On Language and Transcendence

This is just a quick post, but is a snapshot of a massive thought I've been pushing into.

I've talked a lot lately about love - the kind of love that Jesus described when he said "Love your neighbor as yourself."  I often say that it means caring for another person the same way that you care for yourself.  I say that it's the foundational virtue, that it's the greatest commandment, that God is love.

I'm always thinking of new ways to describe it because I build understanding through description.  The other day I was describing what I meant by love and found myself using the term "transcendent."  Love, I said, is transcendent; its goal is for someone to transcend himself so as to see himself and others in their natural equality.  And having said it, I was a little taken aback at how 'eastern' I sounded.

Transcending the self is of prime importance in Hindu and Buddhist traditions.  In my understanding, "Nirvana" can be passably defined as transcending the self.  And here I was describing Jesus' teachings in the same terms, and being very impressed by well how those terms embraced his message.

In fact, my current favorite description of love is: the transcendent virtue.  To love is to act upon the observation that those around you deserve your care as much as you do.  Love is transcendence.

If transcendence, the means and ends of much eastern religion, is so similar to love, the means and ends of much western religion, I wonder how many other similarities we aren't seeing.  I wonder how many of our differences, which we feel must be solved through persuasion and debate (or worse), could be aptly overcome by a good translator.

A house burning

The beginning of a song I started writing a couple days ago:

There's a house burning across the street
I think I hear people dying
And I watch its glow upon my feet
And wonder why I'm not crying

These lyrics surfaced on my consciousness while driving through Balboa Park earlier this week. I wasn't trying to create at the time - they sang themselves to me.

One week ago I got news that a man I used to work with in northern Uganda was brutally murdered. Though I was not especially close with him I did appreciate him, and the news affected me deeply. It sat me down and laid out before me, once again, all the disparity between our wealthy homeland and places like northern Uganda, the great gap between our opportunities and theirs, between our vast array of choices and their imprisonment in cycles of poverty and violence.

Sitting here in San Diego I am impotent to address this tragedy; I can not offer comfort or commiseration, peace or vengeance. I can not be there to celebrate his life or help lay him in the finality of the open earth.

One thing I can do is live my life with constant remembrance of our suffering neighbors in Uganda, in Sudan, Congo, and Somalia, in Sierra Leone and Cote d'Ivoire, in Burma and North Korea, and in hundreds of other locales throughout the globe, letting our common humanity and innate equality inform my choices.

I realized last week, though, that I haven't been doing this. Many of my decisions have the oily sheen of self-absorption, even though I know better than most how little I need my own concern, and how much others might rightly benefit from it.

Moreover, I realized again that my empathy is extremely limited (empathy in this case synonimizing with love or selflessness). Though I have seen great suffering around the world, my attention seems so easily lulled away from anything of consequence. Hence, I believe, the song lyrics that my subconscious delivered up to me: "I wonder why I'm not crying."

Perhaps these are the growing pains of a heart. More to come on these themes.

On television, creativity, and adventure

I was watching the debate between Obama and Clinton tonight and saw ads for upcoming television episodes: "This Thursday on Grey's Anatomy..." followed by references to past and upcoming fictional drama.

So many people are invested in these shows. They wait for the writers to dictate their emotions, to dream up their adventures and script their happy endings. When such passion awaits your passivity at the end of the day, it's much easier to live the life of the American consumer.

But what if we turned off the TV? What if we had to create our own stories? What if the only drama and comedy and adventure that we felt were for real, created and pursued by us, in the real world around us? What if sitting on the couch was the least interesting part of our day?

Oh what a world it would be. And I'd like to build it. I'm not very good yet at creating adventure, at coming up with the situations that we need for fulfillment, that will replace TV. But I know some people who are. Let's make that happen. Let's create our own lives. Let's live adventurously. Let's be the show. And let's invite everyone to join the cast.

The Hard Work of Community

We're so good at making money. Or so good at trying, at least. We work more hours per week than any society on earth, ever, so that we can bring home the paycheck. The principle of hard work for hard-earned cash is sunk deeply into our paradigms even before we can pronounce 'paradigms.'

But here we are, checks banked, enough money to buy all that we need and more, and not satisfied. Here we are, distracted and isolated. Here we are, lonely. So terribly lonely.

Loneliness, I've recently discovered, is nothing more (or less) than the desire for community. Some will tell you that it's the need for romance or marriage or sex. But it's not, not this deep, pervasive loneliness, the one that feels like the inexpressible inside of you is shouting silently. That one is the desire for a rich, vibrant, deep community.

This community only exists when a group of people decide that they are going to love each other. That's what the church is. Remember what Jesus said about spotting his followers? You'll know them by their love for one another.

But this kind of community doesn't come easily. Most people seem to think (I know I did) that if they're relatively nice, normal, perhaps even interesting people then community will rush along and embrace them and they will be satisfied. But it doesn't come. It's never as rich as they know it ought to be, as they need it to be.

That is because, just like working year after year to build wealth, it takes sacrifice and commitment to build community. It takes a thousand little tasks - scheduling time to converse, asking questions, washing someone else's dishes, giving rides to the airport. And it takes major paradigm shifts - I'm responsible for your well being, your needs are as important to me as my own. And until we are ready to do the hard work of community we will remain rich and lonely, wondering why our paychecks can't hold a decent conversation.

For those of you who have agreed that the church as we see it on Sunday mornings is not all that it could be, I have no proven answers. What I do have is a direction that I'm headed, and that I'm confident will lead us closer to the lifestyle that Jesus taught. And that is the direction of deeper, more committed community. The direction of more love for one another. I don't presume to know what that looks like in all contexts, or your context, or even my own half the time. But I challenge you to begin doing the hard work of community. I have a hunch it's going to pay off better than any paycheck I've ever gotten. (Though that's not saying much.)

Unsolicited Thoughts on the Purpose of Life

I was thinking about life again the other day, you know, like you do. This time it was while watching "A River Runs Through It" in an apartment in Uganda. If you haven't seen this decade-old movie and still don't want it spoiled, go buy it off the discount rack and come back after watching it. For the rest of you, there are two brothers; one dies essentially of his own excess. The other lives - outlives his brother, outlives his father, outlives his wife. He lives until he is alone.

Watching the movie end with a sad, lonely old man fishing by himself I wondered whether it was better to be the brother who died or the one who lived. If life in culmination is to bear the pain of loved ones dying, to be that pain to some, to grow old and lonely and wait for the next breath not to come, then why should we live?

If there is an answer that can win this point, it occurred to me that it must be: Love. That if there is something transcendent in this world, something that lets us reach outside of this desert and play our hand in the cool current of the eternal, it is love. I can’t say why this is true, or even how I know it, except to say that I think we all know it, and always have.

Capability

There's very little that you or I can't do.

We might fail at something, but it doesn't mean we can't do it.

To hell with good intentions: a theological point

To help out some friends I'm responding to journal entries written by their students on different topics concerning youth engagement in a globalized world. My first response was related to a talk given by Ivan Illich to an American volunteer organization. You can download the text of that talk below. I wanted to share my response with you because it summarizes some important things I've been learning lately.

tohellwithgoodintentions.pdf

My Response:

I don't know if you've ever worked or lived in a less developed country, but as you might know, these are ideas that plague thoughtful expatriates who live and work among the international poor. They are ideas that Invisible Children has wrestled with since its inception, and that agencies as established as the UN have yet to answer satisfactorily. In that context, I'd like to share with you what I'm learning. I hope you'll find in it some little benefit.

First, Illich was addressing an audience of youth, which you reflect in your journal, but rest assured that his criticisms apply equally to expats of all ages. Often times adults are worse. They tend to have more plans and systems that they want to implement in poor communities, which means less listening to locals, and they tend to have more funding, which means locals are less likely to speak up in the first place. Youth or adults, outsiders can be damaging.

One lesson that I learned in Uganda that will guide me for many years is: A Ugandan will do more good for Uganda than I ever can. The reasons are obvious. She understands her community more deeply than I will because she was born into it, grew into its roles and conventions, knows its troubles and hopes from a thousand evening conversations. She absorbed it like language. I, on the other hand, struggle to peel back its layers; I search for its heart. Sometimes I'm more successful than others, but always I have to interrupt in order to understand. She just knows.

However, I am one who has benefited greatly from the type of volunteerism that Illich condemns. I first entered the developing world in Nepal, and have since volunteered in Ukraine, Romania, and India, and have worked in Uganda. My time in Nepal changed my life for the better, and I would even say that I did some good while I was there. In fact, I went back two years later to continue that work.

I have seen the dark side of volunteerism as well. When I first moved to Uganda I watched hundreds of westerners flow through the little town of Gulu. Many developed emotional relationships with locals, giving them things and promising more, only to fly away, never to be heard from again. The children of Gulu, and many adults, habitually ask white people for money and candy and food. When interacting with them I could tell that I was not considered human. In their eyes I was a pallid sack of cash. This is only one of the negative effects I saw. There were others.

So what then shall we do? I don't have an easy answer, but I know this: The best way for me to positively influence a place is to support its visionaries. In Nepal that visionary was Mahabir. We were invited by him, took our instructions from him, worked closely with him. He was from the area in which we worked, had refined his own vision for the place and had been working for decades to accomplish it. Our contribution was only a checkbox on his master plan. He could have done without us and he went on after us. He maximized our contribution and mitigated our damage.

In Uganda that visionary is Jolly. She is an Acholi woman and the leader of Invisible Children's work in Uganda. It's her vision and advice and instruction that we rely on. We've spent hours with her trying to minimize any negative influence we would have on the community. And it seems to be working. We are held up by community leaders as an example among international organizations in Uganda. And it's because of her.

It's not easy to find a visionary to support, and supporting her doesn't always mean volunteering in country. But then, volunteering shouldn't be our goal - only doing good. So if it turns out that we can do more good by staying home, then we should. But if she invites us and gives us work to do, then perhaps it is good to go.

Also consider this: if it's true that a Ugandan will do more good for Uganda than I will, then doesn't it hold that it will take Americans to help America? I think there is great value in finding where we can contribute in our own country. Real life-and-death needs exist here as everywhere else. In our place of leadership in the world it's important to maintain a balance of focus.

Visionaries

I've had a number of conversations in the last few days about how Americans should best work in Uganda - whether independently or through an organization or through churches; whether as leaders or supporting leaders; whether through grassroots empowerment or policy consultation. All of these are options.

My view on these things is evolving. Right now it can be codified in a single sentence: Find the local visionaries and support them.

The most successful projects that I've seen westerners carry out in various developing countries are those that are done at the request and under the instruction of a local man or woman who has a personal and positive vision for his or her community. They know what is needed, they know how best to get things done, and they will continue the work far after you and I go home to the American suburbs.

So if you really want to change things in a far off country, first you need to find its visionaries.

OBEY

Jesus was pretty clear. He told his disciples that if they loved him, they would obey his commands. My challenge for myself recently, and for you, is a question:

Which one of Jesus commands have you made a point to obey?

Blessings and Woes 2

It was a turning point. I had just climbed to the plateaued peak of a mountain in central Ethiopia. Fears and insecurities had been pierced for the moment, and the cold air of elevation was fuel in my lungs, powering the countless microscopic pistons of my brain. My mind's eye focussed for a moment on the few verses I had read in the Bible the night before, from Luke, chapter six.

"Blessed are you who are poor," Jesus had said, "for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when men hate you, when they exclude you and insult you and reject your name as evil, because of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven. For that is how their fathers treated the prophets."

These were blessed, I had always heard, because the poor and the hungry and the weeping will listen to Jesus, become his disciples, and go to heaven.

Jesus goes on, but the message seems to change. "But woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort. Woe to you who are well fed now, for you will go hungry. Woe to you who laugh now, for you will mourn and weep. Woe to you when all men speak well of you, for that is how their fathers treated the false prophets." These poor souls, I had been taught, were being read their sentence. Jesus was saying that those who are rich, who are eating and laughing, they won't heed his message, won't become his disciples. They will go to hell.

A simple juxtaposition it seemed: the saved and the damned, Jesus' disciples vs. Jesus' ignorers. But as I had read those verses the night before I had seen something rather curious. Just before Jesus launches into the blessings and the woes, Luke reports that he is speaking to his disciples. The whole unbroken monologue was spoken to the people who were already following Jesus, who were heeding his message. Blessed are some, woe to others. They are all his disciples.

The night before I had put down my Bible in puzzlement, and as I descended this Ethiopian mountaintop a new synthetic understanding of this passage crystalized in my mind. It wasn't about heaven and hell. Jesus is telling his disciples what it feels like to continue on the path that they have begun.

The bulk of Jesus' teachings are about how people ought to live, about loving their neighbors and praying for their enemies and walking an extra mile. And a big part of this was how to live together in community, even saying that his disciples' love for each other was the greatest proof to the world that they were his disciples.

I stopped in my tracks on the mountain. I'm pretty sure I spoke aloud, my voice falling over a nearby cliff. "It's not about salvation and damnation, it's about now. It's about now. It's about a great leveling."

Track with me for a minute. Jesus' was teaching a radical new way of life in which the first were last and the last first. When he says that the poor are blessed for theirs is the kingdom of God, he's saying that their needs will be taken care of by this amazing new community. And to the rich entering the community, woe to them, it's going to hurt. Their money is needed to care for the poor, they are going to have to do without the luxuries and comforts to which they've accustomed themselves. They've "received their comfort in full."

And blessed are those who are chronically hungry because their new community will feed them, but it means that those who are used to having all they need might have to go without every once in a while, so woe to them.

And for you who are mourning, you are blessed because your new community is going to take on that suffering with you. They are going to bring you back to a place where you can laugh again. But for those who laugh through life, it's going to be tough because you are going to have to embrace the mourning of your new brothers and sisters.

Can you see it? It's a way of life. It's the great leveling of community, where the troubles and successes of each are the troubles and successes of all. The good news is that this is how it was always meant to be. But need and greed, capitalism and communism, life and death taught us a new and primal way of living, one in which our own survival and success is our only concern, in which sweatshops and oil wars and predatory lending are not only acceptable, but expedient.

Jesus showed us, and continues to show us through the four written accounts of his life, how to live like we are sons and daughters of God. It is deep community, a great leveling, an association so thorough it's as if we are a single organism. For some it will be a relief to enter it, for others it will be a test of their commitment. For everyone who chooses it, it will be an abundant life.

As I wound my way down the mountain I descended into a world whose flaws were more plain, and whose hope was as great as the mountain.

Blessings and Woes

Those who have been around me lately have probably heard a bit about Luke 6, when Jesus says that some are blessed, but says 'woe to' others.

"Blessed are you who mourn now, for you will laugh... Woe to you who laugh now, for you will mourn," said Jesus.

Then, from an address given by Gareth Higgins at the memorial service for the late writer John O'Donohue, quoting O'Donohue:

"If you need to be in your own space to be depressed, I totally understand, but if all you’re going to do is be depressed, then come and spend the day with me, and we can be depressed together. Because I love you today, and I will love you forever."

It's about now my friends. The kingdom of God is full of blessings and woes. Sometimes it will hurt to be a part of it, like taking up a cross; sometimes it will be a joy, like when your cares are cured. Most of all, it will be abundant. And it starts now.

Thanks Mike.

Deep Economy: Growth and Decline in America

[Thoughts from, about, and inspired by the book Deep Economy, by Bill McKibben. Stats cited are from that book.]

Since 1951, GDP per capita in America has tripled. That is, for every person in America, there is three times as much economic activity as there was 50 or so years ago. We own twice as many cars, on average, and new homes today are double the size they were in 1970. So why are we getting less happy?

Once a year for quite a while now the National Opinion Research Council has asked Americans whether, on the whole, the are very happy, pretty happy, or not too happy. Since the early 1950s the percentage of people who counted themselves "very happy" has steadily dropped.

This is one of three findings that McKibben cites as proof that economic growth is not as beneficial as we've come to believe. The other two: one, although the economy has ballooned since WWII, many people's real income and wealth has dropped, and financial disparity has risen sharply, which is to say, the gap between the rich and the rest of grown; and two, earth's natural resources cannot sustain unlimited growth. In fact, if China's growth stays on the current pace, by 2031 (only 23 years from now) China alone will consume 99 million barrels of oil per day. To put that in perspective, that's 20 million more barrels per day than the entire world uses now. That's just one example.

I believe that one of the major theses of this book will be that happiness and satisfaction require only a minimum of financial resources, but are inextricably linked to community. And that by pursuing this "Economy of Community," as I've put it, many other problems can be abated. It's an exciting book - I highly recommend picking it up soon, and discussing it with me!

Read with me

I've been excited about reading Bill McKibben's "Deep Economy: The Wealth of Communities and the Durable Future" ever since I stumbled upon the title, and the glowing review, at Cerulean Sanctum last year.

Finally, being back in America and thanks to my parents' Christmas spirit, I have the book in my hands. I've barely cracked it, and already it's sending my head for a spin. The ideas are so intuitive that, if the premises are right, this book needs to be read by everyone, now.

If you're so inclined, pick it up at your local Borders or B&N, or follow the link above to Amazon, and read it with me. I'll be posting thoughts and ideas responding to and inspired by the book as I read.

The Economy of Community

When I talk about income redistribution, I'm not talking about national level, wellfaresque policies, I'm talking about what I call The Economy of Community. I'm talking about people who take each others' material needs seriously and work to meet them.

Check out Relational Tithe - each person in this group has committed to giving 10% of their income to meet the needs of others. This is what I'm talking about.

Or partners in The Simple Way's Potter Street Community - these closely knit people share deeply in terms of finances, even taking on each others' financial debts.

There are hundreds of other examples of this Economy of Community. And this is what I want to explore.

Blessed are the poor

One of my great fascinations lately is income redistribution - that is, using money that I earn (or you earn) to meet someone else's needs.

Not long ago some friends and I did an experiment. We committed to give a small percentage of our income into a communal account. Then, as we went about our lives, if we met anyone in need we could use the money from that account to meet the need. It was spectacular. Not that we had a lot of money to use, because we didn't, but because my whole mindset changed in regards to other people's material needs.

My usual reaction to someone else's needs used to be sympathy at best, and avoidance at worst. Only in the rarest of circumstances did I consider actually digging into my wallet for them. But once I had money waiting and ready to address people's needs, I was glad to hear them, I was ready to act.

We stopped our experiment due to logistical difficulties (Uganda's banking facilities aren't wired too well with America's), but what I learned has stayed with me. I continue to set aside money to meet needs that I encounter around me. And more than that, I've seen that our attitudes about money are one of the great hindrances to right living.

If you read the teachings of Jesus, he talks about money or financial circumstances an awful lot for a spiritual teacher: "Blessed are you who are poor... Woe to you who are rich... Sell everything you have and give to the poor." I don't think he'd spend so much time on money if money wasn't important.

But most Americans don't treat money the way that Jesus teaches - even those who claim to be his disciples. Instead we use our money however we like, and if we're so inclined we creatively interpret and apply (or not apply) his teachings to allow us such freedom.

So here's my quest. I'm seeking out people who are treating money differently. I want to find those who are using their money to meet the needs of others, who are sharing money, sharing bills, giving money in creative ways. I want to see what happens when people let go of the American norms about money and embrace the teachings of wiser men.

If you have anyone to introduce me to, or ideas to share, or if these ideas intrigue you like they do me, please contact me: james(dot)a(dot)pearson{@}gmaildotcom.

The art of boredom

Life gets monotonous. That, my friends, is a truth. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, whomever you’re with, life will become routine, boring. The borders of your life will begin to feel like bars of a cage, or the walls of a cubicle, especially if you're in one.

Perhaps the best way to enjoy such a life is to make art from it. Look anew at those things that you find stale and uninteresting and find the beauty, the humor, the stories beneath the stagnation. That is what the greats do.

I was reminded of this while listening to a free podcast called “The News From Lake Wobegon.” They are a weekly series of narrations from Garrison Keller, who draws on his long experience in America’s middle to craft simple and entertaining stories cherished by thousands. His subject matter is as mundane as it comes. But he makes art from it.

I am challenging myself over the next few days and weeks to find the art in my routines, my relationships, those areas of my life that taste stale. I dare you to do the same.

So what is art? Art is the transcendence in our lives. Art is the point at which the everyday holds hands with the eternal. Look for it long enough, even in your life, and you will find it.

Outliving Yourself

Changing the world.

It’s about changing people, right? It’s about millions, even billions of people changing the way they treat each other. But then, all of them are going to die. And the world will be left with the next rebellious upstart generation that wants to change the world.

Maybe that’s the significance of the Biblical story where God knocks down the life expectancy from 900 to 90. Whether you take it as history or myth the meaning is the same: any changes that we make are erased in 100 years. We live in perpetual cultural upheaval.

So how do you change the world for generations? What lives on after people pass away? Two things come to mind – ideas and organizations.

There’s a lot of talk these days about viral ideas – ideas that spread from mind to mind the way that a virus spreads from body to body. Once it plants itself in a host, the host spreads the idea to others, almost involuntarily. The idea takes on a life of its own. Some even have the power to jump generations.

Organizations can also last – look at The Red Cross, Ford, the Mormon church. And it seems to me that the stronger the commitment to an organization’s ideas, the more likely it is to last. (And its ability to make money. That helps too, for a time.)

The collision of ideas and organizations is what gives religions their amazing longevity. They are organizations built completely on ideas, or perhaps they are ideas that people perpetually build organizations on. Either way, they have staying power.

The ideas that Jesus talked about were archetypically viral. Viral ideas have spreading mechanisms built in. Like an email forward that promises you a new iPod if you send it to enough people. The idea is spread by virtue of its contents.

Jesus’s ideas had a different spreading mechanism. His ideas were about life change, and his life was their first showcase. When they spread to a new host, I mean really took root in her like a virus, her life changed. And when people saw the life change they were introduced to the ideas in a powerful form. If actions speak louder than words, then a new way of life is a sustained shout. Jesus’s ideas were shouted from his and his followers’ lives.

The reason his ideas spread so powerfully in the years immediately after his death was that the change they created in his followers was overwhelmingly attractive. These hosts of Jesus’s ideas loved each other, provided for each other, transcended extreme difficulties with joy and patience. Who wouldn’t want to know more? The virus multiplied.

I wonder about today’s Christian church, though. Is it founded on Jesus’s viral, life changing ideas? Or are there new ideas at its core? Or is it more like an organization (or group of organizations) that propagates because it has learned how to make money? Perhaps, like one of my last posts, it's a mix.

Playing Me

Sometimes I think that the way we behave, the things we do in a given day, the responses we give to people and surprises, are more a product of habit than of decision. We do most of what we do because that’s what we’ve always done.

We are afraid to change, especially in front of those who have known us the longest. We don’t want to belie ourselves. We don’t want to break the person that we have so long built before them, or even for them. So we play ourselves.

Let’s not do that anymore.

The Mixing Pan

Random train of thought this morning on my way to catch a bus to Gulu: According to a new billboard the PAM Awards are back in Kampala soon. They are annual music awards, and this is the second round since I've been in Uganda. It's strange that annual events here are no longer new.

The PAM in PAM Awards stands for Pan-African Music. I was wondering if that meant all-African so I thought about other words with the prefix 'pan.' The first that came to mind was pantheism. The belief that God is everything, or everything is God. So, yes, 'pan' means all, and well done Uganda on hosting such broad music awards.

Then back to pantheism, and its close relation panentheism - the belief that God is in everything. Then I wondered at the distinction, what it actually meant. If God is in everything then isn't everything, in a sense, God? And if God is everything, then isn't God de facto in everything? And so I wondered if the distinction held any relevance in the actual beliefs of people. Hindus might say that God, or Brahman, is in everything, as might Buddhists. But they might also say that everything is Brahman, everything is a working out of God, and everything will eventually settle into its eternal state as Brahman. It seems that Hinduism and and the Buddhism that it spawned are mixtures or overlaps of the theoretical distinctions of pan- and panentheism.

And then I wondered about monotheism, the belief that God is unique and separate, and perhaps even personal. Could there possibly be overlap with the broad, transcendent God of Hinduism? I think there may be some, especially when Christians speak of being created in the image of God. If you listen to Christians talk about that heritage, you'll often find that it holds deeper meaning to many than just a family resemblance. You'll find that it imparts value, significance, unalienable rights, even glory. It's almost as if they believe that there's a little bit of God inside them, like the Buddhists.

So then I thought about all the theoretical distinctions that we make to order our existence, to make sense of the ceaseless variety of our experiences, thoughts, beliefs and wonderings, and I wondered whether many of those might mix and overlap as well. I thought they probably did.

Then on the bus, waiting for it to leave the hot, noisy Kampala bus park, I was reading Barack Obama's book The Audacity of Hope. He wrote in the first chapter about how the distinctions between Republican and Democrat are often more blurred than not in the minds of individual voters. Like the Christian mother who pays for her teen daughter's abortion, or the midwestern factory worker who favors tax cuts for the rich, because that's what he plans to be someday. My politics are similar. I haven't been able to work out which party most closely aligns with my own ideas, mostly because their polarized rhetoric doesn't seem to apply to daily decision making. There is no room in their politics for overlap.

As I write I'm reminded of Christian denominations - theoretical constructs with thin differences to which adherents align their beliefs. But I would guess that the actual (as opposed to rhetorical) faith of individual believers across denominations blurs as much as not, and is more similar than different.

I bet it's like that with a lot of beliefs - evolutionists who pray, Christians who sit cross-legged and meditate, republicans who don't mind same sex marriage, individuals whose ideas are more nuanced than the labels that they're stuck with.

It's okay to depend on friends

In my current field of work - nonprofits, NGOs, aid, development - there is a lot of talk about 'dependency.' The idea is that if one person helps a second person for some length of time, the second person will become dependent on the first person's help, and won't be able to fend for himself (gender bias unintended - another big NGO concern).

Here in Uganda I often hear that we should not give 'handouts' to 'locals' because 'locals' will become 'dependent' on 'handouts.' The prevailing wisdom says that my every interaction with a Ugandan will effect the 'stereotype' of the 'white man' giving 'handouts' to 'locals.'

But what about when 'locals' become friends? What happens when we're no longer 'white man' and 'local,' but just together, talking, relaxing? And what happens when my friend has a need he is too poor to meet and I have more money than I need to spend?

Then, my friends, I am happy to build dependency. Because then it's not the 'white man' that my friend depends on. It's his community, of which I am a part. And after all, that's what we all crave: A community that we can depend upon. Sometimes that means family, sometimes friends, sometimes religion, sometimes clubs and teams and gangs and book clubs.

So here's to dependency. I hope that someday you all find yourselves wonderfully dependent.

I wonder

I wonder if I can think something true that no one has ever thought before.

Sometimes when opportunity knocks it leaves a flaming bag of... well, you know

Have you ever wondered how some people consistently come up with great ideas? I think it's this: They allow themselves to consider more opportunities than the rest of us.

Ideas are opportunities - they are something to be believed and acted upon, or not. Let me give an example: One idea that I just came up with right now is claiming that I own a passing comet and selling its mineral rights to a greedy despot. Is it a good idea? Probably not. But it is an opportunity. I can do it, or not.

Ideas are just cleverly arranged strings of facts. And most facts, when strung together, are not coherent. So most ideas will not be great. And since ideas are opportunities, many opportunities are not to be taken. And so most of us, after coming up with a bunch of bad opportunities just stop thinking up new ideas.

I think those people who always have the next great idea let themselves consider many more opportunities than we do. Let me lay out a challenge for you. Pick a topic, something like: business, travel, the weekend, or maybe start with something as simple as dinner. Put a piece of paper on your desk and write out a bunch of ideas for that topic.

For instance, if you chose dinner you might write: cook chicken, go to Applebees, leftovers, etc. Now make yourself consider more options: French food, picnic, sushi... in Tokyo. Each one is an opportunity, and many might be bad opportunities. But you're never going to find the great ones until you get through the bad ones.

Once you've had a good (and creative!) dinner, move on to some bigger things. Let the opportunity abound!

(By the way, I decided not to do that comet thing.)

The Tube

I'm going to admit it now. I'm addicted to The West Wing. Yes, the mid-90's television show. (No, not the G-Dub White House.) We have seasons 1-5 on DVD at the IC house in Gulu. (Thanks Josh)

It's fast-paced stories and ironic dialogue have sucked me into a number multi-episode couch session. Which got me wondering, why television? Why do so many people tune in every night to watch fictitious strangers stumble through their humorous and or action/dramatic problems?

For me I think it's because television resolves itself. We can invest in these problems (however latently) and be confident in their prompt and complete solution by the end of the hour, or even the half-hour! Oh, how blessedly different from the problems that may await us at the office the next day, or those at the far end of a phone line, or the ones sitting next to you on the couch.

Live in the place where you live

Wherever you live, if you are not a part of a trusting community of people you don't really live there. You live in your own little world.

This is something that I've learned here in Uganda, where wealth differentials, culture disparities, and language barriers make trust a hard thing to build. But if I don't trust people here and invest in them and let them invest in me, then I'm not really here. I'm just passing through this place, like a breeze: inconsequential, quickly forgotten.

The same goes in America. You exist where you build trusting community. That's why, in a culture where most people don't talk to their neighbors, people's worlds have shrunken to their immediate families, their houses, perhaps their offices.

If we are going to make our communities better, we have to start by really living in them, building relationships based on trust, developing understanding. The larger you want the impact to be the more barriers you'll have to trust across - socioeconomic, geographic, ethinic.

But you might want to start with your next door neighbor.

One of those days

Have you ever had one of those days when time becomes a mirror and you look at yourself and think, 'Is this really my life now?'

This month has been one of those days.

Espresso as Revolution, served by the shot

Has anyone had this experience? You sit down at a coffee shop with a friend, begin sipping the just-boiled beverage and making the smallest of talk. How's work? Not bad. Sip. Internet was down. Oh, lame. What's Melissa up to these days? Still nursing. Sip. Got four days off last week. That must've been fun. Keep sipping. The drink cools. Sip faster.

Next thing you know your friend and you are parading through Marxist ideology and its influence on liberation theology. A quick transition to international politics and America's Roman position, and how the president could benefit from a little liberation theology. A short conspiracy theory and then off into globalization and its various ups and ills.

And then, the epiphany, the plan. "Here's what we should do," you begin, or he does. It doesn't matter, you're both thinking it. A plan to change everything. Hatched conspiratorially there on the patio, over lukewarm mochas. It's all so simple, so palpable. The world spins by the stir of your spoon.

But somehow later that night, when you're eating plain cold bread slices by the light of your refrigerator and your head hurts a little, nothings quite so plain. Maybe the world suffers from a chronic shortage of caffeine.

A Friend in Need

If we're talking about helping other people in other countries, and we do talk about that every now and again, I think the best place to start is friendships. If you're worried about people in some neglected part of the world, first go make friends there.

Don't go to help, or worse save people there. Go to listen to them. Go to understand. Go to make friends. Offer nothing but your ear and your heart. Accept everything that is given to you.

Then you will have an idea of your role in addressing the problems of your new friends. You're probably less necessary than you think, but probably more important as well.

The Problem of Security

We really want to know, as a carved in the stone fact, that tomorrow we are going to be at least as comfortable as today. And anything that threatens that knowledge has a mighty mountain to climb if it's going to gain our acceptance.

But somewhere under our layers of assurances we are already know that our lives are tenuous. There is always flux, disaster, surprise. We will never know what tomorrow holds until it becomes yesterday. And if we are expecting homogeneous comfort, we're going to get rocked.

James, the New Testament writer, tells his readers to face unexpected problems with joy, because once they push through enough of them they will be able to handle anything that this precarious life throws at them. Perseverance will have finished its work.

It seems to me that the best way to live is not to build a life that blocks out trouble, because trouble will find a way in. Instead, embrace insecurity. Don't back away from a challenge. Push through all the troubles in your way. Eventually they won't look so big.