Author: Justin Almeida

Unitarian Universalist minister, hospital chaplain, public theologian, active activist, peaceful warrior.

A day in the life…

On By Justin AlmeidaIn Life7 Comments
Brew all the beer!
Brew all the beer!

In many ways, I am a typical husband. I drink beer. I pull the 9-5. I have a hard time listening.

Actually, I HAD a hard time listening. Come to find, it really isn’t my fault. It’s genetic. Seriously.

Last night I noticed my right ear felt a little plugged up. Thinking this was something I could fix, I went through our medicine boxes for some ear drops. First bottle I found had expired in 2007.

I don’t know how you feel about expired medication, but I doubt it works the same way as expired food. Most expired food can be upcycled into even MORE awesome food. Milk turns into cheese. Fruit turns into wine. Cabbage turns into sauerkraut. However, I doubt medicine follows these same rules of awesomeness.

See, it could be so easy!
See, it could be so easy!

If I could guarantee superpowers by putting expired eardrops in my ears, I would be first in line. Knowing my luck, it would make my ears bleed. Fortunately, I found a kinda non-expired bottle of ear drops. Winning! The instructions were simple enough. Put 5-10 drops in ear.

Check.

Wait 10 minutes, then drain ear.

Check.

If needed, flush ear with warm water.

Check.

Result: Went from a little plugged up, to completely plugged up.

yeah... about that...
yeah… about that…

This was not what I had in mind right before bed. I even jumped in the shower and attempted to flush things out with the shower head. No go. I found myself with complete hearing loss out of my right ear, a strange ringing, and slight vertigo.

To make things worse, I couldn’t call in sick the next day to go see the doctor first thing. Why? I had a 4000 circulation mailing to direct in the morning and nobody else in the office knows how to direct such an endeavor.

Winning fail. FML.

I called my doctor’s office first thing in the morning. They had an opening for 2:30pm. Perfect. I went to work, got the mailing done, and checked out in time to make it to my appointment. It took the doc 30 seconds to figure out what was wrong.

The technical diagram.
The technical diagram.

“Your ears are completely blocked up with wax.”

Five minutes later, the nurse comes into the room with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a syringe the size of a turkey baster. She meant business. The next hour was spent supersoaking my ear drums, and what came out was amazing horrific. I didn’t know my ear drums had that much space in them, but let me tell you, apparently my sinus cavity is the Tardis. The plus side, when everything was flushed out, I could suddenly hear sounds I had forgot existed; the chirping of birds, the minutia of music, the slight rustle of fabric. It was a brand new world filled with possibility.

Plus, I could now hear my wife talking to me from the kitchen. Who knew?

Moral of the story: Your husband may not really be ignoring you. It could just be excessive ear wax.

Responding to Insanity: Thoughts on the Sandy Hook Tragedy

On By Justin AlmeidaIn LifeLeave a comment

griefI am not a psychologist, a priest, a teacher or a parent. I am not an expert in anything. When I first heard about the recent horror in Newtown, Connecticut, I responded with the only thing I really have experience in: being human.

I sat in traffic dumbfounded.
I prayed for the victims and their families.
I cried.

That’s all I really could do.

whyMy experience of true disaster is limited. By human standards, I’ve lived a sheltered, safe and secure life. Natural or man made disasters have never touched me directly. My only experience of anything even close to what happened on the east coast on Friday, December 14th is either academic or second hand.

Listening to the report on NPR, I found myself at a loss. I wanted to say something about the shooting. I wanted to do something that would help. But I didn’t have the words. I didn’t feel I had the right. I was on the other side of the country sitting in my office watching events unfold.

I posted a message on Facebook.

xl_typing“The world gives us horrific acts of violence and tragedy every day. It is always shocking and senseless to me. My heart, thoughts and prayers are with the community and families of Newtown. Do not give in to revenge, hate, fear or despair! Make every act and moment of life one that brings hope, joy, forgiveness and peace. It is the only way we will ever overcome this kind of evil.”

Having worked for news media in past, I knew what was coming. Pundits, talking heads, policy debates, anti-gun and pro-gun advocates, and a review of the event. Over. And over. And over.

05-30-argumentI expected the social media response. I was not the only one who was driven to say something. My feeds were filled with the thoughts and opinions of friends, family members, and acquaintances. Posts were shared and forwarded; memes of all varieties became patchwork quilts of opinion.

What I didn’t expect was the amount of hate. I suppose there was already blood in the water. It makes sense that cannibalism followed.

People began to make statements about violence, or gun control, or god in school, or mental health, or politics, or revenge. Those that disagreed reacted immediately. There was arguing, ad hominem attacks, and unfriending. The intellectual part of me understood points on all sides, even if I didn’t agree with some of them. The emotional part of me didn’t give a shit.

forgiveness26 people are dead. 20 of them children.

Nothing will bring those lives back. Nothing will ever fill the void left in Newtown, Connecticut. All our vitriol does is make those deaths even more painful.

We have a right to be angry.
We have a need to be scared.
But let’s bury our dead first.

Let’s mourn as a community and nation. Let’s come together to remember lives lost too soon. Let’s hold our brothers and sisters, friends and neighbors, and let them know that we’re here. We understand. We hurt. We’re human. Let’s begin the healing process.

Then maybe we can create some real change that will help move us away from insanity and closer to our shared humanity.

Black Friday Blues

On By Justin AlmeidaIn Life8 Comments
ahhhhh!!!!

Today is black Friday. Already there are reports of Americans behaving like animals. Somehow the promise of an extra 5% off turns people in savages. This day sickens me with its hype, materialism, and sheer gluttony. What’s worse, it follows a great American holiday based on thankfulness and sharing.

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. It’s uniquely American and celebrates our abundance and ability to share abundance. Families come together to break bread. Friends swap their best recipes. Thousands of people volunteer their goods and time to make sure those who usually go without, do not go without. It’s a grand example of how good we can be, in the face of poverty, brokenness, and even disaster.

I’m not homeless… I just really want another 60 inch TV!

Then at the stroke of midnight, we forget everything we celebrated the day before. People wait in the cold and rain to make sure they get the $175 HD flatscreen TV. People stampede for $50 smart phones. In total, it’s expected that $586 billion will be spent on material crap. Even though studies show that this crap doesn’t even make us happier!

When my wife and I served in Peace Corps, we celebrated Thanksgiving in Transylvania. A baker’s dozen volunteers descended into a small village with hard to find American confections like pumpkin pie, cheddar cheese, turkey with stuffing, and more. We came together for friendship, solidarity, and homesickness. We invited Romanian (and Hungarian) neighbors to share in our feast. The best part was explaining Thanksgiving.

We told them it wasn’t a religious or nationalist holiday. It was a day we set aside to give thanks for family, friends, and abundance. We celebrate with food and drink, laughter and comradery. None of us in the small house knew each other very well. But we were all far from home and thankful for what we had. Especially after two years living and working in a country that was still developing. Our Romanian and Hungarian counterparts thought this was a fascinating and wonderful idea. I agree with them.

word.

To me, Thanksgiving is the start of the holiday season. We are supposed to channel peace on Earth and goodwill to men. Rooted in Christian thought, it celebrates that the savior has been born. A savior that preached things like “do unto others as you would have done unto you” and “whoever has two tunics is to share with him who has none, and whoever has food is to do likewise.” Now, I am no longer a Christian, but these are still concepts that I respect and want to perpetuate.

It disturbs me that this season is kicked off with a giant monetary sacrifice to the great god of consumerism. We sacrifice our dignity, civility, and humanity just to save a few extra dollars. Which incidentally allows us spend even more money on more stuff!

I understand how important this day is for a struggling economy. However, I do not believe we (as a nation) should be dependent on constantly escalating consumption. It’s like taking poison in hopes of curing a disease. It perpetuates our debt, increases our waste, and doesn’t benefit anybody but the 1%. Plus, it forces people to work long, odd hours, keeping them from celebrating with their families.

This holiday season, do me a favor and rethink your gifts and spending. Instead of buying the latest and greatest i-product, use that money to help relieve suffering and poverty. Save the money and invest it in a socially responsible organization or mission. My wife and I don’t buy presents anymore. Instead, we make donations to organizations in the names of friends and family. It really is a gift that keeps on giving.  Don’t you think we could always use a little more peace and goodwill and less selfishness and greed? Let’s make it happen!

A case for charity.

On By Justin AlmeidaIn Life1 Comment
Give a little, get a little.

Charity. Noun: The voluntary giving of help, typically money, to those in need. Help or money given in this way.

My parents did a good job of raising me to be a man of charity; it was through action rather than words. Following their example, I also give out of my excess (time, money, food) to those who need it. I do it without fanfare and not because of some heavenly reward. I just believe generosity is the right thing to do. I want the society I live in to be a “pay it forward” society. I also do it because people do it for me all the time.

to all you charitable people…

Over the last week, no fewer than 4 people have shown me acts of charity. Two gave me car rides home (without me asking), one bought me coffee, and another let me out of work early. These are small, almost insignificant acts. But they were done spontaneously, which is what makes the difference. These were random acts of kindness that made my life a little easier, brighter, and in the case of car rides home, significantly less wet.

However, charity has become a dirty word in society. People on the margins are called “charity cases” and people who give charity “bleeding hearts.” I can understand being disillusioned. A lot of people are selfish, rude and downright ungrateful. It’s always easier to blame people for needing charity, just ask Mitt Romney. I say be charitable to them anyways.

nobody likes being the weakest link…

An action that makes another person’s life easier should be a good thing. Especially if it was done spontaneously with no recompense required. I believe charity’s negative connotation happened when we started to equate charity with weakness. People who need it are weak. People who give it are weak. If I learned anything as an American, it’s that our culture despises all forms of weakness; physical, psychological, and emotional. We have a perspective that says “if you can’t help yourself, why should I help you?” This wasn’t always the case.

why can’t we have posters like this anymore?

For my parents, charity was a religious and civic duty. For my grandparents, it was a way of life. It was American to help your fellow citizen and to make sacrifices for community and country. It seemed that our objective in the past was to raise up those who were weak, so they could be strong. Now I feel that many Americans look with disdain on “weakness.” I believe this happened slowly as consumerism and materialism became more prominent as a judge of success, and success became equal to goodness. Accumulation of wealth became more important than accumulation of relationships; we forgot how important charity was to our cultural ethic. It helped connect us to the rest of our community, reminding us that we are only as good as our weakest friend.

true story

Paying it forward reminds me not to give into selfishness. People in my life are constantly doing good works for me. Instead of paying them back, I pass their kindness on. My hope is that by making another person’s day a little better, I set in motion a chain of events that will make a whole bunch of other people’s day better. It may be a naive belief, but I’ve seen it in action. This is why charity is not weakness; it is a conduit of moving people to become strong.

Too much stuff.

On By Justin AlmeidaIn Life7 Comments
Oh internet, you’ll always be my first home…

I’ve been MIA the last two weeks. My wife and I found a house and have been doing what needs to be done to acquire said house. Mostly signing a forest sized quantity of paper with blood from a main artery.  Built in 1951, it’s a brick cape cod with 3 bedrooms, 1 bath, a detached 2 car garage, and room for a large garden. We love it! We move in (hopefully) today. The process has been relatively painless.

When moving to a new home there is the inevitable packing (and unpacking). I find this process to be excruciating; an experience somewhere between water boarding and that crazy torture droid in the original Star Wars. It’s not due to the heavy boxes or that we live on the third story of a condo building. It’s because while packing, I am reminded of the excessive amount of useless shit stuff I have.

This is NOT us… yet…

My wife and I differ in our philosophy of “stuff.” She attaches sentimental or practical future value to things. Bag of sticks=potential crafty project. Battered up non-functional ugly lamp from mom=keepsake. Tin of bottletops & plastic pill bottles=something weird. I do not hold any of this against her; I can intellectually understand her reasoning and feelings behind her acquisitions. They give her comfort in a cold and unpredictable world. For me it’s like fingernails on a chalk board.

While packing, I took note of MY stuff that will go in the “give away/sell/burn” pile. Some are clothes. Some are electronics. Some are pictures. But all have outlasted their usefulness and need to go. Immediately.

Similar to this.

About 3 years ago I traveled to Washington D.C. for a refugee resettlement conference. Heather and I have been active CouchSurfers since 2008 so I found an awesome RPCV willing to let me crash his pad while I was in town. When I arrived at his condo, this is what I saw: 2 beds, 1 table, 1 small bookshelf, 2 chairs, 2 paintings. That’s it.

It was monastic. Walking across his threshold was like walking into a sacred space. I could feel my being stretch out to embrace the unfilled space.

Get rid of all the stuff!

I later learned that his kitchen and closet were much the same way. Minimalistic. Functional. Open. There is a moment in Braveheart where Mel Gibson cries out “Freedom!” I want that feeling in my own home. I want to whittle down all my stuff to a minimum. 1 or 2 pieces of art. A small bookshelf for a couple of keepsakes and a rotating collection of books. Bed. Desk. Done. Same thing for the kitchen, garage, and garden. I want the used and functional. When something stops being functional or ceases being used, I’ll get rid of it.

Which is why packing is painful. It puts all the stupid/kitchy/tacky/useless stuff right up into my grill, makes me protect it, carry it, transport it, and them unpack it to sit on a shelf to gather dust. I know it’s not all cut and dry. The argument is, “You know, you may need X someday, so you might as well have it.”

Shut your word hole right there.

If he would just get rid of the rock, he’d be ok…

I refuse to be held captive by a potential future of potential needs. A disaster preparedness kit is one thing. That is some wise boy-scout voodoo that makes sense. But if I need a power saw for a project, I can either rent one or find one for free on Craigslist. When I’m done with it, away it will go to find a new and useful home. No need for it to take up space in my garage.

Keepsakes are another issue. Photo albums of “important” photos (not the pic of a blurry drunken Uncle Ralph) are needed for family record keeping. Great grandpa’s medal of honor from the civil war is a piece of history. The plastic cartoon moose aunt Mable gave as a Christmas present in 1983 is crap. I am constantly refining the difference.

Best. Gift. Ever.

Gifts are a main source of life sucking crap. We give people things because we (hopefully) like them. It’s well intended. However, I have come to the point where I don’t need any more stuff. If you like me, get me a nice bottle of scotch or bake me some cookies. If you really like me, make a donation in my name to a non-profit that helps people or protects the environment. Just don’t give me a motion activated singing fish. I will hit you with it.

I’ve experienced too many people who are homeless and have no access to food. I’ve lived in places with no toilets or running water. The amount of money I’ve wasted on stupid toys, comic books, dolls action figures, CDs, DVDs, electric potato peelers, glow in the dark foot cozies, and individual french fry crispers could probably have put me through grad school. I’m done being the ignorant, selfish, materialistic American. For a long time, I thought happiness came by having more stuff than the other guy. I was wrong. My happiness comes from my relationships, friendships and family.

I need to stop filling my life with stuff. I need to start filling life with me.

Growing pains.

On By Justin AlmeidaIn Life2 Comments
I prefer my curses the old fashioned way…

A friend once told me, “It’s an ancient Chinese curse: ‘May you live in interesting times.’” Curse or not, it’s true. We do live in interesting times. In my grandmother’s lifetime the world went from horse and carriage to space travel. We found better ways to kill. We found better ways to heal. The biggest advent I believe is communications.

For the first time, humanity is connected in real time. Every continent and every country communicates in video and audio simultaneously. I don’t think we (humanity) were ready for it. It happened too fast. We haven’t overcome xenophobia. Racism. Classism. Whatever-ism. Suddenly we are all in the same room trying to figure out how we all fit in. Like high school with nuclear weapons.

So much anger.

Take the recent uproar over a very distasteful video about the prophet Mohammed. One really crappy video done in very poor taste by an obvious bigot. Throw it into the internet. The entire Muslim world erupts. People die. Embassies burn. In the west, we denounce the video but still uphold its inherent quality of free speech (however hateful it may be). In other countries, they say we should put whoever made it to death.

Global communication explained: NO TOUCHIE!

For the first time, we CAN all talk to each other. We just don’t know HOW to talk to each other. Our technology brought us together. Now we’re all standing around not really knowing how to get the party started. Forget being in high school; we’re suddenly at my first 8th grade dance.

We live in interesting times. It shouldn’t surprise us. The world has always been interesting. There has always been war, protest, catastrophe; every single century since we started keeping records. The only difference is we are now globalized and have a 24 hour news cycle. When something happens, we know about it instantly.

Prophet?

Every generation complains that the next generation is going to hell in a hand basket. People cry out that we are living in the end times. We dream of a somehow lost “golden age” where life was more simple, pure and free from all our modern day problems. Reality check; this is complete fantasy. Old problems were solved, new problems took their place. If there was ever a golden age, we’re living in it now.

Instead of cursing ourselves, we should embrace continuous change and own it. We have to be strong, innovative, and willing to make the hard choices to earn the right to be a global society. Bob Dylan has a song: “Times they are a-changin’.” I believe this song rings true as much now as it did in 1964.

Come gather ’round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You’ll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you
Is worth savin’
Then you better start swimmin’
Or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin’.

Start changing.