World Views as They Pertain to Me Problems, You Problems and We Problems

(and a distinction between Free Will and Freedom...might as well throw in Free Market, Capitalism and Compassion)

I used to be a big believer in developing a world view and sticking to it without wavering. I’m probably more relaxed in my stance now, but not without contemplation. I guess a bit of a turn off first occurred when I noticed how self centered my world view could be, as it pertained to me and pretty much only others that held similar beliefs. Now I’m more inclined to embrace a world view that works for all of us, or at least more of us. There seems to be so much polarity now and in my mind it’s a battle between opposing world views. Yet, here we are..we the people. United. One nation. I’m not even talking about global issues. Just getting along on the national level...with our so called “world” view differences. But I digress. 

I’ve been turned off recently by a certain individual and a certain institution that describes world view issues in terms of me problems and you problems. Now, the guy is intelligent and articulate, but I think he paints a very narrow and non comprehensive picture. Regardless of his intelligence and articulation, I don’t subscribe to his version of a world view. Yes, it’s good to know my responsibility level in issues. What’s my issue vs what’s your issue. But figuring out what I had to do with creating your problem is key. 

For instance, if I pollute a water supply, that’s a me problem, you problem and we problem. However, if I get my water somewhere else, leaving you with contaminated water...while telling you it’s no longer a me problem but now a you problem, we’ll, that’s callous and immoral. 

We are very hesitant to embrace we problems. If I take care of me, by nature I’m not as inclined to help others...not as much, anyway. However, while I believe in personal responsibility and accountability I also believe in helping others. It’s just not as easy to do. I have to change my mindset. And it’s very easy to look at an issue and claim I had nothing to do with creating that issue. Dirty water? Air pollution? You don’t see any factories in my backyard...not my problem. Though we are all consumers that contribute to the ecological footprint on some level. Everything we buy had to be produced somewhere, and honestly, I’m a consumer and inherently a contributor to the fallout of mass production. All consumers are part of a we problem that we all contributed to if not created. 

But this is really not intended to be about consumerism and the environment. That’s just an example. It might sound funny to insert the word “systemic” while talking about consumerism, but isn’t there validity to the totality in which all of us affect all of us when it comes to consumerism? No, we don’t all play equal parts. But we all play. And, we all pay the consequences. 

In other social issues we all play at least some part...unless you live on an island in total isolation. But it’s very difficult for us to own up to our part, or even buying into the We Problem concept. But to me it’s like traffic. In a traffic jam there can in some instances be a specific cause and fault assignment. At other times it’s a matter of too many of us on the road at the same time, not just one or two people’s fault. But we’re all stuck in traffic if we’re trying to get somewhere. While I’m impatient with the guy in front of me, it’s not solely his fault. The guy behind me is impatient with me. But it’s not solely my fault. And I’m not even worried about the guy behind me...until he honks his horn.. See, it’s not so much that we’re stuck in traffic. We are traffic. It’s a we problem, even when it’s created by a stalled vehicle miles in front. I didn’t cause that stall. Ok, I was the stall one time when the electrical components of my car just stopped working on the interstate in the middle of rush hour. So yes, that one time I was the guy the traffic reporter called out for the problem area on the evening commute. Ok, and one other time when someone changed lanes and totaled my car. Not my fault, but it became a me problem in a flash which turned into a we problem for all those other commuters. A longer term problem for me. And a different level problem for the driver that caused the accident. But we were all in traffic together..for an extended period of time. 

Such is life. We’re all in it together. We all contribute little or much to the mess of good or the mess of bad we find ourselves in. We all have a footprint literally and figuratively. Sometimes it’s a footprint of influence. If someone could scan an infra red type of image that captured our influence imprint...would our foot be kicking someone down? Or rushing to help someone up? Something I have to think about regularly. I know both types of images could be captured at various times in my life when it comes to influence. 

Ok, so what does any of this have to do with freedom? We value freedom in this country. I love freedom. I think that’s something we have in common as Americans. We love freedom. But honestly, I’m not always thrilled with how others express their free will. Free will conjures up some pretty disturbing events. Free will flies planes into buildings. Free will loots and vandalizes. Free will outside the parameters of freedoms established by our constitution and our established governing powers, well that’s pandemonium. No one is above that. One’s free will may act outside those parameters, but in a good and right justice system, that pandemonium doesn’t last. And the great thing about our country is that no one ..no one is above that. No one. And that’s the country I want to live in. 

I want a country where I’m free to live my world view. And others are free to live theirs. And we both adhere to the outlined freedoms established in our country. And the equity issue applies to all of us. No one above. No one below. That’s not communism. That’s not socialism. I want our system of government to work equally for all of us. That’s equal opportunity and equal justice for all. I want that for all. Who wouldn’t?

Free market? Yes. Capitalism? Yes. Do we need structure and regulation? Yes, if they don’t adhere to equal opportunity. But here’s something that cannot be regulated and enforced. Compassion. How do you measure compassion of an employer? How do you measure compassion of a government? How do you measure your own compassion as it relates to your fellow man? That’s a difficult call. We can’t force compassion. But I’m thinking we could use more of it. Can’t really regulate it. When it comes to giving compassion on an individual level we can give it grudgingly or willingly. I get to make that choice. That’s a me problem. And I get to exercise my free will in that determination. 

Forgiving Your Former Self

I used to think people were crazy when I heard them say, “if I had it to do over again, I’d do everything exactly the same way”. Given that option today, I’d at least have a long pause to think about it. But you know what? I’m good with where I’m at now on every level. No, I’m not saying things are perfect, but I’m at peace with things ...for the most part. I’ve come to grips with my former self, including decisions made earlier in life, and consequences that followed.

Sure, I still have plenty of flaws. I still get irritated. And with today’s uncertainties, who isn’t irritated from time to time? But the big picture? I’m at peace with my big picture, flaws and all. 

No, this is not a proclamation of the right way to live life. I don’t have a recommended path that everyone should follow. I’m not writing a book on how to live life. My path was bumpy and maybe not even a path at times. And I’m certainly not at a final destination. I’m still trekking. But my trekking is at least somewhat more peaceful because I honestly believe I’ve made peace to some extent with my past...with all its bumps, bruises, poor choices, and maybe occasionally some good ones. 

Really...can anyone claim to be where they are because they always made the right choices at every key moment in life? I’m not sure I’d trust anyone making that claim. I certainly wouldn’t be able to identify with them. 

If life is a journey with difficult passages, I’d want to walk next to someone who understands the bumps. Someone with scraped knees. Maybe a finger with a swollen knuckle that prevents it from being straight. Maybe a pause in their attempt to stand straight after a rest. Maybe a hitch in their giddy up. But after they get upright, they extend that hand to help others get up and back on their path. 

Remember, all scars have stories behind them, big or small. And those stories make more sense when exchanged during a journey. Even if the journey is only for a small stretch of the entire path. 

No, my path hasn’t been the straight and narrow. And nobody knows exactly the course I’ve taken. I’ve surely forgotten parts of it myself. But I’m not there anymore. I’m here now. For a while. What’s behind is either learned from or forgotten. But it’s ground I’ve covered to get here. And I’m moving on, because I’m not done yet. Moving on with a slight pause in my giddy up...a finger that doesn’t quite work right..a slight tilt to my posture..a need to rest every so often...but still moving down a path. A path not suited for the younger me. But a path suited for a well seasoned sojourner. I’ve lived my whole life to be where I am now. So, here I am. 

And if I had to do it all over again... I’m still not saying how I’d answer that question. But I’m glad to be where I am today. How ‘bout you?

All You Need Is Love

I remember that song/lyric being the source of many discussions by people mostly pointing out how wrong it was...and the long haired “hippies” singing it. Being the age I am, I first heard that song when I was a lad, and I liked it...because love sounded like a good thing to have. What kid wouldn’t gravitate towards that. But I was soon indoctrinated with the idea that truth was supreme. I was told that love without truth was only based on some emotional feeling, and not really love. Not the lasting kind, anyway. 

Well, I never really got into too many of those discussions. I was pretty much on the receiving end of them, from professors, pastors and Sunday School teachers. But I also remembered other phrases I had heard; “...the greatest of these is love”, or other verses and even chapters of the Bible filled with concepts of love never failing, speaking the truth ..in love, and words not backed by love being compared to indiscernible noise. Even the greatest commandment centered around love for God and love for others. 

As a youngster I really didn’t question too much though, not outwardly. And that trend continued throughout much of my formal education. I had “come to Jesus” basically in a gun to the head kind of way. You know, believe or be damned...or else. Sure, the love concept was sprinkled in, kind of after the fact. But in my religious circles, truth reigned supreme. Love..I never really understood it. And I think I was not alone, or maybe I’d have heard a lot more about it. 

I remember questioning the love factor, at least in my mind. But any time it came up the same message seemed to win out...if you had to pick one...truth or love...pick truth. You can’t be wrong if you’re right, kind of thing. 

Well, I don’t like having to pick between those two. And I won’t pick between those two. I’m an “I want it all” kind of guy. But, I’m leaning towards love, since “the greatest of these is love”. But I’ll claim it’s just a leaning at this point. I still want both truth and love. And I still plan to pursue both. 

So, other things I’ve observed over the years is that some that claim to hold up “the” truth get very annoyed when someone else claims to speak in terms of “their” truth. “The truth” trumps “my truth” they teach, and things can get ugly in a hurry if anyone disagrees. Lots of discussion..sometimes nastiness, name calling, maybe even hatefulness...all in the name of proclaiming truth. The only thing that seems to be missing in these discussions...is love. 

Now, I’ve been around enough to know that there are countless groups claiming to be protectors of “the” truth, and they’re all different. But they don’t speak for me. I have to figure out what truth looks like for myself. Sure, I can get input from others. I’d be a fool not to. But I’d also be a fool to blindly follow someone else’s version of “the” truth, because, simply put, it might just be “their” truth.

Yes, I’ll bow my knee to divine truth. But how that plays out in my mind, honestly, is a work in progress, and really nobody else’s business. I have to grow and seek and struggle and mature, and even change my mind once in a while. Sometimes I’m the one that gets most in the way of my own progress of learning truth. 

For instance, when I hold on to a perceived truth, and am unwilling to grow, well... I stagnate. That’s not growth or maturity. 

Or, if I have a concept down pretty well in terms of truthfulness (well contemplated and balanced, based on study and experience of my own and others), but I am lacking in the love department, guess what...I’m just noise when I speak it. And that noise sometimes has a tendency to just get louder and louder ...and even destructive at times. See, truth without love tends to tear down, not build up. Truth without love doesn’t unite. It creates divisions and even villains and the attempts to tear them down in the name of righteous indignation...to further one’s own cause.

Well, without love that too is noise. And destructive. Plain and simple. 

See, there are times when I don’t even care who is “right” when love is nowhere near part of the discussion. We’ve probably all seen situations like this played out, sadly. I’m not saying truth doesn’t matter. It does. But truth without love, when it turns into a weapon to destroy someone else..is not really truth anymore. Not in its purest form. That kind of loveless truth doesn’t set anyone free. 

If you think you have a firm grip on truth, great, make sure you have the love. And if in your truthfulness others think you’re a jerk...well, they may be wrong... or, maybe all you need is love. Maybe that’s the missing component. Just add love to your truth. Maybe that’s all you need. 

He Didn’t Need No Stinkin’ Handrail

It’s not that he didn’t ever use hand rails. But I best remember the times he didn’t. Oh man, I’d be nervous trying to position myself just so...just in case I needed to help brace him for a fall. Joe didn’t care though...he was going to go where he was going to go ...regardless of how I positioned myself. And he did. Countless times, much to my chagrin. 

Moebius syndrome is a rare neurological condition that accompanied Joe since birth. His case affected more than his facial muscles and nerves. Joe’s feet were also affected...resulting in what appeared to onlookers as a difficulty to safely stay upright. But for the life of me...I can’t say it hindered him significantly. Well, I mean, it had to hinder him though, right? Right?? 

However, his work history is robust. He was married to his bride for 56 years. They produced the most beautiful daughter imaginable. He was living out his retirement years active in his church. I mean...am I missing what was missing?? Because I’m not really coming up with anything. In a very real sense, he had it all. A man of abundant fruit. 

I wonder if he kinda felt free racing in front of protective arms trying to prevent potential falls. It must have been a lifelong conundrum.  I was fairly late to the scene, only within the last several years, so of course I felt a sense of protective urgency whenever I was around him. But I now wonder how much Joe really needed it. Oh, sure...I’ve seen him fall. I can’t remember how many times. Most times he got up quickly. No fuss. Other times he needed help. Again..no fuss from him. He likely tired of any fuss anyone offered. Rolled right off him, best I can tell. And for the time I knew him, I never saw him with a handicapped license plate.

I remember asking Doris how she and Joe met. She paused, while the twinkle in her eye glimmered a bit. She said...”it was in school. He was called Joe the Trouble Maker”. At first I couldn’t believe her. But that was one of the first times I met with them...and I didn’t know any better. After chasing after him trying to protect him a few times, I found Doris’ story much easier to believe. 

You see, in Joe’s world...handrails weren’t for him...they were for me, and others, so we would somehow feel better, I guess. But honestly, I think he lived his life just fine without them. He certainly won’t need handrails in the next life. And I’m guessing he probably won’t need wings either. 

I love you Joe, and I miss you already. 

My Grocery List

In regards to changing food labels...all I have to do is change my grocery list. That’s it. There is no rewriting of history. Nobody is hiding history from me. That’s not where I go for history. History is not being rewritten. What’s changing is the way some food lines are marketed. A conscientious effort is being made to change how a people group has been negatively portrayed over the years. Nobody asked me. I didn’t have to attend meetings or follow up with interviews or surveys. I just have to change my grocery list. I can do that. Easy. And I’m glad to do it. Man, easiest thing I can do to help spread positive change. 

People ask...what can we do when we’re not even aware of how racial profiling is perpetuated? How about change your grocery list? This one is easy. And if you feel like you’re losing a part of your history or heritage when a product name gets changed...there are plenty of libraries, museums, historical sites, documentaries...Ted Talks, for crying out loud. We don’t need to get our heritage from a food label. Just like we don’t need Starbucks to celebrate Christmas. This is not about me and what I’m losing or having taken from me. It’s not about me one bit. 

This one is easy folks. Statues and monuments..those are more difficult discussions...but discussions that need to be had so we can preserve history in the proper context. The time is now. If we don’t open our minds now for healthy discussion and change, we’ll miss out. It will happen after we’re gone. And people will wonder why our generation didn’t change. 

Freeze!!

One summer during high school a friend and his parents graciously took me on vacation. It was a great week away in the Land of 10,000 Lakes. Camping. Fishing. Golfing. Swimming. Sailing. And my favorite..cookouts. It was about as carefree as I’d experienced in my young life. Also...I was treated like a golden child. Other people’s parents can do that, I guess. They spoiled me. I knew it. My friend knew it, but he didn’t seem to mind. I sensed he even enjoyed it. He was good like that. And I soaked up every minute of it. 

One night, while we were in a hotel on Lake Superior I decided to go for a walk along the beach. I think I just wanted some alone time (even back then), so I asked if I could go by myself...and was permitted. There was still about an hour of daylight, so I had no concerns.

After 30 or so minutes I noticed that if I veered off the beach slightly...and across some railroad tracks, I could be in town after just a couple blocks. I was cautious even back then and looked around for any signs of potential danger. Finding none, I started across the railroad tracks. 

I didn’t make it across the tracks though.  As soon as I stepped off the beach and towards the tracks a couple of police cars pulled up with their lights and sirens and closed in on me. Cops jumped out of the cars. More cops came out from behind rocks. They yelled at me to “freeze”!! No guns were drawn. I was not cuffed. I was not wrestled to the ground. I was simply placed in the back of a squad car while they tried to figure out who I was. I didn’t have any ID on me, so it took a few minutes, but I was released. 

I was told I matched the description of a suspect, and walked right into a stake out. I was stopped because I looked like someone else. 

Was I mistreated? Absolutely not. I thought I was actually treated very politely and respectfully. Sure I was a scruffy long haired kid...it was the 70’s.  But being white, I really didn’t have anything to worry about. I just had a little bit of a story to tell when I got back to the hotel. 

We need it to be this way for other innocent people...for all innocent people. Regardless of who they look like.

The Racist Bone

I always cringe a bit when I hear someone say “I don’t have a racist bone in my body”. I’m thinking that anyone who has done the deep dive into self analysis on that subject would realize that line is terribly non-convincing as an opener, and just isn’t true. 

A couple of years ago I had a garage sale as I was preparing to sell my house and relocate. Nothing brings out the neighbors like a garage sale. So I anticipated seeing and talking to folks I had relatively few conversations with during the 15 years I had lived there. 

One particular guy, after a few pleasantries just muttered “I sure hope it stays white” while looking at my house. My house was beige, but I knew that’s not what he was referring to. My “glare” filter must not have been working, as I’m sure I shot a loud look his way. Seeing that, his follow up was “oh I’m not prejudice or anything”...as if that would clear him of any suspicion. 

Well...it didn’t. Not in my mind. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, I had my suspicions during the 15 years we had been neighbors, but I had never called him out on anything. I had never heard anything as blatant come out of his mouth as garage sale day though. 

And honestly, I’m not sure what part upset me the most...the “I’m not prejudiced” or the “or anything”. The former was a specific denial. The latter, a broad global denial. And honestly, it all reminded me of the statement “I don’t have a racist bone in my body”.

You know, when I hear people say stuff like that, it’s fairly predictable what follows next. They’ll start listing friends they know or work with, or worse yet TV shows or movies featuring black actors they enjoy. But that doesn’t address the racist bone at all. And I believe the racist bone exists in all of us to some extent. 

If it exists in all of us, that doesn’t mean it exists in us all to the same degree. For instance, we all lie, but some of us to a greater extent than others. And if you balk at the idea that we all lie, consider how honest we are when somebody asks a simple question like “hey...how you doing today”. Are we ever completely truthful in that situation? Probably not, or people would quit asking (...lightbulb comes on...)

Thing is, nobody wants to admit to being a liar...even on the smallest scale. We admire integrity, and want others to count on our word. I get that. But when was the last time you heard someone boast they always tell the truth, and then act indignant if that is ever called into question. Ok...don’t think too hard on that one because someone will pop into mind and likely stir up negative emotions, as it just did with me. 

So, what is the racist bone we all have? And what does it look like to make positive strides to minimize its effect on our thought processes? Don’t we all have to learn and unlearn some things regarding racial issues? I think so. 

First, I think it’s healthy to acknowledge racial awarenesses exist, and we don’t initially fully understand them the first time we’re exposed to them. Consequently, we’re innocently ignorant and perhaps curious. But then we start to learn things ...sometimes things we later need to unlearn. Have we at any time watched the news and waited for the announcement of the race of a person, or a name, or a picture...something to get an idea of who was behind the atrocity just reported? Have we been in an airport and seen people different from us, speaking a different language than us, and perhaps we experience a little uneasiness... at least at first. Maybe after many exposures and experiences those uncertainties lessen over time. And that’s part of the maturing process... our personal individual maturing process. Nobody can learn that or experience that for us. We have to do it ourselves. 

We still have racial issues in our country...clear as can be. Those issues could be next door. Those issues could be inside of me, waiting for me to own them and make real progress. I might have to even change how I think or speak. Or I could just recite that I don’t have a racist bone in my body, and be done with it. But it will surface later. Perhaps at somebody else’s garage sale.