Staying in the Flow

Photo: Mark Robinson

Life has a certain flow.

The interstate flows at a certain speed and we merge into traffic at the speed of traffic – or, at least we are supposed to. If we go too slow, we clog the flow and make it harder for people behind us to merge. If we go too fast, we force other drivers who are already on the interstate to make decisions about whether they should go on defense or not or just hope we don’t run them off the road.

Conversation is like that too. When we are receptive to each other – asking one another questions, shaking or nodding our heads in response, offering mmm-hmms or oh nos, the conversation meanders like a stream. It’s not in a hurry. Both parties feel like they are being heard and the conversation gets to where it needs to go. When it’s not natural – when there isn’t a give and take – it’s awkward, unsatisfying and we cut it short.

Nearly everything else in life is like this – appointments, walking routines, waiting in line at the movies, finding a spot in the coffee shop, romance, friendship, education, bowling. It all has a certain flow and if one of us steps out of that flow, it disrupts everyone around us.

Recently, I read a passage in a novel called The Dead Don’t Dance by Charles Martin and he says it better than I can:  

The river’s got its own rhythm, and you either dance to it or you don’t. Whether you’re man or woman matters not because the river leads, and if you’re stepping out of time, then it’s your fault because the river changes its beat for no one. You want to go swimming? Go swimming. You want to sleep? Sleep. You want to fish? Fish. You want to go faster? Too bad. You want to slow down? Good luck. The river’s got one speed, and it’s not going to stop and wait on you. And unless it rains, it’s not going to hurry you along either. Amos and I made our pact with the river long ago. We built a raft, shoved off, and never complained. Rain, no rain, sun, no sun, wind, no wind, hot, cold, fast, slow, wet, dry. It really didn’t matter to us. We were just boys, happy to go wherever the river carried us. And all the river cared about was that we were going in the same direction it was and that we could swim, because it didn’t like us dying.

Off and Running

Jeff Suppan signs an autograph for a young fan
in Omaha on April 16, 2011

It feels great to be writing full-time for The Christian Post. It hasn't left me with a lot of time for Little Nuances or some of my other projects, but that's okay.

I'm having a blast writing about things I love to write about (with the exception of the story I did about the baseball fan who was beaten on Opening Day -- that sort of bummed me out).

If you are interested, here are a few links to the stories I've written so far:

• NASCAR Driver Ricky Stenhouse Jr. Talks Sponsorship, Faith
• Dodgers Cancel Half-Price Alcohol in Aftermath of Fan’s Beating
• Jeff Suppan Meditating on the Scriptures, Hoping for a Return to MLB
• Tebow Statue Containing John 3:16 Receiving Positive Support

And here's a link to my page on the website if you would like to keep up with my stories going forward.

Slow Walker

Photo: dospaz

I’ve never been the fastest walker. I’m probably a tick below average, but never slow enough to get in people’s way. That was my perception anyway. But that’s beginning to change.

A few days ago, I was leaving the grocery store and a woman on her cell phone was so close to me that I could hear the person on the other line. I got out of the way and the woman rushed by me.

Over the weekend, I was headed to a baseball clubhouse to interview a player, thinking I was walking by myself. I got the feeling someone was behind me, even though I couldn’t hear anything. I turned around in time to see the team mascot walking behind me – apparently tracing my steps. I shook my finger at him in mock anger. He spun around and pointed his blue lion head toward the sky as if to say he was innocent.

After church on Sunday, I walked out the doors, down the steps and headed for the parking lot. As I approached the lot a woman and two kids were right on my heels. I don’t know why they just didn’t go around this slow poke – they had plenty of room, but they stayed right behind me until I finally just stepped aside and let them pass.

I already had a complex about people walking behind me because I ruptured my Achilles tendon in 1997 and after my physical therapy was complete I was afraid someone would accidentally step on the back of my heel and re-rupture the tendon. After the events of the last few days, I really have a complex.

Maybe I should lose the complex and just pretend I’m out for a stroll like the guy in the photo.

Sportswriter

You may have noticed I haven’t been around much lately. Well, I’ve been around. I just haven’t been able to blog here at Little Nuances. I’m hoping that will change soon.

Yesterday I started writing full-time as a sportswriter for The Christian Post. It is quite a change for me after working as a freelancer for the past eight years. But it’s good change.

The tension between being able to freely pursue whatever writing endeavor you want to, whenever you want to, versus writing for a steady paycheck, has been around as long as journalism has existed.

Thankfully, writing for The Christian Post allows me to write about the sports and the athletes I have been writing about as a freelancer without wondering where my next paycheck is going to come from. It’s a win-win.

Now that I have my work situation figured out, I’d love to get back on a blogging schedule here. We’ll see how things work out. But I really appreciate you sticking with me. And if you get a chance, check out what I’m writing over at The Christian Post.