Over a Candle

She knows why…

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How many times do we come right up to something we desperately need only to turn away at the last second. Fear of finding what we want sometimes outweighs the fear of not having it. Which is worse? Going without something we think of as essential? Or getting it only to find out it isn’t what we thought?

Sometimes it seems better to walk away.

And yet, somehow, some way, we sometimes stumble onto it, anyway. A certain kind of inevitability takes over, and we find ourselves, suddenly faced with a stark realization, a knowledge, a truth, we require, even if we didn’t know we required it.

And then, to get it, to reach it, we have to forget something else, something we believed was part of our Truth. We find that coming upon a core truth, we have to unlearn something we believed was True for so long. There isn’t room for both things. We can move forward, and forget something that has been a part of us, or we can hang on to the past and give up the chance to learn something new.

How can I find trust, for example, if I refuse to unlearn my distrust? How can I find friendship if I refuse to give up my walls? How much have I known was TRUE that turned out to be wrong? And how much do I still “know” to be TRUE that is false?

Unlearning those Truths that make up those earliest moments, those things that help shape the core of our identity… That’s not easy. It’s not safe. And it’s not clear how to proceed. Will I still remain on the other side? What will be left of me?

And yet, not giving up on those certainties to find what else may be… Refusing to learn those things we came here to learn… What, then, is the point?

“How Far” by Beth Orton

I heard you say and rightly so
“We turn our backs on what we most need to know”
Give in too fast then give in to no one
And once they’ve got you where they want you
They don’t wanna know…

I could leave or I could stay
It doesn’t make a bit of difference anymore, anyway
With each and every circumstance
I lose knowledge and gain innocence
Won’t find me grieving
There’s no regret in leaving
When I have to come here
Like I know I have to come here
I can see I have to come here
For my view to be clear
For my view to be clear

It’s easy to forget how far we’ve come
How near I feel to where we first begun
Pushed it too far
I won’t pull it too slow
Cause where the story ends depends on how far we go

I could leave or I could stay
It doesn’t make a bit of difference anymore, anyway
With each and every circumstance
I lose knowledge and gain innocence
Won’t find me grieving
There’s no regret in leaving
When I had to come here
Like I know I had to come here
Oh I know I had to come here
For my view to be clear

And now I see I had to be here
Oh I know I had to be here
I can see I had to be here
For my view is now clear

So roll on blue skies
Roll on gray, just roll away
Come on blue skies, come on gray

Just roll away…

True Believers know that they are right. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, they have found the answers. Heaven help anyone who gets in their way.

The notion of a True Believer may call to mind someone with religious fervor, and certainly we find a lot of True Believers in organized religion. But they are not confined to religion, nor is every religious person a True Believer. There are True Believers in science, politics, social activism, etc.

True Believers can change the world. Indeed, some of the people with the greatest impact on history, positive and negative, have been True Believers.

I suppose that’s the danger. True Believers are a force. They can mow down whatever, and whoever is in their way. They can change the world. But that change isn’t always good.

As a former True Believer myself, I know how scary they can be. Their tenacity and certitude can simply overwhelm. I don’t want to overestimate them, give them too much power. They can be resisted. But they are a danger.

As I’ve been thinking about True Believers over the last week, it called to mind the following passage:

“Remember your philosopher’s doubts, Miles. Beware! The mind of the believer stagnates. It fails to grow outward into an unlimited, infinite universe.” - Taraza in Heretics of Dune by Frank Herbert

I was looking for something to write about, and I opened up my copy of the [i]Messiah’s Handbook[/i] from Richard Bach. Here’s what I read:

How easy it is to be compassionate
when it’s yourself you see in trouble!

This struck me, in part because I first misread it. After a minute, I realized what he was trying to say: we find it easier to be compassionate with ourselves than with others. And certainly I think this is often true. We too easily lack empathy for others, even while we expect it for ourselves.

And yet, what I read reversed the “it” and “is,” so that it seemed to be question. Indeed, it first struck me that he was suggesting quite the opposite of the above: namely that it was harder to have compassion for ourselves. And I think that struck me because I know a number of people for whom that is true.

It can be hard to remember that we are human, that others don’t hold us to the same standards that we have for ourselves. I know, intellectually, that people are willing to forgive the occasional curt answer, the odd comment or interaction. But it’s hard to remember that all the time. And we can spend more time worrying that we have upset someone than the person we imagine we’ve slighted does.

One of the things I think I need to learn in this lifetime is to have a bit more compassion for myself. This is not an easy lesson for me. I think in part I struggle with balancing this lesson with the recognition that I do need to be aware of how my actions can hurt others. Being kind to myself does not mean I have carte blanche to treat others however I please.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m ever going to figure this stuff out.

The National Weather Service released its newest flood outlook for the region. The predictions have improved slightly. We’re down from 96% chance of major flooding to 90%. It’s not much, I know, but for us, it’s not the major flood stage we’re really worried about. It’s closer to 38 or 39 feet that we start to get really, really worried. There’s a 50% chance of the river getting to 38 feet. That’s down from a 50% chance of 38.6 feet.

Still, the ideal melting week we’ve had this past week, and the lack of precipitation over the last few weeks has been perfect. There is reason to hope that we will continue to get lucky.

We also got a plumber out to see whether he could put in a back-flow valve in our main sewer line in order to prevent last year’s disaster. He can do it, but it might be a couple of weeks before he can get to it. We have to hope the weather holds out long enough. If so, it will be a worthwhile layer of protection.

As it is, I’m looking forward to sandbagging next weekend.

I finished teaching a community class a few days ago. One of the attendees came up to me at the end and said, without criticism, that he had more questions now at the end than he did when we first came to the class. I told him that wasn’t the first time I had been told that after a presentation or a class.

Indeed, it wasn’t. I am often told that. At the end of nearly all of my talks I gave at the Unitarian Universalist church a few years ago, someone would come up and say something very similar.

Whether they think of it this way or not, I take it as a compliment. At least, I take it as an indication that I’ve done my job. As I see it, my job isn’t to answer important questions. It’s to raise them, to shine the spotlight on them, to get others to think about them.

Sure, I could stand up and tell people what I think about all the important issues in life. It would probably take less time. After all, I can easily spout off my opinion on any number of issues. But why should anyone care about that?

No, better to to show people why the questions matter, and show them what some of the implications are of the different available answers. They’re going to arrive at their own conclusions no matter what I say. Better that I get them thinking, then give them a short-cut to the end that they might find unsatisfactory.

After all, I spend my life with questions. I am generally filled with doubt, with skepticism, with wonderment.

Why should I be the only one?

The Olympics are over. As much as I am glad to have my television back, and you know, time to sleep, it is a sad day for me.

There were so many moments that seem emblematic of what these games mean.

Justyna Kovalczyk winning Poland’s first gold medal in the 30 km cross-country race.

Lindsey Vonn overcoming injury to win gold in the downhill. Bode Miller winning gold in the Super G. And then, heart-break, seeing both of them fall out of later races.

Steve Holcomb ending a long drought for the U.S. in the 4-man bobsled race.

Lindsey Jacobellis once again finding disappointment in snowboard cross. Shaun White repeating his halfpipe gold medal.

Alexandre Bilodeau ending Canada’s drought of home-won gold.

The USA women’s team ousting the favored Canadians in speed skating’s team pursuit, and the men winning a surprise silver.

Both the men and women’s USA hockey teams taking silver, both losing to the Canadian teams.

The scary excitement of short-track skating, with Apolo Ohno winning a record 8th medal, and Katherine Reutter’s silver in the 1000 m. Not to mention the surprise elimination of the South Korean team and thus the bronze for the U.S. women’s team in the relay.

The figure skating. All of it. From the victory of the Chinese pair Shen and Zhao (and the ousting of the Russians from the podium in that event), to the victory of Evan Lysacek, the stunning performances of Virtue/Moir and Davis/White, and the amazing Yu-Na Kim.

The heart-wrenching performances of Joannie Rochette who lost her mother just before competing. And the tragic death of Nodar Kumaritashvili just before the games opened.

These games have it all. Sometimes too much. There are all the things I didn’t mention, and some of the things I couldn’t pay as close attention to because of NBC’s decisions on what to show when. They become a large part of my life while their going on. I follow them religiously, sometimes in spite of myself. And I feel a little sad when they end.

So yes, I’ll go back to my life. And yes, I have plenty to do, and plenty to fill my time. But Sochi and 2014 cannot come soon enough for my tastes.

Apparently, we have as much water locked up in the snow pack right now as we did last year on March 15. What this means is that if we get any more moisture, we could be in a lot of trouble. Of course, we could be anyway, but more moisture would be a very, very bad thing.

On the positive side, this week should see daytime temperatures in the low to mid 30s and nighttime temps below freezing. This is ideal slow-melting weather. If we could get two or three weeks like this, we might actually survive this year.

I just thought I’d update everyone on the state of impending flood. I’m very cautious, with a small glimmer of hope, that I am almost scared to voice. We’ll see.

Still swamped, but thought I would share something cool. (I swiped this from Daring Fireball.) These are tourism posters created for various locations in the Star Wars universe. Now if prints ever get made, I’ll be wondering where to hang mine.

Minimalist Star Wars Tourism Posters: Vacation in Tatooine, Hoth, Endor, Dagobah & Cloud City

Well, “innocent” is likely to be the wrong word… Probably “oblivious” would be better… Or even “damned”… But maybe I shouldn’t quibble…

Shamatha is the cat most likely to be asleep before he finishes settling down into your lap. He just gets so comfortable so fast.

Anyway, I’m still swamped, but I thought maybe others could benefit from a little fuzz therapy.