I was listening to some fiction from the New Yorker magazine on my way to work this morning. (I drive about 45 minutes each way and have taken to listening to downloaded audio books and podcasts during that time — I now actually look forward to it.)
In this morning’s story, one of the characters overheard a healing conversation between his wife and daughter and reported that, “Suddenly, it felt like the weight of the world had slipped off my shoulders, and I didn’t even know I was carrying it.”
It’s a feeling I recognize.
You know how you can have one of those difficult-to-shake colds for so long that you lose track of how long you've had it or even how sick you've been until suddenly, one day, you feel better.
It takes a good moment to make you realize how normal it had become to feel bad.
The same thing happens to me all the time on a spiritual and psychological level. Something happens. I feel happy or peaceful or relieved or enriched. And only then do I notice I that I haven’t felt that integrated and whole, that happy, for quite a while.
The corollary is the thought that my happiness may just … maybe … possibly be more open to choice than I realize — although, even as I write that, I hate the over-simplification of it.
This morning just reminded me of a deep streak of carefulness in me. I hold my breath without noticing. I do it a lot — until I stop.
It’s refreshing to be reminded, as I was by that line in the story, that I don’t have to be careful all the time. And when that happens there’s a weight-of-world-slipping-away experience. It feels good.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Courage? Not so much.
The head guy from Toyota went before a congressional committee yesterday and NPR predicted that he would, “… face some extremely hostile questions.” Suprise, suprise.
While public safety is important, I’m guessing this was just one more of those discouraging spectacles we expect from congress. They get hold of someone who is momentarily in the media spotlight then put them in front of their committee so members can act righteous for the cameras.
When I was young, I read a book supposedly written by President John F Kennedy entitled "Profiles in Courage." (A Pulitzer Prize winner, most of the book was reportedly written by JFK speechwriter Ted Sorenson. JFK wasn’t known for being either a writer or an intellectual).
I remember being impressed with the stories of politicians making decisions that placed the common good above their own political futures. Possible? I don’t know. I’d have to reread it and do a little fact checking. The name that sticks in my head is Thomas Hart Benton, Missouri Senator, 1821 to 1851, who voted against his party when he opposed the extension of slavery into the territories before the Civil War.
It’s ironic but typical that a book championing political courage would be faked to enhance a politician’s career.
Yesterday, one of the NY Times editorialists was pointing out the obvious, that political courage is in short supply in Washington right now.
That’s not news. It’s just that, on some days, it’s a real head-shaker.
While public safety is important, I’m guessing this was just one more of those discouraging spectacles we expect from congress. They get hold of someone who is momentarily in the media spotlight then put them in front of their committee so members can act righteous for the cameras.
When I was young, I read a book supposedly written by President John F Kennedy entitled "Profiles in Courage." (A Pulitzer Prize winner, most of the book was reportedly written by JFK speechwriter Ted Sorenson. JFK wasn’t known for being either a writer or an intellectual).
I remember being impressed with the stories of politicians making decisions that placed the common good above their own political futures. Possible? I don’t know. I’d have to reread it and do a little fact checking. The name that sticks in my head is Thomas Hart Benton, Missouri Senator, 1821 to 1851, who voted against his party when he opposed the extension of slavery into the territories before the Civil War.
It’s ironic but typical that a book championing political courage would be faked to enhance a politician’s career.
Yesterday, one of the NY Times editorialists was pointing out the obvious, that political courage is in short supply in Washington right now.
That’s not news. It’s just that, on some days, it’s a real head-shaker.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
They are us
Whatever side of the gay marriage issue you’re on, it’s clear that one of prime movers of public opinion has been more and more people discovering that they know, are related to, work with, belong to groups with, etc. gay and lesbian people.
I’m just wondering if the same tug will be felt in the economic debate. In the past, it’s been easy for some of us to think of people who face bankruptcy or loose their homes to over-borrowing as “the great unwashed” — as Dickens might have described them, "the undeserving." You know, “They made their beds, now let them lay in them.”
Most of us can remember how effectively Ronald Regan used the image of the welfare queen, having babies just to get her hands on more government cash. And, of course, I could easily sail along not knowing anyone on welfare. Or at least I didn’t think I knew anyone.
But yesterday I found out some of my good friends, really good, highly responsible folks, will probably loose their home. And as hard as it was for them to tell me about it, I’m guessing I know quite a few others facing the same situation who aren’t sharing that news.
And honesty insists I share the fact that our family faced that situation and were fortunate to narrowly avoid it at one point in our lives.
When many of us found out we knew homosexuals, it changed things. Will it change any attitudes when we begin to realize that all of us know someone badly injured in the current downturn? I hope so.
I’m just wondering if the same tug will be felt in the economic debate. In the past, it’s been easy for some of us to think of people who face bankruptcy or loose their homes to over-borrowing as “the great unwashed” — as Dickens might have described them, "the undeserving." You know, “They made their beds, now let them lay in them.”
Most of us can remember how effectively Ronald Regan used the image of the welfare queen, having babies just to get her hands on more government cash. And, of course, I could easily sail along not knowing anyone on welfare. Or at least I didn’t think I knew anyone.
But yesterday I found out some of my good friends, really good, highly responsible folks, will probably loose their home. And as hard as it was for them to tell me about it, I’m guessing I know quite a few others facing the same situation who aren’t sharing that news.
And honesty insists I share the fact that our family faced that situation and were fortunate to narrowly avoid it at one point in our lives.
When many of us found out we knew homosexuals, it changed things. Will it change any attitudes when we begin to realize that all of us know someone badly injured in the current downturn? I hope so.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
On not acting on principle alone
There is general agreement that true religion or ethics or whatever you want to call it is not just what you say, or say you believe. It’s what you do. Belief is behavior. Because what you do shows what you really believe, whereas we can talk ourselves around anything. I often do.
Now comes another idea that may not be as agreeable to some: true religion is not just what you do, it’s the impact of what you do. For instance, I may do what everyone agrees is the right thing (of course, there’s nothing everyone agrees on), but if the result of that acclaimed right action is violence, I’ve probably acted wrongly.
In other words, when you act on principle and principle alone, without weighing the impact of that action, you have not acted ethically.
I think there’s a dynamic continuum that can be described here. On the one extreme is the totally principled act, which evolves into legalism. And on the other end is a totally contextual act, which evolves into lawlessness. We live, work, play, eat, breath and sleep on this continuum. And, in my opinion, the one sure way to act unethically is to live on either end of the continuum because, whichever end you choose, you’re not honestly taking responsibility for the impact of your behavior in real life and on real people.
It’s not just what you believe or say you believe, it’s what you do. And it’s not just what you do, it taking responsibility for the on-the-ground, real-life impact of what you do that makes you an ethical person.
What’s he talking about?!
It comes down to this: act purely and solely on principles, principles of any kind, and your principles become inhumane and need reexamination.
Heavy duty, huh?
Now comes another idea that may not be as agreeable to some: true religion is not just what you do, it’s the impact of what you do. For instance, I may do what everyone agrees is the right thing (of course, there’s nothing everyone agrees on), but if the result of that acclaimed right action is violence, I’ve probably acted wrongly.
In other words, when you act on principle and principle alone, without weighing the impact of that action, you have not acted ethically.
I think there’s a dynamic continuum that can be described here. On the one extreme is the totally principled act, which evolves into legalism. And on the other end is a totally contextual act, which evolves into lawlessness. We live, work, play, eat, breath and sleep on this continuum. And, in my opinion, the one sure way to act unethically is to live on either end of the continuum because, whichever end you choose, you’re not honestly taking responsibility for the impact of your behavior in real life and on real people.
It’s not just what you believe or say you believe, it’s what you do. And it’s not just what you do, it taking responsibility for the on-the-ground, real-life impact of what you do that makes you an ethical person.
What’s he talking about?!
It comes down to this: act purely and solely on principles, principles of any kind, and your principles become inhumane and need reexamination.
Heavy duty, huh?
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