If you're going to talk about living in the moment, living for the moment or even tell someone "in just a moment," it's a good idea to know what a moment is. Cheap definitions of "moment" are, well, cheap. One time back in school, a teacher asked me to define health. I said, "Freedom from disease." The teacher blinked at me approximately 5 times and said in response, "That's the worst correct definition I've ever heard."
Moments are where we live. They're an address we have in time and space. Example: "I'll meet you at Starbuck's at 10."
You also have to add in that moments are an artifact of human consciousness. Without people there would be no time as we like to think of it, only the order in which things happen. It's true that seconds, minutes, hours et al reflect our world but really they reflect our relationship to our world. Dividing up the day into 24 equal segments at one point served someone's purpose. The rest of us picked it up because our parents enforced it.
I'll assert that most of our moments seem to be spent pondering or worrying about other moments. We often fret about the unchangeable past in the hope that our fretting will help us control our future.
One exception to this is entertainment. Entertainment happens in time and space and pretty much requires us to at least pay some attention if it's going to serve the purpose we implicitly assigned to it by sitting down and watching or listening. It pulls us into the current moment.
I would submit that the invention of writing first made entertainment repeatable and made it such that other people weren't required to be present for us to experience entertainment. Before writing about all you had were traveling poets and minstrels and when they left, so did your entertainment. With writing, you could pick up a tablet, papyrus or scroll anytime you wanted and read all the silly stuff that the great kidder Euripides wrote. Actually, he wasn't much of a kidder. We know that because even though he's been gone for a few millennia, we can still know at least something about him by his writing. I never had a relationship with Euripides but I do know he wasn't particularly funny.
Entertainment requires less and less immediate relationship all the time. I think it's safe to say that everyone who reads this space has some sort of relationship with me. That's unusual. Most people who blog don't know most of their audience and never ever will look them in the eye. I have at least a couple friends that I wouldn't know at all if it weren't for the internet. That's good. It would be better to go to a meal with them but I'd much rather know them digitally than not at all.
As information becomes more and more accessible, the need for relationship as an information transport mechanism becomes less and less important. And as we become more and more dependent on information, we tend to value it correspondingly over relationship. That is, we'd rather fill our moments with information of our own choosing or in maintenance of our needs and wants.
I think this necessarily leads to the point where fewer and fewer of our moments are spent in relationship and more moments are consumed by entertainment in all it's forms. And I think that is a kind of narcissism...of which I might personally be a bit guilty.
I have been working for awhile in the direction of opening myself to more and better relationships. And even though everyone's moments seem pretty consumed, I'm going to keep chipping away. And that's because in the end, the best moments for all of us are the one's that we share with each other and with our God. Relationships feed us and give us the fellowship of others. Information is just information.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Us and Them
Virtually all public back and forth today is based on the fallacy known as the false dilemma. This silliness is known by various names, including but not limited to the false dilemma, false binary, either-or fallacy or any other of numerous names. Here's a bad example of it: "You don't believe in my idea! Well you're just stupid." You can substitute bad, arrogant, ridiculous, a hater, mean, greedy, uncaring, unwashed for "stupid," or any pejorative adjective you can conjure and you still have a false dilemma.
While that is kind of a broad ad hominem example, there are other more subtle forms that are based on false assertions of fact. Imagine Joe and Harry talking about oil changes:
Joe: "I use synthetic oil and you don't have to change your oil every 3000 miles when you use synthetic oil."
Harry: "What? You don't think changing oil every 3000 miles is important?? Well I can tell you that every 10,000 miles isn't often enough and if you do it your way, you'll ruin your engine!"
There are a couple things here. First, Harry ignores the fact that there are 6999 possible values between 3000 and 10000. Second, he also ignores that there might be other mitigating information that might make 10,000 a good number in this context. In short, Harry substitutes his own suppositions about what Joe is saying, ignores any possible information that Joe might have that he doesn't and leaps to a conclusion that he apparently holds dearly.
The great majority of public disagreement these days contains some flavor of the false dilemma. I think the main reason for this is that too many of those doing the blabbering rather cynically assume they don't really have to convince anyone of the efficacy of their point. Instead, they just have to have a message with sufficient personal appeal to whip 51% of the listeners into a froth.
This is how the division inherent in the construct of "Us and Them" or maybe "Us vs. Them" is made. This is how the false dilemma literally cuts "us" and "them" into pieces.
Ultimately though, I don't think this has anything to do with "Them" or "Us" or even "Us vs. Them." I think instead it has to with me. I think it has to do with "me," because to ignore what others are saying to assert what I have to say exclusively, is much more about me and my brokenness than it is about any point I might be making.
Go back a minute to the first part of one of the sentences above: "I think it has to do with 'me,'..." That sounds sort of egotistical and narcissistic and at the same time self denigrating...and that's really the point. The false dilemma in all it's forms defines so much that is wrong about all of us, both as communities and as individuals.
Still though, there's an interesting and maybe even beautiful thing in the subtext of the false dilemma swimming just below the surface of its broken form, as well as in all the ranting in the media it generates. Although it abandons logic and sense and encourages the individual to put allegiance in an idea (and sometimes a person) over a valid argument to the contrary, the false dilemma requires an unyielding allegiance to an end or person in order for it to prevail. That is, you really have to believe you're right and that you're a part of "the right" to assert the false dilemma. And to believe you're right, you have to believe in a way that's usually deeper than just knowing. You have to feel it.
We are made for that kind of feeling. That's why the false dilemma works at all; for it to work you have to be and feel yourself to be a part of something bigger. That feeling was breathed into us in time before time. As misguided as it can be in a broken world, it still contains the breath, belief and wonder of who we are, of who we were created to be. It's core is so very beautiful and profound, that even when obscured by the distorted echoes of our wildest rages, the hope in it can be seen somewhere below the surface. The best, most compelling and even most righteous argument is nothing without the prescribed, necessary feeling behind it; without this feeling, any argument is a banging gong or a clashing cymbal. And the name of the prescribed feeling is love.
There's an Us in every Them and a me in all of it. The sacrifice of Christ and the presence and reality of the Spirit of God make it so.
While that is kind of a broad ad hominem example, there are other more subtle forms that are based on false assertions of fact. Imagine Joe and Harry talking about oil changes:
Joe: "I use synthetic oil and you don't have to change your oil every 3000 miles when you use synthetic oil."
Harry: "What? You don't think changing oil every 3000 miles is important?? Well I can tell you that every 10,000 miles isn't often enough and if you do it your way, you'll ruin your engine!"
There are a couple things here. First, Harry ignores the fact that there are 6999 possible values between 3000 and 10000. Second, he also ignores that there might be other mitigating information that might make 10,000 a good number in this context. In short, Harry substitutes his own suppositions about what Joe is saying, ignores any possible information that Joe might have that he doesn't and leaps to a conclusion that he apparently holds dearly.
The great majority of public disagreement these days contains some flavor of the false dilemma. I think the main reason for this is that too many of those doing the blabbering rather cynically assume they don't really have to convince anyone of the efficacy of their point. Instead, they just have to have a message with sufficient personal appeal to whip 51% of the listeners into a froth.
This is how the division inherent in the construct of "Us and Them" or maybe "Us vs. Them" is made. This is how the false dilemma literally cuts "us" and "them" into pieces.
Ultimately though, I don't think this has anything to do with "Them" or "Us" or even "Us vs. Them." I think instead it has to with me. I think it has to do with "me," because to ignore what others are saying to assert what I have to say exclusively, is much more about me and my brokenness than it is about any point I might be making.
Go back a minute to the first part of one of the sentences above: "I think it has to do with 'me,'..." That sounds sort of egotistical and narcissistic and at the same time self denigrating...and that's really the point. The false dilemma in all it's forms defines so much that is wrong about all of us, both as communities and as individuals.
Still though, there's an interesting and maybe even beautiful thing in the subtext of the false dilemma swimming just below the surface of its broken form, as well as in all the ranting in the media it generates. Although it abandons logic and sense and encourages the individual to put allegiance in an idea (and sometimes a person) over a valid argument to the contrary, the false dilemma requires an unyielding allegiance to an end or person in order for it to prevail. That is, you really have to believe you're right and that you're a part of "the right" to assert the false dilemma. And to believe you're right, you have to believe in a way that's usually deeper than just knowing. You have to feel it.
We are made for that kind of feeling. That's why the false dilemma works at all; for it to work you have to be and feel yourself to be a part of something bigger. That feeling was breathed into us in time before time. As misguided as it can be in a broken world, it still contains the breath, belief and wonder of who we are, of who we were created to be. It's core is so very beautiful and profound, that even when obscured by the distorted echoes of our wildest rages, the hope in it can be seen somewhere below the surface. The best, most compelling and even most righteous argument is nothing without the prescribed, necessary feeling behind it; without this feeling, any argument is a banging gong or a clashing cymbal. And the name of the prescribed feeling is love.
There's an Us in every Them and a me in all of it. The sacrifice of Christ and the presence and reality of the Spirit of God make it so.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Stories
Stories are everywhere. They are the warp and weft of the fabric of our lives. All stories whether labeled fact or fiction contain substantial components of both.
Scientists like to think their work and writings represent fact, to the exclusion of fiction. In fact, their science wouldn't exist without the human perspective each one of them carries and reveals to the rest of us. Sometimes this story is reflected plainly in their science. Other times, the story is better hidden but is never the less to be found plainly, at the very least in the building of the context for their flavor of science. You can never get away from story no matter how fast and hard you run.
Artists can embrace story to the exclusion of reality. This misses the fact that story cannot exist without reality. Without reality, there would be nothing to write a story about. The surest way to convince yourself of your story's need to embrace reality is to stub your tow on your metal bed frame. "WOW. THAT HURTS!" Lesson over, end of (this) story.
The point is that you ignore either story or reality at your great peril. Every drop of reality has to live in a story and every story is located in reality. (And by the way, what I'm saying here is actually consistent with the last hundred or so years of quantum physics. For more information, first tell your family you'll be gone for a couple years and start by googling Schrodinger's Cat. That will likely take you places that will change the way you look at reality...into something that looks a bit like human story + reality.)
We often tell ourselves stories. We tell ourselves stories about people and things we love but often we tell ourselves stories about things and people we loathe as well. These stories serve to reinforce our opinions and experiences and prop up our self esteem, among other things. I'm learning that there are a great many stories that I don't need to tell myself anymore. I'm learning that it can be much better to listen to the stories of others and respond to them than to have to constantly generate my own.
God certainly understands story. He invented it (it's pretty much automatic once you create time). Of course, it's also true that he authored us and our ability to create stories of our own. Additionally, in the Old Testament, he inserted himself into the narrative here and there and even withdrew himself on occasion. In the New Testament, he came to live in the narrative. ("...and the Word became flesh...") He introduced himself to humanity in the person of Jesus. Then bought a room in each of us, paid in full on the cross. The only thing we needed to do starting at that point was to put out a vacancy sign, announcing our emptiness. This part is a story about vacancy and filling the vacancy.
I was on the railroad tracks yesterday, near the place that's pictured above left. There I saw a guy with a sleeping bag and a tarp coming a ways off. First thing I did was tell myself a story based on my past story. It was something about, "OK, remember to keep a bit of distance to give yourself time to respond physically if you need to. Keep half an eye on his hands. Be nice." That last part was a combination of non-sequitur mixed with a generous portion of autobiographical fiction.
As I got closer, Sleeping Bag Guy (the character's name) must have told himself a story too. He put his stuff down, just outside the tracks and sat down on a rail, staring at the ground in front of him. I considered how useless my story had been when compared to the reality in which it lived. As I got closer, the "Be nice" part of the story became less fictional. When I got close I said, "Hey man. How you doing?" He continued staring at the ground, never moved his eyes, never spoke. I'm guessing he was so distracted telling himself a story of equal parts history, pain and fantasy that it crowded out reality completely. I didn't see him on my way back. The part of my story with him in it is over for now.
And that all points to the most important parts of the stories we tell ourselves. Our stories must be rooted in the deeper stories we care about, the deepest being the story of vacancy followed by residency. We have to work to make sure our stories carry healthy amounts of our own stories and at the same time, the toe stubbing reality that happens "out there." We have to remember that stories change. And we have to give God and each other the grace and acceptance to be able to tell their stories in our lives.
Scientists like to think their work and writings represent fact, to the exclusion of fiction. In fact, their science wouldn't exist without the human perspective each one of them carries and reveals to the rest of us. Sometimes this story is reflected plainly in their science. Other times, the story is better hidden but is never the less to be found plainly, at the very least in the building of the context for their flavor of science. You can never get away from story no matter how fast and hard you run.
Artists can embrace story to the exclusion of reality. This misses the fact that story cannot exist without reality. Without reality, there would be nothing to write a story about. The surest way to convince yourself of your story's need to embrace reality is to stub your tow on your metal bed frame. "WOW. THAT HURTS!" Lesson over, end of (this) story.
The point is that you ignore either story or reality at your great peril. Every drop of reality has to live in a story and every story is located in reality. (And by the way, what I'm saying here is actually consistent with the last hundred or so years of quantum physics. For more information, first tell your family you'll be gone for a couple years and start by googling Schrodinger's Cat. That will likely take you places that will change the way you look at reality...into something that looks a bit like human story + reality.)
We often tell ourselves stories. We tell ourselves stories about people and things we love but often we tell ourselves stories about things and people we loathe as well. These stories serve to reinforce our opinions and experiences and prop up our self esteem, among other things. I'm learning that there are a great many stories that I don't need to tell myself anymore. I'm learning that it can be much better to listen to the stories of others and respond to them than to have to constantly generate my own.
God certainly understands story. He invented it (it's pretty much automatic once you create time). Of course, it's also true that he authored us and our ability to create stories of our own. Additionally, in the Old Testament, he inserted himself into the narrative here and there and even withdrew himself on occasion. In the New Testament, he came to live in the narrative. ("...and the Word became flesh...") He introduced himself to humanity in the person of Jesus. Then bought a room in each of us, paid in full on the cross. The only thing we needed to do starting at that point was to put out a vacancy sign, announcing our emptiness. This part is a story about vacancy and filling the vacancy.
I was on the railroad tracks yesterday, near the place that's pictured above left. There I saw a guy with a sleeping bag and a tarp coming a ways off. First thing I did was tell myself a story based on my past story. It was something about, "OK, remember to keep a bit of distance to give yourself time to respond physically if you need to. Keep half an eye on his hands. Be nice." That last part was a combination of non-sequitur mixed with a generous portion of autobiographical fiction.
As I got closer, Sleeping Bag Guy (the character's name) must have told himself a story too. He put his stuff down, just outside the tracks and sat down on a rail, staring at the ground in front of him. I considered how useless my story had been when compared to the reality in which it lived. As I got closer, the "Be nice" part of the story became less fictional. When I got close I said, "Hey man. How you doing?" He continued staring at the ground, never moved his eyes, never spoke. I'm guessing he was so distracted telling himself a story of equal parts history, pain and fantasy that it crowded out reality completely. I didn't see him on my way back. The part of my story with him in it is over for now.
And that all points to the most important parts of the stories we tell ourselves. Our stories must be rooted in the deeper stories we care about, the deepest being the story of vacancy followed by residency. We have to work to make sure our stories carry healthy amounts of our own stories and at the same time, the toe stubbing reality that happens "out there." We have to remember that stories change. And we have to give God and each other the grace and acceptance to be able to tell their stories in our lives.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Listening
It's ironic that I'm sitting here, typing about listening. It's ironic because I'm typing (not actually listening) and it's ironic because writing is about creating something to listen to rather than actually listening. It's akin to, "Let me tell you how to listen."
Listening has so many cliches associated with it that it can be hard to not react reflexively when we hear a discussion or a diatribe about it. That is, it can be hard to listen when we talk about listening because of all the noise in our heads about the idea. It can be hard not only to listen but even just to hear.
In fairness, most of us most of the time won't have the wherewithal to really listen. Schedules, emergencies and celebrations all foster a kind of reaction that goes immediately from hearing to reacting. Listening is usually not a part of this circuit and even then happens only well after the fact.
At core, listening involves something that is very very hard for me. That is, vulnerability. To really listen, we have to quiet our cherished beliefs, tender places and even deep hurts long enough to really listen to the voice of the other soul. And it's really important to note here that the other soul in this conversation can even be God.
I think that true listening is one of the things that gives human beings their greatest value. We can listen and hear each other, the angels of heaven and even the God of creation and redemption. Of course, we can listen to the wrong things and as a result hear great evil as well.
It's worth bearing in mind that the things we speak or otherwise communicate may well be listened to by someone else, or even taken to heart. Again, another cliche: Our speaking in conjunction with someone else's listening can deliver either blessing or curse. Either of these can continue for years or even generations.
I do not mind either argument or confrontation. I used to, but not any more. That's both good and bad. The bad part is, and I can say this from personal experience, listening in the context of confrontation is possible but very very rare. Listening in the middle of conflict involves allowing yourself to be vulnerable even though your blood is up. In fact, this might be the most important time to truly listen.
In all circumstances, I aspire to greater vulnerability. I aspire to listen more.
Listening has so many cliches associated with it that it can be hard to not react reflexively when we hear a discussion or a diatribe about it. That is, it can be hard to listen when we talk about listening because of all the noise in our heads about the idea. It can be hard not only to listen but even just to hear.
In fairness, most of us most of the time won't have the wherewithal to really listen. Schedules, emergencies and celebrations all foster a kind of reaction that goes immediately from hearing to reacting. Listening is usually not a part of this circuit and even then happens only well after the fact.
At core, listening involves something that is very very hard for me. That is, vulnerability. To really listen, we have to quiet our cherished beliefs, tender places and even deep hurts long enough to really listen to the voice of the other soul. And it's really important to note here that the other soul in this conversation can even be God.
I think that true listening is one of the things that gives human beings their greatest value. We can listen and hear each other, the angels of heaven and even the God of creation and redemption. Of course, we can listen to the wrong things and as a result hear great evil as well.
It's worth bearing in mind that the things we speak or otherwise communicate may well be listened to by someone else, or even taken to heart. Again, another cliche: Our speaking in conjunction with someone else's listening can deliver either blessing or curse. Either of these can continue for years or even generations.
I do not mind either argument or confrontation. I used to, but not any more. That's both good and bad. The bad part is, and I can say this from personal experience, listening in the context of confrontation is possible but very very rare. Listening in the middle of conflict involves allowing yourself to be vulnerable even though your blood is up. In fact, this might be the most important time to truly listen.
In all circumstances, I aspire to greater vulnerability. I aspire to listen more.
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