Phillip Berry | Orient Yourself

Phillip Berry | Orient Yourself

5.0 (5)
Personal Journals
Updated Daily

Becoming the best version of yourself

16h ago

We’re All the Difficult Kind. Love Us Anyway.

Can you remember a time when you walked on this earth unencumbered with self-consciousness? A moment when you dressed, spoke, played, danced, laughed, or raged without concern for appearance, judgment, or consequence? For most reading this, the answer is “no, I cannot,” because you were probably 3 or 4 years old. The three-year-old is absolutely consumed with self: it’s all about what he or she wants, when he or she wants it, and the overwhelming feelings of injustice that accompany any occurrence that impedes those desires. It is pure. It is innocent. It is a hurricane of uncontrolled emotion. We may not remember feeling unencumbered by any self-conscience hesitation about the chaotic emotions that accompany frustration or disappointment, but, no matter our age, we still recognize the feeling. Moving from three to adulthood, we are trained and molded to control the outbursts that accompany moments when we don’t get our way. However, the raw emotions are still there, churning just below the surface. The beautiful thing about the three-year-old is that there is no mask, no attempt to hide exactly what he or she is feeling. Living with several of my grandchildren within this age range over the last week, I was able to watch this dynamic is numerous situations. Conflicts arose over the smallest of things – like someone wants what someone else has; as well as bigger things – like so and so hit me. Of course, each one of us has our own personality, so reactions differ somewhat, but from 2-4 years old, the tantrum is pretty standard. The interesting thing about a tantrum is that it really reflects the worst of the one throwing it. It is the elemental throw-down of anger, frustration, stubbornness, and inconsolability that accompanies any hindering what the tantrum-thrower desires. From the outside, the tantrum is the display that those watching least want to see. Of course, we tolerate it in children because, well, they are children and we expect them to get upset and throw a tantrum from time to time. Learning to manage through disappointment and frustration is simply part of growing up. But feelings of frustration and disappointment don’t go away. The passions that drive us remain throughout our lives, as do the realties of the world, particularly other people, that impede them. Alas, the tantrums also remain. Sure, we get better (mostly) at masking them, but the chaos that is a will frustrated appears regularly throughout our adult lives. It does not always manifest in a direct outburst, but we see it in business, at home, on the beach, in the store, and pretty much anywhere people gather together. Sheryl Crowe reminded me of this in her song, Difficult Kind: I think I was wrong, I think you were rightAll my angry words will keep me up at nightThrough the old screen door, I still can hear you say“Oh, honey, won’t you stop treatin’ me that way?” The songwriter reflects on angry words and the emotional outbursts that accompany disappointment, frustration, and hurt. She goes on to lament them. Isn’t that the way of tantrums or angry outbursts? We feel ourselves tipping into a reaction and it’s like flood carrying us away. The three year old has no paddle, isn’t really even aware that he needs one. But we, as adults, know that it’s not a good look. We often know it while we’re caught up in and cringe inside as we watch it play out. Crowe gives us an insight into that sensation and a hint at what is needed: Tell it to me slow, tell me with your eyes‘Cause if anyone should know how to let it slideI swear I can see you coming up the driveAnd there ain’t nothing like regret to remind you you’re alive Regret is a high impact word. Six letters that land like a ton of bricks. But the first two lines provide the answer: please, love me anyway. Sitting at dinner the other night, I watched as my granddaughter slipped into three-year-old defiance. She became a bundle of “no,” “I don’t want to,” and then pouty-lipped stubbornness. My default response is a justice-oriented authoritarianism that creates a battle of wills, a battle that offers two possible results: the breaking of her will or the retreat of mine. Feeling the irritation welling up within me, I paused for a moment and received a glimpse of something different. I had new eyes to see that it wasn’t about me and what I wanted or expected, but was suddenly about what she needed. Tell it to me slow, tell me with your eyes‘Cause if anyone should know how to let it slide Love me anyway. Even when I’m not my best. Love me out of this fit. I leaned over to her, smilled and whispered, “Do you want to go out and look at the restaurant’s aquarium?” Her disposition changed instantly. Not because I had given her what she asked for. Not because I accommodated a tantrum or rolled over to stubbornness. There was no mind game. There was no smoke and mirrors. I just picked her up, held her close, and took her on a solo trip to see the exotic fish. Just her and me. My behavior said: I love you, even when you’re not your best. Tuned-in to this dynamic, I saw it play out throughout the week. Answering the pettiness of a tantrum or stubbornness with the magnanimity of loving them through it was far more effective than any amount of authoritarianism I could muster. Sincerely and actively Loving them through their worst brought them back to their best. None of us ever really outgrow the tantrums of our childhood, they just manifest in new ways. It is simply part of being human and as much as we try, the anger, frustration, and disappointment will come upon us. The truth is, we’re all the difficult kind in one way or another. I think this is where Christ was calling us in Matthew 5:38-39: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I say to you, do not show opposition against an evil person; but whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other toward him also.” Loving someone at the point when they least deserve it is the call. It is difficult and counter-intuitive. Our sense of justice suggests that your “evil” behavior deserves punishment. Perhaps that’s true. But we bring degrees of “evil” upon others in our lives in so many ways and rarely does their punishing us change anything. When we take on the role of judge and executioner, we harden hearts and more distance in the relationship. If you could only seeWhat love has made of meThen I’d no longer be in your mindThe difficult kind‘Cause babe, I’ve changed Crowe claims that she’s changed but that’s really not true…or the point. What she’s really saying is: can you see me at my worst and love me anyway? Sometimes that is a bridge too far and we just can’t get there. But the reality is that we are all the difficult kind and there is great power in loving someone through their worst. Sure, it’s a lot easier to look at my three-year-old granddaughter and love her through her tantrum. But we come across many difficult kinds in our lives and its worth asking: how effective has an eye for an eye been in dealing with them? St. Thomas Aquinas defined love as “willing the good of the other, as other.” But willing the good of the other is not a passive activity. Actively loving a person at their worst and through their worst has the power to change their heart. It is a radically disarming form of turning the other cheek and inviting the other into a unifying encounter. To do it requires heroic virtue. Sound like too much? Start with the three-year-old. Then try it with the teenager. Then, bring it to bear on the adult. Look for what each needs in that moment when they are behaving their worst. Not in coddling, acquiescence of bad behavior, but in a bold, active affirmation of all that is good in the person beyond the moment. Show them you love them, even when they don’t deserve it, and watch their heart soften. More importantly, watch your’s soften along the way.

10 min
Jun 21

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes, Turn and Face the Strange

During a long drive about two weeks ago, the song Changes, by David Bowie, came on the radio. Bowie and his music have been on my mind ever-since. It’s kind of odd, I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a fan. Released in 1972, neither the song nor Bowie were a household music staple in my youth. His 1983 album, Let’s Dance burst into my musical world through his iconic MTV debut video for the title track, which went to number one on the charts. But it was his 15th studio album and the only one of his 26 that I purchased. But Changes appeared like an old friend as the following lyric jumped-out to me: And these children that you spit onAs they try to change their worldsAre immune to your consultationsThey’re quite aware of what they’re going through This lyric is quoted in the opening title screen of 1985’s The Breakfast Club, a classic John Hughes coming-of-age movie, set in a Saturday detention session at a Chicago high school. It beautifully captures the spirit of that movie, setting up the tension between a group of teens moving through their growing pains and the authoritarian Vice Principal who assigns them an essay with the prompt: “Describe to me who you think you are.” Who do you think you are? The classic challenge to the youth who has overstepped, defied, or challenged authority. It drips with the high-handed voice of experience that has forgotten its own journey of defiance and error, as it intones: how dare you. How dare you challenge me. How dare you pursue your selfish aims. How dare you screw up. Looking back on my 34 years as a father, I’m sure I’ve used it a few times. Perhaps my sense of these changes was made more acute this week as traded-in our Yukon XL. The family truckster that has been a staple of our family life over the last ten years, overseeing our final transition from kids at home to empty-nesters, to grandparents, to that stage of life in which one moves from the blur of child-rearing to, hopefully, a deeper, more reflective, and perhaps more intentional engagement with a world that looks unlike anything one could have imagined. Still don’t know what I was waiting forAnd my time was running wild, a million dead-end streetsAnd every time I thought I’d got it madeIt seemed the taste was not so sweet Bowie evokes his own sense of rebellion while recognizing that many of those things we chase, young or old, are ultimately unsatisfying. Walking through changes, we begin to see some of our own dead-ends and the hard lessons learned. And then, re-learned. Do we ever learn? Parenthood pushes and pulls us through the many places where our becoming moves from labor pains to growing pains to the acute pruning of the many accretions we gathered along the way. We experience it on the front line of a life that is often changing wildly while wildly changing us. Reading a recent LinkedIn post entitled The Visible Signs of Our Lives, from my friend, Anthony Manno, the pressing sense of change hit me in a different way. In his post, Manno, the third generation owner of a clothing and tailoring business, shares a beautiful reflection on his business, his catholicism, and expressing belief in a visible manifestation of things that necessarily remain invisible. He connects the threads wonderfully but my reflections sit up one layer. I’ve watched this young man move from college student athlete to husband, to father, to business owner, and now to someone with profound insights on life, purpose, and his place in it. Like my own children, this young man is suddenly “grown up.” But of course, none of it is suddenly. These are all long, difficult becomings. Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes, turn and face the strangeCh-ch-changes, don’t want to be a richer manCh-ch-ch-ch-changes, turn and face the strangeCh-ch-changes, just gonna have to be a different manTime may change me, but I can’t trace time And beautiful ones. I reflect today as these changes continue. Occasionally, we can tune-in to the tectonic shifts in our lives, and see them with new eyes. See them in the context of the great sweep of existence that gives them an epic, epochal, flavor. Our small place in some great and grand story. Today, I celebrate my 34th year of fatherhood and my 9th year of grandfatherhood, with almost all of my children, all of my grandchildren, and my own father, who ironically was born in the same year as David Bowie and shares a love of the album Let’s Dance, and particularly the song, China Girl, with me. I get to look upon these visible signs of my life, which reveal all that is most important to me while reflecting those invisible things that give it all meaning…the hidden that makes it all transcendent. Change is truly a beautiful, magical, challenging, and strange thing. I’m still trying to figure out how best to turn and face it but I suppose that too is part of its compelling power. The deep wrestling that demands something from us, costs us, and ultimately moves us to the next version of ourselves, is its own necessity. We may try to run from it, but it finds us nonetheless. That’s ok. We’re quite aware of what we’re going through.

6 min
Jun 14

The Good Life. For That I Came.

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;As tumbled over rim in roundy wellsStones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’sBow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,Crying Whát I dó is me: for that I came. We’ve been blessed with some beautiful days this week. Sitting outside in the sunshine a couple of days ago, I noticed dragonflies flitting about our backyard. The breeze was light, the humidity low, and the there was a lighthearted whimsy to the movements of the dragonflies. I wondered about them, pausing in the moment to think of the good of their design. The perfect simplicity of their creation and purpose, for this they came…to do what they do in a form unique to them. Truth has been much on my mind this week, as well as the prudence it takes to see it clearly. Prudence is the reasoned discernment of reality, seeing the truth of things, then acting rightly. But what is acting rightly? There are, of course, right actions in the sense of the most efficacious thing to do to achieve an end. If I am driving to the store and the most direct path is a left turn rather than a right turn, that would be the right thing to do…if getting there quickly is my primary aim. But what if my aim is the good of the moment, to live fully in the glory of creation in during the five minutes it takes to drive to the store? Perhaps the right turn brings me closer to the full good of what that drive might bring to my day. The truth is that we are designed to live the good life, a life made good in living morally. An existence brought to the fullness of its design by engaging with it virtuously. We manifest our God-given dignity most fully in living that good life; in choices made less for the effectiveness of their outcome than for the good done in their making. Yes, the outcome may in fact reflect the virtuous good achieved in the choosing, but we don’t always strive for outcomes that reflect the good for which we were designed. I say móre: the just man justices;Keeps grace: thát keeps all his goings graces;Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is —Chríst — for Christ plays in ten thousand places,Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not hisTo the Father through the features of men’s faces. In his poem, “As kingfishers catch fire,” Gerard Manley Hopkins is reflecting on the truth of our great design and living for the good of the imago dei in which we were created. For that I came. Curiously, I awoke today thinking of Beowulf, the great hero of the epic poem written in his name. Believed to be a product of the 8th Century, the poem was written in Old English and comes to us as a tale of courage in the face of frightening evil. The hero Beowulf hears of a monster terrorizing the hall of King Hrothgar, attacking in the night and carrying off dozens of the king’s warriors. King Hrothgar suffers these attacks for 12 years, until the brave Beowulf agrees to battle the monster in single, unarmed combat, pitting his strength against that of the monster. In the great struggle, Beowulf prevails and the the monster, Grendel, limps back to the dark fens to die of his wounds. The great poem is very long and this is not Beowulf’s only adventure. It is a story of courage, fortitude displayed in the face of danger and the uncertainty of the dark night and real monsters. The foe I must grapple, fight for my life then,Foeman with foeman; he fain must rely onThe doom of the Lord whom death layeth hold of. Beowulf has been given great strength and great prowess. He knows the truth of this and sees it as gift and responsibility. Honor demands he meet the creature unarmed in a test of that strength though he is uncertain whether it is enough to overcome the monster. That is courage. The truth is that he is made for this, designed to confront such evil, and the good life is living fully in the truth of that design…even if it means his death. The notion of a violent death as a measure of living the good life is jarring to our modern sensibilities. We go to great things to avoid pain, and certainly no one is attracted to the idea of their own death. We expect to live long lives and hope for happiness along the way. But a warrior of the 8th Century would see a good death, a death brought in the name of courage and honor, as a glorious measure of a good life – a virtuous end and fulfillment of his design. For that I came. This week, I was asked to pray for a young warrior recently deployed to a place that will put him in harm’s way. I have prayed for his physical safety and the safety of his soul. I have prayed for his prudence and courage, for his sense of just conduct in the face of aggression, and for the integrity of his heart as he attaches himself to a greater mission. Ii pray he can see the purpose in it all and the goodness of his great design amid the broader movements of God’s Providence. I pray for his absolute good and for all those who love him and await his return. It is easy to speak of noble virtue as I sit safely in my kitchen, sipping on a craft cup of espresso infused with just the right amount of perfectly heated water to delight my senses, as my loyal dog lays at my feet, my beautiful wife moves about at the start of her day, and I anticipate the company of my grandchildren in our shared celebration of Mass shortly. I like the notion of the good life in those terms. As we approach the 250th year of our great American experiment, we should remember that our good life, however we define it, has not come cheaply or easily. Or that it is guaranteed. We also need to remember that there are worse things than death, both in this world and in what follows it. Living the good life is remembering that it is a gift, we are made with great care and purpose, and acting rightly in the face of the many reasons not to, is the ultimate measure of just how good our life has been. Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is —Chríst — for Christ plays in ten thousand places,Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not hisTo the Father through the features of men’s faces. For that I came.

7 min
Jun 7

What Does It Mean to Be Human?

In the 2021 movie, Dune: Part I, the young Paul Atreides submits to the Gom Jabbar, a test administered by the leader of an order of semi-mystical priestesses. In the test, he must put his hand inside a small black box while the priestess holds a poison-laced needle near his neck; the test is to see whether or not he can keep his hand in the box as it heats up to excruciating levels of pain. Removing his hand will result in his death, while keeping his hand in the box will result in the loss of his hand. When Paul asks the Reverend Mother about the purpose of the test, she tells him that it will reveal whether or not he is truly human. The movie scene, based on the novel written by Frank Herbert in 1965, touches on a fundamental difference between a human being and an animal. The animal, will instinctively react to the painful stimulus, unable to control the deeply wired impetus to survival. The human being has a mind able to discern the circumstance, and the will to choose. The young man may panic, choose incorrectly, and fail to endure, but he has the capacity to overcome his fear and will his body to endure. Successfully completing the test, and removing an unharmed hand from the box, Paul is told, “Congratulations, young human.” On a recent tour in Rome, art historian, Liv Lev, pointed to a collection of sculptures depicting men that were part animal and shared that these reflect man’s inner struggle with his animal nature and our ongoing journey toward a higher level of being – aspiration toward the divine. Later during our trip, Sally and I stood in front of a fountain in the Piazza Navona, looking at figures that were half-men, half-fish, mythological tritons, pondering Lev’s reflection on humanity’s animal nature, and the struggle to control our baser instincts. In a presentation last week at Catholic University of America, AI expert and technologist, Taylor Black, opened his lecture by asserting that the question that the tech industry finds itself asking today is “What does it mean to be human?” Going on to argue that our culture’s “thin anthropology” around the value of work and our purpose in it is creating a crisis of meaning as artificial intelligence rapidly takes over increasingly complex tasks that once defined the work we do. He sees a growing sense of “hollowness” as AI prompts many to confront fundamental questions of purpose and value. Black goes on to say that AI’s capacity to quickly process massive amounts of information, compiled human knowledge, and then take action on it creates the perception of judgment and choice, key differentiators between human beings and animals. The illusion of a disembodied intelligence follows, creating many to ask: what is my purpose, what value can I add, in a world where a machine can do the things I can do? Though a machine’s ability to rapidly find patterns in natural language may create the illusion of intelligence and self-awareness, this is a far-cry from the unique combination of body, mind, and soul, that comprise the human person. However, the question of what it means to be human will remain a central issue for all living in an era in which machines eerily seem more and more human while also more than human in so many of their capabilities. The great news for we humans is that we’ve got over two thousand years of Christian anthropology to help us with these questions. Human beings, made in the image of God, have a body, mind, and soul, to reflect the origin from their Creator and ultimate destination toward him. In this creation, we’re also given the great gift of self-awareness and free will. The power to believe. The power to hope. The power to feel and to know, particularly right from wrong. The power over our own will and the power to choose – as imperfectly as it might be – our own way. We will continue to wrestle with the animal within, those baser instincts that so often drive us. We will continue to wrestle with notions of purpose and meaning, in our work, in day to day, and in our ultimate destiny. We will also continue to wrestle with the struggles that mark our brief existence. And yes, we’ll continue to wrestle with other humans, their choices, and the creations they unleash upon the world. But all of that too is part of being human. Thank God.

5 min
May 31

Beautiful, Amazing, Magnificent Humanity

During the preceding week, a flurry of thank you cards found their way to our house. Apparently, some of our grandchildren found them to be a great canvas for artwork, practicing writing their letters and words, testing new metallic markers, and for actually writing “thank you” note. Some of these envelopes were hand delivered in a running, pony express, across our backyard and some found their way into our mailbox. All brought a smile. We’ve had the cards out on our counter all week and I have found my eyes drawn to them daily. The colors, the words, the letters, the swirls and swoops and designs…the love and desire to share their creative energy. The urge to create and share is universal. We still have folders of works from our children and the collection of such moments from our grandchildren fill a new generation of a priceless gallery that seems too precious not to keep. Last week, Pope Leo XIV issued his first Papal Encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas. There are many great summaries and commentaries, however, it is really pretty self-explanatory and I encourage all to read it. The title, meaning “magnificent humanity” has rolled around in my head all week. We all have plenty of examples of not-so-magnificent-humanity that may jump to mind, but I can’t help but look at those cards on my counter and feel the tug of a profound thread the Pope is drawing us to in his Encyclical. Today, the Catholic Church celebrates Trinity Sunday, the great mystery of a belief in one God, comprised of three persons, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In a reflection this week, Father Dwight Longenecker describes human beings, created in the image of God, reflecting the Holy Trinity in our composition of mind, body, and soul. He describes these three unique elements of our person, when properly integrated, as reflecting the unity of the Trinity. What makes humanity magnificent? There are certainly moments in which we show our best selves – I really do love the creative art work of my grandchildren and in its way, all of it is magnificent. However, humanity is made magnificent in its creation as an image of God. Furthering this magnificence, this inherent dignity, God took on human form, in Jesus Christ, as an expression of His love for humanity. Today, Catholic Churches the world over, universally proclaim John 3:16: “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish.” At a dinner event in Rome just over a month ago, I had the opportunity to sit next to His Eminence, Cardinal Michale Czerny, the Prefect of the Dicastery for Promoting Integral Human Development. I didn’t know what that meant either so I asked. Essentially, the Dicastery promotes Church teaching on social justice worldwide; integral human development is concerned with the God-given dignity of the individual and justice is about recognizing and honoring that dignity in all forms, particularly for those who are most vulnerable. Integral human development – the integrated person. Head, heart, and spirit. Behind all the big words, centuries of theology, and Church organizations, is the universal truth that human beings have objective value, an innate, God-given dignity, that does in fact make us magnificent. Not because we earned it, but because we are loved into existence in the image of our Creator. Pope Leo’s Encyclical affirms this truth, sharing the beauty of Catholic social teaching as an answer to the dangers of technology. It’s really quite simple. When technology, AI or otherwise, affirms human dignity and supports human flourishing, it is good. When it doesn’t, it is bad. The closest thing I can imagine to the love described in John 3:16 is what pours from my heart when I look at the collection of cards laying on my counter and think of my children and grandchildren. In my mind, I can see each of them, running across my backyard, reaching for me in the middle of a crowd, wanting to sit on my lap at breakfast, jumping into my arms after a recital, or just saying “Hi, Pop!” as greeting. They cannot earn what I feel for them and nothing they do will change that. Beautiful. Amazing. Magnificent.

5 min
May 17

The Serial Reflectionist: Can You See it?

Sometimes I feelI might touch eternity –Lewis tells me that nowIs its closest point. from Resonant Tension, Phillip Berry In a note to me last year, my sister called me a “serial reflectionist.” Not long afterward, I started a post with the title above and stopped after the first paragraph. I decided that I needed a bit more reflection before engaging with my sister’s creative description. This morning, I noticed the draft post in a queue on my website and opened it to see where it was going and where it stopped. Interestingly, it is one of 16 unfinished drafts on the site. A curious thing about my approach to these posts is that I very much run on inspirations in the moment. This is how I know I am not a professional writer – I do not write from discipline but from the things that are striking me at a point in time…usually the Sunday morning of my post. The other way I know? I do not have to make my living by writing. A reality for which I am very grateful. Today, I am going to pull a few of my old drafts into this post and tackle them with intention as a committed reflectionist. I make no promises of cohesion, order, or profundity. However, I have never promised any of those. My hope is that something in them prompts the reflectionist within you. The Serial Reflectionist: Can You See It? In 2011, HBO released the first episode of Game of Thrones, a raw and often troubling journey through a fictional world blending elements of medieval fiefdoms and fantasy in a brutal storyline focused on the various character’s quest for power. Recently re-watching the very first episode, I found its raw brutality and sensuality as jarring as the first time I experienced it, but it was the grimness of the characters that stood out even more in this viewing. Recently walking through a tour of Orsini-Odescalchi Castle in Bracciano, Italy, I had visions of that grimness in harsh realities of its history. Built in the 15th Century in the midst of city, family, and nation power struggles, loads of intrigue, and existential conflicts, in a rawness reminiscent of Game of Thrones, I realized that author, George Martin, had plenty of inspiration for his stories. No magic or dragons needed, the castle, rising high above the beautiful valley around Lake Bracciano, echoed with the stories of arranged marriages, secret notes, crazy looking medieval weapons, “murder holes,” and epic struggles among families with names like Medici, Borgia, and Orisini, not to mention kings like Charles the VIII. Some things never change. Looking around today, not much has changed in the 600+ years since the castle was built. Rulers vie for territory. Nations threaten and war over resources, control, and pride. Intrigue abounds and we now have technology that the 15th Century Orsini would look upon as magic. We’ve gotten even better at intriguing and killing in the years in between. My mind is taken to the movie Terminator 2. A young John Connor asks if humanity is doomed; the Terminator, sent back from the future to try to save humanity, coldly responds: It’s in your nature to destroy yourselves. Will we ever learn? Reconciling the Good and Evil in All of Us Evil is such a strong, uncompromising word. History is rich with examples. Alas, history is unnecessary for the affirmation of evil’s dark presence among us. We know when we hear of it or when we see its ugly head reared in our midst. A quick search for stories or quotes on evil reveals a voluminous accounting of the dastardly, depraved, and the devastating. Headlines affirm these darker tendencies. Consider these quotations: The battle line between good and evil runs through the heart of every man. – Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn Good and evil are so close as to be chained together in the soul. – Robert Louis Stevenson, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde The power of choosing good and evil is within the reach of us all. – Origen Stevenson’s story goes directly at man’s curious capacity for light and darkness in his tale of the good and upstanding Dr. Jekyll who slowly loses himself to his dark alter-ego, Mr. Hyde, through the creation of a potion to separate the good and evil parts of the human personality. The book draws a stark line between man’s good and evil natures, suggesting a hardwired dualism within each of us. Solzhenitsyn knew it well, writing of gulags and the brutal nature of marxism and power in Soviet-era Russia. He saw the evil that men do. But Solzehitsyn also wrote that “beauty will save the world,” referring to the elevating power of the aesthetic, the moral, and ultimately what they reflect: the Sacred beauty of God. Taking some time to study virtue and man’s quest for deep and abiding happiness, we begin to realize that our great potential for evil stems from the deep sin of pride – a self-regard that puts us at the center of everything. Our needs. Our wants. Our demands. The will to power comes from this place and the story repeats itself again and again and again. But we find that it is a hollow and finally unsatisfying place. Yes, the capacity for evil runs through the heart of every man, but we are blessed with the power to choose. Our great gift of free will gives us the power to do what is right and the person formed in the habit of making that choice is path to beatitude: complete joy and fulfillment of all desire. Graduation Since we’re in the middle of graduation season, it seems fitting to return to a couple of drafts that tie into the transition from college to profession. These reflections come from 2016 and 2017 and center on entrepreneurship. I’m not sure why I did not post them at their respective times but such is the way of inspiration – not all inspiration is good or timely, and not all posts go where I want them to. There is so much more to be said about both but graduation speeches aren’t meant to be books and we’ll leave what’s unsaid as potential for a future post…or two. From Liberal Arts to Entrepreneurship I recently had the opportunity to experience commencement exercises at Hillsdale College. Justice Clarence Thomas gave an inspiring keynote address which you can see in this full video of the afternoon. There has been some wonderful commentary on Justice Thomas’ message but that is not what this post is about. The Class President gave a strong speech connecting a liberal arts education with entrepreneurship. “I’ve heard it said that entrepreneurship is living a few of years of your life like most people won’t so you can spend the rest of your life like most people can’t.” He goes on to tell us that his liberal arts education has led him to the conclusion that he wants to be an entrepreneur. For the last week or so, the speech has rolled around in my head as I considered a classical education, entrepreneurship, and the quotation he shared. Yesterday, in a casual meeting over coffee, I was asked about my “Why?” The context centered on my motivations relative to my companies. As I answered the question, that graduation speech came back to me and I realized that his opening quotation on entrepreneurship did not reflect my experience at all. For me, entrepreneurship is about the infinite game. It is a marathon not a sprint. The goal is to stay in the race. Sure, there may come a time to sell and review options. But entrepreneurship should be a way of life not a build it, sell it, and retire on the beach plan. My father-in-law successfully built several companies and I can remember him telling people that he hadn’t had a job for 30 years. His work was a way of life. It was more of an endless project than some grand plan to build and sell, amass wealth, or maximize his accumulations. He lived his ventures and in so doing, experienced a life full of adventures. As I consider that speech so many years ago, I realize that I want to live like most people won’t but it has little to do with money or things. For me, the entrepreneurial journey has been about building a life: a family, a team, companies, relationships, purpose, experiences, stories, resilience, expertise, perspective, independence, impact, and perhaps a little wisdom. I could stop today and feel pretty good about each of those categories. But that is not the point – there is no arrival. To the young entrepreneur, if you feel called, I encourage you to pursue the path. It is a journey worth taking and I’m confident that you will find success – however you may define it. Your message regarding a liberal arts education is spot-on: I can think of nothing more valuable than leveraging the lessons of our greatest thinkers and learning how to think and communicate for yourself. Those skills will serve you well along the way. As for the details of your “why,” “what,” and “how,” you’ll figure it out for yourself. Letter to a Young Entrepreneur Congratulations on your recent graduation from college! These are heady times with the world wide open before you – the sky is truly the limit! I wish you worthy challenges and the joys that accompany when you overcome them. The temptation is great to seek a pathway, a set of plays that will result in the achievement of your dreams. Alas, you have chosen a direction that does not lend itself well to a fixed recipe. I suspect that is what has drawn you to this adventure but more on that later. No, the direction you have charted is toward open water and there is little now visible to tell you which way to go. Do not be discouraged by this! For the faithful, the signs will appear and you will feel nudges indicating direction. For now, the important thing is getting started. Each of our journeys is as unique as we are as individuals. Some choose a trade which often gives a clearer sense of direction in

13 min
May 10

The Glint on the Water, the Shadow Across Life

The Basilica was dark. Drawn to the nondescript exterior by the striking blue doors, we walked-in to what felt like the thousandth church that day. It was a comfortable day in Rome and the sun was beginning to set, casting shadows across the piazza and darkening the narrow, cobblestone alleys that formed the seemingly endless labyrinth of this old city. A caretake emerged from the dark, seeming somewhat surprised that we entered; for a moment, I thought he was going to ask us to leave. He didn’t, and before my eyes could adjust to the dark, I saw a brightly lit side-chapel toward the front of the church, on the side opposite me. The year was 2023 and my eyes, heart, and stomach, were full of the sensations of Rome. At that point in the day and the trip, I really didn’t feel there was any room left for additional sensations. Tired as we were, the doors drew us with a blue that seemed as ancient as what I later learned was a 1200 year old church, yet had a distinct vibrancy in this city of marble, burnished bronze, bright stucco, and dark wood. The only light in that church served to illuminate a statue of Our Lady of Lourdes and little Bernadette looking upon her adoringly – a small shrine to a Marian apparition recognized by the Catholic Church as a miracle soon after its occurrence in 1858 in Lourdes, France. The Catholic devotion to Mary as the Mother of Jesus Christ is often misunderstood by those outside the Church. The simplest answer I can offer is this: if one believes that Jesus is the Son of God, great devotion seems a fitting disposition toward her. But I’m not here to convince, convert, or expound on Marian theology. Watching my seven grandchildren at a family gathering last night, I was mesmerized by the uniquely individual attributes and the collective effect of their collisions. In some cases, the literal physical collisions yielded some bumps and bruises (perhaps one bloody nose) as they played in the blow-up bounce house. But I was even more struck by their little (and big) personalities interacting in the chaotic dance of child’s play that in some way yields its own beautiful order. Sitting together on the back porch, the two mothers of my grandchildren and their Nanny, watched, talked, and laughed in the easy way mom’s do when their children are joyfully engaged…and mostly safe. At one point in the melee, I found myself standing at just the right place to see the moms, Nanny, the children, and the sun aligned in such a way that I felt like light was glinting across the backyard, skipping and dancing upon the little souls flitting in all directions. Was it a trick of the eyes or did I really see seven luminous reflections, glittering back like dragonfly wings in the morning light? Was it the sunlight I saw upon them or something else? There was a radiance in the moment, and the laughter seemed to intensify the brightness even as the deepening shadow of the evening moved over the yard. I awoke this morning thinking of the brightly lit chapel in that dark Roman Church nearly three years ago. The light and the shadow, the moment and the movement, not in any way physical but in and upon some deeper part of me. Beauty moves all of us in its way, casting itself upon those deeper places we often hide in the shadows of our hopes and fears; a mystical world where imagination may be lost and found amid the harsher realities of adulthood and its temporal demands. Light and shadow seem a fitting medium for such movements of heart and soul, and occasionally, we are gifted with the moments that draw us in. Light and shadow transported me again last night, as I watched my grandchildren glinting across the waters of my life, reflections of their own God-given luminosity, but also of their mothers, those life-bearers who brought them forth, cast them upon those waters, and imbued them with pieces of their own divine spark. Knowing each of those little souls intimately, I see the shadows of their mothers stretching over them and within them, supplementing the light of creation with the force of presence – nurturing, protecting, and loving them into fullness. Today is Mother’s Day, our fitting tribute to the life-bearers in our lives who make the sacrifice of self to the great mystery and mission of the children they bear. The reasoning mind acknowledges that celebrating motherhood is fitting because it is a necessary part of our own formation and survival as individuals as well as the great necessity to our survival as a species. However, the Marian heart of our being recognizes that we are moved to honor motherhood because our glint upon life’s waters is a reflection of the Divine given to us through our mothers, and our formation occurs in the shadow cast by their unconditional love. Thank you to my mom and all of the beautiful mothers in my life. What a glorious vocation and gift. A gift for all of us.

6 min
May 3

Italy, Solo Mio, and the Power of the Pure

Somewhere in the distanceWhen we fall in love againPlanets will be dancingThe moon plays violinWe’ll laugh at all the silly thingsThat we’ve both said and doneAnd step into foreverOn the bright side of the sun Men Without Hats, Bright Side of the Sun In 1987, Men Without Hats released a fancifully flighty album called Pop Goes the World. I loved it immediately. One of the tracks on the album was a modified cover of an old Italian love ballad called O Solo Mio which compares the face of the writer’s love with a bright, beautiful sun. On the album, Bright Side of the Sun, provides a poetic prelude to the peppy and poppier O Solo Mio. I awoke to the song playing in my head this morning after watching the relatively new Kevin James movie, Solo Mio, last night. Spoiler alert. First of all, the movie was refreshingly wholesome. The characters were innocent without being boring or puritanical. The humor was clean without being lame. The plot was simple and farcical but still able to touch upon some of the wildly complex themes of love, loss, and relationship. The movie was real, entertaining, and emotionally engaging without tipping into the Hallmark zone or debasing itself with shock to draw attention. For Sally and I, fresh off weeks in Italy, it was a visually stunning return to a place we have come to love. One of the first scenes of the movie introduces us to Kevin James’ character abandoned at the altar by his runaway fiancee. We immediately recognized the church as the Trinita dei Monti, a beautiful renaissance era basilica located at the top of the Spanish Steps, overlooking Rome’s historic center and a road that runs directly into the Vatican about 1.5 miles away. Just a few weeks ago, we celebrated Mass in that church and enjoyed a few remarks of the rector of the convent and retreat that is now operated by the Emmanuel Community who carries on its French lineage. Let the memory reel role! The film is filled with such beautiful sites captured in cinematography that is amazingly effective at conveying the scope and beauty many impossibly glorious places. Later, we see James sitting alone on the famous Spanish Steps, an impossibility for any regular visitor to the Piazza di Spagna which is always full of tourists mingling about and moving in between the luxury stores lining the narrow cobblestone streets. The promo photo gives a hint of the film’s eye for beauty, showing James sitting on a bench on an overlook with the massive dome of St. Peter’s Basilica looming in the background. It is a feast for the eyes. James’s character, Matt, falls-in with two unlikely supporting characters played by Jonathan Roumie and the hilarious Kim Coates who are both on the honeymoon package tour Matt was supposed to take with his bride who isn’t. The men become entertaining foils for James as they come to represent the angel and devil voices for Matt, encouraging in mostly non-helpful but sincere and humorous ways. Of course, trouble ensues. The unlikely twist is an unexpected romance that blossoms between Matt and a local Italian coffee shop owner, Gia, who is the sunshine of the movie. Gia’s character captures the essence of a beautifully hopeful and life-loving personality, full of energy, wonder, and joy. The scene moves to Tuscany as Matt offers his extra ticket to Gia and she unknowingly takes the place of his missing bride, traveling with Matt’s new friends, in their own imperfect marriages, on the honeymoon excursion. Along the way, we are taken to the villa of Andrea Bocelli, who we discover is the uncle of Gia, and are treated with his beautiful music right in the middle of movie, as well as a rather funny duet sung with James shortly after. The Tuscan countryside burst onto the screen, creating its own sense of awe and wonder. Though I can’t say we saw any of the actual countryside shown in these scenes during our trip, I was transported to similar vistas in my own memory: sunrises, sunsets, and rolling beauty in between. Reviews of the movie highlight its Catholic disposition – it is unapologetic in its depictions. From the destination wedding to be held in a Catholic Basilica to the Sign of the Cross appearing before Andrea Bocelli’s pre-meal prayer, to the priest throwing holy water on Bocelli’s horse pre-race in Siena, there is no escaping the thread. Most impressive is that the Catholicity of the movie and its characters flows lightly, neither encumbering nor shrugging, it just is. Present. Steady. Intertwined. Oh yeah, Siena. A great addition to the visual splendor and story is the minor tie-in to the famous Palio horse race held twice a year since the 1600s in the walled city of Siena. The scope and pageantry of the event is captured beautifully, as we see the banners of the Goose, one of the 17 contrade of Siena, the wards or neighborhoods that mark the geography of the city and infuse local pride with a sense of identity. Oca, the Goose, is actually the current holder of the Palio title and shows through brightly in the images from these scenes. The Goose was also the the contrada of St. Catherine of Siena. Conflict emerges as we move to the Palio but there is something moving more deeply underneath. I’m reminded again of Men Without Hats, O Solo Mio: So high give me your love imaginationRun wild and tell me your mine, I can never remember your nameSo high give me your heart hey guardian angelsMore light I’m falling in love and I want to remember the way There is a whimsy, passion, and innocence, to the storyline and its closing movements toward unity and resolution. Somehow, someway, James and fellow writers Charles and Daniel Kinnane, capture the essence of Italy in both its otherworldly oldness and the beautifully joyful possibility emerging in its landscapes, energy, and people – which the actress Nicole Grimaudo evinces wonderfully as Gia. The movie is able to move lightly across the heavy, give us the necessary tension of the conflict, and bring us to a happy close in an ending full of hopeful possibility. The expression “solo mio” translates to “only mine” or “just mine.” The title comes from the misapplication of the expression by Kim Coates, suggesting that James’s character is all alone, which Gia later corrects for him. The movie is a movement through the sunshine of O Solo Mio, past “only mine,” and on to the shared experience of love and loss against the stunning backdrop of Italy. It does this while entertaining us, moving us, and reminding us that the pure, the wholesome, and the faithful doesn’t have to be boring or puritanical. Thank you Angel Studios. Bravissomo!

8 min
Apr 26

I Am Not Mr. Chen

What happens when you cross a tour guide, a janitor, a restroom, English as a second language, and a case of mistaken identity? They say great comedy takes the right setup and perfect timing. Standing in line at what was apparently the only water closet amid the ruins of the ancient Roman Forum, I felt like I’d walked into the surrealism of a Saturday Night Live skit. I watched as the janitor knocked on the door of the bathroom for the third or fourth time, and listened to the muffled response indicating both occupation and disinterest in a dialogue with the outside world. I wondered where this was going. Our guide had encouraged us to a bathroom break at this particular juncture, access was going to be a challenge going forward. I was surprised to discover a single serve restroom with a line of men in front of it and a janitor pounding on the door. The janitor clearly needed access to something within this particular water closet – I didn’t sense he was overly concerned about the biological needs of those in line – and he repeated his knock with a rather non-specific “Sir” as his request. I suppose the implied message was “hurry up!” but there was clearly a lack of understanding in the exchange. About 15 minutes into my wait, I heard the voice of a woman behind me calling across the courtyard, “Mr. Chen?” She repeated the call several times before she found her way to our line. Walking to the janitor, she asked, “Is Mr. Chen in there?” The janitor shrugged and knocked on the door again. “Mr. Chen?” The woman, who we discovered was a tour guide, began banging on the door, “Mr. Chen?” Then “Mr. Chen?” And then, “Mr. Chen!” as her sense of urgency increased. The man behind the door mumbled some broken English but it didn’t really sound like a response to any question. Apparently, the expression, “Mr. Chen” conveyed a variety of meanings and no additional words were needed. I watched as the janitor, the tour guide, and Mr. Chen, engaged in a verbal exchange in which no one seemed to be responding explicitly to the other person. Looking at the other men in the line, I saw smiles appear as we all seemed to encounter the Saturday Night Live effect simultaneously. Apparently, everyone was Americanized enough to understand the humor of the unfolding bathroom skit happening before us. Some of us never outgrow the sophomoric in what entertains us. As the exchange built into a crescendo, the man behind the door finally yelled in quite articulate English: “I AM NOT MR. CHEN!!!” The tour guide, not fully convinced, asked three more times: “Mr. Chen?” Then the janitor added, “Mr. Chen, we need you out of there.” Again, “I AM NOT MR. CHEN!!” It took a few moments for this to register as the janitor’s supervisor walked up and asked, who is in there? Reflexively, the janitor responded: “Mr. Chen.” By the time the supervisor asked Mr. Chen if he was ok, the man behind the door was apparently far enough past the struggles of his now 30 minute journey in the restroom, to yell several more times that he was not Mr. Chen. At this point, the supervisor retreated and the tour guide resolved herself to the conclusion that she would have to find Mr. Chen somewhere else. Only the janitor and the six men in line remained to greet the rather agitated man as he opened the door to the bathroom. The man’s English was limited but was clear enough as he got in the janitor’s face: I am not Mr. Chen. A line he repeated a dozen times before a large Australian man intervened to calm the situation, “It’s ok mate. He’s just trying to do his job.” Nonplussed, the janitor entered the water closet, grabbed some supplies in a cabinet and left to continue his day. As the men in line were finally able to go about their business, the mutual greeting after leaving the bathroom became “It’s all yours, Mr. Chen” to which the proper response was “Thank you, Mr. Chen.” Italy is a beautiful country and we had the opportunity to experience the amazing treasurers of art, architecture, food, and culture. We journeyed through many Holy Places, saw the relics of Saints, and celebrated Mass in beautiful chapels and basilicas. As other-worldly as much of Rome can be, I found it very comforting to witness the common ground of our shared humanity. Though he did not know it, the mysterious Mr. Chen reminded me of just how common that ground can be. I don’t believe I’ve ever waited 30 minutes in a line for a restroom. However, some dramas are too good to pass up. Finding our tour guide a few minutes later, she asked what happened. I laughed out loud as I heard someone down the hill calling, “Mr. Chen?! Mr. Chen?!”

6 min

9 Episodes

5

out of 5

5 Ratings

Becoming the best version of yourself

Creator

Phillip Berry | Orient Yourself
Years Active

2018 - 2026
Episodes

9
Rating

Clean
Copyright

© Copyright Phillip Berry
Show Website

Phillip Berry | Orient Yourself