I confess that my wife and I went to see Lincoln last night… first movie I’ve seen in far too long and it was a good one. I confess that I’ve been down on Spielberg lately because I think he forces his films upon people by manipulating emotions. Instead of provoking from the viewer a strong response of their own, he tells the viewer exactly which response to have and then sentimentalizes the moment until you cry. You end up thinking you have had an authentic emotional reaction when all you did was suspend disbelief. Lincoln wasn’t like that. It was a brilliant film – visually stunning, incredible acting – a good story well told.
I confess that I am finally over the fact that my K-State Wildcats got throttled in the Fiesta Bowl this year. I confess that the final three games of the season were a complete disappointment. Not because we lost 2 of 3, but because we never seemed to play to our potential like we had in the previous weeks. Collin Klein gave me and my football-loving 9 year old son some incredible memories over the past two seasons.
I confess that although I’ve been reading for personal development a little bit more lately. I’ve not been reading as much as I need to in order to make myself healthy. A book every week or two is my healthy pace. Lack of discipline to read at night is my hiccup.
I confess that my emotional and spiritual tanks are running pretty low right now. I confess that I believe this is because I have not been disciplined about spiritual retreat. I draw a line between those indicators and my commitment to solitude. A healthy year needs to contain at least 20 days of retreat for me. My rule of life states that I will take 3 personal retreats and 2 retreats with the AMO. On the off months when there is not a retreat scheduled, I get up to the abbey for a 24 hour retreat. This usually gets me somewhere between 20 and 25 days up at the abbey. I think this year the number was closer to 10 days – hence the problem.
My dog Lucy is a 13 year old Brittany who can’t see very well & can’t hear worth a darn either. Lately she’s been getting “stuck” for lack of a better term. It’s not unlike a car getting high centered. When rounding a corner on hardwoods or any slick surface she gets the sensation that her legs are coming out from under her, so she just stops, stands there, and clicks her nails on the floor to draw attention to her problem. “Lucy’s stuck,” my wife usually says and one of us has to go steady her hind quarters while she gets going again. Sometimes her solution is to hit the gas, in which case she looks like a character from Scooby-do, spinning her legs but not actually going anywhere. I confess that I should not get so much entertainment from her sad decline, but I laugh almost every time.
Okay friends, I’ve made my confession – time for you to make yours!