"Living With Exuberance"

“Living with Exuberance”

By Reverend James Kubal-Komoto

Saltwater Unitarian Universalist Church

Des Moines, Washington

May 5, 2007

Reading

Our reading this morning is an excerpt from Exuberance: The Passion For Life by Kay Redfield Jamison:

Life for Theodore Roosevelt, said one friend, was the “unpacking of endless Christmas stockings.” This would have gotten no argument from Roosevelt, a man who well into his fifties delighted in Christmas as an occasion of ‘literally delirious joy,’ and who believed the entirety of life was a Great Adventure. The man ‘who knows the great enthusiasm,’ he held, lays claim to the high triumphs of life.

Born in 1858 into one of New York City’s wealthiest families, Theodore Roosevelt seems to have burst into the world a full-throated exuberant. For this, he owed a considerable debt to his father. “I never knew any one who got greater joy out of living than did my father,’ he wrote, and the seasons of his childhood, so beholden to his father’s love and enthusiasms, “went by in a round of uninterrupted and enthralling pleasures.”

…His Harvard classmates depicted him as a fast-moving, rapid-talking enthusiast who often wore them out with his boisterous exuberance. He held his far flung interests with delight and stocked his college rooms with piles of books, a large tortoise, sundry snakes, and a collection of lobsters. He zoomed, he bolted, he boomed and gesticulated wildly as he went.

Roosevelt’s vivacity receded when his father died. He felt, he said, as though “I should almost perish.” It was a devastating loss. For the rest of his life he would miss, though himself incorporate, his father’s rare mixture of infectious joy and keen sense of public duty. “Sometimes, when I fully realize my loss,” he wrote in his diary a few months after his father’s death, “I feel as if I should go mad.”

Stoked by a restless energy not uncommon in those with exuberant temperments, Roosevelt drove his desolation into action. He rowed, hiked, hunted, boxed, and swam furiously during the fevered weeks following his father’s death. With slight cause other than annoyance he impetuously shot and killed a neighbor’s dog. He nearly drove his horse into the ground through reckless gallops in the Oyster Bay countryside and was no easier on himself: “He’ll kill himself before he’ll even say he’s tired,” remarked one doctor of Roosevelt’s frenetic behavior. Yet through it all there remained an irrepressible sense of life: “I am of a very buoyant temper,” he wrote his sister not long after their father died. It was a temper that would serve him well and ill, but mostly well.

In the years immediately following his father’s death, Roosevelt fell passionately in love, married, graduated from law school, and published the first of the nearly forty books he would go on to write. In 1881 he was elected to the New York State Assembly, where, as he put it, he “rose like a rocket.” An ardent reformer, and lustily so throughout his political life, he became a mercurial, unstoppable irritant to his fellow Republicans.

Roosevelt’s life in politics was abruptly broken when, on St. Valentine’s Day of 1884, both his wife and mother died. “You could not talk to him about it,” said a close friend. He drew a cross in his diary for the date of the fourteenth of February and wrote, “The light has gone out of my life.” In a pitch of energy reminiscent of the period following his father’s death, Roosevelt abruptly took off for the Dakota Badlands, where he lived out his conviction that “black care rarely sits behind a rider whose pace is fast enough.” He hunted, wrote an improbable number of books, and ran a cattle ranch. The work ultimately made wide inroads into his grief. “We felt the beat of hard life in our veins,” he wrote later in his autobiography, “and ours was the glory of work and the joy of living.” Despite his distress, he said, “I enjoyed life to the full.”

He returned to the East, remarried, and threw himself back into politics with a gusto. He became a gale force in Washington. President Benjamin Harrison, who had appointed him civil service commissioner, said that the crusading Roosevelt “wanted to put an end to all the evil in the world between sunrise and sunset

…Roosevelt loped onward from post to post. He served energetically as the assistant secretary of the Nary, and then led the 1^st U.S. Volunteer Calvary, the “Rough Riders,” during the Spanish-American War. His zest for war, as for life, knew few limits. He had, one journalist put it, enough “energy and enthusiasm to inspire a whole regiment.” Roosevelt exulted that the war was “bully,” “the great day” of his life. It was, he said, his “crowded hour.” He seemed to relish his brushes with death as passionately as he loved the rest of his life. He was recommended for the Medal of Honor and returned to politics a war hero, a legend. He was elected governor of New York and then, within a few years’ time, vice president of the United States. When William McKinley was assassinated in September 1901, Roosevelt became, at the age of forty-two, the youngest president in American history. He was also the liveliest.

…The White House rang out not only with laughter but with the squeals of children and the clattering of their ponies going up and down the marble stairs of the presidential mansion. Roosevelt was frequently to be found chasing or being chased by his children and their animals around the White House grounds. “You must always remember,” said a British diplomat, “the President is about six.”

…Roosevelt used his infectious enthusiasm, which was tethered to a highly disciplined intelligence, to render unprecedented reform through the actions of the federal government. Nowhere was this more obvious and lasting than in his drive to conserve the American wilderness.

....Roosevelt’s exuberant campaign was manifestly successful. He doubled the number of national parks, created 150 national forests, added nearly 150 million acres of timber to the government reserves, set up more than fifty federal wildlife preserves, initiated thirty major irrigation programs, and established 16 national monuments. One journalist commented that if Roosevelt continued to create reserves “there would be little ground left to bury folks on.”

…Shortly before Theodore Roosevelt went to Norway to accept his Nobel Peace Prize in 1910 he gave a lecture at the Sorbonne, in Paris. It was his most eloquent tribute to the centrality of exuberance in action: “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man in the arena, who face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; and who strives valiantly…who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in worthy causes; who at best knows in the tend the triumph of high achievement, and who at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be those cold timid souls who have…known neither victory nor defeat.”

Sermon

You know one of the places I like to go? I like going to the zoo. I’ve been twice already this year.

A few weeks ago Hiromi and were driving up to the Burke Museum to see some special exhibit - - I forget what, but when we were almost there, I said, “Let’s go to the zoo instead,” and Hiromi said, “Yes!” and we went. We went to the Woodland Park Zoo, and we had a good time. We had such a good time that a couple of days later we went to the Pt. Defiance Zoo in Tacoma, and we had a good time again.

I like both these zoos because most of the animals have room to move around, and they sometimes do.

At the Woodland Park Zoo, I spent 15 minutes watching these two gorillas take turns jumping on each other. They weren’t mad at each other. They were just having fun. At the Pt. Defiance Zoo, I watched a monkey swinging from limb to limb of a tree. Then I watched penguins taking turns diving into a pool of water, climbing back on the rocks, and diving again.

Even animals in zoos - - or at least in zoos where they have enough space to move around, seem to enjoy their lives a lot. They seem to live with a lot of exuberance.

Of course what animals do in zoos is nothing compared to what they will do in the wild.

Did you know that a herd of elephants will sometimes spend hours chasing a butterfly?

Did you know that sea lions will surf ocean waves just for the joy of it?

Did you know that giant pandas will toboggan down an icy slope, walk back to the top, and do it again?

Did you know that porcupines sometimes dance? They usually dance by themselves, which is probably a good thing.

Animals often seem to live their lives with more exuberance, passion, or zest than we many of us do.

Of course, I’m not including children when I say this.

I was talking to my brother on the phone the other day. He told me about my five-year-old nephew Jack, who had played in a soccer game that day. After scoring 11 goals against the opposing team, the opposing coach requested that he sit on the bench for a while. My brother said he just signed Jack up to play football after the soccer season finishes and that he’s never seen anybody more excited to play football in his life. At first my sister-in-law thought that six was far too young to play such a rough sport as organized football, until my brother pointed out that at least he would be wearing a helmet and pads, which he did not when he and his older brother and the other boys in the neighborhood took turns tackling each other in the backyard.

It also seems, as our reading about Theodore Roosevelt this morning well illustrates that at least a few adults never loose this zest for living, never end up like, in the words of Henry David Thoreu, the mass of men living “lives of quiet desperation”

I have to admit that just thinking about the way Roosevelt lived his life leaves me feeling a little bit tired and wanting to take a long nap. On the other hand, when I think about somebody like Roosevelt, I also wonder, “How can I get some of whatever it is that he had that allowed him to do what he did and live his life the way that he did?”

“Enthusiam” is an interesting word, you know. It comes from two Greek roots - - en and theos that literally mean “God within.” Just like to be animated means to have an anima or a soul within you, to be enthusiastic means to have the spirit of the divine within you.

So I wonder, is there any pill or prayer or path that could lead me or any of us to that kind of enthusiasm?

That’s the question that I want to offer for your consideration this morning.

And here’s my answer to the question.

There’s good news and bad news.

The bad news is that many psychological studies show us that our temperament in life is mostly a matter of genetics. Whether we live our lives more like Eeyore or Tigger is mostly a matter of who our parents were.

The good news is that it’s not completely a matter of genetics.

But what else makes a difference besides the usual list of bromides such as getting a good night’s sleep, eating right, and exercising regularly?

Have you ever seen the movie City Slickers? The movie stars Billy Crystal and is about these three friends, three men who are discontent with their lives as they find themselves slipping helplessly into middle age. One of them comes up with the hairbrained idea that they should go on a vacation together to a working dude ranch and work along real cowboys to move a herd of cattle across Colorado.

In my favorite scene in the movie, Mitch - - played by Billy Crystal - - is talking to the wizened old cowboy named Curly - - played by Jack Parlance - - as they are ambling along next to each other on horseback.

“How old are you,” Curly asks, “thirty-eight?”

“Thirty-nine,” Mitch answers.

“Yeah,” Curly says, “y’all come up here about the same age. Same problems. Spend about 50 weeks a year getting knots in your rope, then you think two weeks up here’ll untie ‘em for yuh. None of you get it. Do you know what the secret of life is?”

“No, what?” Mitch asks.

“This,” Curly says, holding up one finger.

“Your finger?” Mitch asks sarcastically.

“Just one thing,” Curly says. “You stick to that and everything else don’t mean [nothing].”

“That’s great,” Mitch says, “But what’s the one thing?”

Curly answers, “That’s what you’ve got to figure out.”

I think Curly is about right.

When I reflect on why some people seem to live life with more exuberance or enthusiasm or zest than others, it seems to me that people who live their lives with exuberance have discovered at least one thing in life that really makes them feel alive. In other words, they’ve discovered what might be called their passion in life.

What do I mean by passion?

It’s that something in life that we look forward to, that we make room for, and that when we’re doing it - - we feel most alive. It’s that something that makes us feel that life is truly worth living.

What’s your passion? I can’t tell you that. I truly believe that it’s up to each of us to listen to that still small voice within us to tell us what our passion in life is.

I can tell you this.

More often than not, I believe, other people will discourage you from following your passion.

I remember my last year of graduate school and I was about to write my doctoral thesis. I had found a topic that I was curious about and excited about, which was important if I was going to spend almost a year writing about it.

I also remember a conversation I had with my mother about that time.

“Tell me again what your topic is,” she said.

“I’m writing about the use of small groups within churches,” I answered.

“Have you already researched that topic a lot?” she asked.

I said that I had.

“And have the faculty already approved your topic?”

I said that they had.

“Oh,” my mother said, somewhat deflatedly.

Now the better part of me knew that I should have left it at that. The better part of me knew that my mother had some idea about what my research topic should be. The better part of me also knew that I should not ask my mother what this idea was. But as so often happens with interactions with my mother, the better part of me did not prevail.

“Did you have some idea about my research topic?” I asked, hesitantly.

“Well what about frozen sperm?” my mother said.

My mind reeled. Usually I am able to follow the occasional leaps of logic my mother makes in conversation. This, however, was not one of those times.

“Well, what about frozen sperm, Mom?”

“I was reading this article in the newspaper, and, you know, there are just so many interesting ethical and religious questions about what should happen to frozen sperm or frozen eggs. It seems like that would make a really interesting topic,” my mother said.

Suddenly, and just for an instant, I imagined abandoning everything I had done during the past three years - - the courses, the papers, the individual research - - so I could write Frozen Sperm: The Unitarian Universalist Theological Response. Then, I said to my mother, as lovingly and as gently but as sternly as possible “Mom, I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in researching and writing a doctor of ministry thesis about frozen sperm.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, maybe you can just do a sermon about it someday.”

Surely one of the most difficult things about discovering our own passion or passions in life is that other people will tell us what they should be, or what they shouldn’t be.

If other people don’t tell us what our passions should or should not be, another problem with figuring out what our passions might be is all the “shoulds” we’ve internalized ourselves.

What do I mean?

Here’s one “should” I think some people have internalized. I was talking to a woman recently - - not a member of this congregation, by the way, but somebody outside the church. (And you know, it’s amazing the things people will start to tell you if they find out you’re a minister. You should all try it some time just to see what it’s like.) This woman was telling me about her experience of motherhood. She told me how much she loved her children. She told me how hard she worked to be a good mother to her children. She told me that her life had changed for the better since becoming a mother. But she also told me that she had discovered that while she enjoyed being a mom, motherhood was not her passion. It was not the thing in life that made her feel most alive. I felt sorry for her because she seemed to feel guilty about this. I think it’s important to remember that for some people, their families will be their passion, but for some people, they won’t be, and that’s okay. It doesn’t mean we won’t love them.

Here’s another “should” I think some people have internalized. We’ve been indoctrinated to think that whatever we do for a living should be our passion. We’ve all heard that little ditty, “Work like you don’t need the money. Love like you’ve never been hurt. Dance like no one is watching. Give to the church like you’ve just won the lottery.” (You’ve never heard that last part?)

There’s certainly some wisdom in this idea. After all, so many of us spend so much times at our jobs, it makes sense that we should have a job that we feel passionately about.

However, this is what I’ve come to believe: I think there are a few very lucky people in this world - - and on some days I feel like one of them - - who really do find their passion within their work, but I think it’s totally unrealistic to believe that everybody should, and I think we set ourselves for frustration and disappointment and reduce the possibility that we’ll discover our real passion if we do.

For some people, their work will be their passion, and for some people, it will be something else, and that’s okay.

Here’s a final third “should” I think some people have internalized - - that their passion even has to make some positive difference in the world, that if your passion is golf rather than taking care of the sick and dying in India like Mother Teresa, there’s something wrong with that.

There’s a quotation that I’ve liked for a long time from the novelist and Presbyterian minister Frederick Buechner about calling - - which is similar to passion - - in which he says that our calling is where our own deep gladness intersects with the world’s deep hunger.

However, there’s another quotation that I’ve to like even better from the minister Howard Thurman. Thurman once said this: "Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

Let me finish this morning with a poem by the 15^th-century Hindu mystic and poet Kabir titled “To be a Slave of Intensity.”

Friend, hope for the Guest while you are alive.

Jump into experience while you are alive!

Think…and think…while you are alive.

What you call ‘salvation’ belongs to the time before death.

If you don’t break your ropes while you’re alive

Do you think

Ghost will do it after?

The idea that the soul will join with the ecstatic

just because the body is rotten - -

that is all fantasy.

What is found now is found then.

If you find nothing now,

You will simply end up with an apartment in the City of Death.

If you make love with the divine now, in the next life you will have the face of satisfied desire.

So plunge into the truth, find out who the Teacher is,

Believe in the Great Sound!

Kabir says this: When the Guest is being searched for, it is the intensity of the longing for the Guest that does all the work.

Look at me, and you will see a slave of that intensity.

My friends, my hope for each of you is this: In this spring season, this season of rebirth, growth, discovery, and new life, may each of you discover that one thing that makes you feel most alive in this world because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

So may it be. Amen.