St. Paul on Love
It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.
St. Paul, First Epistle to the Corinthians
It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.
St. Paul, First Epistle to the Corinthians
I call my dad Dave. Or The Dave when I think he’s cool. Which is often. He’s the cat’s meow.
He runs his own software development company. He’s been doing it for almost as long as I’ve been alive. From a distance he looks like your average, button-pressing manager-dude (I obviously have no idea what managers do). So when I was in my mid-teens and he asked me what I wanted to do with my life, I was scared.
I wanted to act, deep down. And I was pretty sure I was good at it. It was the only thing I wanted out of life at that time. But how do you tell your father that? Especially when your father has been working at the same office since you were born? I was thoroughly expecting one of those sit-com lectures about thinking of your future and not wasting youth on silly things like dreams and acting.
So I hedged my bet. I told him about an interest in the arts and acting, but I quickly assured him I intended to get a business degree or something to fall back on if that dream evaporated.
He got serious. He looked me in the eye, which was freaky because we were driving down the QEW.
“Don’t have a backup plan,” The Dave said. “No plan B.”
He explained that if my dream was acting, I ought to, nay, need to sacrifice everything else. If it’s acting, then throw all your chips into acting. Acting or bust.
I was pretty shocked.
I shouldn’t have been.
If I had paid attention as a kid, I’d have seen that The Dave is no normal businessman. When he was young and newly married, he quit his profitable factory job to go out on his own and start a photography business with his buddy. Everyone was scared, but his dad told him to go for it. His dream changed as the years went on and it evolved into the software company it is today. But the point is, he chased the dream and cut his safety net. He had no plan B. And he won. He’s one of the only people I know who loves going to work in the morning.
My dreams have changed since that talk. But I never forgot what he said. And I think it’s still true. If my dream is writing (and it is), I’ll spare no effort or expense to bring it to life. I’ll sacrifice time and responsibilities on its altar. I’ll refuse to hedge my bets. Because hedging your bet is insulting to the dream. It’s like signing a prenuptial agreement. It feels safe, but it’s ugly and false betrays the sacred vow you’re taking.
Find the dream. Marry it, forsaking all others.
To combat the call of sin, i.e., Resistance, the fundamentalist plunges either into action or into the study of sacred texts. He loses himself in these, much as the artist does in the process of creation. The difference is that while the one looks forward, hoping to create a better world, the other looks backward, seeking to return to a purer world from which he and all have fallen.
The humanist believes that humankind, as individuals, is called upon to co-create the world with God.
– Steven Pressfield, The War of Art
You can’t have it all. Where would you put it?
I never really wanted it all. I wanted a lot. But not all. Some things just don’t appeal.
I wanted a lot, though. And it seemed reasonable. I wanted to excel as a family man. I wanted to write novels and get paid for it. I wanted a stellar blog that was updated every day and earned a million positive comments. I wanted to get a degree of some kind, like mathematics or anthropology. I wanted to like under a Neem tree in rural Sindh. I wanted to rock faces at WoW, 3v3 (Shadowplay ftw!). I wanted to read every book ever written. I wanted this. I wanted that.
But where would I put it all?
A day is like a room. It only fits so much. And when it gets overcrowded, you run the risk of damaging some of your stuff.
Can’t have it all. Gotta toss some stuff out. Or at least cut back.
I tried so hard to blog every weekday while writing sermons and novels and playing with my kids and dating my wife and practicing guitar and doing yoga and reading Urdu and playing craft and doing protests and going to work and reading Hemingway and HOLY CRAP ARGH!
Can’t do it all. Because when you try to do it all, you suck at everything.
So I’m going to do it some.
People first, of course. Especially the wife and kids. Because that’s where love and the future are.
Writing second. That’s the dream and I’m not ready to let it go after so much progress.
Everything else?
Don’t rush me. Still trying to find shelf space for the first two.
How much are you trying to accomplish? Is it too much?
A Writer’s Prayer
Oh Lord, let me not be one of those who writes too much;
who spreads himself too thinly with his words,
diluting all the things he has to say,
like butter spread too thinly over toast,
or watered milk in some worn-out hotel;
but let me write the things I have to say,
and then be silent, ’til I need to speak.Oh Lord, let me not be one of those who writes too little;
a decade-man between each tale, or more,
where every word accrues significance
and dread replaces joy upon the page.
Perfectionists like chasing the horizon;
You kept perfection, gave the rest to us,
so let me earn the wisdom to move on.But over and above those two mad spectres of parsimony and profligacy,
Lord, let me be brave, and let me, while I craft my tales, be wise:
let me say true things in a voice that is true,
and, with the truth in mind, let me write lies.
Neil Gaiman
People say it’s hard to love. I guess it’s true sometimes.
Different people find it hard to love for different reasons.
Some folks can’t stand argumentative people. Some folks can’t stand people who think differently than they do. Some folks can’t stand mean people.
Everyone has haters. From Gandhi to Mother Theresa all the way down to Glenn Beck and John Stewart. Everyone is hated by someone. Or, at least, unloved.
Depressing, eh? Especially when you get that sneaking suspicion that you are one of those unlovers.
But there’s a way to love.
The greatest man told us to love enemies. Then he proved it was possible by walking a path of love that led him to a state-sponsered death. And while he was dying, he told his killers that he loved them. ‘Father, forgive them.’ And he showed us what God is really like.
The fact is, God loves Glenn Beck, regardless of how he makes me squirm. He loves Glenn Beck relentlessly. Passionately. With the unbridled power of a thousand suns. It doesn’t matter what Glenn Beck says or believes. God loves Glenn Beck. Because Glenn Beck carries within himself a beautiful image of God. He is, despite what I or anyone else thinks of his opinions and politics, a beautiful soul.
And when I think of that, suddenly I love Glenn Beck, too.
Pick that one person. That one person who gets you on edge every time they speak or tweet or show up on the TV screen or knock at your door.
God loves that person. Passionately. Relentlessly. With the unbridled power of a thousand suns. That person is a beautiful soul.
That’s worth loving.
Because if we could just master this one thing, the wildest part of Jesus’ most famous prayer would come true:
Your kingdom come,
Your will be done,
On earth as it is in heaven.
I was at the Occupy Toronto protest these last two days. I’ll be there a lot as the weeks go on because I think it’s an important movement.
A lot of folks are dismissive of it. Some are downright hostile. I hear some of the arguments repeated.
I’m told that, since I live in a wealthy country, it’s hypocritical to protest greed. Our poor, some say, are on par with the rich in many countries. I’ve heard Occupy rhetoric compared to Nazi propaganda. I’ve heard the movement dismissed as a bunch of whiny middle-class white folks who wish they could be upper-class white folks.
All this is nothing more than a complete misunderstanding of what the Occupy movement is all about.
Now, I bet a lot of you will be disagreeing with me. I bet a lot of you are still convinced that our movement is disruptive, angry and somehow Nazi and Communist at the same time. I want to invite you, instead of posting angry things on the Internet, to come on down to St. James park and visit us. Grab some free, home-made soup and a coffee and chill in our library tent. Strike up a conversation with a stranger and ask why they are there. And ask another, too, because we’re a diverse crowd and three different people will give you three different answers. Don’t take the media’s word for what’s going on down here and don’t take mine, either. Take the time to understand us and why we’re here.
There are three things you can do in regards to the Occupy movement, as it spreads across the world. You could ignore it, and just see what happens. You could speak out against it, calling the poor lazy and the wealthy hard-worker job creators. Or you could join the talk. Listen to us and we’ll listen to you. Because, odds are, you’re the 99%, too. And your voice is important.
You can’t see it with your eyes, hold it in your hands
But like the wind that covers our land
Strong enough to rule the heart of every man,
this thing called loveIt can lift you up, never let you down
Take your world and turn it all around
Ever since time nothing’s ever been found
stronger than love.
Johnny Cash, ‘A Thing Called Love’