We all make 'em. We know we shouldna hadna done it, but we can't let ourselves be wrong, so we come up with 'em.
Excuses. Rationalizations. Whatever you want to call 'em. (My brother-in-law, who is a cop in Baltimore, won't tolerate 'em: "That's an explanation," he tells the driver who just ran a red light and is trying to talk his way out of it, "An explanation, not an excuse!") We may or may not believe what we are saying as the words come out of our mouths, but we have difficulty admitting we did something wrong. Or, more exactly, that we did something wrong and got caught!
So we park in that handicapped spot because we'll only be a minute. Or we push our loaded grocery cart into the Express Lane (12 Items Only) because all the other check-out lanes are so long. On a more serious level, we get verbally, even physically abusive with someone because they just don't seem to want to listen. We leave our dog (worse, our child!) in a boiling hot car while we run in to the store for a few things.
Most of the time, if we stop and think, we realize that we should be more considerate, less rushed. But in our pressured society (and that pressure comes from ourselves), we never stop and have little time to think. Except in the aftermath, when we are able to be incredibly creative in reasons why we aren't to blame.
Yes, there are some who believe their own excuses. That's why they call 'em rationalizations, 'cause they're so, um, rational! But such are also those who go through life never accepting responsibility, never seeing the places where personal growth is necessary.
For most of us, we need to use those Three Little Words more often. Oh, not those; they're important, but I was talking about: I was wrong!
Monday, August 27, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
What Are We Fighting For?
Many years ago (oh! so many!) a conference I was attending faced a decision on a controversial issue. (So long ago I can't remember what issue, nor which side I was on.) The person who was pushing this particular issue was memorable, if only because he was so abrasive. And, no, he was not me. But as his various attempts to get his motion(s) went down in flames, he became more and more desperate and, hence, pitiable. By the end, if he had not been so outraged and angry, he would have been in tears. He pleaded with the delegates at the conference to give him some small token, however meaningless, so he could return to his supporters and comfort them with that vestige of victory.
Alas, he was denied even that.
Today our public discourse has been reduced to a similar level of seeking complete and utter dominance. Unlike my friends the Quakers, where decisions are based on seeking consensus and common ground, decisions today are focused on winning and losing. If you ain't fer us, you'se agin us.
In other words, power. Control. The other guy must submit, totally and even willingly. If not, that person must be forced into subservience and obeisance.
Yes, there are important issues today and they need to be addressed openly and honestly. But too often today, the debaters in the public square descend to arguments that could be summed up on a bumpersticker. (And not a very nice one, at that!) This is not the sort of sincere dialog that one should expect, but children arguing on the playground. If you can't answer your opponent's argument, then cast slurs upon him or her (the more personal the better). Or try to out-shout your opponent. If all else fails, resort to violence.
It is possible to take opposing views seriously. And sometimes to recognize that a valid idea might come from someone you disagree with on everything else. Yes, admitting that you could be wrong on this or that does not make you a lesser person. In other words, we do not have to take complete, total, unquestionable control over everything.
That's God's job.
Alas, he was denied even that.
Today our public discourse has been reduced to a similar level of seeking complete and utter dominance. Unlike my friends the Quakers, where decisions are based on seeking consensus and common ground, decisions today are focused on winning and losing. If you ain't fer us, you'se agin us.
In other words, power. Control. The other guy must submit, totally and even willingly. If not, that person must be forced into subservience and obeisance.
Yes, there are important issues today and they need to be addressed openly and honestly. But too often today, the debaters in the public square descend to arguments that could be summed up on a bumpersticker. (And not a very nice one, at that!) This is not the sort of sincere dialog that one should expect, but children arguing on the playground. If you can't answer your opponent's argument, then cast slurs upon him or her (the more personal the better). Or try to out-shout your opponent. If all else fails, resort to violence.
It is possible to take opposing views seriously. And sometimes to recognize that a valid idea might come from someone you disagree with on everything else. Yes, admitting that you could be wrong on this or that does not make you a lesser person. In other words, we do not have to take complete, total, unquestionable control over everything.
That's God's job.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
And After the Silence...
Shoulda known better. Just after that glorious day of sailing when all was quiet and serene, my next time out was not so good. Oh yes, it was still wonderful (Any time out on the water is wonderful.) But we had barely got out there than the breeze died, and we had to use the motor to get us back...
Still, it caused me to ponder (as what does not?) Too often we seek those times and places of silence, and then don't do anything about it. The stillness becomes a place to escape to, rather than a harbor out of which to sail.
It has been observed that action and faith must be yoked. Yes, we need those moments when we can be still and know God, those passing experiences of the divine. But sooner or later we must come down from the mountaintop and put that inspirational catharsis to use.
Much as works without faith are just empty sounds without sense or meaning, signifying nothing (with apologies to Shakespeare), so our avocations of faith without visible evidence are merely mouth-noises. Never mind what you say you believe, I need you to show me what you are doing about it!
Too often, clients come in without anything that brings meaning to life. Never mind what it might be, or if I would agree/approve/understand. Such are going through life without a sense of direction or purpose. They are like sailboats when the wind was gone, and they are thrown back on waiting for a breeze, or giving in and limping back to the dock via their little diesel engine.
Yes, there are periods in everyone's life when some new direction arises, and we set off on a divergent course. Times when some new insight points us to port or starboard, calling for a new setting of the sails. Times when it is only a matter of minutes before that fresh coastal breeze comes along and off we go again. But we can also choose what we believe, and what we intend to do about it, the same way some sailors contrive to keep moving regardless of the whims of Aeolus (that's the god of the winds, to you.)
So what do you believe? And what are you doing about it?
Still, it caused me to ponder (as what does not?) Too often we seek those times and places of silence, and then don't do anything about it. The stillness becomes a place to escape to, rather than a harbor out of which to sail.
It has been observed that action and faith must be yoked. Yes, we need those moments when we can be still and know God, those passing experiences of the divine. But sooner or later we must come down from the mountaintop and put that inspirational catharsis to use.
Much as works without faith are just empty sounds without sense or meaning, signifying nothing (with apologies to Shakespeare), so our avocations of faith without visible evidence are merely mouth-noises. Never mind what you say you believe, I need you to show me what you are doing about it!
Too often, clients come in without anything that brings meaning to life. Never mind what it might be, or if I would agree/approve/understand. Such are going through life without a sense of direction or purpose. They are like sailboats when the wind was gone, and they are thrown back on waiting for a breeze, or giving in and limping back to the dock via their little diesel engine.
Yes, there are periods in everyone's life when some new direction arises, and we set off on a divergent course. Times when some new insight points us to port or starboard, calling for a new setting of the sails. Times when it is only a matter of minutes before that fresh coastal breeze comes along and off we go again. But we can also choose what we believe, and what we intend to do about it, the same way some sailors contrive to keep moving regardless of the whims of Aeolus (that's the god of the winds, to you.)
So what do you believe? And what are you doing about it?
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Sound of Silence
The sailboat needs a motor to push it out of the harbor, past the bridge and into the channel and finally open sea. Then the captain and crew raise the sails and turn the boat over to the winds. And for however long the boat stays out until it is decided to head back in, there is silence. Oh yes, there is the rush of the water past the hull, and the gentle shush of the air against the sails and perhaps quiet talk between those on board. But in a world where is always background noise of a motor, cars rushing past, someone playing music much too loudly, being out on the water is a blessed moment of stillness.
When was the last quiet moment you had? There seems to be a human need for such, whether it be an organized silent retreat or a few minutes of meditation alone. Yet at the same time, many become very uncomfortable with silence, even deliberating seeking something to dis spell it at quickly as possible.
Granted, some silence is manipulative and unwelcome: the person who refuses to respond to an urgent question, the child who deals with fear by withdrawing into silence, the abuser who uses silence an a tool for intimidation. But most will starting talking about something, anything, in the face of a silence. Or they will turn on music, take sudden interest in some side attraction, do something outrageous to fill that awful silence.
What could be so frightening about silence? Could it be that we will be brought face to face with something in ourselves we have covered over by noise? Or maybe we will feel a loss of control when we come up against that most uncontrollable force, silence. When things get silent, we are pushed back into ourselves, and whatever we might find there.
That is why psychotherapy so often calls on the therapist to be silent. Freud called the silence of the therapist the "greatest gift" of therapy, as it sent the client into necessary inner work. Of course, it assumes the therapist knows how to shut up!
And it helps to have moments of silence, on a sailboat or elsewhere!
When was the last quiet moment you had? There seems to be a human need for such, whether it be an organized silent retreat or a few minutes of meditation alone. Yet at the same time, many become very uncomfortable with silence, even deliberating seeking something to dis spell it at quickly as possible.
Granted, some silence is manipulative and unwelcome: the person who refuses to respond to an urgent question, the child who deals with fear by withdrawing into silence, the abuser who uses silence an a tool for intimidation. But most will starting talking about something, anything, in the face of a silence. Or they will turn on music, take sudden interest in some side attraction, do something outrageous to fill that awful silence.
What could be so frightening about silence? Could it be that we will be brought face to face with something in ourselves we have covered over by noise? Or maybe we will feel a loss of control when we come up against that most uncontrollable force, silence. When things get silent, we are pushed back into ourselves, and whatever we might find there.
That is why psychotherapy so often calls on the therapist to be silent. Freud called the silence of the therapist the "greatest gift" of therapy, as it sent the client into necessary inner work. Of course, it assumes the therapist knows how to shut up!
And it helps to have moments of silence, on a sailboat or elsewhere!
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