Monthly Archives: February 2017

The 50 Words That Describe You Best

“The three words that best describe you are as follows, and I quote: Stink, Stank, Stunk!” –Dr. Seuss

Hello friend,

I told you recently that the way I want to feel this year is BRAVE. After saying goodbye to my trusty old job at the end of the year, I knew that, in order for this year to turn out alright, it would have to be defined by my courage. So far, I would say it has been.

There are many passages in my journal that show me propping myself up, reminding me of both what is at stake and how I have stepped up before. Those journaling sessions have been invaluable, as I have used them to propel myself toward finishing a book and submitting it for lots of potential rejection. I have risen to the challenge. I have been brave.

I can’t tell you how good it makes me feel to describe myself as brave! That adjective is hard won, and I am savoring it now. I have realized something else, though, in these days of summoning my courage: I wouldn’t need to be brave if I wasn’t so darn scared!

That’s the thing about courage: it doesn’t show up unless you are afraid.

So, while I am still proud of myself for being brave lately, I would be lying if I said I haven’t spent even more time racked in fear. Fear of going broke. Fear of failing as a writer. Fear of a future in a soul-crushing job. Fear of not being enough. Sure, I have stepped up and worked through it most days, but it has felt crippling anyway.

It was nice to use “brave” to describe what I am all about, but if I am being honest, the adjective “afraid” fits me at least as well. That seems weird, right? I have been wrestling with this seeming paradox this week, trying to understand who I really am. Am I brave, or am I afraid? If one of those words defines me, does it mean the other one shouldn’t? Am I a walking contradiction?

I decided that the best way to work this out is to come up with a bigger list of adjectives to describe who I am. That way I would know if I am being pulled apart on other issues, too (and if I am a good candidate for the loony bin!).

The list, I decided, should be long enough so I am not just a cartoon figure, but not so long as to cover every single thought or emotion I have ever experienced, making me a mere blur of every adjective in the English language. I went with 50.

So, without further ado, this is how I would describe myself, in no particular order:

Brave
Afraid
Curious
Sentimental
Self-confident
Impatient
Sincere
Optimistic
Driven
Altruistic
Mindful
Insecure
Open-minded
Spiritual
Competitive
Pacifistic
Principled
Kind
Stubborn
Unsocial
Grounded
Progressive
Opinionated
Passionate
Compassionate
Silly
Independent
Spoiled
Intuitive
Positive
Non-confrontational
Generous
Grateful
Introverted
Selfish
Happy
Playful
Unforgiving
Wise
Adventurous
Inclusive
Cerebral
Demanding
Nostalgic
Sensitive
Authentic
Caring
Self-isolating
Wonder-filled
Serene

Okay, that is enough! There are plenty more I can think of to cover all of my moods and my worldview, but this is good. It is a fairly clear picture, at least from my eyes. I know we don’t always see ourselves the way others see us, but I will not worry about the others for now. It is challenge enough to clarify my own view.

In looking at it now, I can see that the brave-afraid duo is not the only seeming contradiction in my personality description. I am definitely both selfish and altruistic. I am both cerebral and intuitive, passionate and serene, open-minded and opinionated. And I am certainly, depending on the moment, very often self-confident and very often insecure.

In those combinations, I can see how foolish we are when we try to put others in a box based on one thing we know about them. After all, if I am any indication, the opposite characteristic might be just as true for that person we have tried to trap in the box. So, making them into a cartoon character so that they can quickly fit into a box in my mind simply doesn’t tell the truth and shortchanges both of us.

Much like the contradicting combinations, there are some of these qualities that have both positive and negative aspects, and I can see myself covering the full spectrum. Sensitivity is one. It can be wonderful when appreciating art and being compassionate toward my fellow human beings, but it can also make everything sting more than it should and make me resistant to hearing criticism of all sorts. I can see this range of positive and negative outcomes with my fierce independence, too. As with the combinations, this broad-spectrum view reminds me to be more open-minded when observing someone else’s personality.

That, I can see now, points to the difficulty in gleaning any meaningful conclusions from the list taken all by itself. If I just looked at this list of 50 adjectives and didn’t know who it represented, I couldn’t be sure if I liked this person or not, precisely because each characteristic can show itself in a number of different ways. Sure, some characteristics are almost certainly more favorable than others—kind is better than unforgiving, right?—so we can get hints from the list. But, without the context of the actual person, it is a challenge.

So, though I wouldn’t necessarily use this process as the answer to finding your soul-mate, I found it immensely helpful for examining myself (and that is exactly what our journaling is all about). I learned a lot from those very first words I wrote in my notebook after I said, “GO!” And then later I learned a lot from the end of the process, when I had written around 80 words and had to narrow it down to 50. That is when I started digging harder: “Who am I REALLY?” My answers were revealing, more so than I would have guessed before I started the list.

In the end, I think my biggest takeaway is that I am complex, that I don’t fit very well in any neat box, not even one of my own making. That is an important lesson for me, not just for my own self-awareness, but in how it affects the way I need to walk the world. I have been journaling every day for 20 years, so I know myself extremely well and know that I have well-defined views and attitudes on just about everything. If I am still revealing contradictions and wildly divergent personality traits about myself–and if I am feeling more certain than ever that I don’t belong in a box–then I ought not be so quick to put anyone else in a box, either.

This process, then, has been a necessary reminder to make better use of some of the adjectives I listed in my 50: open-minded, curious, kind, compassionate, altruistic, generous, caring, and inclusive. Yes, I think I will work on those. If I walked out of the world tomorrow and could leave the people in my life with any words to describe me, I would be satisfied with those.

How about you? Which words describe you best? Open up your journal and your vocabulary. What are the very first words that come to mind about you? What is it about those characteristics that make them so prominent in your description? Are they things that you have always thought about yourself? Are they things that other people usually mention about you? How close are they to the core of you? Which of your words are ones that maybe only you think about yourself, words that would surprise other people to read? How much of your personality do most people see? How much of that is because you intentionally protect certain sides of yourself? If I gave a list of 200 words—including the 50 you wrote about yourself—to your three closest loved ones and asked them to pick out your 50, how many would they guess correctly? What if I asked your co-workers? Do you feel like you are honest and authentic about who you really are in most situations—e.g. at work, with friends, with acquaintances, with family, etc.—or do you mostly wear a bland mask until you are with your closest loved ones? How much has your list changed in the last 10 or 20 years? How different, if at all, will it look 20 years from now? How many contradictions are on your list, like my self-confident/insecure combination? Are you more or less complicated than most people, or about the same? How much do you cling to the boxes you put people in? Did this exercise change the way you think about that? Do you like who you are and what is on your list? Which words do you hope to get rid of? Which are your favorite characteristics? Which ones are not on there now but hopefully will be soon? Can you add a new one today? Leave me a reply and let me know: Which words describe you best?

Live free,

William

P.S. If today’s challenge made you look at yourself differently, please pass it on. Let’s all be our beautiful selves!

The Lyrics That Sing To My Soul

“I can’t remember all the times I tried to tell myself to hold on to these moments as they pass.” –Counting Crows, A Long December

Hello friend,

I love that lyric from A Long December by Adam Duritz, the lead singer of Counting Crows. As a natural chronicler of life events and someone who is drawn almost as much to depressing songs as to sappy love songs, those words jumped out of that song and into my soul the very first time I heard it. That is how amazing the right lyrics can be.

Honestly, that is how almost all of Adam Duritz’s words are for me. Even when his images are obscure and open to interpretation, they always seem to climb into me and be interpreted by my soul before my brain even becomes involved. From the moment I heard the Counting Crows’ first album, August and Everything After, I was mesmerized and truly shaken by the images and the sadness that it nestled into my heart. I could quote from any of the songs for examples, as they have taken turns as Most Favorite through the years as my life has changed and various live renditions have surfaced. But I will stick with my first love, Anna Begins, which is about trying to resist falling in love as it is overtaking him. There are individual lines that stand out on their own, like this gem: “These seconds when I’m shaking leave me shuddering for days,” she says. But, really, the whole thing is a masterpiece. As much as I hate to leave any words out, here are a couple of my favorite passages:

This time when kindness falls like rain, It washes me away. And Anna begins to change my mind. And every time she sneezes, I believe it’s love. And I’m not ready for this sort of thing.

She’s talking in her sleep. It’s keeping me awake. And Anna begins to toss and turn. And every word is nonsense, but I understand. And oh Lord, I’m not ready for this sort of thing.

I just love those beautiful words! I love the song, too, but I love the words most. These sad ones are from Raining In Baltimore on the same album:

There’s things I remember and things I forget. I miss you; I guess that I should. Three thousand five hundred miles away, but what would you change if you could?

I used to think it was obvious that a good song must have amazing lyrics. It turns out that is just not true. I have been combing through my music collection this week—the best research project ever—and I realized that sometimes the joy of a song is all about the sound of it and how that moves your mood. And though I am kind of artistically snobby about some things, I decided that those fun songs are awesome, too. So, while I wanted to find some genius lines in fun favorites like The Sound of Sunshine by Michael Franti or Let’s Get It On by Marvin Gaye, I took in their feeling just as well and found them brilliant.

But I love beautiful lyrics, so that is where I focused my search. I realized in the process that there are a few songwriters, like Adam Duritz, for whom I love just about every word that they write, making it hard to pull out individual lines or verses for fear of slighting the other words surrounding them.

One of those gems for me is Indigo Girls (I love them both, but Emily’s songs usually move me more than Amy’s). A few of my many favorites:

Each time you pulled down the driveway, I wasn’t sure when I would see you again. Yours was a twisted, blind-sided highway, no matter which road you took then. You set up your place in my thoughts, moved in and made my thinking crowded. Now we’re out in the back with the barking dogs, my heart the red sun, your heart the moon clouded. I could go crazy on a night like tonight, when Summer’s beginning to give up her fight, and every thought’s a possibility. And voices are heard, but nothing is seen. And why do you spend this time with me, maybe an equal mystery. –Mystery

My friend Tanner, she says, “You know, me and Jesus we’re of the same heart. The only thing that keeps us distant is that I keep f#*@in’ up!” –Shame on You (to be sung at the top of my lungs with my sister)

I went to the doctors, I went to the mountain. I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain. There’s more than one answer to these questions pointing me in a crooked line. The less I seek my source for some definitive, the closer I am to fine. –Closer to Fine

And the Mississippi’s mighty, but it starts in Minnesota, at a place where you could walk across with five steps down. And I guess that’s how you started, like a pinprick to my heart, but at this point you rush right through me and I start to drown. –Ghost

One of the other things I realized in my joyous search was that I love songs that set a scene and tell me a story. A famous example of this is Billy Joel’s Piano Man, which begins:

It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday, the regular crowd shuffles in. There’s an old man sittin’ next to me making love to his tonic and gin. He says, “Son, can you play me a memory. I’m not really sure how it goes. But it’s sad and it’s sweet, and I knew it complete when I wore a younger man’s clothes.”

It just makes you want to hear the rest! This love of a story-song is what has always kept little-known Joshua Kadison on my list of all-time favorites. His “One-hit wonder” status comes from Jessie, which begins:

From a phone booth in Vegas, Jessie calls at five A.M., to tell me how she’s tired of all of them. She says, “Baby, I‘ve been thinking about a trailer by the sea. We could go to Mexico: you, the cat, and me. We’ll drink tequila and look for seashells. Now, doesn’t that sound sweet?” Oh, Jessie, you always do this every time I get back on my feet.

He has a lot of wonderful stories about old people, too, which I have always loved. These are some of his opening lines that draw me right in:

He tells her, “I want to paint you naked on a big brass bed, with bright orange poppies all around your head.” And she says, “Crazy old man, I’m not young anymore.” “That’s alright,” he whispers. “I’ve never painted before.” —Painted Desert Serenade

A cigarette burns itself out in a crushed up Coca Cola can ashtray. In front of a busted up old mirror, Delilah Blue is checking out his tired sachet. –Delilah Blue

Tangled in the sheets of a motel bed, Samantha paints her toenails cherry red. She asks me if she can paint mine, too. And I say, “Samantha, anything for you.” –Beau’s All Night Radio Love Line

Neffertiti came out West in a stolen limousine, twenty dollars to her name and a walk like you ain’t never seen. She moved into Number 8 with just a bottle in her hand, an old radio wrapped up in its cord, and no particular plan. I watched her in the hallway, she blew me a little kiss, and said, “Hey baby, what’s a boy like you doing in a place like this?” –Jus’ Like Brigitte Bardot

Marc Cohn is another one on my short list, a brilliant songwriter whose one hit is another story-song, Walking in Memphis. My favorite verse:

Now, Muriel plays piano every Friday at the Hollywood. And they brought me down to see her, and they asked me if I would do a little number. And I sang with all my might. She said, “Tell me are you a Christian, child?” And I said, “Ma’am, I am tonight!”

Beyond the storytelling, I am also drawn to songs with social and moral messages embedded in them. A few favorite lines:

You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I hope someday you’ll join us, and the world will live as one. –John Lennon, Imagine

Emancipate yourself from mental slavery. None but ourselves can free our minds. Have no fear for atomic energy, ‘cause none of them are going to stop the time. How long must they kill our prophets while we stand aside and look? Some say it’s just a part of it: we’ve got to fulfill the book. Won’t you help to sing these songs of freedom? ‘Cause all I ever had: Redemption Songs. —Bob Marley, Redemption Song

Come on, people now, smile on each other. Everybody get together. Try to love one another right now. —Chet Powers (The Youngbloods), Get Together

I’m starting with the man in the mirror. I’m asking him to change his ways. And no message could have been any clearer: if you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make a change. –Michael Jackson, Man In The Mirror

And of course, as I mentioned, I am a sucker for love songs, from sappy to tragic and everything in between. I have already mentioned a handful, but here are some other lines that get inside of me:

If you find yourself lost out in this world, then I’ll find a way to get back to your side. No mountain’s too high, no stone is too small. I’ll build a bridge through the fire; for you I would crawl, from New York to California. –Mat Kearney, New York to California

Tonight our bed is cold. I’m lost in the darkness of our love. God have mercy on the man who doubts what he’s sure of. –Bruce Springsteen, Brilliant Disguise

Tell the repo man and the stars above: You’re the one I love. –David Gray, The One I Love

The time between meeting and finally leaving is sometimes called falling in love. –Lisa Loeb, Falling In Love

There are way too many love songs. I think they’ve got it all wrong. ‘Cause life is not the mountaintops; it’s the walking in between. –Ben Rector, I Like You

What do I do to make you want me? What have I got to do to be heard? What do I say when it’s all over, and “Sorry” seems to be the hardest word? –Elton John/Bernie Taupin, Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

I’ll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours. –Bob Dylan, Talkin’ World War III Blues

I wanna have friends that I can trust, that love me for the man I’ve become not the man that I was. I want to have friends who will let me be all alone when being alone is all that I need. –The Avett Brothers, The Perfect Space

You got a fast car. Is it fast enough so we can fly away? We gotta make a decision: leave tonight or live and die this way. –Tracy Chapman, Fast Car

Together again, it would feel so good to be in your arms, where all my journeys end. If you can make a promise, if it’s one that you can keep, I vow to come for you, if you wait for me. –Tracy Chapman, The Promise (This was in my wedding.)

All you need is love. –John Lennon, All You Need Is Love

I could go on like this all day! There are a million more songs and verses I would love to share with you. I LOOOOOVE music!!! However, instead of giving you more lyrics, I will close with two quotes from my favorite movie about music, Almost Famous. The first is from Band-Aid (groupie) Sapphire: “They don’t even know what it is to be a fan. Y’know? To truly love some silly little piece of music, or some band, so much that it hurts.” And finally, from music critic Lester Bangs: “Music, you know, true music, not just rock ‘n’ roll—it chooses you. It lives in your car, or alone, listening to your headphones—you know, with the vast, scenic bridges and angelic choirs in your brain.” That’s how I feel, too.

How about you? What are the lyrics that have chosen you? Open up your journal and your music catalog. As you peruse your CDs or your iTunes account or whatever, what jumps out at you? Find favorites whose lyrics have climbed down into your soul and taken root. Do you have any artists that can basically do no wrong when it comes to songwriting, like my Adam Duritz or Indigo Girls? What is it about their words that attaches to you so organically? Do you find yourself more drawn to certain types of songs, or is it all over the board? What are your favorite story-songs? Feel-good songs? Songs with a social or moral message? What about love songs? Do you like the straightforward, sappiest love songs, or do you like the more subtle, not-so-obvious lyrics (for me, Anna Begins fits the latter category, whereas Marc Cohn’s True Companion, which I also love and was in my wedding, is the former)? How much do the lyrics matter to you, anyway? Are they just icing on the cake of a great sound, or are they an essential piece if that song is going to be one of your favorites? What are some of your favorites with weak lyrics? What about the reverse: which songs have amazing lyrics but not a great sound? Which ones have the best of both? How much do you love music? Leave me a reply and let me know: What are the songs of your soul?

Be swept away with Gratitude,

William

P.S. If today’s letter resonated with you, please share it with someone who will appreciate it. I love sharing music!

The Best Present I Ever Got

“A gift consists of not what is done or given, but in the intention of the giver or doer.” –Seneca, Moral Essays: Volume III

Hello friend,

I wasn’t always so sure about my purpose in this world. I didn’t always know how best to be who I really am. I definitely didn’t always know what I wanted to do with myself, what kinds of actions I needed to take to fulfill my potential. It is only in the last handful of years that it has become so clear to me that I am a writer.

Sometimes in this life, you get a gut feeling about what is right or what you must do. You get a tingle in your spine or your heart skips a beat when you think about a new direction for your career or your spare time. That burst of adrenaline, the one that feels like candy in your brain, that’s a message from your soul. If followed, it can lead you to the life you were born to live.

Seven years ago, I was just beginning to have those magical butterfly feelings. I was getting the jolts of electricity, goosebumps, and songs in my heart. My soul was catching fire. The idea that had begun to circulate in my brain and cause shockwaves through the rest of my system went something like this: I think I want to be a professional writer. The kind with real books and readers. I don’t know for sure what all the books will say; I only know I want to write and improve people’s lives.

I had always known I was here to be of service to my fellow human beings, to help lift them up to become as magnificent as they were created to be. I just didn’t know how I was supposed to do that. Until then. It struck me one day with a thought. Then the thought came again. And again. Whenever it came up, those tingles came with it. I finally felt it enough times that I told a close friend about it. I mentioned that I had started a fund for a laptop and had a few hundred bucks in it already. The beginnings of a dream were forming.

Not long after, that friend stopped over and, with an “Aw shucks, this is nothing” look, handed me a white box with the picture of an apple on it. A brand new laptop. His humble explanation: “My Grandma gave me this, but I don’t need it.”

Needless to say, I was absolutely floored. I tried to say I couldn’t accept it, but he wasn’t budging. He wouldn’t even take the money I had in my laptop fund. All of a sudden, my dreams were right there in front of me, literally at my fingertips. I was totally humbled by the gift, and speechless. I knew immediately that it was the most meaningful present anyone had ever given me.

That night in my journal, I wrote, “This is a great jumping-off point for me. In giving me this gift, he also really challenged me to get to work on a book idea…I need to break out the ideas and start jotting everything down in this computer. I can do this thing. Dreams will come true.”

A few days later, after I had started outlining some potential book ideas on the computer, I wrote in my journal, “It is very exciting. I am actually on my way to something! In 20 years, I could be a professional writer who is reminiscing upon these first days of book design. In any case, it is a real rush to dream. My mind and heart are stirred up, and I love that feeling. I am a deeply grateful man tonight….I promise to chip away at this stuff, promise to stay on it and try to remain stirred up. What a wonderful ride! I am so happy and invigorated; gosh, that feels great! Life is so very beautiful.”

From where I am today, those words sound amazingly prescient. Even though it has all taken me much longer than I had hoped, I have certainly remained stirred up about writing. I have continued the dream and continued to chip away at the work. Next week, Journal of You will be three years old. I am also just finishing my first book and preparing to market it to agents and publishers. It is an exciting moment in my writing career—the culmination of years of hard work and resolve–but this also feels like only the beginning.

Really, though, I know where it started. It started with that simple white box.

Sometimes in life, no matter how independent and self-motivated you think you are, what you really need is someone to stand up for you. You need someone to be your witness, to be the one–maybe the only one–who says, “I believe in you.” That simple white box was my friend telling me loud and clear—and in a way that he probably didn’t have the words for—“I believe in you.” That was the nudge I needed. That was the permission—even more, it was the gauntlet thrown down in front of me—to live my dreams. My course has been set in that direction ever since.

And that is how I know that that simple white box—and the belief it represented—was the greatest gift I have ever received.

How about you? What is your best present ever? Open up your journal and think about what you value and how someone connected you to that value. I excluded gifts from my parents and my wife from consideration, but you can decide how you want to do it. It is probably easiest to begin with a rough list of favorites that jump out at you immediately. Though mine did not come from a birthday or Christmas, those are good places to start the search through your memories. Obviously, it is easiest to name the biggest, most expensive gifts you ever received, and that can be a good launching pad. In my case, part of why some of those big-ticket items are so meaningful to me is the sacrifice of money on the person who gave them to me, especially if they went out of their budget because they knew how much I would appreciate the gift (I think of the time my wife got me a really nice camera that really changed my life and the way I observe my world). However, I challenge you to move beyond the obvious. Are there special gifts that cost the giver little, if any, money but that came from the heart and are thus priceless? Maybe it is something they made for you. Maybe it is a letter. Or the gift of their time. What else, from any price range? What makes the gift so meaningful to you? Is it about who it comes from? Is it because it connects you to your passion or your dreams, like my computer? Is it because it signifies a show of love and support from the giver? Does it say something in a way the giver was never able to say in words? Have you ever given a gift that could be the best that person ever received? What do you think made it so? What does it have in common with your favorite? Has this exercise made you think differently about how you might give in the future? Has it made you more clear about what is truly valuable to you? What is it? Leave me a reply and let me know: What is the best gift you ever received?

Be a gift to your world,

William

P.S. If this letter reminded you to be grateful, pass it on. Make it a small gift to a loved one. Blessed be.

Bury Your Head or Go Insane? Dealing with the Flood of News & Social Media

“I wonder if being sane means disregarding the chaos that is life, pretending only an infinitesimal segment of it is reality.” –Rabih Alameddine, Koolaids: The Art of War

Hello friend,

I lost my temper on social media this week. I feel ashamed of it now as I think of the moment. Not ashamed of what I said—in fact, I wish I had said more to make my point more clear—but rather, ashamed that I let what is happening on the news and in social media cause me to boil over in rage.

I am a mellow, happy guy and have a habit of very deliberate processing with my journal that allows me to deliver measured, thoughtful responses to most issues that arise in my day. I don’t fly off the handle. My opinions may ruffle feathers, but not usually my delivery. Because I don’t lose my temper. I don’t write angry. Until Tuesday….

Probably like you, I followed the big story of last weekend—the ban on refugees and travel restrictions from certain Muslim-majority countries and its subsequent protests—on the news and through social media. The nature of the ban, as well as the criteria for selection of the nations involved in it, was deeply disturbing to me and only the latest in a long line of red flags being raised in my conscience regarding the new administration. I admit to being highly sensitive to the reputation of America internationally being dragged into the mud, and also when I feel the government does things that increase the gap between the ideals that America supposedly represents and the reality we are representing in practice. So, I was already edgy going into the new week.

After the election, I had mostly removed myself from social media until around Christmas. And though I kept tabs on the news, it was a much-needed break from the idea circus that is Facebook and the like. After the holidays, I slowly inched back onto my apps and, not surprisingly, became progressively re-addicted. I use social media as much for news as to see what my people are thinking about and doing. If I watch CNN on television or listen to NPR on the radio, then I subscribe to them on social media. So, I get a mix of real news and then my friends’ interpretation and reaction to the news (mixed in with some fun photos of their kids and their food, and an occasional cat video).

If you have been alive with your head above ground these last couple of weeks, you probably know that all is not running so smoothly in America. If you only watched reputable news channels and didn’t even know what “social media” meant, you would know that. Likewise, if you were a social media nut but didn’t care a thing about “serious” news outlets, you would also be aware of the tension that currently defines us at this point. And if, like me, you have both regular news and social media, well, you are swimming in it!

By Tuesday night, I definitely needed some goggles and a snorkel.

I had watched in horror as the Executive Orders came down. I heard the stories of people unable to return to their jobs and families here in America after visiting relatives in banned countries. I thought of the many Somali families in my own community—classmates of my children—and how they would be affected. I thought of the refugee family that my church is sponsoring—we had their apartment all set up with furniture and supplies—who was supposed to arrive this week from Somalia that is now stuck in Kenya (the mother has been in the refugee camp there for twenty years, her children never knowing any other place). That part was particularly heartbreaking.

Meanwhile, of course, I wondered about the fate of our schools as the Senate seemed about to confirm someone who seemed wholly incompetent to be in charge of them; and about the future of free speech in America as even the most neutral, even-handed news outlets are being warned and belittled by the administration; and about the environment and climate change scientists as they come under attack; and about whether our next Attorney General would actually stand on the side of the law and the Constitution; and on and on and on. There was no shortage of stories, no shortage of crises.

In the midst of all of the news and reactions Tuesday evening, as my blood pressure seemed to rise with every post, I read one from a childhood acquaintance, a long rant (her word) about how President Obama had just done this same ban on Cubans two weeks ago, and where was the liberal media then, and angrily on and on. This is when I should have checked myself, turned off all electronics for the day, and taken some deep breaths. But no. I let it make my blood boil, the effects of too much time in front of the screen taking hold. Even though her whole premise was based on a falsehood, making the argument completely unsound, I couldn’t just laugh it off. I was on the very edge of writing a reply to her and setting her straight, but I gathered my wits just enough to recognize that with some people, there is just no talking sense into them (another lesson from my short time on Facebook).

And just as I began to think I had done well in resisting a fight, I scrolled down and hit the one that sent me over the edge. It was from someone I wasn’t even sure I knew, but I think she was in my brother’s class in school. Anyway, it was a meme—of course it was a meme, it is always a meme—with a picture of the plane hitting the World Trade Center on September 11, saying something like “For all of you whining about the ban on Muslims, a little reminder for you.” I almost screamed. I was absolutely livid! I could not let it go. So, against the better judgment I had just applauded myself for a moment earlier, I clicked on the “Write a comment…” space. I typed the first thing that came out of my head (after the swearing, I mean): “Are you serious, Sheila? Perhaps we should post a picture of the KKK performing a lynching and call for a ban of all Christians.” Return. That was it.

As I sat there fuming, I thought of other things I wanted to say to her, such as “Interestingly, none of the nineteen hijackers on September 11 were from the seven countries banned by the President. They were from four other countries, all of which the President has business ties to.” And I almost hit the Comment box again, but thankfully, I found my senses again. But I didn’t let go of my outrage. I was still stewing about it late that night, tossing in my bed as I tried to sleep.

I knew it wasn’t just this one stupid meme that was tormenting me. It was all of it: the Executive Orders, the incompetence, the acrimony on both sides of the political aisle, the nonsensical responses on Facebook and Twitter, the fear that my friends feel and that I feel for them, the embarrassment on behalf of my country, the shame that I am not doing more to speak up and resist, and so much more.

I confessed my anger and my torment to my wife the next morning. I told her I was torn. On the one hand, I liked my several weeks away from social media and just a small but sufficient amount of regular news on a neutral news app. I was less stressed, riding the “Ignorance is bliss” theory. It made me think of a conservative friend of mine, whom I had spoken to just after the election and who knew I was bummed about it. She said, “I don’t even watch the news about this stuff. But at least I’m happy!”

It is hard to argue with happy. On the other hand, I don’t just want to bury my head in the sand and pretend this isn’t happening around me. As uncomfortable as it is, I think it is necessary to wrestle with that discomfort and figure out my place in its midst.

I feel like the biggest danger to us is indifference. Not caring. Not speaking up to support what our cause or idea is (or worse, not caring enough to even have an opinion). Just quietly letting it happen to us. I think of my hero Martin Luther King as he was considering his greatest obstacles to progress, well aware that it was not the Ku Klux Klan or other extremists but rather the masses of polite but silent white people allowing the violence and oppression to continue. “History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people.”

I think that appalling silence comes more frequently when we bury our heads in the sand, allowing denial to rule. It is a pleasant denial, but I am seeing now that in our most divisive moments, that pleasant denial is mostly cowardice. That conclusion doesn’t sit well with me. I think again of Dr. King, who reminded us, “The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of controversy and challenge.” There is a slippery kind of comfort and convenience to tuning out the world in times like now. Just turning off the news and social media. It is so, so alluring. Tragically so.

But how much is enough? That is the question that is torturing me now. I am determined to maintain my composure, to not let myself get as livid as I was on Tuesday night after too many hours of accumulating news stories and social media opinions. But I want to know the truth about the world, too. I want all the facts. I know I will be outraged by some, and I think it is probably time that more of us were outraged and moved to action by events in our world. But under control! I am not going to lose my temper. I am going to channel it the right way. But not in denial!

ARGH!!! This is hard! What is the right balance of intake versus processing, of reality versus sanity? That was my question to my wife.

Her suggestion: “Just pick one time per day—I think morning is best—to do a quick look at social media. Then, if you still want a regular news show, listen to something neutral, like NPR. But nothing more. Quick and done! Otherwise, you are sucked in!” That seems wise.

I have been attempting to follow her advice the last few days, mostly successfully. I sometimes, out of sheer habit, unconsciously turn on my phone, open Facebook, and start thumbing through. But then I catch myself and turn it off. I am just trying to be more conscious about it, to give myself permission to look only at a certain time of day for only a certain number of minutes. It is hard to resist, but I can tell my spirit is getting stronger for it. Not in denial, either. Facing reality, but not swimming in the rot. It is a delicate balance that I will no doubt be wrestling with for all of my days to come.

How about you? How do you balance denial with peace and sanity in these tumultuous times? Open up your journal and examine your level of engagement. This goes for everyone on every side of the political spectrum, and even those completely off the political spectrum who are simply trying to decide how much news of any sort they want to take in. Let’s start with your current habits. What are your news sources? Do you watch your local news? Cable news? Do you use news apps or subscribe to news pages on social media? If so, do you tend to choose more neutral sources or ones that skew toward your particular side of the spectrum? Do you read a lot of the “news” things that your friends on social media share? How about the radio, like NPR? How much time do you spend with each on a daily basis? How much time do you spend on social media in general? For both news and social media stuff, do you try to regulate the amount of time you spend per day? Are you addicted? How healthy is your relationship with all of this stuff? Does it ever feel like it is going to drive you crazy? Do you get angry? Is your anger and frustration more from the news in general, like the political strife or violence that always seem to lead the headlines, or from particular things that your friends share, like memes or rants? Do you comment and engage people you disagree with, even if you know it won’t change their mind? Does that make you feel better or worse? Have you found the right balance for yourself with the amount of time and energy you can devote to this stuff and still feel authentic and at peace? Are you more on the “Burying My Head & Smiling” side or the “I’m So Engaged I’m Going Crazy” side? Leave me a reply and let me know: What is the right balance of news and sanity for you?

May Peace be always with you,

William

P.S. If today’s letter helped you take a fresh look at this and find some clarity, please share. Perhaps together we can find a way to be both sane and engaged. Cheers!

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