements or the pain experience by our ancestors and passed to us.
 
On this Columbus Day I have heard many stories about the treatment of Native Americans by early arrivals to this country, of the slavery of African Americans, o  indigenous people of Africa and their role in the slave trade, of the tawdry, courageous, proud, criminal history of the early immigrants to this country, and  the saintliness or the violent history of Native Americans.  These were the stories I heard prior to 8:00 a.m. on October 12, 2020.
 
I am, once again challenged to listen with compassion – an open mind and heart .  What do I need to hear?  Do I need to hear that there are victims and perpetrators?  Do I need to hear that there are saints and sinner?  Do I need to hear that the pain of one can easily become a sword to inflict pain on another?  Do I need to hear that my vested interest in my version of a particular story validates my worth or serves as a shield to hide my fear that I and my ancestors were mere objects or the cruel masters treating others as objects?
 
William Shakespeare’s words as spoken by Jaques in As You Like it once again come to mind:  “All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances;”   Yet the pain and the fear are real.  
 
Perhaps we need to listen with our hearts and open eyes to see how we fail to take care of each other; how we see criminal behavior and not pain; how we point fingers and fail to problem solve; how we become defensive and call upon the gods of potential lawsuits or righteousness; how we become so fearful of the wax of our wings melting that we, unlike Icarus, avoid the light and fire of the sun all together.  Perhaps we need to question our investment in “the truth” and embrace the sister and the brother who hide from our self-righteousness. 
 
As we approach local, state and national elections we need to honor the freedom to vote knowing the limitations of the stories we have been told,  but determined to be active, compassionate, responsible citizens inviting a courageous, humble, attempt to create a new story.
 
Written October 12, 2020
Jimmy F Pickett
coachpickett.org
 
 
 
 
 

Sunday musings – October 11, 2020
 
The concept of distance has always been a mystery to me.  I can, of course, use mathematical  language and formulas to talk about distance.  Yet, the idea that I  can be in this place and then in a few hours or a few days (depending on mode of transportation)another place,  has never stopped seeming magical to me.   
 
I know that as soon as I move from Wheeling, WV to Tulsa, Oklahoma I will not be able to just pop over to visit friends in Wheeling and Pittsburgh.  Yet, it seems I should be able to do so. As soon as I move I will often be tempted to ring up a Wheeling or Pittsburgh area friend and make plans to meet for dinner, a symphony performance, a hike or a visit to the Carnegie or Warhol  museum. 
 
I have lived in many places in the country and until  recently I had the luxury of traveling fairly often.   The magic of travel and the luxury of having the finances to budget for gas for my car or plane tickets allowed me, with a little planning, to pop over for a visit with friends in many parts of the world.                              
 
At the moment, travel via plane is not nearly as comfortable as it once was.   Until covid-19 visited travel via plane had become so routine that neither passengers nor airline staff treated it as a special event.   When I was a young man nearly everyone dressed to travel via plane or train and were served lovely meals.  Even if the non-first class food was not necessarily gourmet quality the service staff make it seem like a treat.  Now since the arrival of covid-19  and limited flights insuring that most flights are jammed packed it no longer feel particularly safe.    The limited service is even more limited and does not even including beverage service.
 
Despite these facts,  it still  feels as if  I am close to all those I know in London, Australia, the west coast of the United States and every other place.  It feels very magical, as if I should able to follow the example of the human voice which can quickly carry one’s voice even to outer space.  As old as I am I imagine the human voice running on legs at a sonic speed.  In my mind’s eye I can see millions of those little legs running towards the nearest relay satellite. 
 
I know, of course, that  there is, at most, six degrees of separation from each of us on this planet – only six people separate all of us.  We all live in this very tiny world and in a very real way touch each other continuously.
 
My intention to day is to hold on to this magic of touch which defies distance , is not intimidated by covid-19,  politicians or even the rules of math. 
 
Today I will keep close to all who tickle my heart and my mind.
 
Written October 11, 2020
Jimmy F Pickett,  LPC, AADC
coachpickett.org
 
 
 

​I am my stuff?
 
I have previously written on attachment to other people, places or things.   Spiritually the most damaging attachments are my demands that other people be responsible for my happiness or well being.  Yet, my attachment to stuff is also spiritually burdensome.
 
Currently, I am in the midst of sorting and packing for my upcoming move to Tulsa.  One might think that since I have moved many times in this life journey I would  be adept at living as a minimalist.  I like to think of myself as a non-shopper and a person who can easily enjoy and then let go of objects.   Yet, it seems that I develop attachments to artwork in the form of paintings, sculptures,  pottery, and glassware.  Then there are the photos I receive  of friends, their children and grandchildren.   I also love having a variety of baking and cooking equipment, good china, elegant crystal, books I may want to reread or follow through on my intention to read, clothes for every possible occasion, a variety of shoes, several sets of sheets and many towels.   There is also the supply of greeting cards, the office equipment, old financial records Uncle Sam demands I keep, and  even the variety of cleaning equipment.    The list goes on and on and on and …
 
I read of a woman who had divested herself of all her possessions except for one hundred items.   The count of 100 items included dishes, silverware, clothes and toiletries.  I have often attempted to imagine what 100 items I would keep.  I cannot even reduce the number of my possessions to 1000.
 
I am moving to a one-bedroom condo partly because I know that at 80 I need to be mindful of the fact that at some time in the not too distant future someone is going to have to clean out and get rid of all my stuff.  Perhaps it will be sold at an estate sale or perhaps it will line the shelves and fill the racks of a thrift store.  Some may be purchased  by someone who   attracted to its beauty or it utilitarianism.    No one will have the same emotional attachment I now have. 
 
Attachments are burdensome and expensive.  I am paying to move by the pound.  Once it arrives I have to find a place for it or decide to let go it if a place for it cannot be found.  None of it will accompany me past this life journey.  I will, at some point, be forced to let go of each item just as I will be forced to let go of each friend or family member either because I die or they die. 
 
Perhaps, just perhaps, having put these truths down on paper,  I can put more items in the stack to give to someone I know or to the local thrift store.  Perhaps I can lighten my physical as well as my emotional burden.    Attachments are, after all, burdensome.   Enjoying an object for a moment can be great fun.  Attachments  force one to care for and hang on. They become a part of one’s identify.   If not careful, one’s identity goes to the thrift store leaving only emptiness and, thus, non-existence.
 
Today I will strive to be honest with myself and to not identify my essence with these objects.  Perhaps I might even smile.
 
Written October 10, 2020
Jimmy F Pickett
coachpickett.org
 

​Power and integrity
 
When we think of the word power many images might  come to mind.  We might think of an engine, a hurricane, tornado or other “natural force”.  We might also think of a boss or some other person in a position of authority.  If one is religious one might imagine the power of the God of their understanding .  Many might think of the power of an illness such as cancer, addiction or kidney failure.   Some might, especially at this time in the United States, think of the power of the political system or its representatives.
 
Every morning I write down and spare my spiritual intention for the day.  This morning my spiritual intention was to refuse to give other people or events the power to determine my attitude or behavior.    For many of us, it is very tempting to react rather than to act.   Speaking just for myself, it is easy to accept an invitation from another person or an event to an action which is inconsistent with my core values.   If, for example, another person is angry and critical I can easily fall into trap of responding in kind.  My stated value system is to treat others with love and respect no matter how they behave.   No one can stop me from acting thusly no matter what they do or do not do.  Yet, when someone is critical of me my first thought is to defend myself or to become critical of the other person.  This just happened yesterday.   Fortunately, the criticism was delivered via an email and I had time to  take a breath and think about how my value system should dictate my response.  I also decided to share the email and my response with a friend.   Sharing it was my way of asking for help in being accountable for my actions.
 
The longer I live the more I am remined that true power comes from letting go of power; from accepting my powerlessness.   My only power in this very brief life journey is to hold on to my values; to act in a way which is consistent with those values.   No matter what any of us do or do not do we will soon bid adieu to his life journey.   No matter what titles or degrees we hold; no matter how much money we have or do not have; no matter what projects are completed, or dreams made manifest,  in another few seconds this journey will end. My only permanent possession is the extent to which I do my best to maintain my personal integrity. My integrity is dependent on the extent to which I act on the basis of my stated core value system irrespective of other people or events.
 
Obviously I am very human, and I am not going to achieve this goal 100%. I can, however, strive to be intentional about my behavior.   I can also resolve to quickly notice when I accept an invitation to a space or action which is inconsistent with my core values system, notice it, stop reacting and stop blaming my behavior on other people or events.   For me this is the only power which, in the long run, is important.
 
Written October 8, 2020
Jimmy F Pickett
coachpickett.org
 

​An evolving dance
 
On Sunday,  I posted a letter on the blog and Facebook letting friends, family and clients know that I will be moving to Tulsa the first part of November.  I have been overwhelmed with loving support and good wishes from some of the many who have tickled my heart and mind over the years I have worked and lived in the greater Ohio valley.
 
Of course,  there are also kind people who have not posted any comments about how miserably I failed to be lovingly present thus increasing the pain of their journey. Although it was never my intention to let my needs or unhealed issues get in the way, it happened.  I have attempted to make amends when appropriate and possible.  Sadly, it was only in the past few years  that l could begin to more fully understand and  appreciate  the teachings of Jesus, the Buddha, and other wise teachers who were clear that it takes great love and strength to own one’s humanness;  that the purpose of this life journey  is  learning.  Learning obviously involves mistakes.   J believe punishment or fear of punishment hinders learning and, thus, growing.
 
I am returning to the city where I was taught to believe the “wages of sin” (disappointing a jealous, harsh god) means death.  The road to damnation is, I was told, paved with good intentions.  Although Jesus and, thus God, forgave sins 7 times seventy times, it was clear to me that I was so talented that I could repeat sins 7 times seventy in the space of a few hours or days.
 
Years ago, I let go of the belief in a god who acts if he, she or it has never moved past the emotional age of a self-obsessed teenager.  
 
Perhaps, not surprising to those who are wise, as I matured in my acceptance of my own humanness , god also matured,  
 
I return to Tulsa some 62 years after I graduated high school still a work in progress but more  accepting of this fact. 
 
I hope that in learning to accept my humanness I am more often able to get out of the way and allow myself to unconditionally  love and be loved; to make mistakes, learn from them and go on to make new mistakes and new discoveries,
 
My intention is to remember the teaching of Father Greg Boyle:  Beneath bad behavior is always pain.  This is, I believe, true for all of us.  My we have the courage to face the pain and claim a dance of joy and freedom.
 
Written October 6, 2020
Jimmy F Pickett
coachpickett.org
 

Twilight zone

In recent years I have flown less often although I normally still managed several flights a year.  Today it is October 1 and it is my first flight this year.  Several factors forced me to cancel travel plans even prior to the acknowledged arrival of covid-19.   Although covid-19 is still very much a constant companion, I decided it was relatively safe to take a flight today.   I arrived at the airport security check in to find one other person several feet ahead of me.   When I reached the terminal it was if something or someone had suddenly sucked up almost all the other passengers.  It was only when I reached the gate for my flight that I found an area full of masked people and, for the most part,  practicing but social distance.   Boarding the aircraft I found that all pretense to allow social distance had been abandoned.   There was no longer the  empty middle seat.  I did and do appreciate the fact that airlines have suffered enormous financial loses as fewer people travel for business or pleasure. It makes sense they would want to decrease the cost of personnel, fuel and other expenses.  Yet, I must admit being a bit concerned about being crammed into the middle seat within inches of those on either side of me.    

Once again, the visit of covid-19 and the current political climate in the United States and the world has reminded me of how easy it is for me to fall into the trap of thinking the reality I normally experience is both a shared reality and something other than a temporary stage set.  For the most part, I can allow myself to live in a reality where climate controlled housing, a full refrigerator, hot and cold running water, comfortable furniture, and a freedom from rats and other uninvited guests.  I can take no credit for being able to enjoy this reality.   An accident of birth - perceived race, gender, place and the absence of an acute mental or other illness -allows me this protected slice of reality.  I do not have an active addiction to alcohol, other drugs, gambling, things, sex, or food which severely limit my ability to work and claim priority in the distribution of wealth.  I do not have a medical issue which affects my motor control or other physical functions.   Unlike many, I am not burdened with conditions which restrict my physical movement.  

Of course, I know that much of the world, including some close neighbors, have a very different reality.  Some live in homeless camps which the city officials have decided must be demolished because their crimes are more obvious and thus embarrassing than those of some of us.  Their crimes are related to immediate needs, exhausted frustration and the need to appear grateful for the restricted access to health care and the largely unhealthy gifts of sugary and starchy food.  I live in my 1000 plus square feet of clean, pleasant space free of rats and other unwelcome visitors with all the aforementioned luxuries.  If I am tired or not feeling my best my negative energy does not intermingle with that of others causing eruptions.  While I experience a myriad of emotions I am not likely to act in a manner which causes someone to call the police who will then record yet another “crime”

It does no one any good to rent my clothes and beat   myself for occupying this slice of reality. In am, however, responsible for any attachments to thinking I earned and, thus am deserving or more deriving than others.  I am responsible for falling into the trap of self righteous attachment to the illusion of the twilight zone.  

In my mind the twilight zone is the metaphor for the disconnection experienced by most of the world’s population; the disconnection by those who some might label the right wing white supremists who search for another reality in the illusion that they need to be something more than who they are  - a small and temporary part of the whole we can call god or the universe(s); the disconnection of those who live in their guilted cages; the disconnection of those whose illnesses leave them floating, floating, floating.

What some of us are now experiencing as the twilight zone is a metaphor for what most of our brothers and sisters have always experienced.    The question is:  “What will we do with this glimpse into the twilight zone?”   Surely we do not want to wallow in shame or self righteousness.  “Will we stop pretending as if some can be free if not all are free?”
“How will this reminder affect if and how citizens vote when they go to the polls?  Will we vote to draw the curtain or take it down.”  

Written October 1, 2020
Jimmy F Pickett
coach Pickett org


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