What is the name of your creative endeavor?
Mapping Healthy Minds is the name of the podcast that I am producing under my group
practice, Compass Counseling. The tagline of this show is “we all have mental health,
how’s yours?”

What is the primary purpose of your work?
The primary purpose of this project is to normalize mental health by making a
comparison to the fact that we all have physical health to take care of so we should treat
our mental health the same way. This includes basic tips for improvement within the
context of one’s personal mental status and in relationships, the hope is also that this
show will remove some stigma from going to therapy. The format we use is interviews
conducted by me with other mental health professionals as guests. The podcast also
features professionals in other fields of which mental health overlaps. For example, an
episode was with a local physical trainer who owns a gym and highly values the
connection between mental and physical health.

How do you hope your work helps your audience flourish?
Generally, we want people to have a better sense of mental health. A specific way we
have worked towards that end is to provide a series on workplace wellness. Each of the
therapists at my office took a turn in the interview format talking about a speciality they
own and how it connects to having a positive experience on the job.

What are the biggest challenges you’ve faced in your work thus far?
Most challenges in any creative endeavor seem to be technical, it seems. The initial
setup of the podcast and over the internet interviews are the only type of barrier
experienced at this point. Developing an audience is also a challenge. As anyone who
creates knows, quality content is only half the battle. Otherwise it has run smooth. I have
experience with a different podcast which is helpful. And as a therapist talking to people
about meaningful topics comes naturally. It is a project that supporting guests have
gotten behind and been excited about being a part of.

What are you working on now you hope to offer up soon?
As of this writing, season three is in the works. The past seasons have consisted of 6
and 7 episodes. The upcoming season includes a couple different episodes on trauma.
One with a very personal disclosure. Also planned are episodes on work/life balance
with females and attachment.

Where can those new to your work find you online?
There are currently three ways to hear Mapping Healthy Minds. It is available on the
Compass Counseling website for streaming
(www.compasscounselingky.com/mapping-healthy-minds-podcast) and on either Spotify
or Apple Podcast. Also, Mapping Healthy Minds Podcast is on facebook and instagram
@mappinghealthymindspodcast.

Have you ever thought of all the people you know doing incredible work? Sometimes I think “How do I know people so talented and willing to share their talents the ways they do?” While their writing, songs, podcasts, or visual art may be so good it makes it looks easy, I suspect they’ve worked harder than anyone will ever know to birth something beneficial to this world.

I believe God wordsmiths this world every single moment. He spoke into chaos and it organized in Genesis. Jesus was known as the Word made flesh. God’s creative wordsmithing holds the world together. Each moment that is is a miracle in and of itself. The Word creates worlds.

For better or worse, our words fashion worlds for each other as well. Ms. Jean, my Middle School history teacher, told me I was smart and could use words. Her words fashioned me into a more confident, less self-doubt-ridden kid. With her words she created for me a world in which I have a place.

That said, I want to introduce ‘wordsmith wednesday’—a monthly-ish series. Some wordsmith through poems and others podcasts; some make videos and others bake cakes. 

Growing a platform—something I am trying to do—is tricky. You believe in your message but an artist’s market can be competitive—even cut throat. I want to write and publish and so do a lot of other folks. However, I don’t want to compete as much as collaborate. I want to make a network of amazing creators available to more people instead of focusing on making a name for myself. I don’t know if this is a good business model but hopefully it’s a strategy for you and I to have richer community.

So, below I’m copying exactly what I’m sending to my friends by whose work I’ve been blessed and think others may be as well as they share their work here on this site:

Purpose:
I want creative work to be collaborative, not competitive. So, I want to share with my audience the work of those whose creativity helps flourish communities—something humans are called to in the Genesis creation story. I want those whose work I share to consider sharing mine with their audience if they think the audience will find it useful. In this way, we lift up each other’s goals to speak life into communities via what we’re gifted to offer instead of push each other down to compete in the social market place. Our creative works can rise up together as we all reach more audience members through shared networks. Collaboration flourishes community by amplifying creativity!

Proponents:
Thus, I offer to you ‘wordsmith wednesday’.

At least one Wednesday each month, but perhaps more than one as time and material allow, I’d like to offer to my audience a 300-500 word essay from a wordsmith’er whose work I’d like to highlight. You are then welcome to share this write-up with your audience and are welcome to mention work I’m doing (currently on ‘exile’ as a lens for shame processing in faith communities).

‘wordsmith wednesday’ is not just for authors although it will hopefully include them. It is for anyone working on a creative endeavor which involves communicating goodness, hope, love, redemption, justice, or other concepts which helps communities flourish. This easily includes songwriters, podcasters, writers, counselors, visual artists, preachers and teachers, athletes, and a host of other things I’ve not yet even considered!

Next Wednesday we'll get started with 'wordsmith wednesday.' Can't wait to introduce you to some folks!

It is 2020! If this nice round number doesn't inspire you to chase that new goal then maybe you have a round number phobia—you should get that checked out.

Here's the thing. I'm 41 years old which means I'm midlife now. What?! Most folks still think my wife and I are in our early 30s which is nice some days but inaccurate all the days. And since we are in our early 40s negotiating time and goals means a lot more than it used to. 

In my late teens and early 20s I'd spend hours memorizing lines from whatever Adam Sandler movie was on loop. And while it's nice to be able to say with impeccable comedic timing "The price is wrong Bob" from Happy Gilmore, now that I'm midlife, hold down a job, and have a family that doesn't seem so significant. 

And significant is what I want to see a lot more from us humans this round-numbered year. In this year where the cheeseball "have a better vision for your life in 2020" slogans will abound let's be honest—cheeseballs are delicious and we should all have one of those giant plastic jugs of them in our kitchen. So let's run with that slogan for a minute.

But now come the rebuttals in your brain and mine.

"But I'm not ready to envision a marathon at this year even though I've wanted to since I was a kid. I can't run a half yet." 

"I don't know how to play like James Taylor so I better wait a until next month longer to pick up the guitar. I'll just keep watching YouTube tutorials on how to play."

I know. Me too. But how much longer will you rob yourself and your world of what you're capable of? And if you live until your grey haired do you want to sit in your rocking chair wondering about what could've been?

​Maybe we could be more like the God who created in Genesis who didn't make a perfect thing. 

Bear with me, I'm not heretic-ing here. Let me explain.

A perfect thing is complete and at its highest point of ability. In the Garden of Eden, that's not how the story goes. 

God makes a young Adam and Eve who still have so much to learn about themselves, each other, the garden that needs some upkeep and improvement, and their Creator. The earth isn't perfected. They aren't perfected. There is still so much to learn and do before they bite any forbidden fruit.

God called the place and the two people "good" but he didn't call them "perfect" because they weren't. And yet God got to work creating.

The fear of not being perfect has delayed too many good things from happening. I've wanted to write and have done so off and on for years. However, there are seasons where I let fear of imperfection overwhelm my ability to offer something good enough (or even "just okay") for the day.

So a few days ago I took my family to Jerry's Sno Cones, a delicious Memphis eatery, and my wife took pictures for my portfolio to start writing professionally and part-time. We didn't know how to do them perfectly but we did them and they are good enough for this season. Actually, she made them really fun and colorful and she's awesome. I put the photo below because I need you to see something where I can see all my flaws but am committing to God's words that "I'm good," that I have value and significance and gifts to offer, even when I'm so imperfect. 

And I bet you have that "good enough" gift to offer us as well. You certainly have worth and significance. So what imperfectly GOOD will you offer us all this nice round year? Crunch some cheeseballs. Envision it. Pick up that instrument, lace up those running shoes, register for that class, and get started!

I tried to get this out on Monday but life happens and blogs don't somedays. However, I've got to share Tanaya Winder. As I mentioned in my last blog I mentioned I'm taking a course on Native and Indigenous Communication Methods. It has been and will continue to be intensely altering to my understanding of the American experience. It has also led me to discover voices I never knew existed but am not the better for knowing. This is my small way of trying to place a bigger spotlight on people whose talent and perspectives have much to offer us.

Through the wonders of Twitter I discovered Tanaya Winders when I asked for recommendations for Native American and Indigenous poets I should seek out. This inquiry led me to Tanaya. I'm new to her work but I'm loving it. Tanaya has published books of poetry (her most recent being When Storms are Named After People But Bullets Remain Nameless). I know I usually post music, and Tanaya actually has some good music, but her poems I've read or seen her perform are just so good.

Two things of hers I found online to give you a taste of her art are as follows.

The first is a Ted Talk mix of narrative and poetry and a plea to live life fully in connection with others.

The second is a fantastically woven work of music I grew up on laced with love-discussions. Well done Tanaya!

I've been thinking about this for a bit and thought I'd share here for if its helpful. I'm taking a course at U of M for my PhD program called Seminar in Communication Research. In the course we are exploring communication methods native and indigenous peoples have utilized to claim dignity and reclaim a sense of culture amongst their own tribes--particularly in the realm of education but in other areas as well.

We are tasked not with writing a research paper to publish but keeping a Decolonization Journal. In this journal we wrestle with our understanding of our own Colonial heritage, how its disrupted (a polite term) native peoples' lives, and how we see things we have not seen before. 

I may share some from my journal in the coming months but, honestly, its more intense and challenging than a research paper. For now, I want to use some posts to share with you some native and indigenous musicians, poets, and writers I think will serve us all well to hear. It may be because they just have great music (which they do) or because they have insights from which we may all benefit. If nothing else, I'd like to give a platform as best I can to voices and tribes Eurocentric folk in previous years attempted to exploit or erase in various ways. So, to actively de-erase a culture in some way, I'll shine a little spotlight on on some big voices in the coming weeks.

To begin: the multitalented Kalyn Fay.

I don't know how my research led me across her music but I'm so glad it did. She is Cherokee and has musical roots in Tulsa, OK. Her Bible Belt album is all I could ask of an Americana album. Honest, robust, story-whisked and stirred. I don't want to say much about her as just offer a favorite song with which to start and then you can take it from there. 

From Bible Belt I hear someone who may be processing from whence she came, perhaps a relatable sentiment for us all, with a full awareness of white and Cherokee cultures fully at the table. Its a song that'll transport us all into reflection and dang it sounds pretty.

Bible Belt is from her most recent full length album. However, she has another album called Good Company coming out very soon.

Lastly, Here's a video I just stumbled upon of her discussing her art and navigating identity. It's worth a gander.

As I give myself to writing again I've decided to write about what already is happening in my life. Its a busy season so there is not time to go seeking new ventures about which to write. And since there are books, songs, events, and whatnot I fall in love with every mundane minute I will occasionally share about them--particularly if I don't think enough know about those things. 

Chris Slaten's stage name is Son of Laughter. He wraps stories in musical notes and offer these gifts to willing appreciators. I first heard his newest album "No Story is Over" over a year ago while driving from Memphis to Middle Tennessee--a four or five hour drive. I downloaded it before accelerating toward the wedding I'd attend later that day. I pressed play and listened all the way through. Got gas--listened through again. Ate lunch--gave it another spin the last leg of the trip. 

There is so much to say about so many of the songs but I will keep it short today and nudge you to listen to the first song which I'll link here. The song is called Voting Day. It has all the Paul Simon you could wish for with all the relevance our current political and religious climate necessitates. It manages to avoid  preachy-ness but definitely preaches well. It weds gospel and folk--two musical forms historically suited to addressing injustice which it meets with tangible hope.

This song manages the impossible call to pledge allegiances wisely while invoking foot tappin' fun. It is subversive all-the-while folk-pop joy. AND, it does all this in 2 minutes 10 seconds. Well done Chris. Our world needs such a song in such a time as this. 

Give it a listen.

Jesus, the person many pledge our allegiance to, as an infant found himself and his family slipping out the back door of their homeland due to a tyrant king's violent threats. They made their way down to Egypt where they dwelt until it was safe to return to the vicinity of home. They settled on Nazareth instead of Bethlehem to be on the safe side. I wonder what would've happened to their family in our current climate if they sought refuge here.

Moses, a son of Abraham who found himself taken in by the oppressive powers that be, was separated from his mom to keep him safe from those powers. I wonder how that might have played out in our current climate.

Father Abraham and his wife— before the many sons part of the story—felt the danger of wandering as strangers seeking a land, stability, and a promise fulfilled by their God. They were so scared they lied about their relationship status. He claimed Sarai was his sister—and was thus separated from her for a season—due to the danger of openly expressing to the powers that be during their wanderings they were indeed married. I wonder what would have happened to them in our current climate.

At a certain point an Israelite, maybe even Moses, penned a certain ancient holy text with the exodus story in particular in mind. It reads:

“33 “‘When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. 34 The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. I am the Lord your God.” Leviticus 34:9

I wonder what the ancient Israelite who penned those words might think of our current climate.

But perhaps more at the core of our faith, in our very 10 Commandments, an ancient Israelite, maybe even Moses, wrote:

8 “Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. 9 Six days you shall labor and do all your work, 10 but the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your male or female servant, nor your animals, nor any foreigner residing in your towns.”

I wonder what the Israelites, along with the foreigners residing in their towns, would think of our current climate.

I wonder what Mary would think as she hears of children living in facilities separated from the mom’s and dad’s who love them.

I wonder what Jesus would think of the politicians who say the Bible says to keep the law when so much of what Jesus did defied the norms and at times the laws to display the spirit of the law. Or would he just point out this current practice is neither law nor order.

I don’t know all the answers to what their thoughts would be but I do wonder—enough to write it down and ask others to wonder as well. Not really to answer on my post—just ponder it in your heart. I don’t expect someone who does not claim any loyalty to the Torah or Jesus to have to ponder these questions. But I see them sensibly asking why don’t folks who do claim loyalty to the Torah and Jesus appear to be considering these things.

So I hold the questions out for us to ponder. This is not one on which I really solicit thoughts or comments (of which those of a disrespectful tone will be deleted)--just imagination work for those who claim Abraham as a father and Jesus as Lord. Imagine sitting across the table Joseph or Jesus himself built—perhaps with carpentry tools Joseph brought back from Egypt while in hiding—as Mary the Israelite requests of you, “Tell me about those foreign families in your land.”

Clearly this shooting is cussing awful. Just evil. And we want to throw our hands up. And maybe there will be no movement on gun control legislation in our lifetime and my friends are likely all across the board on what that should look like. However, that's not where this is headed. So for a second lets put all that volatility on the back burner and try to do something radical--dignify people. Here is my challenge to myself and an invitation to you.

By my math (which is admittedly pretty weak), there are 26 days left in November if you count today, Sunday, November 5, which corresponds to 26 fallen congregants in TX. We all know that words are worse than sticks and stones and may lead those they wound to pick up a gun and unleash his pain on a church, movie theater, or the like. These wounds are inflicted when someone intends harm or when they use words without thinking of their power.

So for 26 days I want to use my words more intentionally and with an awareness of their power. I want to select 26 people and for 26 days say something to one of the 26 which is intentionally dignifying, empowering, healing, or loving.

Would you do the same? Can you let 26 people know over the next 26 days you're affirming them, encouraging them, praying for them, love them, are there for them? Choose folks you love and are like and take a chance and say it to folks who're different than you or with whom you have strained relationship.

Of course, if you believe in gun law reform, go forth and speak to your senator or whatever government rep you so desire. This does not nullify that discussion and shouldn't. However, you CAN do something clearly impactful in your sphere of influence over the next 26 days. Maybe this won't change a law but it may lift a spirit, tender up a hard heart, mend a broken relationship, and maybe, just maybe, reroute the anger of a would be future violent man or woman toward loving community.

This is a way I choose to meet this current darkness. I want to give in to anger and cynicism but know it just won't do much good for others and will eat me alive. So I'm going against my emotions and choosing this instead. It'll take some intentionality to send a text, send an email, or say words of affirmation in person. Yet it's one intentional way of resurrecting life in community from the death which has inundated us on this dark news night. Hopefully it'll honor them and offer the opportunity for others to know dignity and love.

Join me if you will. #SutherlandSpringsLife ​

She grabbed bags and packed them with a set of clothing for each of them—her husband, child, and herself. She swiftly packed away burp cloths and diapers while her husband filled the canteens with water and scraped together the money he had from his jobs building tables and shelves from the lumber he stored behind the house. They left out the back, through the alleyway, and away from the village with a quietness matched only by the darkness in the evening air.

Each step away from the village was a step closer to safety even if it meant leaving the world they knew--hopefully for only a short time.

Their nation's leader was a man who lived in fear of those who may challenge his power. He had heard rumors of potential emerging rebels whose very presence could make less of the king’s power. So he gripped his status more firmly than ever and doubled down his resolve to extinguish any who may pose a threat. He unleashed a fury of violent activity and many in the capitol city rallied to his authoritarian push to stifle rumored rivals or anyone who questioned his policy.

In this instance, in a town not terribly far from the capitol, there was a child who created whispers near and far. It was said his very presence implied a possible assault on the throne. For this reason, the king sent his armed men to hunt down the would-be rebel child. So the boy and his parents ran into the unknown with tears on their cheeks and little more than the clothes on their backs.

The husband could’ve stayed home. The boy wasn’t technically his child after all. However, he had committed to be the child's father when he married her. He led them stealthily through perilous terrain. Thieves lurked and the elements could be unkind. They had a limited amount of supplies and the child, being such, needed to be led on as quickly as possible to a place that could provide some form of stability. Stalling for any period of time on making it to safety was not an option. Otherwise, who knows what would happen. For that matter—who knows if the mom could keep a healthy enough mental state to nurse or provide for a child while on the move in such unsteady surroundings. Their trip necessitated expediency.

Thankfully, they arrived in a land not impossibly far from home and found haven there. Irony of ironies—they left a place which should have felt like a promise land and laughed, in their moments alone, acknowledging their new home was the land of their ancestors’ slavery. Their fathers were sure to mention this season of slavery at many mealtimes and holiday get-togethers. Now it was their place of freedom.

Here they were, in an unlikely location safe from a tyrant of unchecked neurosis. This tyrant, in fact, slew the lives of other children from the town who shared a similar age to secure his throne.

The family stayed in the foreign land for a while. It was not their home but their lives found purchase there while they waited out the ravaging of of their homeland. When news came to them the tyrannical leader passed they found their way back home as soon as possible.

As the boy matured, the mother and father made sure at dinnertime to share the story of the time when they were forced from their home and ran for their lives into a far country. The boy remembered those stories from their time away; the strangers who were hospitable to his parents in their foreign land; the old lady who offered his mom fabric for his clothes; the man in the community who shared tools with his dad so he could work. And as he grew in wisdom and stature and the like he always took note of those who didn’t fit into their surroundings. He practiced hospitality to those who felt ostracized and unsafe. In fact, he sought them out.

His parents' stories touched him in a way that profoundly shaped his professional career as an adult. He became something of a celebrity in certain regions of his homeland— known for his way of reframing common assumptions in his public lectures. He did and said risky things in the name of the stranger, the outcast, the outsider.

He understood the risk his very presence caused his own parents and how it displaced them from a life they might have otherwise chosen. He understood the radical hospitality they experienced—by former oppressors of their people no less. His presence challenged particular kingdoms who gripped too strongly to their own national power. He inspired an international movement of radical hospitality partly because his own early years involved a mom and dad who experienced welcome in a land which opened its borders to them in an hour of need.

In 2003 my wife and I moved to Japan.

We were Junior High School Assistant English Teachers (AETs) in Mito, Japan two ours northeast of Tokyo.

Many who knew us then or now usually assume we were missionaries moving to live a pious missionary adventure. I was, at the time of our move in late summer 2003 in seminary and doing ministry at a church in the Memphis area.

The truth is I went to Japan because I didn't know if I believed in God. For a then seminarian on a trajectory for a life of ministry this was not "good for business." 23 year old me (I'm now 36) needed space away from faith expectations and wounds to come to grips with who he was and who God was, if He was at all. One way to do that is to move to the other side of the planet and be away from any expectation to think one thing or the other.

While there my coping mechanism for culture shock a'plenty on top of a mid-20s faith crisis became running. I was not a runner before arriving in the Land of the Rising Sun. However, running became a quick way to release language learning stress, first year teacher Stress, faith crisis STRESS!

Near our apartment was the third most beautiful park in all of Japan. Cherry and plumb blossoms set the scenery ablaze each spring with glowing white and pinkish blooms. I often jogged up a small river trail which fed out into the path around the trail.

The aforementioned cherry and plumb trees were a strong motivation in Japan's magical spring bloom decor to get off my faith-crisis-havin’-duff. You see, one of the most complementary aesthetics in Japan for a faith crisis is an unexpectedly early sunset each day in the fall and winter months. Our first year this alone felt like a physical weight upon me as the dark evenings bore down upon us before we left our schools everyday at 5 PM.

The closest thing to light there in the evening during those months was those blazing trees along the streets and paths of Mito City.

One other thing I should mention about Japan is, at least in our city at that time, almost no road or street had street signs. This made locating your intended destination complicated. Luckily, there was always a 7-Eleven or other such conbini as a marker in the same way us Bible Belters have churches and Walgreens.

That said, I began really listening to U2's musical library while there. I had no idea early on three of the four members loved the same Jesus I was doubting. However, the The Joshua Tree was the first gospel album I heard which I had never seen in a Gospel section at the music store.

The first song on that album blew me away every time I heard it. It is a song called "Where the Streets Have No Name." The first few lines Bono belts are:

I want to run, I want to hide,
I want to tear down these walls that hold me inside,
I want to reach out and touch the flame,
Where the streets have no name.

I didn't expect someone whom to my knowledge then a mainstream and secular artist to so firmly capture me with such intensity about running into the presence of the Creator I had moved half way around the world to consider discarding--really sing something so compelling to me then a skeptic.

Something about The Edge's guitar and Bono's gospel lyrics lit up my heart previously darkened by doubt and darkness, both spiritual and physical (remember the whole "no sun after 4:30 PM" thing I mentioned earlier).

One spring 2004 evening running through the streets that had no name and around a trail by the lake I sat down on a park bench under a plumb tree in full bloom--nearly on fire with colorful flame like Moses's burning bush. I played Bono's gospel song as I gazed upon that tree. As Moses had known God's presence in that burning bush centuries ago I, for the first time in a refreshingly long time, opened myself to the fiery presence of the Creator at the feet of that plumb tree. He was there, he was a blazing beautiful presence!

Bono doesn't know me. The nearest I've been to him was purchasing tickets to see U2 live in Memphis when I was 16 only to sell them to pay for a speeding ticket. And then, ten years later, I got tickets to see them at the Tokyo Dome in 2006. My wife, two other friends, and I extended our visa past the expiration of our work visa to see them. And then they cancelled! I'm not bitter Bono...except I totally am.

One thing I know, however, is I owe a great deal of my love for music and the Messiah to Bono's gospel album which gave me words to say I still hadn't found what I was looking for but also gave voice to my deep yearning to reach out and touch the flame where the streets have no name!


[Originally posted on Mitchell Roush's site.]