Akting Out

I think it was around the time Star Wars: Episode II was in theatres. Either that, or it was the first one. Hell, it may have been a re-run of the original three movies, I don’t remember. What I do remember is that my best friend and I decided to go to Toys R’ us, where we would never be welcomed again, to pick up some lightsabers.

His was red, mine was blue. We’re fawning over our new lightsabers and talking about all of the choreography we’re going to do when, of course, I pop off at the mouth. Of course I should be the one who wins, I’m better with this than you are.

Since when?

Right here, right now.
We tear open the boxes, ripping away the ties that bind the ‘blades’ to cardboard. Of course, he happens to have a small Phillips screwdriver in his pocket for just this kind of situation. He puts his batteries in first, and then I get my chance.

I’ve always loved how much heavier the toy feels once the batteries are in place. It’s as close to real as it gets, and when I hit the activation, it will be as real as it gets.
So I do; the blade extends with that snap-hiss that always gets my blood rushing, vibrating in my hand to alert me that it’s ready. Of course, he’s ahead of me. He turns, spinning, bringing the blade down on my head. I raise mine to block and push him away, hoping to knock him off balance. But we’ve done this too many times, and he knows my trick. Rather than fight the motion, he moves with it, spinning, backing away. I hear one woman scream and scurry out of our way, but the battle has already commenced.

Neither one of us were prepared for how good the other had become. I’m bigger, so I force him to retreat, but he knows the parking lot, and worse, he has eyes in the back of his head; he knows where the store is, and as he effortlessly deflects my attacks, I push him back into the store. Right back through the exit we left through moments ago. He nearly stumbles over some poor kid, who exclaims “COOL!” as we pass by.

Somehow, he gets the drop on me, catching me by my wrist as I went for his midsection. He pulls me forward, tripping me, sending me to the rubber-matted floor in the space between doors. I sprint to my feet and charge back into the store, making out all of the “what-the’s” that come our way. I turn, face him, and brace myself for the attack I know is coming. It’s for my head again, I block, push away, he rolls with it, the battle continues.

I’m the one on the defensive now, and behind him, a throng of excited children, bewildered parents, and angry employees begin to follow us as we move through the store. Up the toy-figure aisle. I’m pretty sure they were able to re-assemble a G.I. Joe that fell victim to a wayward swing.

I remember an exchange between two employees as the crowd tailed us throughout the store; “Should we break them up?”
“Nah, nah! Let ‘em fight!”

The kids are wowed by some of the moves we pull off; a slash for my boy’s head is avoid when he deftly tumbles under it, an errant swing on his behalf allows me to knock the blade from his hand, only to have him push me away just long enough to reclaim it.

Finally, we make our way to the bicycle aisle, where the battle came to a conclusion. Both of us working our asses off, trying to land that one decisive blow, but he’s got the edge; I’m wearing down, and he just got his second wind.

Until he makes a mistake.
Pinned against the bike rack, exhausted, I’m ready to concede, until he tries that same damn downward swing he’s done as long as I’ve known him. I step aside, and while I still have no idea how that back came loose from the rack, I’ll take what can get. The bike catches him square in the chest, allowing me to twist the blade from his hand and hold both of them at his neck. Anything else?

Then everyone started clapping.
Of course, then the employees have to do their job. Crowd disperses. Yes, we paid for the lightsabers. And the batteries. And we’ll pay for the bike, too. Oh, it’s not ruined? Great! Yes, we’ll leave. No, we’ll never come back. Ever. Promise. Yes, we understand that the police will be notified if we look like we’re about to turn into the parking lot.

We left. We didn’t go back, ever.

But we had a holy blast, and we made a lot of kids laugh, and in the end…can’t say I regret that.

Thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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It was one of the earliest lessons learned as a child; God doesn’t make deals. Satan does. Back then, it didn’t make much sense. In the literal sense, I suppose that’s true; God doesn’t make deals in the traditional sense. But He will always listen to what you have to say, and He will always meet you halfway.

In my experience, it works pretty much the same way as any other bargain you might strike; you offer something and get something in return. Dealing with God isn’t much different, except the stakes are much higher; God doesn’t demand anything from us, He loves us too much for that. No, that’s the beauty of faith; you don’t really have to do anything but believe.

No, the demands come from His former right hand; the one who’ll give you your supposed heart’s desire for something you may find trivial…and in the end, the price you pay is eternal.

So what is it you could possibly offer God to make Him give you the time of day? What is it you’re asking of Him? Because nothing comes free, and if you want God to give you the time of day, I mean if you really want Him to do something for you, then you have to be willing to give something back.

In my experience, the price paid is mind-numbingly hard work. It often pushes you to your breaking point. You have so many moments where you don’t think you can do it, where you think He’s a tyrant, where you say screw it, I don’t want it this badly, I’m out.

The beauty of it is that if you decide you’ve had enough, then cool, quit. Nothing bad will happen to you for it. Your life will continue on as normal. In fact, therein lies the irony; your life will go back to the same misery you were trying to escape before you made the deal in the first place. God demands nothing; he promises you something if you give something of yourself in return. It’s a simple premise; do nothing, nothing will happen.

For those of us who choose to see it through, the rewards are epic beyond belief; not only do we get what we asked for, in a manner far beyond anything we imagined, but we emerge better people on the other side of the work we put into the effort.

Patience is a big part of it; we may ask for God’s help at any point, but it’s only when we stop worrying about it that He answers. I think that our continuing to worry about it signifies that we haven’t given the problem wholly over to God yet, and why should He give us the time of day when we haven’t shown that we trust Him? Stop worrying about it. Give it over to Him. Let Him work.

Example 1). I wanted off the street. I gave up fighting, running the street, went to the library every day, devoted myself to finding a job—anything that came along. One month later, I had a rinkydink telemarketing job and a shoebox apartment in Bay City, Michigan. I missed the parties, the fast money, and the thrill of looking into someone’s eyes the moment he knew I was about to beat him. It was worth it.

Example 2). In a recession, I was able to sustain myself through writing—sometimes for up to fifteen hours a day—plus help from people I cared about until I found the job I maintain today. Thanks for the five months in between jobs, I was discovered as a writer, and well, you know the rest.

Example 3). To keep up with the demand of my job, I had to learn how to sell TV. I went way outside of my comfort zone and sell between four and five a month (which is epic, for me).

And, of course, the latest example.

I confess; I don’t want to just compete in next year’s Show Me Games. I want to win them.
Beyond that, I’d like to face down the last of my fears. I want to stop trying to succeed and actually do it. I want to stop talking about losing weight and actually do it. I want to actually finish two books on time. I want to stop wishing and talking and actually start doing something.

I want to conquer my fears of success and being happy. So, of course, I asked God for help. Tell me what You want, and I’ll do it.

Today, He answered.
You give Me everything you have, and I’ll make 2011 the year of your life.

My schedule today was extended during the week, at my request, so I could leave early on Fridays. This means I get a 2 ½ day weekend, but eliminates any possibility for me training, or writing at night.
But there’s the mornings…and I realized what He was asking of me.

Up at four in the morning. Hit the Y for an hour. Come back. Take care of the dogs. Write. Go to work. Repeat four days a week.
That’s asking a lot. Of course, I could always do nothing, right?

But I trust Him.

So here goes.

God bless, and thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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This is going to be one of those personal blogs. Just letting you know.

I have to say up front; this has been the most successful year of my life, no questions asked. First, I was finally able to see my kids again after nearly seven years. In doing so, I was finally able to keep a promise I made to my oldest son seven years ago, and meet my youngest son for the first time. We stay in touch fairly regularly, but we don’t pretend as though nothing’s happened. I spend a lot of time answering questions about where I was. Some conversations are easier than others, but I’ll take this relationship with my kids over none at all.

I saw my parents again for the first time in well over a decade. It was brief, only dinner (their treat at an old family restaurant), but it’s led to regular phone conversations and a relationship developing between myself and my father. The past is the past, no amount of animosity or wishing things were different is going to change that, and I think we were both tired of being angry. We joke, talk about politics, dealing with our respective jobs and families, and it’s amazing; the more we talk, the more I find I’m a lot like him, with my mother’s balance. But the past is the past, and the bad blood is back there with it.

I am officially a published author, having contributed to an anthology now available on Amazon in paperback format, and I have to say, the success has been overwhelming. People now think I have all the answers, and since I’m not used to talk about my writing, the conversation usually gets awkward. I still think you get the ball and run with it, though; I coach people as best as I can when it comes to writing (although I still think I’m learning a lot of the answers myself), and a new friend of mine at work actually gave me the idea to start a writer’s blog—an idea which was endorsed. I’m releasing my first standalone book early next year, so all serious blogging plans are on hold till them. Still, it’s nice to see the future take shape.

And finally, I’ve taken serious steps to resolve my type-2 diabetes; I tend to do these things publicly (to show people that yeah, I may be crazy, but what I’m doing can be done). In two months, I’ve lost nearly ten pounds. I’ve all but cut junk food from my diet. I either work out or train five days a week. My average blood sugar reading is roughly one hundred and ten. To capitalize on the success, I was able to demonstrate a full 540 degree tornado kick to my friends at work today.

I still study martial arts—relentlessly—but not for the sake of violence anymore. I just enjoy training.

I didn’t think I’d live to see thirty. I’m thirty-four.

Sure, I worked my tail off, and had more than a few moments where I thought I was going to collapse and be done with it all, but in the end, this has been a kick-ass year.

So where to go in the coming year?
This is the part that gets really personal.

When I was younger, I got really good at solving other people’s problems. Or at least, I thought I did. I would either listen without judging (lord knows I don’t have the right to judge anyone), or do that really stupid thing no one else would do. I did it because I wanted to see people happy.

I still do. I like to make people smile, even if it’s for just a moment, even if I have to make a complete and utter fool of myself (and I’m good at that), I like to see people laugh. I like being the guy who says “It’ll all work out.” When everyone else thinks things can’t get any worse. I like to think I’m still good at it, but it’s not so necessary anymore.

Which leads me to finally, after so many years of ducking it, deal with my own drama.

I’m great at reading people and figuring out what they’re about, but when it comes to my own happiness? I have no idea where to begin. I don’t think I even know what I want. I have visions of where I’d like to be in seven years, but outside of that? I have no idea. Video games don’t give me the same sense of fulfillment that they used to.

I know why I refuse to let anyone get close to me, why I’ve screwed up every single relationship I’ve ever been in (including this one). I am insecure, but not because of the things I did in the past. It’s funny; all the things I did in the past were to keep attention away from the things I’m really insecure about.
I’m insecure because my interests never seem to run with everyone else’s, and those who share them…there’s almost always a catch. It’s why I’m much more comfortable on my own than with a group.

I love graphic novels, especially DC’s. I love stories of heroes vs. villains on a grand scale and there are certain writers (like Geoff Johns) I’ll buy without a second thought.
I love epic, classical music, most of which no one’s ever heard of. I don’t like most modern music. I like sweeping, dramatic orchestras from groups like X-Ray Dog, Epic Score, Immediate Music, and Two Steps From Hell. I could listen to them all day, and often do. I love video game soundtracks, especially the tracks found in fighting games (Dead or Alive is a long-running favorite).

And I’m afraid that when I really let all of my guards down, I’ll get burned. It’s why I keep most people at a distance.

But there are worse things to deal with. Maybe they’ll make another one of those damn Resident Evil movies.

Till then, thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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I got this idea from Jamie Debree, who, well, is just full of good ideas, so I sincerely hope she doesn’t mind if I borrow this one. Cause it’s a good one. Just saying.

I didn’t get as much done last week as I wanted, but then again, I work best under pressure. Plus, I never get as much done in a week as I want to. The holidays are rolling around, which means my two kids are pitching me what they they want for Christmas. BB guns and pet snakes. Not happening, but thanks for playing. Honestly, I’m glad my kids feel cool enough with me to call me, talk to me, and even ask me to get them presents for Christmas. Plus, they’ve been good. Not BB gun good, but gift-certificate good.

I hit the big three-four last week, and Molly really outdid herself. She kept me in the dark for weeks, even when we were disagreeing, which I’m grateful to say isn’t as often as it used to be. She rounded up friends from work, the writer’s group, and what teeny-tiny social life I have and threw the first surprise party I’ve ever had in my life…and I have to say, wow. Talk about humbling. All these people on a Friday night at my house?! I really had no idea.

I’m less than four thousand words into the new Universal Warrior, but at least I have a clear idea as to where I want the story to go. I gave myself a three-week deadline to have the first draft done, another three weeks to get it finalized and in the hands of a professional editor (who, blessedly, I’ve already lined up), and then, well, to the masses. I have four days off in a row coming up, and as long as I stay off the damn 360, I should get loads done.

Getting my health together is proving difficult, although I’ve reduced the amount of medication I take. I haven’t registered a high blood sugar reading in weeks, thank God. I hit the gym three days a week, where I run two miles and hit the weights. I’ve managed to keep off four pounds, and my goal is 220lbs by July 2011. Although I’ve all but eliminated junk food from my routine, come January, I plan to bump the gym up to five days a week and kill pizza and fast food from the diet.

Training feels strange now; all of my techniques are designed for dealing with someone who gets close to me; I hate inside fighting. When I was younger, I could stick and move. Now I feel like I can knock down a building. Guess I have to roll with the changes, right?

So anyway, with the holiday rolling around, here are my goals for the week.

Business
Research distribution methods for Atherean Defenders

Finalize Universal Warrior-related blog for Mark of the Stars

Writing
Complete two chapters of Atherean Defenders

Personal
Complete 15 miles on the treadmill

Increase seated bench press weight to 150

Drop one pound

Get back on the heavy bag

So, that’s it for this week. What’s everyone else doing? Thanks for reading, enjoy your holiday!

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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This blog was originally posted on MySpace on December 2, 2007. Just before I left Michigan for good, a cop I had been at odds with decided to mark territory one last time.

I thought I’d share the experience. You can see the original post by clicking here.

So I come to this small town and deal with the small town law enforcement, and while most of the cops I’ve run into are cool, there was this one that made life a little tricky. He is known for his brutality and even choked out a fifteen-year-old girl once. I looked into it to see if there was any truth to it, and there was. I imagine the whole matter was settled the good-old-boy way and that’s why he has still has a badge.

I don’t remember the first time him and I clashed, but the most memorable event was when he approached me at the local store’s ATM and indirectly accused me of trying to hack someone else’s account. He approached me from the rear without warning or identification, and startled me. He struck his hand off of my shoulder, and it would’ve led to a fight had there not been so many people around. I don’t think he was used to anyone standing up to him. I couldn’t fight a uniformed cop…I would’ve been disappeared. I told him that one day, we would catch each other. He would have no gun, no badge, and no witnesses. See how billy-bad-ass you are then.

Well, that night came on my last day of work, the Wednesday prior to last.
It’s a dark, cold night, the onset of winter in Michigan, and it’s only about thirty degrees out. I’m walking along the road and the lights and sirens are on me so fast that I nearly leap out of my skin. When I realize who it is, I release my iPod and brace myself for what I’m thinking is the fight of my life. I’ve never taken on a cop before and my mind is already racing through a million ways to get out of town after beating the holy shit out of him.

He storms out of his car and approaches me from the front and demands my ID. Still in shock, I give it to him. He immediately returns to his car and I wonder if I’m going to Ionia tonight…but he returns shortly and I smile. The judge was true to his word.
He hands me my ID and demands to know what I’m doing out so late (it’s about seven, so you know). I tell him plainly I’m just walking. He asks me where I’m coming from. Work.
He tells me that he heard I was leaving town. How the hell….?!
He asks me if there’s any reason why I see a need to leave after all this time.
You smug son of a bitch…
Just personal business, I tell him.
He now invades my personal space and neither of us say anything for a minute.
He tells me, he doesn’t know how I stayed out of trouble all this time, but I should mind my P’s and Q’s these last few days. It would be a shame if I missed my flight out of town.
Okay, you prick.
I took a step back. I told him that I know he was used to dealing with all the common people who just bowed down and took his bullshit, but I’m not the common folk, I’m not from around here, and if you have beef to settle with me, let’s do it. There’s no one else here besides you and me.

Nothing happens for a second. I realize that if he goes for his gun, I’m in trouble; if he’s any good, I can’t get to him before he draws and at least raises. I might take one getting to him, and one is all it takes. Getting shot is like setting your insides on fire and having a weight at the center of that fire. You never forget it.
Me, an enemy, a road under the night sky. How many times have I seen this…

He walks up to me and smiles a smile of victory, like this is his town and he has finally run me out, like I’m leaving because of him. He extends his hand and tells me “Take care, Mr. Tingle.”
I hesitate for a second before shaking his hand. “You too, officer.”
He gets back into his car and pulls out. The chill inside me makes the weather looks like summer. I continue walking as he pulls right around the corner.

I think to myself that the situation could’ve gone a million different ways, none of them have positive outcomes for me. I could’ve been left for dead right then and there. I could’ve disappeared for months only to be turned up in next year’s hunting season.
I weigh all this out with the need to stand up for myself. You can’t…I mean you just can’t let people think than can run you, or that’s all they’ll do. I’ve grown up to the point where I don’t need to beat something down to prove myself. I can fight in other ways now, and that’s part of why God is letting me leave.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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The downside to a quiet life is that very few local people share my interests, plus football season can be a pain in the tail since all I get is regional coverage (although Kansas City has been fun to watch this year). This is why I spend a lot of time social networking; thanks to the thousands of connections I’ve made around the world, I get play-by-play coverage of the Ravens, early tips on when my favorite titles are coming out, and most importantly, I get to advance my writing.

I started using social networking seven years ago; publishing blogs on myspace that dealt with my childhood and life on the street earned me a small following. I’ve since managed to build that into a following of over eleven hundred people that includes people who share my faith, work in the games industry, good friends across the globe, people who found me through my writing, literary agents and bestselling authors.

While I don’t consider myself an authority on the subject, I know there are certain things one can do to become known is social networking circles. This is how I do it.

1). Be Genuine.
Fake people suck, and the internet is no exception. You won’t please everyone, but you’ll get a lot further by being yourself. The beauty of social networking is that it brings people together who otherwise might never meet. Your chances of meeting someone who shares your interests are pretty high; don’t waste time pretending to be someone you’re not. It’s a quick way to rub people the wrong way.

2). Be Patient.
No one (except Ashton Kutcher) gets to a million followers/friends/fans overnight. It took me two years to get eleven hundred people following me on twitter. It won’t happen immediately; you have to invest time and effort into it, and build your network over time. Which leads me to my next point…

3). Treat It Like A Job.
This may depend on what you want to get out of your network, but if you’re hoping to use it to advance yourself somehow, then you’re going to have to block off some part of the day for it (this is especially true for writers). It doesn’t have to be much, and if you’re really good at multitasking, you can do two things at once, but if you’re looking for any type of advancement, you’re going to have to sink serious time into it.

4). Get To Know People.
This is the final, and maybe the most important part. I cannot emphasize enough the wealth of knowledge that awaits you when you get to know thousands of people across the world. If I am successful at social networking, it’s because I’m genuinely interested in what people have to say. The more interest you show in people, the more you will find that interest reciprocated. The more you engage people, the more you find that they’ll be willing to donate their knowledge and even their time to help you succeed.

Social networking can be a blast; keeping in touch with old friends and family, it can be an invaluable aid in advancing your career, and when used in certain ways, it can be a weapon. This is just what works for me. I hope you find something you can use. Best of luck to you.

Thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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I’ve been studying martial arts for almost twenty-five years now. I was formally schooled (thanks to my parents) in Tae Kwon Do, but extensively schooled in kickboxing. I’ve dabbled in Boxing, Jeet Kune Do, Wing Chun, and Kung Fu. I still know next to nothing.

I spent a long time as a fighter, thinking I was a martial artist. I always eschewed form for power and technique for whatever won the fight. Fighters always told me that technique doesn’t matter; it just has to get the job done. You don’t really think about form when someone has you in a chokehold.

I’ve learned (finally) that fights are ugly, and have nothing to do with the martial arts. In fact, I daresay that if you allow a situation to escalate to violence, you’ve failed.

Street fights aren’t about skill; they’re about power, dominance, violence, and brutality. A (nonprofessional) fights for no other reason than to do it; no matter how positive the intention, the act is negative. It may be to vent emotion, or the fighter knows no other way to relate to the world, but considering how easily one can be seriously injured in an uncontrolled fight, it’s hard to imagine how anything positive can come from it.

A martial artist spends a lifetime honing their craft in the hopes that they are never forced into a confrontation. The numerous punches, kicks, blocks, forms, and breathing exercises work more to provide the user with a sense of harmony with the world around them. The power and speed are purely ancillary; a martial artists’ true reward is the consistent improvement of their craft. Their techniques become smoother, quicker, and more efficient.

In order for a martial artist to justify the use of force, they must believe that their own life, or the life of a loved one, is in mortal danger. In a fight, a martial artist attempts to bring the swiftest conclusion with the least amount of violence or bloodshed. If forced, they are capable of dealing as much damage as a fired bullet.

I speak from experience when I say that severely hurting someone with your bare hands leaves a lasting, negative memory. It should never come down to one person crippling another in a fight, but ending the conflict as painlessly as possible.

I don’t like fighting; I never have, but I was very good at making people believe I loved it. There are always too many variables and things that could go wrong in an uncontrolled setting where emotions ran high. Now, controlled sparring sessions between skilled people with mutual respect for one another? I love those.

I only came to all of this tonight, during a conversation with my father in which he asked me to explain why I was competing in next year’s show-me games. If I fight as I did before, I won’t last. Plus, it feels wrong to get into a competition just to prove how strong I am.

The show-me games provide the ultimate controlled setting. Power alone isn’t enough; I have to know my style’s strength and weaknesses, I have to know when and how to block, I have to strike precisely and successfully, repeatedly, against people who are younger and been doing it for years.

I’m looking forward to it.

A fighter fights only for themselves. Their first weapon is violence.
A martial artist avoids fighting at all costs, only doing so as a last resort.  Their first weapon is their mind.

Thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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I was baptized as a kid; I think I was eight or nine at the time. I don’t have a very clear memory of the event, but I don’t think I wanted to be there. The water was cold and I really had no idea what was going on.

My parents did a good job of instilling God in me as a child; I had accepted Him as reality before I even knew what reality was. I remember that I was supposed to pray every night, although most of the time, I had no idea why. Pray anyway; maybe something will turn around.

I admit, even as a kid, I felt something when I was praying. I couldn’t describe it then, but it was an invisible, intangible, and ever-present line between me and some invisible force that was more powerful than I could imagine. I couldn’t put a name or face to it, I just knew someone was up there listening, and the feeling was enough to keep me going through dark times.

I never received the answers I was looking for as a kid, no matter how hard I prayed. The feeling was almost a cruel tease; I knew it was there, but it wasn’t helping.

I’ve always had a fear of Hell which kept me from renouncing. But eventually, in my teen years, I stopped praying. I figured; fine, I know you’re there, but if you’re not gonna help, get out of the way.

I must’ve gone for at least five years without consciously praying. There were plenty of “God, please get me out of this alive” moments, but never any thanks. I thought I was getting by just fine.
The streets can be a cold, dark, place. Some nights, I’d be sitting alone outside with nothing to do, or eat, and no place to be the next day. Those nights, you have to have something to hold onto.

The presence never left me, not for a second, and even in the darkest moments, I just knew that I’d be okay, even if I had no idea how it would work out. I just knew it would.

I was still homeless when I re-committed to God, at twenty-four, in Saginaw, Michigan. I had no idea what I was doing when I was a kid; this was a decision I was making on my own. I don’t regret it.

I call myself a Christian, which means I believe in God, and His son Jesus Christ. I believe in sin, Heaven, and Hell. I believe no man is perfect, and only by faith are we saved. This is what I believe because this is what works for me. My faith has allowed me to survive my childhood, repair my relationships with my parents and children, and made it possible for me to transition from homelessness to published author in four years.

I count a lot of atheists and agnostics among my friends. We even talk openly about our faiths. I don’t believe that atheists and agnostics are damned for their beliefs. In fact, I think the whole “you don’t believe in God? You’re goin to hell!!” mentality is kind of petty. I think God’s way more open-minded than people give Him credit for.

I think we all do better when we set aside our differences and dedicate ourselves to learning from one another. I honestly think this is how the planet is supposed to work. But we don’t. We bully and belittle what is different and misunderstood. We ostracize what doesn’t fit into our sense of conventionalism. And we doom ourselves to ignorance in doing so.

If we took all the effort we devoted to negativity and the destruction of each other and dedicated it to learning all we could from every person we came across, regardless of their faith or beliefs, can you imagine what the world would become?

I’m not just writing here; I’m speaking from experience. If you see someone who needs help, try to help as best you can. Put aside your feelings for them, whether they’re positive or negative. Smile at a stranger who walks by, you may make their day. Actually listen to the person you’re talking too and don’t wait for your turn to talk.

Turn the beliefs that divide us into opportunities to educate each other.

Thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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Last week was an angry week; the type of week where very little seemed to go the right way, no matter how hard I was trying. It was particularly frustrating because my usual methods for listening to God weren’t working, at least, I couldn’t hear anything. The tried-and-true methods I had been using for the past ten years were failing me, adding a sense of desperation to the whole thing. It also stymied this blog, which I had had tried to write for days.

After taking a step back (and getting through Friday), I came to realize why I didn’t think I could hear anything, why a lot of us feel as though we pray and get no response. There is no set method for listening to God. The process is ever-changing, ever-evolving, because if we turn our relationship with God into a routine, then we take it for granted, and it falters. I’ve always believed that God wants you to continually examine your relationship with Him, and beyond that, openly question what doesn’t make sense. So here, finally, are the steps I use (for now) that define my relationship with God.

1). Surrender.
I know it’s a word that makes one’s bile rise (I know it does for me), but hear me out. Years ago, when I was still homeless, I sat in a rescue mission in Saginaw, Michigan while one preacher’s words hit me a little harder than anyone else’s. I used to use mandatory church as a way to secure my bed for the night and catch a few extra Z’s, but this guy had something to say. His words were; “You’ve tried everything else; why not try this?” He spoke with the fire and conviction of a man who had arrived at this knowledge through experience. About a year later, I learned what he was talking about. Having someone fire a bullet at you tends to change your perspective…surrender doesn’t seem so bad compared to dying alone in the street. But the fact is, God doesn’t ask you to surrender to Him so He can conquer you; that’s not what He’s about. Only by surrendering can He truly work through you, and I speak from experience when I say that He has a far better plan for you than anything you can conceive. I’ve laundry-listed personal examples of transitioning from homelessness to normalcy; I’m writing this under a sunrise from my kitchen table while listening to one of my two iPods. It’s something you have to experience for yourself. All you have to do is give yourself over, genuinely, and let Him do his thing.

2). Talk to Him
Traditional prayer can grow so stale, so fast. I confess that I don’t say my prayers every night, yet I avoid doing it only when I need something (bad idea. I’ll get to that in a minute). I say the traditional our-father-who-art-in-Heaven prayer maybe five nights a week. But I talk to God all the time. I talk to God as though I’m talking to my best friend, which is how I found out He has a sense of humor. I’ll often have a goal at work that I won’t meet; I’ll exceed it in a way I hadn’t planned (instead of selling four internets, I’ll sell ten phone bundles, which comes out to more money), and I’ll end up looking at the sky and saying; “Thanks. Good one.”
I don’t think God has too many uses for tradition, especially if they lose their meaning. I’m not saying don’t pray; I’m saying talk. People who say it’s a one-sided conversation haven’t truly surrendered, because He will answer, and usually, surprisingly, He’ll answer pretty quickly. I’ll often get the answer to a question before I even get it out. Hint; you know it’s God when you feel as though you’re being pushed to do something you don’t want to do, but you KNOW to be right. I can’t stress it enough; times like that, DON’T ASK QUESTIONS, JUST DO IT. The amazing thing is that He always takes care of you when you listen! ALWAYS, ONE HUNDRED PERCENT OF THE TIME! It may never be what you wanted, in fact, it rarely is, but when it’s all said and done, you’ll find it’s what you needed.

To wrap this up (I want to keep it at under a thousand words), there’s a lot more that goes into it. I’ve found that God is a simple idea that doesn’t press on your mind, but it’s always present. The devil is a tug on your soul, making you feel as though his idea is a good one and then ‘rewarding’ you with false feelings of comfort and even euphoria when you do what he wanted. I’ve always felt bad later, though.

I don’t only pray when times are bad because I’ve found that if you only come to Him during times of need, and not during better times, He may put you on the back burner. He places problems in our life so we may come to Him, and have Him show us how to overcome them. We then give thanks for Him giving us the time of day and the strength He’s given us. If you ever feel as though you have no problems, better take a second look at your life.

This is just how I let God work through me; He works through all of us differently. If you feel as though you’ve prayed and gotten no response, then change your approach. You may not be ready yet. But He’s there, He’s always there, and He never lets his own down.

Thanks for reading. God bless and be safe.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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I don’t know a single United States citizen who doesn’t remember where they were that day. I was in California, sleeping in, and recovering. The mother of my children charged into the bedroom and with wide eyes, commanded me to come downstairs as though the house was being evacuated. I joined her family in the living room and observed on the TV as one of two hijacked aircraft crashed into the second World Trade Center in New York and exploded on impact.
September 11, 2001.
More than three thousand people died that day. Some of us lost someone, but all of us lost something; that was the day we lost our sense of security and invulnerability.

After that, every Muslim in America was at best distrusted, and at worst, a target. It’s a stigma we are only just now beginning to get past. So I was surprised when President Obama suddenly came forward with the idea of building a mosque near Ground Zero.

While I don’t think a mosque near Ground Zero is sacrilegious, I do believe it would do more harm than good. I think it would be a miracle of the mosque was even completed without a violent incident. The worst case scenario is some group firebombing the mosque while it’s crowded and claiming ‘vengeance’ for 9/11.

Instead of a mosque, I propose the following.

We build a Universal Faith Center, where everyone of any religion can come and worship the god of their choice. The rules are simple; you do not harass another visitor for their choice in faith. You share your beliefs freely with those who are willing to listen. You welcome everyone who enters through those doors. And you don’t put it near Ground Zero; you put it right in the middle.

Can you imagine the power of such a place? People of all faiths coming together with the goals of praise, worship, and fellowship. All faiths, not just one. In the end, one may be right, another may be wrong, but who is another man to judge? The way I see it, we will all find out one day.

And in doing so, we accomplish a dual purpose; beyond creating a center of great faith and equality, we show the people who perpetuated 9/11 that after the fire, the ashes, and the tears, we were not broken. Rather, we came together, as one nation, embracing each other for our beliefs instead of persecuting each other. In the end, we were frightened, sure, but we rebuilt, we moved on, and we overcame.

That’s what I think we should build at Ground Zero.

Thank you very much for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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