Mind you, I’m not plotting to expand yours. You may keep reading free of the fear of that.
What I am considering here is my own mind who wants expanding regularly, but rarely gets the chance. Because I am very busy confounding its attempts by confining it and pointing it in its rightward direction. Any veering off course is met with a swift kick to get back on track…This you know. This you do. This is yours and not theirs. This is the pattern we have established here. Stop being silly and get on board.
So, I am asking myself, what expands a mind? And while we’re thinking about it, how about its alternative: what constricts one?
Oh, I’d like just to invest in a prescription. Dole me out some prednisone to reduce the inflammation, and NOW the blood will flow more freely to those cerebral spaces. But that’s too chemical. Too controllable. Too directed. Can a constricted mind even unconstrict itself? No, I think expansion desires a different way.
One might consider, here, today’s popularly proffered solution: seek out “opposing points of view” and listen “with an open mind.” This generally doesn’t work for me. My sit and listen tends to spin off and spiral into ways I can defend my position just as soon as you are through.
Clearly, this is no recipe for expansion. Expansion, I fear, has more to do with letting, and perhaps with its calming companions, lessening and releasing. Instead of breath-holding, these three invite me to blow out that old dead air in order to accommodate some refreshener. To make ample room in my mental meandering for question-asking, what-iffing and perhaps even a bit of wit and whimsy.
What if gravity didn’t hold? What if humans could walk through walls? What if magic was real? What if stars could speak? What if (gasp) I didn’t have to abide by all the rules of best behavior? I know this is NOT a mind expansion for many of you, but it’s a biggie for me. And it’s my mind we’re investigating here, so come with me …
What if we could be issued an exemption from always having to behave according to expectations? Even a momentary exemption, say the moment when a foul ball came into my possession at a recent pre-season baseball game and everyone in the stadium expected me to hand it over to a kid. No respectable adult would KEEP that ball. Heck, the guy in the NYY hat whirled on me and shouted, “Give it to a kid!”
I didn’t want to. And I didn’t. Yep, that’s what this is all about. Me, reconciling that moment. When my mind — normally constricted by guilting, shaming and shoulding — broke out of that mold. No guilt, shame or shoulds here. Everything dilated to allow a little breathing room. And it was okay.
What, I’ve been wondering since, what if this expansive moment could last?!! What if we could activate it ON PURPOSE?!
Really is this such a stretch? I mean, our eyes do it all the time. When darkness descends, our pupils dilate to help us see. That’s hard-wired into our subconscious. So, why not will ourselves to let more figurative light in to our cerebral spaces? Intentionally, invite our minds to skip freely down new paths opening doors to new ideas, and new ways accessed by new passageways? Dare we suspend the mathematical and equational, even the sensational and emotional, in service of the … mystical? supernatural? Let’s call it super-rational… where, a bit more light might help what’s been hidden to show itself?
Ah, try as we might, we humans only have meager success at controlling the subconscious by intention. A few may be especially capable, but alas I am not one of these. Try as I might to pry my eyes open to let more light in, my reflexes resist and my eyes slam shut, smarting from the effort.
I have more success actually in the darkened room when I shut my eyes tightly, excusing them from trying to extract visual input where there isn’t any. Don’t waste your time; just let yourself see. Somehow that “letting” allows perception to travel through different channels creating a new inner dialog.
Something like… you won’t die if you keep this baseball. (Who told you, you would?!) and… If you let yourself, a giddiness will overtake you every time you look at it. Go ahead… And when you hold it, it will transport you to long ago memories of major league games your mom took you to.
Games when your 8-year-old self wished the big-leaguers would hit it right to you so you could catch it in the mitt you hauled all the way from home. Games at 10 years and 12 years old, when, as a consolation prize, you brought home the game-day-give-away, a Dal Maxville signature bat. (You weren’t bold like the other kids who asked for bats signed by the heavy hitters instead of the light-hitting shortstop. No, you would never ask; you took what they gave you.) Oh, you brought home memories for sure.
And you brought them with you to tonight’s game, so that when you gripped that ball, you tucked it deeply in your pocket. When kids surrounded you awaiting their handout, you didn’t comply. You broke the rules and kept that ball. And gave it, sure as day, to the kid in you who’s been waiting decades for that catch.
Light. A veritable blooming.
On May 24th, the Washington Nationals are 19-31, twelve games below .500. They are no hits, no runs and all errors. With injuries piling up as fast as losses, I confess, there were several evenings I just had to turn the game off because I couldn’t watch the bullpen implode one more time: self-flagellation’s not my style.
Yet, the very next day I would turn the game on again. Come on, Nats! Every game’s a new game! New pitchers. New field. 0-0 score. Let’s go!
But really? Did I ever give a second’s thought to this team making a run into the post season? Hardly. A moment of consideration to a run through post season? Not a chance. WIN the World Series? Come on, man, whatchu smokin’? These are the Washington Nationals, we’re talking about. Full of talent that takes us to highest precipice, where the air is thin and the view is fine, just in time to let us fall with a thud that reverberates throughout the region.
I thought it was just me who was icing my bruises from seasons past until a random fly-by interaction in the grocery store, specifically in the produce section, near the bananas. The guy pushing his cart toward me was sporting a Nats hat and, as the team’s fortune of late had taken a decidedly upward turn, I hazarded a, “How ‘bout those Nats?” Expecting a fist bump or at least a thumbs up, I got an eye roll instead. “Plenty of time for them to let us down again,” the man said, rolling past the bananas.
Funny to sport a hat from the team you expect to disappoint you, I thought. Yet, I had to admit that Banana Man’s logic felt familiar. He reminded me how this team had dashed our hopes in many seasons past; jeez, not only dashed, they had stomped them and mashed them into the ground just to be sure they were extinguished. Why should this year be any different?
Ironically, I had made it all the way to August without letting that thought slip in, mostly because the Nats early season performance had been so pitiful there weren’t many highs to fall from. But, in the span of a produce-section moment, there it was suspended in mid-air. Don’t let your heart hope; these guys will only break it. I felt so sad for Banana Man and the duplicitous me, then. I mean, not only did this mindset defy post season possibility, it put a pall on today’s good play. Not only did it rob tomorrow of its hope, it stole today’s joy.
So, thank you Banana Man, keeper of dark times past, you stood me up straight right there in the Publix produce. How often do I fail to celebrate the genuine good of the day in order to protect myself from the worse that may lurk around the bend? How easy it is to listen to the voice that says, Don’t get too giddy because it can’t last. Don’t be too proud because someone’s better. Don’t risk believing because it’ll make a fool of you … That’s its slippery mantra, the commentary it seems to insert into every genuinely hopeful notion.
Funny thing, though. In spite of the doubt, nay-saying and my occasional faltering fandom, the Nats kept up their winning ways. They moved on up the standings, overtaking their nearest competitors and, against all odds, landed themselves a Wild Card spot in the post season.
Hope was alive! — although holding on by its teeth. Defying the odds-makers who had them as underdogs in every contest, this team scraped up runs where there were none in every winner-take-all-loser-go-home contest, almost as if there was some divine intervention involved.
Game by game, those Nats made a believer out of me, though I cannot say I held doubt at bay. Nope, it lolled and lingered into the late innings most evenings, requiring me to distract myself with Sudoku puzzles to quell the apprehension. Blessedly, I got a brief respite from the tension in the league series against the St Louis Cardinals, so I could shore up to endure the wild mood swings ahead in the seven games against the Astros. “Dare we hope?” I texted a fellow fan. It all felt like a good dream I didn’t want to wake up from.
But wake up we did, and those Nats were still World Series Champions. The team that had been buried under doubt in the spring found resurrection in October. So here I stand before the greatest upset, the greatest comeback(s), the greatest lovefest, the greatest postseason, and perhaps the greatest World Series win of all time, with a handful of clichés and a heart full of memories. How much this team taught us. Heck, how many pep talks can we adopt from this team?! They just roll …
- If you stay in the fight, you’ll give yourself a chance to win it.
- As long as you’ve got a swing, the game’s not over.
- Improbable is not impossible.
- When you’re in a slump, nothing picks you up better than a kid’s song.
- Get ‘em on, get ‘em over, get em in.
- Go 1-0 today. Then go 1-0 tomorrow.
- The weight on my shoulders is way lighter distributed 25 ways.
- Let the bad call go so you can put the next pitch into the bleachers.
- Guts alone are rarely enough, but sometimes they’re just enough.
- Dance like there’s no one watching, even on national tv.
- Sometimes bumpy roads do lead to beautiful places.
But the one thing the 2019 Washington Nationals taught me comes as a confession, courtesy of Banana Man. I had my doubts, all the way to Game 7 of the World Series, but that doesn’t make me an unbeliever. Belief leaves room for doubt; it just doesn’t rent it a room. Hardships, losses, strikeouts, blow ups, injuries and the doubt that arrives with them … this season would have been nothing without watching — no living — those first. Those formed the stairway we climbed together all the way to wake up day.
Yesterday’s doubts are what makes today’s belief real.
On the morning of game 7, with the series tied at 3-3, (and the scheduled starter, the ace pitcher, newly emerged from a neck brace!) I found it really tempting to say, “You know, whatever happens tonight, it’s been a great season.” (which it certainly had!) But no championship team has ever uttered those words before taking the field for a deciding game. Me and my Cracker Jacks, we were All In.
Believe in what you’re doing today. Go ahead, go 1-0. (Thank you, Davey Martinez.) There will be plenty of time to be sad if you lose. Don’t let that expectation steal today’s joy. Today is the day you can do something about.
Nats, they had you down, but not out. They had you depleted, but not defeated. They had you on the ropes, but not without hopes. That’s when you flipped the script, and hoisted us doubters into the believer seats way up above the clouds where the air is rare and the view is oh, so fine. It may be a long way down, but somewhere along this rickety, risky, scrabbly climb with you through the 2019 season I seem to have lost my fear of heights.
Now I can go bananas!
I was born kinesthetic. Not until some time later did I realize I had God to thank for that. Not until I came to know Jesus did I realize I had to do something about it.
Several Washington Nationals players drove this home for me during the post- game celebration of Faith Day at Nats Park. There, a group of professional baseball players who had just slugged it out for an awesome nine innings, sauntered over in street clothes to talk with us about God, Jesus and baseball.
Great combination, huh?
I like to say (and even write :)) that I’m a Kinesthetic Christian, but these guys take this to a totally new level. They’re way better at being kinesthetic than I am. They’ve certainly made WAY more of their gift than I have made of mine.
Yet, one by one, they share honest stories of struggle in the midst of their exceedingly successful careers in baseball – one via relationship, one due to injury and one in a dire crisis of confidence. When these guys thought they had finally “arrived,” the bottom fell out. Forced to give up what they had always dreamed about, a door opened to something they hadn’t known was missing. That’s when faith took hold.
Daniel Murphy calls it filling a “Jesus-shaped hole.” And he is candid about speaking – not just about God – but about Jesus. His savior is Jesus; he’ll say it again, Jesus. Because, says Murphy, “Jesus demands a response.”
Wow. I can get on board with that. God has a lot of names these days and shows up in a lot of places. But Jesus, now that guy makes demands. If you follow Jesus, he shows up and then asks, What are you gonna do about me?!
Over the weekend, the major league ball players wore youth-style jerseys with a spot on the sleeve to write the name of a person who has aided their career. Murph wore “JESUS.” He’s proclaiming the name all over the tv screen, because Murph is all over the tv screen. For his time in the spotlight Daniel Murphy’s got a platform, and he plans on using it. During his turn in the batter’s box he makes plain that he is a Christian and is doing his darnedest to be a good representative of the family tree.
God made him a good baseball player. Jesus demands a response.
All three ball players who were interviewed by Nats commentator Bob Carpenter confessed that it’s never easy in the “Big Leagues.” Here, as celebrated athletes at the top of their profession, they bubble in a daily cauldron of nearly unimaginable pressure… Perform now. The game, the season, your career is on the line. Talk about tension!
They have discovered the secret to tension. “There’s more to life than baseball…We need to be a light to all the others.”
Oh, what a welcome message that is to hear. As an avid sports fan and regular contestant, I confess that I cringe every time I hear an interview with a winning athlete that goes something like this:
Interviewer: “So what is your advice to young players who want to play pro ball?”
Athlete: “You just have to believe in yourself and never give up.”
NO!!! I want to holler back. Believing in yourself, even with the grittiest of discipline, will only get you so far. To get the rest of the way, you have to surrender. Surrender success, achievements, medals, trophies, and even the World Series ring. Give it all to God. Then, when you can subsist on what’s left after giving up all that, Jesus meets us, and it’s the best thing ever. Better than we could have ever planned, imagined, or dreamed.
God doesn’t want our trophies; God wants us.
This is the message these ballplayers are trying to live out. Wieters, Rendon and Murphy, plus Goodwin, Drew, Taylor, Lobaton and NY Met, Brendan Nimmo, are here to let us know it.
I’m looking at you guys through different eyes now. You take kinesthetic to a whole new level, and its good, very good. I hope it takes you all the way this year because really, what would God do with a World Series ring, anyway?
It was a great game. It had me on my feet a lot, and I’m making no apologies for that. It’s just the way I’m wired. When I see a great play, I’m on my feet. Throw a guy out from center, peg a guy out from third, make a diving grab, homer, RBI, strike them out … I’m up! Clapping. Hollering. I can’t help it; I’m kinesthetic. I was born that way.
So now I am asking myself… Why am I not on my feet when my pastor hits one out of the park? When God makes a great play, why am I satisfied to applaud politely from my pew? What if I were as enthusiastic about my faith as I am about my favorite team?
Thank you for speaking up, Matt, Anthony, Murph and friends. God may speak with a still, small voice, but Jesus demands a response. You are living yours out in front of us. Thank you for reminding me that I must live out mine.