Spyware has infected my computer. I run programs to catch it, I stop pop-ups from popping, and I Norton Update daily, but a persistent bug has infiltrated my system. This spyware Bug is nasty and self perpetuating within my hard drive and it seems nothing I do can get rid of it. It just keeps popping up over and over again, especially when I am in the middle of some important research or programming. The more time I spend and work on it; the slower my computer goes, until it takes forever just to open a new page.
I upgraded my defense system with new programs that promise the world. “We zap all infections!” “We target the enemy and eliminate it!” Some will tell you simply that spyware is inevitable and they will teach you how to minimalize it and live with it.
I try my best to stay away from sites that will potentially infect me even worse. But it seems that even the most innocent search finds sites with the obligatory bugs attached. They are attached to innocent pictures sent from my mom. They are attached to work files sent from co-workers. They are everywhere and impossible to avoid.
I thought maybe I would just shut the whole system down and go back to pen a paper and forget about it. But suddenly I lose valuable contact with the rest of the world and I find I have thrown out the baby with the bathwater.
So upgrade, avoidance, and shut down didn’t work. What am I to do? A computer guru has told me there is only one thing left to do – reformat. But that is crazy I tell him! I will lose all my data and my programs are never the same! I cannot reformat; I have too much valuable information that I can never get back! I am way too attached to my system the way it is. I cannot stand to lose what I have. Maybe I can just live with it the way it is. Maybe I can just live with the slowness, the pop-ups, and the unwanted intrusions into my well-worn, comfortable system. Maybe.
As you go to your house of worship this week let me ask you a few questions. Are you going for an upgrade or a complete reformat of your life? Are you going to church because you just want your current system to be made a little better, a little faster, or a little less annoying; or are you going to completely change the way you do things and start over? Will the next “program” be the one you were waiting for to take care of all your problems? Can you live with a little, growing spyware demon or are you ready to start fresh and new, and reformatted?
www.themoralbusiness.com
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Beauty is only …
My wife, Frankie and I took a drive through Death Valley in California this past week. Due to the amazing, record breaking, amount of rain the desert is blooming. Flowers that only appear once in a generation are there now, along with millions of other flowers. It is surrounded by the Sierra Nevada Mountains and Death Valley is beautiful. Yellow, orange, and purple flowers dot the otherwise rough and rocky floor. The floor stretches into the foothills, still dotted with flowers and intermingled red-rock and craggy walls. These walls angle up to the mountains themselves, the gray-brown walls stretch higher and higher with their snow-topped peaks giving a sharp contrast to the deep blue sky. As we approach the lowest point in the Western Hemisphere in Badwater, CA we find a blue lake stretching for acres surrounded by white shores and reflecting the blues, whites, and grays of the surrounding mountains. You see a perfect mirror in the water so clear that you cannot tell where the real ends and the reflection begins. Beauty in this place.
I walked out on the white shore of the lake and bent down to touch the water. I dipped my finger into the crystal clear liquid and saw the ripples head out into the vast expanse. I brought my finger to my mouth and tasted the … worst, most retching, thing I have tasted in a long time. I like salt but that was way beyond salty – uber-salty, crazy-salty, mongo-salty. I was caught up in the beauty of the place forgetting that it was called DEATH Valley. No one could drink the water here and live. No one could survive the intense heat of the place for any period of time. Death Valley, Badwater, Furnace Creek; even the names tell you what kind of place this is. There are warnings not to walk out onto the salt flats in the summer time. There are warnings not to drink the water. There are warnings about how many miles before the next gas station or water stop. Warnings and Death in this place.
I have run into a lot of people like this. People who are absolutely beautiful on the outside but are dead on the inside; red warning flags seem to be flashing behind them. I have seen drugs, alcohol, gambling, and sex all promising beauty in ads with beautiful people showing beautiful packaging. The wisest man who ever lived, Solomon, talked about things that sparkle to the eye but bite like a snake, he talked about beauty being fleeting, and charm being deceptive. Beauty is only skin deep.
www.themoralbusiness.com
I walked out on the white shore of the lake and bent down to touch the water. I dipped my finger into the crystal clear liquid and saw the ripples head out into the vast expanse. I brought my finger to my mouth and tasted the … worst, most retching, thing I have tasted in a long time. I like salt but that was way beyond salty – uber-salty, crazy-salty, mongo-salty. I was caught up in the beauty of the place forgetting that it was called DEATH Valley. No one could drink the water here and live. No one could survive the intense heat of the place for any period of time. Death Valley, Badwater, Furnace Creek; even the names tell you what kind of place this is. There are warnings not to walk out onto the salt flats in the summer time. There are warnings not to drink the water. There are warnings about how many miles before the next gas station or water stop. Warnings and Death in this place.
I have run into a lot of people like this. People who are absolutely beautiful on the outside but are dead on the inside; red warning flags seem to be flashing behind them. I have seen drugs, alcohol, gambling, and sex all promising beauty in ads with beautiful people showing beautiful packaging. The wisest man who ever lived, Solomon, talked about things that sparkle to the eye but bite like a snake, he talked about beauty being fleeting, and charm being deceptive. Beauty is only skin deep.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Tipping at Windmills
I will never understand. I will never understand why I don’t do what I want to do and why sometimes I do things that I don’t really want to. I saw a pile of bite sized cream puffs sitting on the table. I had just finished a good meal and they were just sitting there … but not for long. I was full, I had enough, and I knew that I didn’t need them but … they were just sitting there. I will never understand why my exercise bike collects dust. Why, for the first time in my life, do I not own a pair of tennis shoes? I just don’t understand.
I will never understand why there are not three times as many women’s restrooms as men’s in any large venue. I will never understand why Paris Hilton is popular.
I will never understand why someone who is beat and abused will continue to go back to the abuser. I will never understand why a child continues to love through bloodied pain. I will never understand why many cannot stop until they see the bottom of a bottle or the end of a 12-pack.
There is so much I don’t understand and so much that I should but I just don’t. I don’t even understand why I don’t understand. I think the people who think they do understand are the ones who know even less. Life is kind of strange that way but it could be that I just don’t understand it. My NOT understanding though, normally, doesn’t change my action. I will continue to quit eating so much even though I will probably not be successful. I will continue to get on that bike even though it spends more time in the corner. I will continue help the hurt even when they go back to the source. I will continue to save a child even when their love of their abuser causes them to hate me. I will encourage the habit weary even when they continue in their habits. Even though I don’t understand, I will continue to try. I will tip my lance at the windmill and charge. Again.
www.themoralbusiness.com
I will never understand why there are not three times as many women’s restrooms as men’s in any large venue. I will never understand why Paris Hilton is popular.
I will never understand why someone who is beat and abused will continue to go back to the abuser. I will never understand why a child continues to love through bloodied pain. I will never understand why many cannot stop until they see the bottom of a bottle or the end of a 12-pack.
There is so much I don’t understand and so much that I should but I just don’t. I don’t even understand why I don’t understand. I think the people who think they do understand are the ones who know even less. Life is kind of strange that way but it could be that I just don’t understand it. My NOT understanding though, normally, doesn’t change my action. I will continue to quit eating so much even though I will probably not be successful. I will continue to get on that bike even though it spends more time in the corner. I will continue help the hurt even when they go back to the source. I will continue to save a child even when their love of their abuser causes them to hate me. I will encourage the habit weary even when they continue in their habits. Even though I don’t understand, I will continue to try. I will tip my lance at the windmill and charge. Again.
www.themoralbusiness.com
It Just Feels Wrong
Bank tellers are trained to “feel” counterfeit bills. They do that by handling so much real money that a simple touch of the fake will cause alarms to go off in their minds. Sometimes they won’t even know what is wrong with it but just “know” it is different.
There is a recent scandal at a very well know museum that bought a Greek statue. They did all the research they could possibly do before they spent the millions on it. They had attorneys research the “papers” with the history of ownership of the statue. They had chemists study the marble and even the aging on the marble; they took a core sample by drilling a small hole and testing it; many more tests were done to guarantee the age and composition of the sculpture. When it was done and the purchase was to be made an artist/historian who specializes in Greek sculptures told them not to buy it. He could not say why, but “it just feels wrong.” Going with their scientists and lawyers instead of the artists the museum bought it. More and more artists who saw it were repulsed by it but could not explain why. Finally it was sent to Greece to have it looked at by the experts there. It was determined to be a fake by every artist and historian who looked at it. The lawyers and scientists were wrong. While chemically it was authentic, artistically it was a fake; it just didn’t “feel” right.
Have you ever met a person who didn’t “feel” right; a person who gave you a creepy feeling? Have you ever met someone who you wanted to be around just because it “felt” right; a person who makes you feel good, appreciated, or comforted? We all have those curb feelers that warn us of impending danger or tell us we’re in safe territory. Scientists are looking at chemical reactions in your mind and nervous system. Psychologists are looking at prejudices and genetic predispositions. Eastern mystics would say you met them in a previous life. But all of that just “feels” wrong to me. It feels fake, forced and thin. What feels right is that we are more than our emotions, genes, and physiology; we are spiritual beings. We have that part in us, called God’s image, which separates us from all other creatures and makes us special and unique. We are all brothers and sisters, twins in fact, that hurt when others hurt, laugh when others laugh, and that just “feels” right.
www.themoralbusiness.com
There is a recent scandal at a very well know museum that bought a Greek statue. They did all the research they could possibly do before they spent the millions on it. They had attorneys research the “papers” with the history of ownership of the statue. They had chemists study the marble and even the aging on the marble; they took a core sample by drilling a small hole and testing it; many more tests were done to guarantee the age and composition of the sculpture. When it was done and the purchase was to be made an artist/historian who specializes in Greek sculptures told them not to buy it. He could not say why, but “it just feels wrong.” Going with their scientists and lawyers instead of the artists the museum bought it. More and more artists who saw it were repulsed by it but could not explain why. Finally it was sent to Greece to have it looked at by the experts there. It was determined to be a fake by every artist and historian who looked at it. The lawyers and scientists were wrong. While chemically it was authentic, artistically it was a fake; it just didn’t “feel” right.
Have you ever met a person who didn’t “feel” right; a person who gave you a creepy feeling? Have you ever met someone who you wanted to be around just because it “felt” right; a person who makes you feel good, appreciated, or comforted? We all have those curb feelers that warn us of impending danger or tell us we’re in safe territory. Scientists are looking at chemical reactions in your mind and nervous system. Psychologists are looking at prejudices and genetic predispositions. Eastern mystics would say you met them in a previous life. But all of that just “feels” wrong to me. It feels fake, forced and thin. What feels right is that we are more than our emotions, genes, and physiology; we are spiritual beings. We have that part in us, called God’s image, which separates us from all other creatures and makes us special and unique. We are all brothers and sisters, twins in fact, that hurt when others hurt, laugh when others laugh, and that just “feels” right.
www.themoralbusiness.com
A Modern Day Miracle!
This morning I gathered up all the stuff I don’t want or need anymore. I packed it all up into carefully enclosed containers so that it would not spill. After all, you don’t want the stuff you don’t want to spill all over the place. Once I went through my entire house, garage, and back yard to gather all the unwanted items I brought them out to my transporter pad and carefully placed them in the designated space. Sometimes it is hard to get them all together, like when I am doing a yard project or cleaning my garage but I get all those unwanted items carefully placed on my transporter pad, packaged, and ready to be beamed out of my life. It is a modern day miracle and I used to watch in fascination as all my garbage disappeared but now it is “old hat” and so common I just leave for work. When I come back the stuff is gone and all that remains is a few containers and some scraps that were not packaged or covered correctly.
I paused for just a few seconds this morning as I looked down my suburban street to see neatly packed garbage bags or garbage cans lining the curb. In the distance, on a clear morning I could even hear the garbage truck stopping and starting and even the “BEEP, BEEEP” of going in reverse. Did you ever consider what a modern miracle it is? Okay, so maybe not the equivalent of “beaming” from a transporter pad like in Star Trek, but still a miracle. Most of us have seen, and some of us have even been to, countries that don’t have this modern miracle. We see garbage flowing down the streets in dirty water gutters, or just piled up outside the homes making everything gray and bland.
Many will look at the garbage as evidence of our wasteful society but I have a different twist. I see our garbage as a blessing. I see wrapping paper and trees from Christmas celebrations, turkey bones and empty cranberry cans from a hearty Thanksgiving. I see food wrappers, pizza boxes, and grocery store bags as evidence of what we have that we really don’t deserve. One of the themes in all my writing and teaching is to “consider yourself in a constant state of indebtedness.” So next time you see the curb full of our waste, instead of thinking of it as garbage, think of it as the physical evidence of the blessed. Then say a quick prayer of thanks.
www.themoralbusiness.com
I paused for just a few seconds this morning as I looked down my suburban street to see neatly packed garbage bags or garbage cans lining the curb. In the distance, on a clear morning I could even hear the garbage truck stopping and starting and even the “BEEP, BEEEP” of going in reverse. Did you ever consider what a modern miracle it is? Okay, so maybe not the equivalent of “beaming” from a transporter pad like in Star Trek, but still a miracle. Most of us have seen, and some of us have even been to, countries that don’t have this modern miracle. We see garbage flowing down the streets in dirty water gutters, or just piled up outside the homes making everything gray and bland.
Many will look at the garbage as evidence of our wasteful society but I have a different twist. I see our garbage as a blessing. I see wrapping paper and trees from Christmas celebrations, turkey bones and empty cranberry cans from a hearty Thanksgiving. I see food wrappers, pizza boxes, and grocery store bags as evidence of what we have that we really don’t deserve. One of the themes in all my writing and teaching is to “consider yourself in a constant state of indebtedness.” So next time you see the curb full of our waste, instead of thinking of it as garbage, think of it as the physical evidence of the blessed. Then say a quick prayer of thanks.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Do you Love Me?
Matchmaker, Matchmaker make me a match
Find me a find, catch me a catch
Matchmaker, Matchmaker look through your book
And make me a perfect match
For papa, make him a scholar, for mama, make him rich as a king
And me, well, I wouldn’t holler if he were as handsome as anything
Let me start out by saying: “I am not an anti-romantic cynic.” I have become a stark realist in my views of marriage and romance. I think it would be good to go back to the days of arranged marriages. In Las Vegas on Valentines Day there were probably 10,000 marriages. 10,000 couples said they love each other and want to spend the rest of their time together. Statistically 3,000 of those will be divorced within two years, 2,000 more of them will be divorced before their “lifetime” together expires. That is not just Vegas, it is everywhere.
With freedom comes responsibility. For a few hundred years we have been “free” to choose our own spouse. For a few decades we have been free to dump that spouse for any reason, without any fault, without any repercussions, without any responsibility. So what have we done with our freedom? We have become irresponsible with it and so we will lose it altogether. Marriage is under attack from outside forces like the gay community but that is minor to what we are doing to marriage from the inside. We want marriage without responsibility and divorce without fault and so we have a beautiful looking Cadillac that breaks down a majority of the time.
When we were assigned who to marry, we were told that you must LEARN to love that person because you don’t just FALL in love with a person. Love doesn’t just happen, it is a fine diamond that must be mined, chipped, sculpted, honed, and polished. We must WORK to love each other! That is why living together before marriage is, statistically, the surest way to make sure you are divorced later: benefits with no WORK! That is why most divorces happen in the first two years: you find out its WORK! So maybe not arranged marriages, but let’s not deceive ourselves into thinking that non-arranged marriages are more likely to succeed. Let’s WORK at loving each other, the payoff is unbelievable.
Do you love me? Do I love you?
My father and my mother said we’d learn to love each other
And now I’m asking, Goldie, do you love me?
Do I love him?
For twenty-five years I’ve lived with him, fought with him, starved with him
Twenty-five years my bed is his … if that’s not love what is?
Then you love me! Yes, I suppose I do.
And I suppose I love you too (Fiddler on the Roof byJerry Bock)
www.themoralbusiness.com
Find me a find, catch me a catch
Matchmaker, Matchmaker look through your book
And make me a perfect match
For papa, make him a scholar, for mama, make him rich as a king
And me, well, I wouldn’t holler if he were as handsome as anything
Let me start out by saying: “I am not an anti-romantic cynic.” I have become a stark realist in my views of marriage and romance. I think it would be good to go back to the days of arranged marriages. In Las Vegas on Valentines Day there were probably 10,000 marriages. 10,000 couples said they love each other and want to spend the rest of their time together. Statistically 3,000 of those will be divorced within two years, 2,000 more of them will be divorced before their “lifetime” together expires. That is not just Vegas, it is everywhere.
With freedom comes responsibility. For a few hundred years we have been “free” to choose our own spouse. For a few decades we have been free to dump that spouse for any reason, without any fault, without any repercussions, without any responsibility. So what have we done with our freedom? We have become irresponsible with it and so we will lose it altogether. Marriage is under attack from outside forces like the gay community but that is minor to what we are doing to marriage from the inside. We want marriage without responsibility and divorce without fault and so we have a beautiful looking Cadillac that breaks down a majority of the time.
When we were assigned who to marry, we were told that you must LEARN to love that person because you don’t just FALL in love with a person. Love doesn’t just happen, it is a fine diamond that must be mined, chipped, sculpted, honed, and polished. We must WORK to love each other! That is why living together before marriage is, statistically, the surest way to make sure you are divorced later: benefits with no WORK! That is why most divorces happen in the first two years: you find out its WORK! So maybe not arranged marriages, but let’s not deceive ourselves into thinking that non-arranged marriages are more likely to succeed. Let’s WORK at loving each other, the payoff is unbelievable.
Do you love me? Do I love you?
My father and my mother said we’d learn to love each other
And now I’m asking, Goldie, do you love me?
Do I love him?
For twenty-five years I’ve lived with him, fought with him, starved with him
Twenty-five years my bed is his … if that’s not love what is?
Then you love me! Yes, I suppose I do.
And I suppose I love you too (Fiddler on the Roof byJerry Bock)
www.themoralbusiness.com
Diamonds in the Garbage
I love movies, the advent of DVD’s has scratched an itch that is nigh unto habitual. Even TV shows are on DVD and now I can watch a group of episodes of my favorites without commercial interruption and with the ability to grab a soda from the fridge or hit the restroom without missing a single laugh line. My collection rises and falls upon different interests from scary to funny to … well, strange. Some movies grab my fancy simply by the action in them even though the storyline is non-existent. Some stories grab me and the special effects only enhance the characters. Some are just plain funny.
A new movie in the “action with lame story” genre came out recently and I bought it for the action, and due to the fact that it was a classic, scary, science fiction mode that grabs my imagination. In the middle of all the action there was a moment that snared me by the heart. The heroine was trying to convince a sick man to not go on this dangerous adventure and she used a story about her own father. She said her father was hurt while climbing a mountain and she wanted to turn around and take him back to base camp. He said that he could go on and against her better judgment she took him to the top. They opened a bottle of champagne at the top, drank a toast, and then headed back down again. On the way down his injury formed a blood clot and in extreme pain he died close to the base camp. She has never forgiven herself for putting her father through that extreme pain. The sick man smiled at her story and asked her, “Do you think your father remembered the pain as he died or was his last memory one of having champagne with his daughter on the top of a mountain?” It was a diamond of dialogue in a pile of action/adventure garbage.
I had lunch with a good friend today whose father had just passed. His focus was not on the things missed or on the pain, but his focus was on the joy and the good times they had with each other. He found the diamond in the garbage of sorrow.
NOW is the time to create those diamonds. NOW! Don’t hesitate to go to visit family, don’t forget that phone call or card. Don’t put off that visit any longer. Take a moment, suck in your pride and your insecurity, and tell the people you love that you love them. Those are the diamonds that you will find hidden in the garbage that sometimes tries to bury us. Those are the smiles that come to you when the sorrow is trying to overtake you. Don’t wait, do it NOW!
www.themoralbusiness.com
A new movie in the “action with lame story” genre came out recently and I bought it for the action, and due to the fact that it was a classic, scary, science fiction mode that grabs my imagination. In the middle of all the action there was a moment that snared me by the heart. The heroine was trying to convince a sick man to not go on this dangerous adventure and she used a story about her own father. She said her father was hurt while climbing a mountain and she wanted to turn around and take him back to base camp. He said that he could go on and against her better judgment she took him to the top. They opened a bottle of champagne at the top, drank a toast, and then headed back down again. On the way down his injury formed a blood clot and in extreme pain he died close to the base camp. She has never forgiven herself for putting her father through that extreme pain. The sick man smiled at her story and asked her, “Do you think your father remembered the pain as he died or was his last memory one of having champagne with his daughter on the top of a mountain?” It was a diamond of dialogue in a pile of action/adventure garbage.
I had lunch with a good friend today whose father had just passed. His focus was not on the things missed or on the pain, but his focus was on the joy and the good times they had with each other. He found the diamond in the garbage of sorrow.
NOW is the time to create those diamonds. NOW! Don’t hesitate to go to visit family, don’t forget that phone call or card. Don’t put off that visit any longer. Take a moment, suck in your pride and your insecurity, and tell the people you love that you love them. Those are the diamonds that you will find hidden in the garbage that sometimes tries to bury us. Those are the smiles that come to you when the sorrow is trying to overtake you. Don’t wait, do it NOW!
www.themoralbusiness.com
Monday, July 17, 2006
Flush it down
At the risk of sounding a little gross this week I present to you a column entitled “Flush it down.”
Our toilet broke last week. The valve on the inside would no longer shut off. It didn’t matter how high the float got it simply didn’t turn off the flow of water to the bowl. So it is not like it wouldn’t flush … it wouldn’t STOP flushing. I had to turn off the water at the valve at the wall.
So here I am trying to fit my big Indiana, corn-fed, farm boy, overweight body in between the toilet bowl and the bathtub so I can get at the plastic nuts under the tank and replace the column valve on the inside. As I am contorted like some Circ’ de Soule’ acrobat trying to get at it, my mind takes me down some rabbit trails:
“I wonder who invented this toilet thing? I am sure glad that we have this thing, I think dad used to have to use an outhouse most of his early years. I hope I don’t break the water lead going into the toilet I would hate to have to make another run to Home Depot. Boy it is dirty under here! Man, am I glad we got this thing just to flush away all the `stuff’ in life!”
Then it hit me. We do have a way to flush away all the “stuff” in life. Throughout our life we have a buildup of “stuff” in our lives. Stuff that comes from others like abuse, nasty words, and painful memories. Stuff that comes from our own actions like habits, pain we’ve caused others, and ruined relationships. All this “stuff” builds up and compacts into those areas of our minds that we keep trying to push back and hide and ignore. They cause pain, cramps and other physical and mental problems but we can flush them down. This chrome handle is called FORGIVENESS!
You can flush out all of that “stuff” by forgiving others who have hurt you in the past. They may not care, they may not know, but you will; if you forgive them you will feel the fresh water flow through your heart and mind as the “stuff” gets flushed away. Sometimes you need to forgive yourself, others have long forgotten and forgiven, but you hang onto it. Flush it down. Get rid of all that “stuff” that has built up in your life, flush it down, forgive and feel the freshness.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Our toilet broke last week. The valve on the inside would no longer shut off. It didn’t matter how high the float got it simply didn’t turn off the flow of water to the bowl. So it is not like it wouldn’t flush … it wouldn’t STOP flushing. I had to turn off the water at the valve at the wall.
So here I am trying to fit my big Indiana, corn-fed, farm boy, overweight body in between the toilet bowl and the bathtub so I can get at the plastic nuts under the tank and replace the column valve on the inside. As I am contorted like some Circ’ de Soule’ acrobat trying to get at it, my mind takes me down some rabbit trails:
“I wonder who invented this toilet thing? I am sure glad that we have this thing, I think dad used to have to use an outhouse most of his early years. I hope I don’t break the water lead going into the toilet I would hate to have to make another run to Home Depot. Boy it is dirty under here! Man, am I glad we got this thing just to flush away all the `stuff’ in life!”
Then it hit me. We do have a way to flush away all the “stuff” in life. Throughout our life we have a buildup of “stuff” in our lives. Stuff that comes from others like abuse, nasty words, and painful memories. Stuff that comes from our own actions like habits, pain we’ve caused others, and ruined relationships. All this “stuff” builds up and compacts into those areas of our minds that we keep trying to push back and hide and ignore. They cause pain, cramps and other physical and mental problems but we can flush them down. This chrome handle is called FORGIVENESS!
You can flush out all of that “stuff” by forgiving others who have hurt you in the past. They may not care, they may not know, but you will; if you forgive them you will feel the fresh water flow through your heart and mind as the “stuff” gets flushed away. Sometimes you need to forgive yourself, others have long forgotten and forgiven, but you hang onto it. Flush it down. Get rid of all that “stuff” that has built up in your life, flush it down, forgive and feel the freshness.
www.themoralbusiness.com
The Coming Gap
When I was in college all the social studies courses covered the gaps in society. You had the economic gap between the “haves” and the “have nots”. The theory was that the gap was widening in America between the rich and poor, the rich were getting richer and the poor were getting poorer and the middle class was disappearing. Then there was the education gap between those who are educated and those who aren’t. This battle seemed to be fought in the arena of literacy or those who could read and those who could not. We came out with Ebonics and phonetics as opposed to simple memorization of the spelling of words. We lost the joy of reading in favor of the placid watching and the gap is getting wider and wider.
Well I believe there is a coming gap in the cyber arena. I like to think that as a “cultural exegete” I have a pretty good grasp on technology. It is technology that is currently shaping our culture. At one end you have pilot-less planes flying in Iraq and controlled in the desert of Nevada. At the other you have wars being fought in the World of Warcraft with soldiers from 30 different countries at the same time joining together in one unit of level 60’s. Again, I say, I like to THINK that I have a pretty good grasp on technology, but in reality I have no idea what is happening inside my computer. I stare at the words I am typing and by some sort of voodoo my wireless keyboard translates my thoughts into words on my flat screen monitor. I see it, I know it happens, but it is all voodoo to me.
There are kids (I call anyone under 30 a kid) out there who can live inside the x’s and o’s of computer language and put them together in such a way that things happen and appear as they want. These modern day alchemists make gold appear out of straw and silicon. I just report, they do the abracadabra. I use programs and software specially designed for pagan illiterates like me so that when I want to type a letter I can turn on a twitch, click on an icon, open a picture that even looks like a file folder and a piece of paper and start writing. I can do all this without having ANY idea of the voodoo magic going on behind the screen.
THIS is a gap that is getting wider and wider. Forget the economic gap, drop the educational gap, the real issue is with the coming cyber gap. It won’t be long and the programmers and software engineers will become the new priests of modern day society. I already pray to them when my computer starts “acting up” I give my tithe to them with my monthly updates of spyware, firewalls, virus protection and paying the priests to allow me to send mail and get information from the temple of the internet. I don’t know how they do it, but I know it will stop without my month offering. It is starting to scare me ….
www.themoralbusiness.com
Well I believe there is a coming gap in the cyber arena. I like to think that as a “cultural exegete” I have a pretty good grasp on technology. It is technology that is currently shaping our culture. At one end you have pilot-less planes flying in Iraq and controlled in the desert of Nevada. At the other you have wars being fought in the World of Warcraft with soldiers from 30 different countries at the same time joining together in one unit of level 60’s. Again, I say, I like to THINK that I have a pretty good grasp on technology, but in reality I have no idea what is happening inside my computer. I stare at the words I am typing and by some sort of voodoo my wireless keyboard translates my thoughts into words on my flat screen monitor. I see it, I know it happens, but it is all voodoo to me.
There are kids (I call anyone under 30 a kid) out there who can live inside the x’s and o’s of computer language and put them together in such a way that things happen and appear as they want. These modern day alchemists make gold appear out of straw and silicon. I just report, they do the abracadabra. I use programs and software specially designed for pagan illiterates like me so that when I want to type a letter I can turn on a twitch, click on an icon, open a picture that even looks like a file folder and a piece of paper and start writing. I can do all this without having ANY idea of the voodoo magic going on behind the screen.
THIS is a gap that is getting wider and wider. Forget the economic gap, drop the educational gap, the real issue is with the coming cyber gap. It won’t be long and the programmers and software engineers will become the new priests of modern day society. I already pray to them when my computer starts “acting up” I give my tithe to them with my monthly updates of spyware, firewalls, virus protection and paying the priests to allow me to send mail and get information from the temple of the internet. I don’t know how they do it, but I know it will stop without my month offering. It is starting to scare me ….
www.themoralbusiness.com
Stuck in the Mud
I walk through a construction site with mounds of fill dirt ready to be spread out and pounded down for a parking lot. Construction in Las Vegas has a large emphasis on dust control, it is a desert after all. I had good sandals along so I had enough sense to just kick them off so that they would not get dirty as I walked through the wetted down dirt piles. I was prepared for a little mud but not the depth of mud I encountered. Suddenly I sank up to my knees in the mud. I had some serious flashbacks to growing up on the farm in Indiana and getting in a similar predicament 35 years ago and not being able to get out without help. Panic flashed through my mind quickly after the initial surprise and I fought to keep it down.
I drove my little Ford Ranger through that same, under construction, parking lot to survey the progress. I stopped to snap a few pictures and then attempted to move on. As I pressed the accelerator the truck did a little motion forward but made most of its motion DOWN as the wheels sunk into the fresh dirt and my truck attempted to get itself stuck. Again the flashbacks to the many “stuck” times on the farm and the same panic that attempted to flash through my mind.
It took a while growing up on the farm to control the panic, to control the fear at what dad would say when you got his tractor stuck in the field, and, while fearing for your life was not a problem, fearing that you would sit there for hours and hours until someone came along was. I took a while to realize that when you were getting stuck, that moment your realized it, you would just STOP and don’t move. My tendency was to thrash around and quickly extricate myself but rarely did that work, in fact, it often made things worse. Stop and do things slowly and methodically and you will find yourself on solid ground again.
I carefully lifted one leg out of the mud and took a tentative step backward without sinking in my other leg further. I did the same a few times, slowly backtracking until I was on solid ground again. I took my foot off the accelerator and fought back the urge to “gun it.” I put it in reverse and rocked back, then forward, then back, and methodically, rhythmically I finally moved out of the hole I was in and didn’t stop again until solid ground.
Our tendency when stuck and in a rut is to thrash and fight, but I find in life, just as on the farm, they will only get you more stuck. Control the panic, slow everything down, analyze the situation, and then slowly and methodically work your way out of the mud. And if that doesn’t work I would call in the expert, dad, on the CB radio.
www.themoralbusiness.com
I drove my little Ford Ranger through that same, under construction, parking lot to survey the progress. I stopped to snap a few pictures and then attempted to move on. As I pressed the accelerator the truck did a little motion forward but made most of its motion DOWN as the wheels sunk into the fresh dirt and my truck attempted to get itself stuck. Again the flashbacks to the many “stuck” times on the farm and the same panic that attempted to flash through my mind.
It took a while growing up on the farm to control the panic, to control the fear at what dad would say when you got his tractor stuck in the field, and, while fearing for your life was not a problem, fearing that you would sit there for hours and hours until someone came along was. I took a while to realize that when you were getting stuck, that moment your realized it, you would just STOP and don’t move. My tendency was to thrash around and quickly extricate myself but rarely did that work, in fact, it often made things worse. Stop and do things slowly and methodically and you will find yourself on solid ground again.
I carefully lifted one leg out of the mud and took a tentative step backward without sinking in my other leg further. I did the same a few times, slowly backtracking until I was on solid ground again. I took my foot off the accelerator and fought back the urge to “gun it.” I put it in reverse and rocked back, then forward, then back, and methodically, rhythmically I finally moved out of the hole I was in and didn’t stop again until solid ground.
Our tendency when stuck and in a rut is to thrash and fight, but I find in life, just as on the farm, they will only get you more stuck. Control the panic, slow everything down, analyze the situation, and then slowly and methodically work your way out of the mud. And if that doesn’t work I would call in the expert, dad, on the CB radio.
www.themoralbusiness.com
My Rear-view Mirror
I am sitting in my office in Las Vegas watching Old Faithful in Yellowstone National Park Live. Not on TV, on a live webcam. I can hear it and see it. It is amazing, I have never been to Yellowstone and I am sure it is more awesome there and live, but this is pretty cool too. I can also watch the hot springs at Mammoth Cave. I read advertisements in the paper for daycare facilities that have webcams so you can check up on your kid (and the Daycare Center) during your working hours. Many Vegas Wedding Chapels have live webcams so your friends and family can view your wedding from a distance. Traffic systems will now supply the public with views of their webcams to you can drive to work avoiding accidents and bad traffic.
Do you know who pushed the whole live webcam idea? Do you know who the first innovators were in live viewing over the internet? It was the pornography industry. In fact the porn industry drove MOST of the innovations in the internet. After the colleges and the inventors came up with the internet ideas, the porn industry took them and made them moneymakers. Remember bulletin boards services? Porn brought pictures to them. Remember the first video clips? Porn again. How about links in emails and spam emails, and pictures in emails? Porn, porn, porn. Electronic check transfers over internet, credit card transfers, phone company transfers, all porn. Streaming video, live video, video on demand and even many of the download protocols were perfected and packaged by the porn industry. Now the porn industry is bringing us video to our cell phones and soon holographic, 3-D images to our living rooms. Why?
Why? Because billions of dollars are spent on porn every year and sin sells, sin is addictive, and this sin is packagable and private. Any search you do with the word “girl” or “picture” in the name will bring you some porn sights. Millions of them. Since the porn industry has perfected the internet for us we now have an amazing research and communication tool as world is made flat again and I can watch Old Faithful from Las Vegas. But I look into the rear view mirror and I see a lot of rubble and ruined lives left on the road behind us and I wonder if the cost was worth it. To quote Malcolm in Jurrasic Park “We spent so much time wondering if we could that we didn’t find out if we SHOULD.”
The largest piece of rubble I see in my rear view mirror is innocence and goodness. I believe they are in America’s past now only to be reminded of in brief fits of crisis and disaster but no longer a regular attraction on the road through the country. We are no better or worse than other countries but another quote comes to mind from Alexis d’Tocqueville, “America is great because America is good, when America ceases to be good it will cease to be great.” Be good to each other.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Do you know who pushed the whole live webcam idea? Do you know who the first innovators were in live viewing over the internet? It was the pornography industry. In fact the porn industry drove MOST of the innovations in the internet. After the colleges and the inventors came up with the internet ideas, the porn industry took them and made them moneymakers. Remember bulletin boards services? Porn brought pictures to them. Remember the first video clips? Porn again. How about links in emails and spam emails, and pictures in emails? Porn, porn, porn. Electronic check transfers over internet, credit card transfers, phone company transfers, all porn. Streaming video, live video, video on demand and even many of the download protocols were perfected and packaged by the porn industry. Now the porn industry is bringing us video to our cell phones and soon holographic, 3-D images to our living rooms. Why?
Why? Because billions of dollars are spent on porn every year and sin sells, sin is addictive, and this sin is packagable and private. Any search you do with the word “girl” or “picture” in the name will bring you some porn sights. Millions of them. Since the porn industry has perfected the internet for us we now have an amazing research and communication tool as world is made flat again and I can watch Old Faithful from Las Vegas. But I look into the rear view mirror and I see a lot of rubble and ruined lives left on the road behind us and I wonder if the cost was worth it. To quote Malcolm in Jurrasic Park “We spent so much time wondering if we could that we didn’t find out if we SHOULD.”
The largest piece of rubble I see in my rear view mirror is innocence and goodness. I believe they are in America’s past now only to be reminded of in brief fits of crisis and disaster but no longer a regular attraction on the road through the country. We are no better or worse than other countries but another quote comes to mind from Alexis d’Tocqueville, “America is great because America is good, when America ceases to be good it will cease to be great.” Be good to each other.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Diamonds in the Garbage
I love movies, the advent of DVD’s has scratched an itch that is nigh unto habitual. Even TV shows are on DVD and now I can watch a group of episodes of my favorites without commercial interruption and with the ability to grab a soda from the fridge or hit the restroom without missing a single laugh line. My collection rises and falls upon different interests from scary to funny to … well, strange. Some movies grab my fancy simply by the action in them even though the storyline is non-existent. Some stories grab me and the special effects only enhance the characters. Some are just plain funny.
A new movie in the “action with lame story” genre came out recently and I bought it for the action, and due to the fact that it was a classic, scary, science fiction mode that grabs my imagination. In the middle of all the action there was a moment that snared me by the heart. The heroine was trying to convince a sick man to not go on this dangerous adventure and she used a story about her own father. She said her father was hurt while climbing a mountain and she wanted to turn around and take him back to base camp. He said that he could go on and against her better judgment she took him to the top. They opened a bottle of champagne at the top, drank a toast, and then headed back down again. On the way down his injury formed a blood clot and in extreme pain he died close to the base camp. She has never forgiven herself for putting her father through that extreme pain. The sick man smiled at her story and asked her, “Do you think your father remembered the pain as he died or was his last memory one of having champagne with his daughter on the top of a mountain?” It was a diamond of dialogue in a pile of action/adventure garbage.
I had lunch with a good friend today whose father had just passed. His focus was not on the things missed or on the pain, but his focus was on the joy and the good times they had with each other. He found the diamond in the garbage of sorrow.
NOW is the time to create those diamonds. NOW! Don’t hesitate to go to visit family, don’t forget that phone call or card. Don’t put off that visit any longer. Take a moment, suck in your pride and your insecurity, and tell the people you love that you love them. Those are the diamonds that you will find hidden in the garbage that sometimes tries to bury us. Those are the smiles that come to you when the sorrow is trying to overtake you. Don’t wait, do it NOW!
www.themoralbusiness.com
A new movie in the “action with lame story” genre came out recently and I bought it for the action, and due to the fact that it was a classic, scary, science fiction mode that grabs my imagination. In the middle of all the action there was a moment that snared me by the heart. The heroine was trying to convince a sick man to not go on this dangerous adventure and she used a story about her own father. She said her father was hurt while climbing a mountain and she wanted to turn around and take him back to base camp. He said that he could go on and against her better judgment she took him to the top. They opened a bottle of champagne at the top, drank a toast, and then headed back down again. On the way down his injury formed a blood clot and in extreme pain he died close to the base camp. She has never forgiven herself for putting her father through that extreme pain. The sick man smiled at her story and asked her, “Do you think your father remembered the pain as he died or was his last memory one of having champagne with his daughter on the top of a mountain?” It was a diamond of dialogue in a pile of action/adventure garbage.
I had lunch with a good friend today whose father had just passed. His focus was not on the things missed or on the pain, but his focus was on the joy and the good times they had with each other. He found the diamond in the garbage of sorrow.
NOW is the time to create those diamonds. NOW! Don’t hesitate to go to visit family, don’t forget that phone call or card. Don’t put off that visit any longer. Take a moment, suck in your pride and your insecurity, and tell the people you love that you love them. Those are the diamonds that you will find hidden in the garbage that sometimes tries to bury us. Those are the smiles that come to you when the sorrow is trying to overtake you. Don’t wait, do it NOW!
www.themoralbusiness.com
Rebooting the Brain
It was early morning but it was light outside. My light-sleeping dream was interrupted by a growling outside. My dream state conjured up images of lions or bears disrupting my sleep but as I came closer to reality my cloudy brain processed into a lawnmower. My neighbor has a lawn service and early morning is when they perform. Gas mowers and weed-whackers sang their sputtering songs and dragged me out of sleep with their melody. I am not a good sleeper; I often spend a few hours watching DVD’s from my comfy chair until my back is ready to handle lying down again. So on these mornings I am especially ornery when my sleep is interrupted. This was a particularly bad night of restlessness and now a bad morning of these animals growling at my neighbor’s house.
I got out of bed and into the shower in a bad mood. Even the shower felt like it was pelting me into more anger. As I stepped out of the shower I slipped and further aggravated my back, my knee, and my temperament. Not a stitch of my clothes went on easy, my toes caught in my pants, the neck hole of my shirt was too small and when I was finally covered I saw I had smeared my deodorant down the sides of my black golf shirt. This was not a good morning.
I walked to the fridge to find someone had taken my last Diet Coke (the breakfast of champions) and stepped outside to pick up my papers from the driveway. The garage door opened and I stepped out of the darkness into the bright morning sunlight. As I stepped into the warmth of the morning sun I caught a whiff of the freshly mowed lawn and it stopped me in my tracks. The smell; the smell of a freshly mowed lawn rebooted my brain. I forgot the morning and was called back to springtime in Indiana, rolling in the grass with our dog Princess, playing baseball with my brothers, climbing trees, and just laying down with a blade in my teeth planning my busy child-like day. The smell reminded me of teaching my kids to roll down hills, of my daughter riding in a carrier on my back as I mowed the lawn and her giggling the whole time, and of my kids and I just lying down with a blade of grass in our teeth planning our busy child-like day. The smell rebooted by brain and I forgot the anger, interruptions and irritations of the morning and loaded in sunshine, summer days, green grass, and joy.
Is it time for you to reboot?
www.themoralbusiness.com
I got out of bed and into the shower in a bad mood. Even the shower felt like it was pelting me into more anger. As I stepped out of the shower I slipped and further aggravated my back, my knee, and my temperament. Not a stitch of my clothes went on easy, my toes caught in my pants, the neck hole of my shirt was too small and when I was finally covered I saw I had smeared my deodorant down the sides of my black golf shirt. This was not a good morning.
I walked to the fridge to find someone had taken my last Diet Coke (the breakfast of champions) and stepped outside to pick up my papers from the driveway. The garage door opened and I stepped out of the darkness into the bright morning sunlight. As I stepped into the warmth of the morning sun I caught a whiff of the freshly mowed lawn and it stopped me in my tracks. The smell; the smell of a freshly mowed lawn rebooted my brain. I forgot the morning and was called back to springtime in Indiana, rolling in the grass with our dog Princess, playing baseball with my brothers, climbing trees, and just laying down with a blade in my teeth planning my busy child-like day. The smell reminded me of teaching my kids to roll down hills, of my daughter riding in a carrier on my back as I mowed the lawn and her giggling the whole time, and of my kids and I just lying down with a blade of grass in our teeth planning our busy child-like day. The smell rebooted by brain and I forgot the anger, interruptions and irritations of the morning and loaded in sunshine, summer days, green grass, and joy.
Is it time for you to reboot?
www.themoralbusiness.com
Democracy
We hear so much lately about the spread of democracy throughout the world. It is the chance for people to vote for people who will represent them in the decisions that will impact their lives. Good, no? This really is a misnomer, however; the USA does not have a democracy: everybody votes; the USA is a Republic: a representative government. In other words, we vote for the people who vote for us. For us to have a democracy we would have to each get on our computer every morning and vote for all the issues impacting us in the government. Our “forefathers” didn’t want that for fear of mob rule where emotions dictate regulations. Although I do believe we should probably vote on April 16 rather than in November, I think we would vote differently.
Sometimes it seems we have a Plutocracy (no that doesn’t mean we are run by a bunch of cartoon characters) which is a government run by the wealthy. We could have a Monarchy run by a king or queen. Some believe we have an Oligarchy run by powerful families or a Corporatocracy run by corporations. We could have a Despotic Government run by a tyrant or a Kleptocracy run by the most powerful force who can take what they want.
Many people believe that God said in the Ten Commandments, “Thou shalt have a democracy.” Even though much of the Bible was during and after the Greek civilization who invented the word, if not the system; the Bible is silent on that form of government. So what form of government is the ONLY form sanctioned in the Bible? Theocracy: a government with God as the president, king, or prime minister. Sounds impossible? Actually, I believe it is the only way AND it is the only way these other forms would work because God rules our nations by ruling our hearts. If God is on the throne room of our hearts then it won’t matter what form of government you have. A democracy would have everybody voting with God’s plan for people in mind. A republic would represent the people’s best interests because of God’s heart in the representatives. A monarchy would be benevolent. A Plutocracy would be generous. Corporatocracy would be responsible and there would be no such thing as a Kleptocracy or Despotism.
We think too macro with our theocracy. It is time to think micro-theocracy and change our government one changed heart at a time – your heart, and mine.
www.themoralbusiness.com
I wonder, sometimes, about the life of my great-grandfather as I look into his face. I see the slightest hint of a smile along with his intense eyes and graying hair. His left arm is using the table as an arm rest and his left hand reminds me of my own father’s and mine with thick “farmer” fingers. What is most telling is his right hand which rests on his knee but it held lightly by his youngest daughter standing next to him. Dina looks about 9 or 10 years-old and is nestled into her father’s shoulder and is gently holding on to his forefinger with her small hand.
He died in 1904; my father was born in 1921 so he didn’t have a chance to know his grandfather. Yet, as I look into the picture I see my family. My young grandfather in the picture looks strikingly like one of my brothers at that age. I see the same V-shape in the foreheads of my nephews as their hair is close to shaved off. I see the image of my fathers passed from generation to generation, we are connected by blood and by spirit, and we are family.
That image is a powerful thing, but we all have it, we are all family in our Father’s image.
Sometimes it seems we have a Plutocracy (no that doesn’t mean we are run by a bunch of cartoon characters) which is a government run by the wealthy. We could have a Monarchy run by a king or queen. Some believe we have an Oligarchy run by powerful families or a Corporatocracy run by corporations. We could have a Despotic Government run by a tyrant or a Kleptocracy run by the most powerful force who can take what they want.
Many people believe that God said in the Ten Commandments, “Thou shalt have a democracy.” Even though much of the Bible was during and after the Greek civilization who invented the word, if not the system; the Bible is silent on that form of government. So what form of government is the ONLY form sanctioned in the Bible? Theocracy: a government with God as the president, king, or prime minister. Sounds impossible? Actually, I believe it is the only way AND it is the only way these other forms would work because God rules our nations by ruling our hearts. If God is on the throne room of our hearts then it won’t matter what form of government you have. A democracy would have everybody voting with God’s plan for people in mind. A republic would represent the people’s best interests because of God’s heart in the representatives. A monarchy would be benevolent. A Plutocracy would be generous. Corporatocracy would be responsible and there would be no such thing as a Kleptocracy or Despotism.
We think too macro with our theocracy. It is time to think micro-theocracy and change our government one changed heart at a time – your heart, and mine.
www.themoralbusiness.com
I wonder, sometimes, about the life of my great-grandfather as I look into his face. I see the slightest hint of a smile along with his intense eyes and graying hair. His left arm is using the table as an arm rest and his left hand reminds me of my own father’s and mine with thick “farmer” fingers. What is most telling is his right hand which rests on his knee but it held lightly by his youngest daughter standing next to him. Dina looks about 9 or 10 years-old and is nestled into her father’s shoulder and is gently holding on to his forefinger with her small hand.
He died in 1904; my father was born in 1921 so he didn’t have a chance to know his grandfather. Yet, as I look into the picture I see my family. My young grandfather in the picture looks strikingly like one of my brothers at that age. I see the same V-shape in the foreheads of my nephews as their hair is close to shaved off. I see the image of my fathers passed from generation to generation, we are connected by blood and by spirit, and we are family.
That image is a powerful thing, but we all have it, we are all family in our Father’s image.
Our Levee
Who would shovel dirt into a bag for 20 hours strait, for 4 to 5 days in a row? Who would do this with no payment or wages of any kind? It is happening all over the Midwest right now with the flooding and I remember it happening on the farm in Indiana where I grew up. We lived along the Kankakee River and there were many streams and drainage ditches that fed into it on our farm. When we would have a lot of rain my father and brother would hook up a pump to the back of a tractor and pump the water over a dike or levee into the River trying to speed up what was supposed to happen naturally, but with a lot of rain didn’t happen fast enough to keep the water out of the fields. As the water would drain out of the fields one our favorite sports became possible. We would sharpen a metal spear and hunt for carp in the miniature ponds left in the fields from the receding water. Sometimes that levee would break and water would spill into our fields and into a trailer park that was built in low ground in the small Indiana town. We would fight along with the town’s people to stop the break from turning into a stream which would eat out more of the levee and become a raging river flooding everything in its path.
So we filled sand bags to keep the banks from eroding. We dropped small trees to slow the water down; I even remember throwing in a mattress to try to slow down the swift water so we could fill the gap without it being washed away. My brother brought in our farm’s bulldozer to push more and more dirt in an effort to stem the tide. Water was the enemy.
I live in Las Vegas now, a far cry from the farm in Indiana. It is a desert and water is a prized possession. You buy and sell water rights that are often more valuable than the land it flows under. Nevada buys water from Arizona, California pumps water from hundreds of miles away. We are given a schedule of when we can water our lawns and trees. We are encouraged to convert to more and more desert landscaping. Libraries and public buildings are converting fountains into cactus gardens. Water is precious.
Water is the enemy and water is precious. Water can provide a living to fishermen and coastal hotels or it can destroy life in tsunamis. Water feeds a thirsty farmland or allows it to turn into desert. We give god-like status to water and present offerings to Poseidon, Enki, Roan, Varuna, Llyre, Hopi, Ea and Neptune praying for a good year.
After my shower, I slip into my newly washed clothes, brush my teeth and grab a bottle of water as I enter our carefully constructed world and realize how tenuous our levee is.
www.themoralbusiness.com
So we filled sand bags to keep the banks from eroding. We dropped small trees to slow the water down; I even remember throwing in a mattress to try to slow down the swift water so we could fill the gap without it being washed away. My brother brought in our farm’s bulldozer to push more and more dirt in an effort to stem the tide. Water was the enemy.
I live in Las Vegas now, a far cry from the farm in Indiana. It is a desert and water is a prized possession. You buy and sell water rights that are often more valuable than the land it flows under. Nevada buys water from Arizona, California pumps water from hundreds of miles away. We are given a schedule of when we can water our lawns and trees. We are encouraged to convert to more and more desert landscaping. Libraries and public buildings are converting fountains into cactus gardens. Water is precious.
Water is the enemy and water is precious. Water can provide a living to fishermen and coastal hotels or it can destroy life in tsunamis. Water feeds a thirsty farmland or allows it to turn into desert. We give god-like status to water and present offerings to Poseidon, Enki, Roan, Varuna, Llyre, Hopi, Ea and Neptune praying for a good year.
After my shower, I slip into my newly washed clothes, brush my teeth and grab a bottle of water as I enter our carefully constructed world and realize how tenuous our levee is.
www.themoralbusiness.com
My Hero
While at a conference recently I met a Plastic Surgeon. There are a lot of these in Las Vegas and it was interesting talking to him about his work. He told me he could take care of the bags under my eyes for a few thousand dollars. I asked him, “What was the age of the youngest patient he worked on?” He stated that his most satisfying work is for young kids. Surprised I asked him why? Most of the kids he works on are kids with cleft pallets, or who have been injured in an accident. His favorite is a young boy of 11 who has had 16 surgeries on his face. He was beaten beyond recognition by his step “father” and survived. The child’s mother was killed by the same man and he is in jail now. The boy has no one and is in the hospital alone. He started with a gruesome face, dead mother, absent father and no relatives that would claim him yet he has the best sense of humor and attitude of any child he has ever seen. Before a surgery the boy asked this doctor if he could make sure he would not cover up both eyes with gauze so that he could continue to beat the nurses in X box. The doctor said he couldn’t promise but he would try; to which the boy replied, “Don’t worry about it, I could probably beat them blindfolded anyway.”
After further probing he related the story of the worst patient he had. A 14-year-old girl who came with her stripper mother who had a lot of work done previously and proceeded to complain about everything. She complained about every part of her body and wanted to change everything. Her mother stood by in silent agreement, giving her consent on the paperwork. The doctor asked, “Why, at 14, do you want all this work done?” She replied, “I don’t want to wait, I want a new body NOW, so do your job, you &%#)!” This one he said “no” to but he confessed that he had worked on plenty of young girls and even a few teenage guys. He said that it was hard because they would just go to the surgeon down the street if he didn’t work on them; plus, the money earned from overcharging them allows him to work on more of the donation cases he loves doing.
What is the difference between these two kids? The boy came from a physically abusive environment and had no one who cared for him yet he stood like a rock against it. The girl came from another kind of abusive environment but she, at this young age, began to flow with the current of her environment. What is the difference? I don’t know, but I do know who my hero is and who I’m going to hang out with. Who would you hang out with or, maybe more important, which of these would describe you?
www.themoralbusiness.com
After further probing he related the story of the worst patient he had. A 14-year-old girl who came with her stripper mother who had a lot of work done previously and proceeded to complain about everything. She complained about every part of her body and wanted to change everything. Her mother stood by in silent agreement, giving her consent on the paperwork. The doctor asked, “Why, at 14, do you want all this work done?” She replied, “I don’t want to wait, I want a new body NOW, so do your job, you &%#)!” This one he said “no” to but he confessed that he had worked on plenty of young girls and even a few teenage guys. He said that it was hard because they would just go to the surgeon down the street if he didn’t work on them; plus, the money earned from overcharging them allows him to work on more of the donation cases he loves doing.
What is the difference between these two kids? The boy came from a physically abusive environment and had no one who cared for him yet he stood like a rock against it. The girl came from another kind of abusive environment but she, at this young age, began to flow with the current of her environment. What is the difference? I don’t know, but I do know who my hero is and who I’m going to hang out with. Who would you hang out with or, maybe more important, which of these would describe you?
www.themoralbusiness.com
Life in a Fishbowl
I moved my fishtank from one side of the room to the other. The fish in the tank were shaken and stirred. The stones moved and the plants were uprooted; it was a disaster. When I finally had the tank settled in place I could stop and look at the damage. All the rubble was beginning to settle and the water began to clear again. The next day I found some of the fish could not handle the crisis and were now floating on top. I sat down and watched the ensuing activity in the fishbowl.
The leaders of all the fish countries assessed the damage and began to send fish crisis workers to the damaged areas. The food and water was polluted so many concerned fish donated some of their clean water and food to those who didn’t have any in their part of the tank. The fish countries with more resources sent equipment to put back in place the rocks and replant the plants, at the same time they set up temporary fish shelters to house the homeless. The fish governments got together at the UFN (United Fish Nations) to discuss how they could prevent this kind of damage or at least prepare for this kind of damage in the future. Millions of Sand Dollars were spent on the relief and rebuilding.
Okay … so that really isn’t what happened. What happed was the fish didn’t even know there were others hurting. The fish could not grasp the concept of a world where there was a disaster. Only I knew the tank was a mess. The dead fish weren’t buried by their comrades and mourned over; they ate them.
When disaster hits like the earthquake and tsunami I am heartened to see that we KNOW about it, that we are CONCERNED about it, and that we DO something about it. That is not a response of a species that is more evolved than fish; it is the response of a being that has had something injected into its very nature. We are infected with love and concern from our Creator. No matter how hard we try to hide this infection it shows itself again and again when other people are hurting. Pray we find no vaccine.
www.themoralbusiness.com
The leaders of all the fish countries assessed the damage and began to send fish crisis workers to the damaged areas. The food and water was polluted so many concerned fish donated some of their clean water and food to those who didn’t have any in their part of the tank. The fish countries with more resources sent equipment to put back in place the rocks and replant the plants, at the same time they set up temporary fish shelters to house the homeless. The fish governments got together at the UFN (United Fish Nations) to discuss how they could prevent this kind of damage or at least prepare for this kind of damage in the future. Millions of Sand Dollars were spent on the relief and rebuilding.
Okay … so that really isn’t what happened. What happed was the fish didn’t even know there were others hurting. The fish could not grasp the concept of a world where there was a disaster. Only I knew the tank was a mess. The dead fish weren’t buried by their comrades and mourned over; they ate them.
When disaster hits like the earthquake and tsunami I am heartened to see that we KNOW about it, that we are CONCERNED about it, and that we DO something about it. That is not a response of a species that is more evolved than fish; it is the response of a being that has had something injected into its very nature. We are infected with love and concern from our Creator. No matter how hard we try to hide this infection it shows itself again and again when other people are hurting. Pray we find no vaccine.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Little Nicky
The first cloned kitten was recently sold for $50,000 called Little Nicky after the original 17-year-old cat that died called Nicky. Little Nicky was said by the owner to have many of the same mannerisms and markings of Nicky. A cat that loved being in the bathtub is rare but the clone loves it as much as the original. The company that did the cloning for this owner exhibits a sense of humor in calling themselves Genetic Savings and Clone. Genetic Savings and Clone has “orders” for 5 other mourned-for cats currently in “production;” whatever that means. They still don’t turn a profit yet but they claim they will very soon, once the technique is “perfected” and then comes dogs and farm animals. The ultimate prize for cloning right now is a monkey, since human cloning is still too taboo to do.
As we enter the New Year my thoughts don’t go to the ethics of cloning as much as it wanders down the rabbit path of exploration and discovery. I loved High School, I was kind of weird that way, but I loved the friendships, the activities, and the buzz of High School. When I graduated I felt kind of lost; I felt uncertain of what was ahead at college and work. When I got to college I became comfortable with new friends and new activities and didn’t want to leave the college environment. My first job, changed into my second and third. My first church brought me new friends and activities that fell away as I went to the second and third church. Are you starting to see the patterns of our lives? We leave the old and comfortable for the new, scary and uncertain.
I can’t help but think that this owner of Little Nicky wanted to go back to the comfortable and known. She could have taken that $50,000 and spent a fraction of it on saving hundreds of kittens from destruction, picked any of them, and gained a whole new perspective and joy she never had before. Instead she wanted her dead cat back. As we enter this New Year I want you to ask yourself if you are ready for the adventures, scares, surprises, uneasiness, and joy that a new year can bring. Or do you want your dead cat back?
www.themoralbusiness.com
As we enter the New Year my thoughts don’t go to the ethics of cloning as much as it wanders down the rabbit path of exploration and discovery. I loved High School, I was kind of weird that way, but I loved the friendships, the activities, and the buzz of High School. When I graduated I felt kind of lost; I felt uncertain of what was ahead at college and work. When I got to college I became comfortable with new friends and new activities and didn’t want to leave the college environment. My first job, changed into my second and third. My first church brought me new friends and activities that fell away as I went to the second and third church. Are you starting to see the patterns of our lives? We leave the old and comfortable for the new, scary and uncertain.
I can’t help but think that this owner of Little Nicky wanted to go back to the comfortable and known. She could have taken that $50,000 and spent a fraction of it on saving hundreds of kittens from destruction, picked any of them, and gained a whole new perspective and joy she never had before. Instead she wanted her dead cat back. As we enter this New Year I want you to ask yourself if you are ready for the adventures, scares, surprises, uneasiness, and joy that a new year can bring. Or do you want your dead cat back?
www.themoralbusiness.com
Did you know?
Did you know that there is no reason to believe that there were Three Wise Men at the nativity?
Did you know that the Wise Men didn’t get to Bethlehem until years after the birth so they really don’t belong in the nativity?
Did you know that there were probably no “cattle lowing” or sheep at the nativity?
Did you know that the birth probably didn’t happen during the Christmas time of year?
Where did we get these ideas? From songs, poems, traditions handed down through generations and they were simply made up. Some are obvious like “The Little Drummer Boy” and “Alfie the Christmas Tree” but many are not and have slipped into our collective minds as facts of Christmas. This is dangerous in two ways. It is dangerous to start to believe things that aren’t true as being true. It is dangerous because it cast ALL of Christmas in a suspicious light since we don’t know fact from fiction.
After just completing another political season we can see the same thing happening there. Fact and fiction are mixed, shaken and stirred and then served to us in sound bites and video clips. We don’t know which are true and which are not so ALL is suspect and NOTHING is believed.
When you lie you join the problem. You jump into the subjective mix of fact and fiction and create a sense of relativity and disbelief, making all truth subjective. Now I am not saying that celebrating Christmas with this traditions and songs is going to destroy our country but I am saying that truth and reality is important. Don’t lose truth and the important things in the wrapping paper of Christmas. Remember the real gift that is in the form of a baby, born in Bethlehem, laid in a manger filled with cloth, and of whom the angels sang: “Glory to God in the heights, and peace to all mankind.”
www.themoralbusiness.com
Did you know that the Wise Men didn’t get to Bethlehem until years after the birth so they really don’t belong in the nativity?
Did you know that there were probably no “cattle lowing” or sheep at the nativity?
Did you know that the birth probably didn’t happen during the Christmas time of year?
Where did we get these ideas? From songs, poems, traditions handed down through generations and they were simply made up. Some are obvious like “The Little Drummer Boy” and “Alfie the Christmas Tree” but many are not and have slipped into our collective minds as facts of Christmas. This is dangerous in two ways. It is dangerous to start to believe things that aren’t true as being true. It is dangerous because it cast ALL of Christmas in a suspicious light since we don’t know fact from fiction.
After just completing another political season we can see the same thing happening there. Fact and fiction are mixed, shaken and stirred and then served to us in sound bites and video clips. We don’t know which are true and which are not so ALL is suspect and NOTHING is believed.
When you lie you join the problem. You jump into the subjective mix of fact and fiction and create a sense of relativity and disbelief, making all truth subjective. Now I am not saying that celebrating Christmas with this traditions and songs is going to destroy our country but I am saying that truth and reality is important. Don’t lose truth and the important things in the wrapping paper of Christmas. Remember the real gift that is in the form of a baby, born in Bethlehem, laid in a manger filled with cloth, and of whom the angels sang: “Glory to God in the heights, and peace to all mankind.”
www.themoralbusiness.com
Solid Rock
I was getting tired, dog tired but I was still a long ways from shore. The undertow was pulling me farther and farther out and it seemed the real estate my mom and dad had staked out on the beach was getting smaller all the time. I was a strong swimmer because we had a pool at our farm growing up and I knew how to float and rest but the more I rested, the farther I drifted. The waves were not big, maybe a foot or so with swells that would lift and drop me like some automatic teeter-totter.
My parents would take all eight kids on a road trip from Indiana to Florida to visit relatives many years when I was growing up. That was an extremely brave thing for them to do. Picture eight kids born within the span of 10 years surviving a 20 plus hour trip in a station wagon. All without killing each other. I remember frozen sandwiches, playing catch in rest stops, Stuckey’s diners, 2:00 am gas stops, and hours and hours of car games and songs. But I remember most the beaches with the unbelievably blue-green ocean spreading out in front of us. We would throw a football or a Frisbee and laughingly dive into the water to make a spectacular catch. The salt cleaned your sinuses and got in your eyes but we went running back in anyway.
I had my fun but now it was getting serious. My parents had warned me not to go out too far but I was too strong and confident to listen. I started out again swimming against the tide and undertow. I could feel my strength being lapped out of me with each wave, I swam until I could no longer lift my arms and pull. As I rolled over onto my back to float I made one last kick and my toes kicked into something. I had found a hidden sand bar where I could stand. Relief swelled over me as I stood solidly against the drift, the tide and all the waves.
In our POST-postmodern culture we find our world tired and drowning. Our world is searching for something to stand on; something solid to help withstand the drifts, tides and waves of our culture. A solid rock in the midst of a relativistic ocean. Something to cling to, something to hang on to. Something like … a baby born in a manger on Christmas day who was solid enough to split time in half.
www.themoralbusiness.com
My parents would take all eight kids on a road trip from Indiana to Florida to visit relatives many years when I was growing up. That was an extremely brave thing for them to do. Picture eight kids born within the span of 10 years surviving a 20 plus hour trip in a station wagon. All without killing each other. I remember frozen sandwiches, playing catch in rest stops, Stuckey’s diners, 2:00 am gas stops, and hours and hours of car games and songs. But I remember most the beaches with the unbelievably blue-green ocean spreading out in front of us. We would throw a football or a Frisbee and laughingly dive into the water to make a spectacular catch. The salt cleaned your sinuses and got in your eyes but we went running back in anyway.
I had my fun but now it was getting serious. My parents had warned me not to go out too far but I was too strong and confident to listen. I started out again swimming against the tide and undertow. I could feel my strength being lapped out of me with each wave, I swam until I could no longer lift my arms and pull. As I rolled over onto my back to float I made one last kick and my toes kicked into something. I had found a hidden sand bar where I could stand. Relief swelled over me as I stood solidly against the drift, the tide and all the waves.
In our POST-postmodern culture we find our world tired and drowning. Our world is searching for something to stand on; something solid to help withstand the drifts, tides and waves of our culture. A solid rock in the midst of a relativistic ocean. Something to cling to, something to hang on to. Something like … a baby born in a manger on Christmas day who was solid enough to split time in half.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Friday, June 16, 2006
83% agree that Mark Twain had it right on statistics!
Every day you hear statistics. The presidents approval rating us up, it is down, it shows a decline from last time but it is on the increase from the same time last year. This product is proven to lower your cholesterol by this much and raise you good cholesterol by another 15 points. Statistics show this is more accurate, this is straighter, this will improve your sex life, this will gloss your hair more, this will make you better, cuter, smellier, whatever!
How do you know what statistics are saying? I took statistics in college and failed it the first time, I took it again and barely passed. When someone talks to me about statistics my eyes will gloss over and the corner of my mouth starts a little tick. I have a friend who teaches statistics and he seems so down to earth for a crazy person. The problem with statistics is that they look so innocent and seem to say so much without saying anything. The little percentage (%) sign is really a sign that stands for the devil, in fact, I think I can see a 666 hidden in that sign.
Let’s take a popularity poll for a particular idea. You read: “There is a 50% increase in support for people marrying their pet elephant” This may surprise you at first glance that half of the people polled want to marry elephants. What it really says is that the percent of people who support marrying elephants has increased by 50%. So if it was 2%, now it is 3% or if it was 40% now it is 60%. So that statistic really doesn’t tell you anything, in fact you can use that poll to say anything you want. PRO: 50% increase in support for marrying elephants. CON: Only 3% of people polled support marrying elephants. Both use the same poll, both are right, but both are radically, diametrically opposed.
Mark Twain said that there are “Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics” and I agree. Every time you hear a percentage or opinion poll or approval rating remember: those numbers are worse than lies and damn lies. Understand the only reason they are used is to push on you support for the purveyor’s point of view. You will be 62% happier in your life if you only believe statistics 33% of the time.
www.themoralbusiness.com
How do you know what statistics are saying? I took statistics in college and failed it the first time, I took it again and barely passed. When someone talks to me about statistics my eyes will gloss over and the corner of my mouth starts a little tick. I have a friend who teaches statistics and he seems so down to earth for a crazy person. The problem with statistics is that they look so innocent and seem to say so much without saying anything. The little percentage (%) sign is really a sign that stands for the devil, in fact, I think I can see a 666 hidden in that sign.
Let’s take a popularity poll for a particular idea. You read: “There is a 50% increase in support for people marrying their pet elephant” This may surprise you at first glance that half of the people polled want to marry elephants. What it really says is that the percent of people who support marrying elephants has increased by 50%. So if it was 2%, now it is 3% or if it was 40% now it is 60%. So that statistic really doesn’t tell you anything, in fact you can use that poll to say anything you want. PRO: 50% increase in support for marrying elephants. CON: Only 3% of people polled support marrying elephants. Both use the same poll, both are right, but both are radically, diametrically opposed.
Mark Twain said that there are “Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics” and I agree. Every time you hear a percentage or opinion poll or approval rating remember: those numbers are worse than lies and damn lies. Understand the only reason they are used is to push on you support for the purveyor’s point of view. You will be 62% happier in your life if you only believe statistics 33% of the time.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Fearfully Made
My Lipid Panel showed a few interesting twists, according to my doctor. While my bad cholesterol was good, my good cholesterol was bad. Triglycerides were slightly elevated but not much to worry about at this time; I just need to watch a little better what I eat. HDL levels were low, and that was interesting, “WAY LOW” according to my doctor, they are supposed to be in a range of 40-60 and mine were about 24. My cholesterol to HDL ratio is 5.55 mg/dL and it should be in a range of 2.00 – 4.50 mg/dL while my calculated LDL is at 58 mg/dL. This was taken from my drawn blood after fasting for 8 hours to make sure the reading were not impacted by my last meal. (Which was bacon fat spread on toasted white bread.)
What does all this mean? I really don’t have any idea … none at all. I had a kind of dazed look in my eyes as the nurse handed me a script for some drugs and moved my hand for me to sign my co-payment check. Whatever happened to the doctor visit I used to know? Where you would wait in the waiting room looking at a 3-year-old magazine, struggling to swallow from a sore throat or holding a swelled knee, ankle, or wrist; something that obviously needed a doctor’s care. The doctor would show you the x-ray of the break with his pen and proceed to wrap the appendage with gauze and plaster. For the sore throat you would get a quick look and a touch with a lengthened cotton swab and a script for something nice and familiar like Penicillin.
It seemed like our bodies were much simpler when I was younger. It seemed kind of like fixing a car. It used to be that anybody with a set of wrenches could lift the hood of any vehicle and fix anything in the engine, slam the hood down and say, “try it now.” Today I open the hood of my truck and I can’t even find something that resembles an engine underneath all the wires and computers. Today I go to a doctor and they don’t tell me my liver is broken and needs a cast, they have to give me a chemistry lesson before they can tell me what is wrong with me.
It is kind of scary as I place this strange colored pill into my mouth and swallow; I think I would prefer the cast or knee brace. Scripture tells us we are “fearfully and wonderfully made” and sometimes I really understand the fearful part.
www.themoralbusiness.com
What does all this mean? I really don’t have any idea … none at all. I had a kind of dazed look in my eyes as the nurse handed me a script for some drugs and moved my hand for me to sign my co-payment check. Whatever happened to the doctor visit I used to know? Where you would wait in the waiting room looking at a 3-year-old magazine, struggling to swallow from a sore throat or holding a swelled knee, ankle, or wrist; something that obviously needed a doctor’s care. The doctor would show you the x-ray of the break with his pen and proceed to wrap the appendage with gauze and plaster. For the sore throat you would get a quick look and a touch with a lengthened cotton swab and a script for something nice and familiar like Penicillin.
It seemed like our bodies were much simpler when I was younger. It seemed kind of like fixing a car. It used to be that anybody with a set of wrenches could lift the hood of any vehicle and fix anything in the engine, slam the hood down and say, “try it now.” Today I open the hood of my truck and I can’t even find something that resembles an engine underneath all the wires and computers. Today I go to a doctor and they don’t tell me my liver is broken and needs a cast, they have to give me a chemistry lesson before they can tell me what is wrong with me.
It is kind of scary as I place this strange colored pill into my mouth and swallow; I think I would prefer the cast or knee brace. Scripture tells us we are “fearfully and wonderfully made” and sometimes I really understand the fearful part.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Indebtedness
“Why did John get 50 cents and I only got a 25 cent raise?”
“Why does nothing ever go MY way?”
“What have you ever done for me?”
“They don’t pay me enough to do that?”
“Why me?”
“Me, my, mine, gimme, gettme, gotcha!”
I cannot tell you how many times I have heard these exclamations. In my time as a supervisor, manager, minister, and father it would total into the thousands. People who focus on their rights and their problems and their issues and totally forget about what others are going through. I have been guilty of it myself a time or two hundred. What is this? Why is our tendency toward selfishness?
From the time we were in the high chair we scream and cry for our rights with puréed carrots on our faces and a thrown spoon thrown to the floor for the umpteenth time; to our first job when we realize how much the government takes out of our paycheck; to the fifth job where we are passed by again for that big promotion or raise; to retirement complaints about Social Security payments and the cost of health care. We are selfish people.
That is why I preach to every business man and women, every church member and especially my kids to “consider yourself in a constant state of indebtedness.” In other words, never go around with the impression that people “owe” you, go around under the assumption that YOU “owe” people. Consider yourself indebted to others and you will find your life so much brighter. Brighter because you will always be thankful for any little thing; brighter because you will find ways to repay people for that debt; brighter because you will distinguish yourself from all others; brighter because you will find joy. So hear it again in this season, wherever you are: “ALWAYS consider yourself in a constant state of indebtedness!”
www.themoralbusiness.com
“Why does nothing ever go MY way?”
“What have you ever done for me?”
“They don’t pay me enough to do that?”
“Why me?”
“Me, my, mine, gimme, gettme, gotcha!”
I cannot tell you how many times I have heard these exclamations. In my time as a supervisor, manager, minister, and father it would total into the thousands. People who focus on their rights and their problems and their issues and totally forget about what others are going through. I have been guilty of it myself a time or two hundred. What is this? Why is our tendency toward selfishness?
From the time we were in the high chair we scream and cry for our rights with puréed carrots on our faces and a thrown spoon thrown to the floor for the umpteenth time; to our first job when we realize how much the government takes out of our paycheck; to the fifth job where we are passed by again for that big promotion or raise; to retirement complaints about Social Security payments and the cost of health care. We are selfish people.
That is why I preach to every business man and women, every church member and especially my kids to “consider yourself in a constant state of indebtedness.” In other words, never go around with the impression that people “owe” you, go around under the assumption that YOU “owe” people. Consider yourself indebted to others and you will find your life so much brighter. Brighter because you will always be thankful for any little thing; brighter because you will find ways to repay people for that debt; brighter because you will distinguish yourself from all others; brighter because you will find joy. So hear it again in this season, wherever you are: “ALWAYS consider yourself in a constant state of indebtedness!”
www.themoralbusiness.com
Garbage
I wasn’t even wearing gloves as I sorted through a mound of garbage perched on a literal mountain of waste at the landfill. My department had made a mistake and put some glass that was needed for a $20 million order on top of a garbage can and when the collector went around he assumed it was thrown out. It went to the company’s compactor, then to the landfill and I soon followed. The drivers of the huge garbage bulldozers stood around and watched me in my shirt and tie, knee deep in the refuse searching.
I placed the garbage at the curb this morning and thought back to that experience. I saw the garbage men coming around the corner picking up the bags, dumping the cans, and driving on. I stood at the curb in my slippers and shorts and watched. For a few cents a day I have two men in a big truck drive by my house, twice a week, and pick up the stuff I don’t want anymore – my garbage. They take it, throw it in their truck, and drive it to a landfill. People at the landfill, push it around, compact it, and finally cover it and it turns into a grass covered park, or a ski hill, or baseball diamond, or whatever. We recycle cans, bottles, papers and glass and turn it into roads, benches, and garbage cans and even back to cans, bottles, paper and glass. Amazing.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we could do that with the other garbage in our lives? Wrap up that stinky abuse from childhood in a used newspaper put it in plastic and leave it by the road for pickup. Take that broken marriage that still haunts you and drop it into the refuse can and wheel it away to the curb. Take that anger you have had wrapped around you like an overcoat and don’t even fold it as you crush it into the trash. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Maybe that’s what a good counselor can help you do or maybe a good friend. Maybe, just maybe, you CAN remove the garbage from your life. But first of all you have to be ready to get rid of it, no one can help you dump your garbage when you cling to it like a security blanket.
Oh, and yes, I did find that million-dollar glass in the landfill. The workers at the dump just shook their heads as I triumphantly raised it above my head and walked through the rest of the garbage to my car: smelly and smiling.
www.themoralbusiness.com
I placed the garbage at the curb this morning and thought back to that experience. I saw the garbage men coming around the corner picking up the bags, dumping the cans, and driving on. I stood at the curb in my slippers and shorts and watched. For a few cents a day I have two men in a big truck drive by my house, twice a week, and pick up the stuff I don’t want anymore – my garbage. They take it, throw it in their truck, and drive it to a landfill. People at the landfill, push it around, compact it, and finally cover it and it turns into a grass covered park, or a ski hill, or baseball diamond, or whatever. We recycle cans, bottles, papers and glass and turn it into roads, benches, and garbage cans and even back to cans, bottles, paper and glass. Amazing.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we could do that with the other garbage in our lives? Wrap up that stinky abuse from childhood in a used newspaper put it in plastic and leave it by the road for pickup. Take that broken marriage that still haunts you and drop it into the refuse can and wheel it away to the curb. Take that anger you have had wrapped around you like an overcoat and don’t even fold it as you crush it into the trash. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Maybe that’s what a good counselor can help you do or maybe a good friend. Maybe, just maybe, you CAN remove the garbage from your life. But first of all you have to be ready to get rid of it, no one can help you dump your garbage when you cling to it like a security blanket.
Oh, and yes, I did find that million-dollar glass in the landfill. The workers at the dump just shook their heads as I triumphantly raised it above my head and walked through the rest of the garbage to my car: smelly and smiling.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Harley Dreams
I pulled up to a red light with my window down, smelling the fresh fall air. I adjusted my radio to listen to a good song now playing when a rolling thunder approached. It started as a low rumble which I thought was the bass on my radio, then it grew louder and louder until finally the Harley pulled up next to my open window and I was tempted to roll it closed to protect my left eardrum. I have read that Harley Motorcycles doesn’t sell motorcycles it sells a lifestyle. A lifestyle where a 9-to-5 cubical accountant can ride through a neighborhood and have people fear him.
This man was decked out in full Harley gear. He had the black, shiny half-helmet. He wore a black leather jacket and blue jeans with leather chaps. He had buckled, black boots and black gloves that had the orange Harley logo on them. The bike itself seemed to bulge with chrome like muscles. The chrome-covered engine shook while it idled as if groaning against the breaks, aching to eat up the road. Everybody was aware of the Harley and its rider while he, seemingly, was only aware of the road ahead behind his wrap-around sunglasses: the ultimate in rebel coolness. He revved the engine a few times as the lights began to change, the engine growled at a higher pitch and lowered to its uneasy idle. The light turned green. I pushed my accelerator and expected the Harley to blow by me like I was standing still. I heard a revving, a loud click and as the leather boot lifted chrome into first gear, and then … a cough and … silence.
All of that leather and chrome show was negated in one mistimed clutch. The image crumbled into reality. The makeup came off the blemishes. Someday I will own a Harley. I will buy leather gloves and a leather jacket. I will wear a helmet and sunglasses and probably grow my beard and mustache a little longer. I feel the call of the open road that can be seen only on the seat of a Harley. But I also know that underneath all that I still am me … blemishes and all. Don’t lose yourself in the leather and chrome of life because most people will see through it eventually and those you love see through it immediately. Meanwhile, I’ll keep rolling down my window and dreaming.
www.themoralbusiness.com
This man was decked out in full Harley gear. He had the black, shiny half-helmet. He wore a black leather jacket and blue jeans with leather chaps. He had buckled, black boots and black gloves that had the orange Harley logo on them. The bike itself seemed to bulge with chrome like muscles. The chrome-covered engine shook while it idled as if groaning against the breaks, aching to eat up the road. Everybody was aware of the Harley and its rider while he, seemingly, was only aware of the road ahead behind his wrap-around sunglasses: the ultimate in rebel coolness. He revved the engine a few times as the lights began to change, the engine growled at a higher pitch and lowered to its uneasy idle. The light turned green. I pushed my accelerator and expected the Harley to blow by me like I was standing still. I heard a revving, a loud click and as the leather boot lifted chrome into first gear, and then … a cough and … silence.
All of that leather and chrome show was negated in one mistimed clutch. The image crumbled into reality. The makeup came off the blemishes. Someday I will own a Harley. I will buy leather gloves and a leather jacket. I will wear a helmet and sunglasses and probably grow my beard and mustache a little longer. I feel the call of the open road that can be seen only on the seat of a Harley. But I also know that underneath all that I still am me … blemishes and all. Don’t lose yourself in the leather and chrome of life because most people will see through it eventually and those you love see through it immediately. Meanwhile, I’ll keep rolling down my window and dreaming.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Play Money
I looked at the new $20 bill, felt it, turned it over and back again. I just didn’t look real. It had too much color in it and all these new-fangled, fancy-dancy gizmos in it to keep it from being copied. It reminded me of monopoly money: fake. I often feel the same way when I see foreign bills with different colors and different faces and even different numbers: fake.
They don’t always seem fake though. I remember Monopoly games back in Indiana that would go for days at our house. Those golden $500 bills seemed to be worth gold. Collecting that $200 for passing GO was invaluable for getting another house on Park Place or Boardwalk before my brother got around the “Go to Jail” corner. Monopoly money was worth something.
Have you ever thought about what gives that piece of cotton we call dollars it’s value? It certainly isn’t the sum of what makes up the bill itself. For almost forty years now it doesn’t represent a chunk of gold in Fort Knox. Yet that $20 bill is honored in every country in the world, whether in public or on the black market. That $20 bill is used to buy food, TVs, drugs, guns and medicine. What makes the fake become valuable?
It is the will, the spirit, and the agreement of the people that gives it value. $20 is $20 because you and I agree that it is. We infuse that $20 bill with life and breath because we want it to. We take an inanimate object and breath life into it. Sometimes it takes on a life of it’s own. Witness the 1999 Pennsylvania P quarter. When released we all agreed that it was worth 25 cents, but one in good condition nowadays can get you over 3 times that amount and an unopened roll originally worth $10 is now worth over $50. Why? Because we have agreed that it is worth more.
I think we do the same with people. I have seen a paper thin person swell with pride and joy from one good word of encouragement. I have seen another deflated to near nothing with a put-down or personal failure. Pop stars are that way because we will it; when we no longer will it they show up on VH1’s “Where are they now?” show as has-beens. We breathe life into each other or we take the wind out of their sails. We agree, we chose, so let us chose life and breath and not devalue each other. Let’s pick the penny up off the sidewalk.
www.themoralbusiness.com
They don’t always seem fake though. I remember Monopoly games back in Indiana that would go for days at our house. Those golden $500 bills seemed to be worth gold. Collecting that $200 for passing GO was invaluable for getting another house on Park Place or Boardwalk before my brother got around the “Go to Jail” corner. Monopoly money was worth something.
Have you ever thought about what gives that piece of cotton we call dollars it’s value? It certainly isn’t the sum of what makes up the bill itself. For almost forty years now it doesn’t represent a chunk of gold in Fort Knox. Yet that $20 bill is honored in every country in the world, whether in public or on the black market. That $20 bill is used to buy food, TVs, drugs, guns and medicine. What makes the fake become valuable?
It is the will, the spirit, and the agreement of the people that gives it value. $20 is $20 because you and I agree that it is. We infuse that $20 bill with life and breath because we want it to. We take an inanimate object and breath life into it. Sometimes it takes on a life of it’s own. Witness the 1999 Pennsylvania P quarter. When released we all agreed that it was worth 25 cents, but one in good condition nowadays can get you over 3 times that amount and an unopened roll originally worth $10 is now worth over $50. Why? Because we have agreed that it is worth more.
I think we do the same with people. I have seen a paper thin person swell with pride and joy from one good word of encouragement. I have seen another deflated to near nothing with a put-down or personal failure. Pop stars are that way because we will it; when we no longer will it they show up on VH1’s “Where are they now?” show as has-beens. We breathe life into each other or we take the wind out of their sails. We agree, we chose, so let us chose life and breath and not devalue each other. Let’s pick the penny up off the sidewalk.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Focus on Your Side
I was driving down the road with a friend of mine and I came to a tight squeeze. I have a small pickup and I have been driving it for over 3 years so I know the size hole I can fit it through. I simply looked at my left-side rear view mirror and got it as close to the neighboring car as possible and drove through the narrow gap between the cars. My friend quickly leaned towards me letting out a “whoa!” thinking that I was going to take off his door with how close I was to the neighboring car. “That was close!” he exclaimed. I just smiled.
For a long summer I drove a semi tractor and trailer from Michigan to Florida. My loads were everything from alfalfa hay and bags of feed to sweet corn and watermelons. The only time I was nervous was when I would approach a construction zone where there would be cement dividers narrowing the road to what seemed like a few inches of leeway on each side of my truck. Even at 45 mph it seemed like I had little room for error. I kept telling myself to “focus on your side … focus on your side.” So I only looked on the left and never looked to my right side mirror. If I kept my side as close as I could I knew the other would take care of itself. When the road was wide I could afford to look around and enjoy the trip but under pressure I had to go back to focusing on my side.
As a manager of a Shipping department I found myself saying the same thing to my employees. “Just focus on YOUR side” don’t worry about what the others are doing. I would hear complaint after complaint from employees about other employees or people in other departments especially when the pressure was on and people were worried about their jobs but I wouldn’t listen to them. Focus on your side and the other will take care of itself.
Scripture tells us not to worry about the speck in our neighbor’s eye until we remove the plank in our own eyes. It seems especially when the pressure is on and the gap is narrow that we tend to focus on the wrong side while we should be focusing on OUR side.
www.themoralbusiness.com
For a long summer I drove a semi tractor and trailer from Michigan to Florida. My loads were everything from alfalfa hay and bags of feed to sweet corn and watermelons. The only time I was nervous was when I would approach a construction zone where there would be cement dividers narrowing the road to what seemed like a few inches of leeway on each side of my truck. Even at 45 mph it seemed like I had little room for error. I kept telling myself to “focus on your side … focus on your side.” So I only looked on the left and never looked to my right side mirror. If I kept my side as close as I could I knew the other would take care of itself. When the road was wide I could afford to look around and enjoy the trip but under pressure I had to go back to focusing on my side.
As a manager of a Shipping department I found myself saying the same thing to my employees. “Just focus on YOUR side” don’t worry about what the others are doing. I would hear complaint after complaint from employees about other employees or people in other departments especially when the pressure was on and people were worried about their jobs but I wouldn’t listen to them. Focus on your side and the other will take care of itself.
Scripture tells us not to worry about the speck in our neighbor’s eye until we remove the plank in our own eyes. It seems especially when the pressure is on and the gap is narrow that we tend to focus on the wrong side while we should be focusing on OUR side.
www.themoralbusiness.com
The Feel
It’s all coming back to me now. The leathery knobs and the black stripes felt, somehow, right in my hand. It didn’t at first. At first it felt like a rough brick and not at all round in my hands. At first when I bounced the basketball it felt foreign and strange, I had to look down to make sure it was bouncing right and high enough to bounce again. The rim seemed like a hundred miles away. But let me back up a bit.
I grew up on a farm in Indiana with older brothers and most of us lived and breathed sports, especially basketball. If you have seen the movie Hosiers you have seen my back yard. We played basketball all year round and many times we had to scrap the snow off the court before we could play, the slush would stick to the ball and our ungloved hands would ache from the cold. I remember a hoop specially built by my dad out of 4x4s. I remember a hoop attached to the outside of the barn. I remember a hoop attached to a telephone pole in the driveway, upstairs in the hayloft of the barn, in the cattle yard with the cow pies, in the equipment shed, the tool shed, and even on a tree. Nerf basketball hoops showed up hanging on the doors of rooms in the house, the trim above walkways, above the TV, and out in the screened porch. We had a basketball table game with Ping-Pong balls launched to the hoop on a spring-loaded flipper. Even when there was no hoop or ball we would play in our imaginations and our underwear leaping to dunk the ball on the trim over the doorway. I carried a basketball to school, in the bus with me and sometimes even to classes. I carried a basketball to friend’s house just in case. My mom learned to tape broken glasses and broken fingers that came from basketball. I had the feel of a basketball.
As we remodeled our back yard it was my wife who insisted on a basketball hoop. Reluctantly, since my kids are out of the house now, I cemented the pole and hung the backboard and rim. I bought a new basketball and felt the brick it became in my hands. I shot a few times and missed even the backboard, the brick rolled in the grass behind. I turned on the lights on the court last night after a few weeks of bricks and noticed that I was dribbling without looking; my hands had gotten the feel back. I stood at the line and my hands traced the leathery knobs and black lines, I place my fingers where my 7th grade coach told me to place them and watched the ball spin backwards on its way to the hoop. The rim felt closer and the ball felt comfortable. I smiled as the memories of brothers, teammates, coaches, and screaming fans came back to me. I forgot my six knee surgeries and my extra 70 pounds as the ball lightly touched the back of the rim, went through, and bounced strait back to me. The feel.
www.themoralbusiness.com
I grew up on a farm in Indiana with older brothers and most of us lived and breathed sports, especially basketball. If you have seen the movie Hosiers you have seen my back yard. We played basketball all year round and many times we had to scrap the snow off the court before we could play, the slush would stick to the ball and our ungloved hands would ache from the cold. I remember a hoop specially built by my dad out of 4x4s. I remember a hoop attached to the outside of the barn. I remember a hoop attached to a telephone pole in the driveway, upstairs in the hayloft of the barn, in the cattle yard with the cow pies, in the equipment shed, the tool shed, and even on a tree. Nerf basketball hoops showed up hanging on the doors of rooms in the house, the trim above walkways, above the TV, and out in the screened porch. We had a basketball table game with Ping-Pong balls launched to the hoop on a spring-loaded flipper. Even when there was no hoop or ball we would play in our imaginations and our underwear leaping to dunk the ball on the trim over the doorway. I carried a basketball to school, in the bus with me and sometimes even to classes. I carried a basketball to friend’s house just in case. My mom learned to tape broken glasses and broken fingers that came from basketball. I had the feel of a basketball.
As we remodeled our back yard it was my wife who insisted on a basketball hoop. Reluctantly, since my kids are out of the house now, I cemented the pole and hung the backboard and rim. I bought a new basketball and felt the brick it became in my hands. I shot a few times and missed even the backboard, the brick rolled in the grass behind. I turned on the lights on the court last night after a few weeks of bricks and noticed that I was dribbling without looking; my hands had gotten the feel back. I stood at the line and my hands traced the leathery knobs and black lines, I place my fingers where my 7th grade coach told me to place them and watched the ball spin backwards on its way to the hoop. The rim felt closer and the ball felt comfortable. I smiled as the memories of brothers, teammates, coaches, and screaming fans came back to me. I forgot my six knee surgeries and my extra 70 pounds as the ball lightly touched the back of the rim, went through, and bounced strait back to me. The feel.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Friday, June 09, 2006
I Still Dream of Playing Basketball
In my dreams I can still fly through the air doing a two-handed-power-jam. In my dreams I am so light on my feet that the basketball almost lifts me towards the hoop. In my dreams I “take it to” the big man on the opposing team and I run back down the court to play defense while pointing at the guard who just fed me the perfect pass. In my dreams I am so in shape that I can play the entire game and still have the energy left for a last minute steal and a full speed run down court for another jam just as the final buzzer rings. In my dreams ….
Reality comes crashing into my dreams as soon as I wake like a sledge on concrete. I wake to find my mid-aged body racked by back pain and my knees unstable by six knee surgeries. I climb out of bed and carry my 40 overweight pounds to relieve a bladder that seems to be the only part of my anatomy shrinking. I move to my trusty La-z-boy to spend a few midnight hours and allow the ibuprofen to kick in before heading back to bed. Yet I lean back and rock dreaming of playing basketball.
My daydreams are different; my mind runs through thousands of scenarios as I read the morning papers and books next to my chair. I plan as I listen to the news, to music and to the small waterfall in my pool outside. I dream up so many schemes, possibilities, and adventures that I would drive my wife crazy if I shared one in a hundred with her.
It was during one of these marathon sessions of planning that I realized I was living the dreams I had back when I played basketball. Here I was lying on a floating mattress in my pool next to my beautiful wife of 26 years in a job that I love and in a city that I love. I am living my dream of 30 years ago as a teenager. I don’t live in the past I love the present too much. Take a look at what you are doing now. Are you using your past to improve your future or are you living in the past to escape your NOW.
Meanwhile, if you see me smiling while dozing off on a Sunday afternoon in my La-z-boy don’t wake me. I still dream of playing basketball.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Reality comes crashing into my dreams as soon as I wake like a sledge on concrete. I wake to find my mid-aged body racked by back pain and my knees unstable by six knee surgeries. I climb out of bed and carry my 40 overweight pounds to relieve a bladder that seems to be the only part of my anatomy shrinking. I move to my trusty La-z-boy to spend a few midnight hours and allow the ibuprofen to kick in before heading back to bed. Yet I lean back and rock dreaming of playing basketball.
My daydreams are different; my mind runs through thousands of scenarios as I read the morning papers and books next to my chair. I plan as I listen to the news, to music and to the small waterfall in my pool outside. I dream up so many schemes, possibilities, and adventures that I would drive my wife crazy if I shared one in a hundred with her.
It was during one of these marathon sessions of planning that I realized I was living the dreams I had back when I played basketball. Here I was lying on a floating mattress in my pool next to my beautiful wife of 26 years in a job that I love and in a city that I love. I am living my dream of 30 years ago as a teenager. I don’t live in the past I love the present too much. Take a look at what you are doing now. Are you using your past to improve your future or are you living in the past to escape your NOW.
Meanwhile, if you see me smiling while dozing off on a Sunday afternoon in my La-z-boy don’t wake me. I still dream of playing basketball.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Numbness
I woke up in the middle of the night with my whole arm numb. I was laying on it wrong and the blood quit circulating and so … numbness. It was kind of funny as I got up because it was useless, I could lift it but I had no fine motor control. It was reminiscent of the Tim Conway/Harvey Korman routine where Tim is a dentist and keeps giving himself a shot of Novocain instead of Harvey and as various parts of his body go numb Harvey cannot stop laughing while in the dentist’s chair. It is one of my favorite Carol Burnett Show moments. So here I was standing at the sink trying to brush my teeth with a numb arm. I held the brush in my good arm and squeezed the toothpaste all over the counter with my bad arm. I even tried to brush with my bad arm and it looked more like I was shaving than brushing. I was laughing at myself (I do that a lot) until ….
It started with a tingling in my arm as blood began coming back into my veins. The tingling quickly turned into a million pinpricks attacking my arm and successfully covering every square inch. With the toothpaste still on my face I drop the brush and flex my arm muscles attempting to hurry the wave of pain along. The wave lessens to a dull ache and I can finally clean my face, no longer smiling. I am sure all of us have experience this numbness to pinpricks to dull ache cycle many time in our lives.
What came to my mind was the numbness that I got the last time I was on drugs. Legally mind you, but I was taking painkillers for recently pulled teeth and I remember the numbness. My mind was lazy, my body was unresponsive, and sleep was fleetingly shallow. After a while I was faced with a decision, I knew in my cloudy mind that I could not stay like this forever, eventually I would have to face the pain and get off the drugs. I did, the pinpricks came, and finally the dull ache before I returned to my version of normal.
I believe many people don’t make that choice. The upcoming pain is too hard to face so they stay in the cloudy comfort of numbness. They keep the circulation cut off without realizing that for every minute there is no circulation, that piece of you dies a little bit more. Numbness seems peaceful and easy and pain may seem prickly and hard but it does mean you are coming alive.
www.themoralbusiness.com
It started with a tingling in my arm as blood began coming back into my veins. The tingling quickly turned into a million pinpricks attacking my arm and successfully covering every square inch. With the toothpaste still on my face I drop the brush and flex my arm muscles attempting to hurry the wave of pain along. The wave lessens to a dull ache and I can finally clean my face, no longer smiling. I am sure all of us have experience this numbness to pinpricks to dull ache cycle many time in our lives.
What came to my mind was the numbness that I got the last time I was on drugs. Legally mind you, but I was taking painkillers for recently pulled teeth and I remember the numbness. My mind was lazy, my body was unresponsive, and sleep was fleetingly shallow. After a while I was faced with a decision, I knew in my cloudy mind that I could not stay like this forever, eventually I would have to face the pain and get off the drugs. I did, the pinpricks came, and finally the dull ache before I returned to my version of normal.
I believe many people don’t make that choice. The upcoming pain is too hard to face so they stay in the cloudy comfort of numbness. They keep the circulation cut off without realizing that for every minute there is no circulation, that piece of you dies a little bit more. Numbness seems peaceful and easy and pain may seem prickly and hard but it does mean you are coming alive.
www.themoralbusiness.com
I am Tired of it!
It is less than a month before the elections and I have had enough! I am SO tired of it all. Most have made up their minds months, if not years, ago; so why do they spend millions of dollars trying to get our vote? But that is not enough! First, we have to put up with every other advertisement being a political one. Second, we have to put up with debates over everything we already know about. Third, we have to put up with the news telling us what they said, which we already knew. Fourth, we have to put up with partisans from both sides telling us what they said that we already know and what they think about it, which we already knew too. Fifth, we have to put up with the news telling us what the partisans said about what the candidates said about the issues we already knew about. And so on … and so on … and so on ….
I am tired of it. I have taken to watching the history channel and checking in on the news every now and again just to make sure the world hasn’t changed. H.L. Mencken says, “Under democracy one party always devotes its chief energies to trying to prove that the other party is unfit to rule--and both commonly succeed, and are right.” I think I will stay off cable news until the first Tuesday in November and think seriously about investing in TiVo or some such device.
It is unfortunate because I have seen a change in the last 10 years in our electorate. Many people claim that we are more polarized now than we have ever been before, but I don’t think so. I think we are more showy than ever before and less substantive than every before. The important decisions of war, poverty, education, and security of all kids are still there to be made but no single president can make a difference in those kids of decisions. The best a president can do is nudge the nation in a certain direction and hope the one that follows will keep nudging, after decades this behemoth of a democracy might alter it’s course by a few degrees. Even a HUGE, life-changing event like 9/11 didn’t alter our course by much, we are now, three years later, back to the same bickering and division we were then. I am tired of it.
I am tired of it but I am also hopeful. I know that we will be done in a few weeks with another round of this messy democratic process, and we will have a breather for a few months. I happen to agree with Winston Churchill who said, “Democracy is the worst form of government, apart from all the others.”
www.themoralbusiness.com
I am tired of it. I have taken to watching the history channel and checking in on the news every now and again just to make sure the world hasn’t changed. H.L. Mencken says, “Under democracy one party always devotes its chief energies to trying to prove that the other party is unfit to rule--and both commonly succeed, and are right.” I think I will stay off cable news until the first Tuesday in November and think seriously about investing in TiVo or some such device.
It is unfortunate because I have seen a change in the last 10 years in our electorate. Many people claim that we are more polarized now than we have ever been before, but I don’t think so. I think we are more showy than ever before and less substantive than every before. The important decisions of war, poverty, education, and security of all kids are still there to be made but no single president can make a difference in those kids of decisions. The best a president can do is nudge the nation in a certain direction and hope the one that follows will keep nudging, after decades this behemoth of a democracy might alter it’s course by a few degrees. Even a HUGE, life-changing event like 9/11 didn’t alter our course by much, we are now, three years later, back to the same bickering and division we were then. I am tired of it.
I am tired of it but I am also hopeful. I know that we will be done in a few weeks with another round of this messy democratic process, and we will have a breather for a few months. I happen to agree with Winston Churchill who said, “Democracy is the worst form of government, apart from all the others.”
www.themoralbusiness.com
Turn Down the Volume
I sat back and watched two people argue the other day. The “Bob” told “Jon” that he was hurt by something Jon said. Jon said that he didn’t SAY that, he said this. Bob said he didn’t hear this, he heard that. “Well, that is not true!” said Jon, “this is true!” “This cannot be true because I heard that!” “But I already told you, THAT is not true, this is!” “This isn’t true because you said that!” “I DIDN’T SAY THAT, I SAID THIS!” And on and on it went. I am sure that you have heard the argument and maybe even participated in something like that. Basically, the people were talking right past each other and not hearing a word the other was saying.
I sat and watched, and analyzed. I was happy that I was not a part of it but uncomfortable that I had to hear it along with 20 other people who were in the same place. The argument started low key enough but ended at high volume with both Bob and Jon yelling their version of the “truth.” The fact is neither of them had a handle on the “truth.” Neither of them was totally in the right, and neither was totally in the wrong. So how did they try to resolve the problem? They both came up with the same solution that we all try at one time or another … we turn up the volume. With each round of “yes you did … no I didn’t” the volume got turned up a notch. The volume got turned so far up that both were red-faced and spitting at each other.
Now were did we come up with the idea that increased volume means increased truth? I think maybe intimidation has a lot to do with it. Intimidating people are not just those with huge muscles, they are the people who know how to ratchet up the anger to the point of scaring the other person and therefore getting their way, and therefore believing in their own version of truth. I think that the “squeaky wheel” syndrome may apply when one of the people arguing decides his version of the truth is simply not worth the volume the other is projecting so they give in. I think there are many factors to increased volume.
Increased volume does not mean increased truth. So the next time you find yourself cranking up the volume in an argument find the knob and turn it back down. Often decreased volume means increased self-confidence just think of The Godfather.
www.themoralbusiness.com
I sat and watched, and analyzed. I was happy that I was not a part of it but uncomfortable that I had to hear it along with 20 other people who were in the same place. The argument started low key enough but ended at high volume with both Bob and Jon yelling their version of the “truth.” The fact is neither of them had a handle on the “truth.” Neither of them was totally in the right, and neither was totally in the wrong. So how did they try to resolve the problem? They both came up with the same solution that we all try at one time or another … we turn up the volume. With each round of “yes you did … no I didn’t” the volume got turned up a notch. The volume got turned so far up that both were red-faced and spitting at each other.
Now were did we come up with the idea that increased volume means increased truth? I think maybe intimidation has a lot to do with it. Intimidating people are not just those with huge muscles, they are the people who know how to ratchet up the anger to the point of scaring the other person and therefore getting their way, and therefore believing in their own version of truth. I think that the “squeaky wheel” syndrome may apply when one of the people arguing decides his version of the truth is simply not worth the volume the other is projecting so they give in. I think there are many factors to increased volume.
Increased volume does not mean increased truth. So the next time you find yourself cranking up the volume in an argument find the knob and turn it back down. Often decreased volume means increased self-confidence just think of The Godfather.
www.themoralbusiness.com
No Pain, No Gain
While playing basketball in High School a teammate of mine passed me a high-speed pass from only two feet away … right at my face. Being relatively quick I got my hands up in time to catch the ball and save a broken nose. But … in that fraction of a second that my hands went from my sides to my face to catch the ball, my left-hand thumbnail caught my tooth. (Read that sentence again) The quickness of my hands in saving my face ripped my thumbnail off my thumb. Well, not quite off my thumb, there was still a bit attached at the base of the nail hanging on like a leech to my skin. Stunned, I stopped the game, and walked over to my coach expecting sympathy and maybe a hospital visit. He looked at me, looked at the thumb, looked at me again and then grabbed the dangling nail and pulled it the rest of the way off my thumb. YEEEEEOOOOW! He then put a band-aid on it, wrapped it in tape and told me to get back into the game.
I was at my favorite Denny’s getting breakfast when my waitress sat down across from me in tears and told this story. Her granddaughter asked her if she could move in with her along with her six-month-old great-granddaughter. The waitress said no because she believed her granddaughter needed to get her life straight, quit partying, quit drinking, quit hanging with the wrong men, and take responsibility for her child. Basically her granddaughter wanted a free place to live and a free babysitter so she could party. Grandma said “no.” She was babysitting three times a week while her granddaughter worked but now the granddaughter is punishing her by never letter her see the baby again. At least that is the threat. She asked, in tears, if she did the right thing. I told her my thumbnail story and the rough, thick nail that reminds me of the pain often. She said she was so upset that she missed work for two days and still doesn’t feel like being there. I told her I understood, that she did the right thing, that the pain was right and okay, but that she had to get back into the game. I then told her that I didn’t think the ban from her great-granddaughter would be permanent and she agreed. She wiped the tears with her Denny’s apron and thanked me.
When I left Denny’s I left a big tip and noticed she was making the other people she was serving smile and calling them “honey” again. I looked at my thumb and smiled – she was back in the game.
www.themoralbusiness.com
I was at my favorite Denny’s getting breakfast when my waitress sat down across from me in tears and told this story. Her granddaughter asked her if she could move in with her along with her six-month-old great-granddaughter. The waitress said no because she believed her granddaughter needed to get her life straight, quit partying, quit drinking, quit hanging with the wrong men, and take responsibility for her child. Basically her granddaughter wanted a free place to live and a free babysitter so she could party. Grandma said “no.” She was babysitting three times a week while her granddaughter worked but now the granddaughter is punishing her by never letter her see the baby again. At least that is the threat. She asked, in tears, if she did the right thing. I told her my thumbnail story and the rough, thick nail that reminds me of the pain often. She said she was so upset that she missed work for two days and still doesn’t feel like being there. I told her I understood, that she did the right thing, that the pain was right and okay, but that she had to get back into the game. I then told her that I didn’t think the ban from her great-granddaughter would be permanent and she agreed. She wiped the tears with her Denny’s apron and thanked me.
When I left Denny’s I left a big tip and noticed she was making the other people she was serving smile and calling them “honey” again. I looked at my thumb and smiled – she was back in the game.
www.themoralbusiness.com
The Meek Shall Inherit the Earth
We have all seen the small-framed women with short hair and big eyes cowering behind some huge hairy husband afraid to say a word without his approval. When the unseen signal of approval is received she opens her mouth for a one-word answer to your question in a small “mousy” voice and an apologetic smile and then goes running back behind the husband as if in retreat from battle. I ran into this couple at a recent event we attended together. She was literally one-third the size of her husband, never left his side, and spoke only when there was no other option available. This is the person we give many names to: mousy, shy, insecure, bashful, meek, quiet, unassertive, and timid.
Wait a minute. Let’s play the Sesame Street game of “One of these things just doesn’t belong here!” Which of those names or labels really doesn’t describe this woman? Meek. We call mousy, quiet and timid people meek. That is not a description of a meek person. Let me give you a better definition of meekness. Meekness is controlled strength.
I used to wrestle on the living room floor with my kids when they were young, much to the chagrin of my wife. I would take on all three of them as toddlers and we would laugh and giggle until finally they ended up pinning me to the carpet with all on top of me. If I wanted, I could have easily thrown them off and across the room, but I didn’t want to. For reasons of love, joy, peace, patience and self control I didn’t WANT to. It was a decision I made to be meek.
This woman I describe may have been meek, I don’t know for sure. But what I do know is that people have a skewed view of what it means to be meek. We don’t consider meek people as strong people who simply control their strength. We run into situations every day where we need to be meek. At work and at home, with friends and with family, we face situations were we could control it, muscle it, silence it, or push it out of the way … but we don’t. We chose meekness instead. Have chosen meekness lately, enough? If you have you “shall inherit the earth.”
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Wait a minute. Let’s play the Sesame Street game of “One of these things just doesn’t belong here!” Which of those names or labels really doesn’t describe this woman? Meek. We call mousy, quiet and timid people meek. That is not a description of a meek person. Let me give you a better definition of meekness. Meekness is controlled strength.
I used to wrestle on the living room floor with my kids when they were young, much to the chagrin of my wife. I would take on all three of them as toddlers and we would laugh and giggle until finally they ended up pinning me to the carpet with all on top of me. If I wanted, I could have easily thrown them off and across the room, but I didn’t want to. For reasons of love, joy, peace, patience and self control I didn’t WANT to. It was a decision I made to be meek.
This woman I describe may have been meek, I don’t know for sure. But what I do know is that people have a skewed view of what it means to be meek. We don’t consider meek people as strong people who simply control their strength. We run into situations every day where we need to be meek. At work and at home, with friends and with family, we face situations were we could control it, muscle it, silence it, or push it out of the way … but we don’t. We chose meekness instead. Have chosen meekness lately, enough? If you have you “shall inherit the earth.”
www.themoralbusiness.com
Laughter
I was settled into my easy chair. I had my soda on the end table within reach, the TV set on the news, and the latest newspaper on my lap. After busy days this is my state of rest. The chair fits my body, soothes my aching back, and is rest for my spirit.
I am a confessed, news junkie, I need my fix so: Flooding my ears were stories of the latest hurricane to hit Florida, the latest attacks on each of the candidates, the latest war news, the latest terrorist news, the stock market going up and down. In my hands I read of locals going loony and killing each other, traffic problems, local politics, and businesses screaming for my attention through the print. In the newspaper the articles have a particular bent, even though they claim to be neutral, it is impossible. The ads make claims for your money. The TV stations each have their own agenda so I switch between for a rounded perspective on the news. Then I run into a section of pure fun. It seems to me that the comics are pure gratis and I eat them up.
Yesterday I was reduced to tears of laughter from a comic strip. I have found that certain comics relate to me at certain periods in my life. When my kids were young “Calvin and Hobbes” was the best strip and I read it every day. When my kids hit teenagers I found “Zits” to zero in on my funny bone. When I was in the business world “Dilbert” was perfect since I worked for a company that made cubicles. This particular strip was from “Get Fuzzy” who has been having back problems of late. I simply could not read the third frame of the comic without breaking into laughter, I pause and took a drink of my soda, I watched the news again but all I had to do was open the paper and the tears started flowing again. I began to make strange noises as I tried to stifle the guffaws. I finally had to put down that section of the paper and go on to death and destruction.
Laughter is the best medicine but that dose simply wore me out. Now I don’t wish to make light of the events that face our nation and each of us but there was no pill that would have made me feel better than those 15 minutes of pure laughter. When was the last time you were reduced to tears of laughter? When was the last time you took a laugh break? Maybe it’s time.
www.themoralbusiness.com
I am a confessed, news junkie, I need my fix so: Flooding my ears were stories of the latest hurricane to hit Florida, the latest attacks on each of the candidates, the latest war news, the latest terrorist news, the stock market going up and down. In my hands I read of locals going loony and killing each other, traffic problems, local politics, and businesses screaming for my attention through the print. In the newspaper the articles have a particular bent, even though they claim to be neutral, it is impossible. The ads make claims for your money. The TV stations each have their own agenda so I switch between for a rounded perspective on the news. Then I run into a section of pure fun. It seems to me that the comics are pure gratis and I eat them up.
Yesterday I was reduced to tears of laughter from a comic strip. I have found that certain comics relate to me at certain periods in my life. When my kids were young “Calvin and Hobbes” was the best strip and I read it every day. When my kids hit teenagers I found “Zits” to zero in on my funny bone. When I was in the business world “Dilbert” was perfect since I worked for a company that made cubicles. This particular strip was from “Get Fuzzy” who has been having back problems of late. I simply could not read the third frame of the comic without breaking into laughter, I pause and took a drink of my soda, I watched the news again but all I had to do was open the paper and the tears started flowing again. I began to make strange noises as I tried to stifle the guffaws. I finally had to put down that section of the paper and go on to death and destruction.
Laughter is the best medicine but that dose simply wore me out. Now I don’t wish to make light of the events that face our nation and each of us but there was no pill that would have made me feel better than those 15 minutes of pure laughter. When was the last time you were reduced to tears of laughter? When was the last time you took a laugh break? Maybe it’s time.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Anniversary
My wife and I celebrated our anniversary this past week by taking some time off and going to a hotel for a few nights. We went away from work, away from our house, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. While my wife spent a few hours at the spa I lay out by the pool and read books and magazines that I had been pushing back for lack of time. Outside of that couple of hours we spend the two days together. We simply spent time together. I found out that my wife is a pretty competitive go-cart racer and cut me off as I tried to pass countless times and put me into the rail. I smile now as I think about it.
These yearly events fascinate me. I am an amateur etymologist, which means that I am fascinated with the origins of words. Anniversary is an interesting word combination. The first part is “annus” from the Latin meaning “year” and most of us recognize that from other similar words: annual, Anno Domini, annals. But the second part of the word Anniversary makes for some interesting discussion. In Latin the word is “versus” which means “to turn.” Based on it’s usage in the word or phrase it can mean, “to return to” as in Anniversary, or “to turn against” as in Michigan vs. Indiana. I wonder if the Romans, who came up with the word, knew the possible variations when used in a WEDDING Anniversary. Every year the bride and the groom “return to” their wedding day or “turn against” each other.
Sometimes it seems as if we are against each other in our marriage but I will always return to that day in celebration. I am asked once a week if I feel people should live together before they are married. My answer depends. If they are religious then living together is wrong based on scripture. But most people aren’t looking for the religious answer so I give them the practical one. Living together BEFORE you are married is the surest way to make sure you get divorced later. It is also a way to guarantee any children you might have will get divorced and have many social ills to boot. Why do I say that? Statistics from the last 40 years of liberal marriage and divorce laws, as well as 40 years of the “sexual revolution” show that people who live together before they get married are THREE TIMES more likely to get divorced as those who do not live together before marriage. Three time more likely! So if you want to triple your odds of getting divorced, live together before you get married.
In fact, I think living together before may be the difference in the etymology of the word Anniversary. Yearly do you “return to” in celebration or do you “turn against” each other in guilt?
www.themoralbusiness.com
These yearly events fascinate me. I am an amateur etymologist, which means that I am fascinated with the origins of words. Anniversary is an interesting word combination. The first part is “annus” from the Latin meaning “year” and most of us recognize that from other similar words: annual, Anno Domini, annals. But the second part of the word Anniversary makes for some interesting discussion. In Latin the word is “versus” which means “to turn.” Based on it’s usage in the word or phrase it can mean, “to return to” as in Anniversary, or “to turn against” as in Michigan vs. Indiana. I wonder if the Romans, who came up with the word, knew the possible variations when used in a WEDDING Anniversary. Every year the bride and the groom “return to” their wedding day or “turn against” each other.
Sometimes it seems as if we are against each other in our marriage but I will always return to that day in celebration. I am asked once a week if I feel people should live together before they are married. My answer depends. If they are religious then living together is wrong based on scripture. But most people aren’t looking for the religious answer so I give them the practical one. Living together BEFORE you are married is the surest way to make sure you get divorced later. It is also a way to guarantee any children you might have will get divorced and have many social ills to boot. Why do I say that? Statistics from the last 40 years of liberal marriage and divorce laws, as well as 40 years of the “sexual revolution” show that people who live together before they get married are THREE TIMES more likely to get divorced as those who do not live together before marriage. Three time more likely! So if you want to triple your odds of getting divorced, live together before you get married.
In fact, I think living together before may be the difference in the etymology of the word Anniversary. Yearly do you “return to” in celebration or do you “turn against” each other in guilt?
www.themoralbusiness.com
Monday, June 05, 2006
Olympics III
Rulon Gardener sat in the middle of the matt and took off his shoes. I cried like a baby. Normally when tears come after someone takes off their shoes it has nothing to do with emotion and a lot to do with smell, but this was different.
Four years ago Rulon defeated the scariest human this side of Jason and Freddy. His name was Alexandre Kareline and he had won the Olympic Gold Medal in the previous 3 Olympics and every World Championship in between. Alexandre is thought to be the greatest Greco-Roman wrestler in history and had beaten Rulon easily the last time they met. These heavyweights were a study in opposites. Alexandre was a chiseled, square-jawed, muscular giant. Rulon was a baby-faced, easy-smiling, fat kid from Wyoming. Rulon did the impossible and handed the Russian giant his first loss in almost 15 years during the gold medal match.
That was four years ago. Now Rulon comes to the Olympics, again, an underdog. Many have fought and won matches against him, he was stranded out in the mountains of Wyoming and had severe frostbite, and he was still a baby-faced fat kid. Rulon lost his second to the last match in the Olympics and then won the Bronze medal match. In tears Rulon shook hands with his opponent, his coach, and then walked to the center of the matt with the crowd cheering and took off his shoes. In the world of athletes when one of their own takes off his shoes that means retirement. His shoes were beat up, marred, used up, scuffed, and smelly but were also beautiful as they sat by themselves in the middle of the matt. These shoes were a poor representation of the gentle farmer who wore them but they were a good representation of the battles he had fought, the wins and the losses.
I think that is a good representation of our lives too. When you leave your shoes in the middle of the matt what will they say about your life? We used to make fun of kids with brand new tennis shoes in school because they hadn’t DONE anything. Shoes that were beat up and molded to your foot represented people who were in the game and not on the sidelines. What will your shoes look like when you leave them on the matt?
www.themoralbusiness.com
Four years ago Rulon defeated the scariest human this side of Jason and Freddy. His name was Alexandre Kareline and he had won the Olympic Gold Medal in the previous 3 Olympics and every World Championship in between. Alexandre is thought to be the greatest Greco-Roman wrestler in history and had beaten Rulon easily the last time they met. These heavyweights were a study in opposites. Alexandre was a chiseled, square-jawed, muscular giant. Rulon was a baby-faced, easy-smiling, fat kid from Wyoming. Rulon did the impossible and handed the Russian giant his first loss in almost 15 years during the gold medal match.
That was four years ago. Now Rulon comes to the Olympics, again, an underdog. Many have fought and won matches against him, he was stranded out in the mountains of Wyoming and had severe frostbite, and he was still a baby-faced fat kid. Rulon lost his second to the last match in the Olympics and then won the Bronze medal match. In tears Rulon shook hands with his opponent, his coach, and then walked to the center of the matt with the crowd cheering and took off his shoes. In the world of athletes when one of their own takes off his shoes that means retirement. His shoes were beat up, marred, used up, scuffed, and smelly but were also beautiful as they sat by themselves in the middle of the matt. These shoes were a poor representation of the gentle farmer who wore them but they were a good representation of the battles he had fought, the wins and the losses.
I think that is a good representation of our lives too. When you leave your shoes in the middle of the matt what will they say about your life? We used to make fun of kids with brand new tennis shoes in school because they hadn’t DONE anything. Shoes that were beat up and molded to your foot represented people who were in the game and not on the sidelines. What will your shoes look like when you leave them on the matt?
www.themoralbusiness.com
Olympics II
Yesterday I watched a Chinese “girl” who was only about five foot tall clean-and-jerk a barbell almost three times her own weight. Then later that night another Chinese girl, about the same height, flew through the air, twisting and turning, and finally landing on the floor exercise in gymnastics. Both were amazing, both were unbelievable skilled and dedicated, both will go home without a medal.
Thousands and thousands of athletes in Athens and only a few hundred medals available. Why in the world would someone do that? Many of these athletes will be at the peak of their performance only this once – this one Olympics and there is no other shot. Many of these athletes have their place in the spotlight measured in seconds. Think of that! Only the top three get medals and at time what separates the fourth from those first three is hundredths of seconds. In speed cycling they time to three decimal points, so the difference could be thousandths of a second between medal and no medal. In archery a man practiced for 10 hours a day, everyday, for the last 15 years and went home with nothing but the experience.
Wait a minute. The experience. They ALL go home with that. The experience is that moment, that hundredth of a second frozen in time forever. The experience is being there. The experience is participation, even though you are the one that gets lapped in the long run. The experience of walking around with passes and tags around your neck, being in the Olympic Athletes ONLY Village, going in the Athletes ONLY places, and getting the Athletes ONLY warm-ups. Every athlete goes home with the experience.
After my six knee surgeries what I miss about basketball is NOT the winning. What I miss is the camaraderie, the “good play”, the great shot, the good move, the sweating and exhaustion, the EXPERIENCE. These athletes compete because they love the experience of competition. It is the journey that is the important part – not the goal. It is the experience – not the medal. Sometimes we forget about that in our life’s journey as well, we spend so much time focusing on the goal, that we forget the experience of the present. Stop and take a minute to enjoy the experience, the competition, and the journey.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Thousands and thousands of athletes in Athens and only a few hundred medals available. Why in the world would someone do that? Many of these athletes will be at the peak of their performance only this once – this one Olympics and there is no other shot. Many of these athletes have their place in the spotlight measured in seconds. Think of that! Only the top three get medals and at time what separates the fourth from those first three is hundredths of seconds. In speed cycling they time to three decimal points, so the difference could be thousandths of a second between medal and no medal. In archery a man practiced for 10 hours a day, everyday, for the last 15 years and went home with nothing but the experience.
Wait a minute. The experience. They ALL go home with that. The experience is that moment, that hundredth of a second frozen in time forever. The experience is being there. The experience is participation, even though you are the one that gets lapped in the long run. The experience of walking around with passes and tags around your neck, being in the Olympic Athletes ONLY Village, going in the Athletes ONLY places, and getting the Athletes ONLY warm-ups. Every athlete goes home with the experience.
After my six knee surgeries what I miss about basketball is NOT the winning. What I miss is the camaraderie, the “good play”, the great shot, the good move, the sweating and exhaustion, the EXPERIENCE. These athletes compete because they love the experience of competition. It is the journey that is the important part – not the goal. It is the experience – not the medal. Sometimes we forget about that in our life’s journey as well, we spend so much time focusing on the goal, that we forget the experience of the present. Stop and take a minute to enjoy the experience, the competition, and the journey.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Olympics I
I won’t be getting too much sleep over the next few weeks because the Olympics is now on. Once every four years I create a huge groove in my easy chair as I lay ease my frame into it for hours at a time. I love the Olympics; I love the spirit of it and the camaraderie of the teams. I have watched fencing, volleyball, soccer and the first running event already and I am hooked again.
The first thing I have noticed is the age of the athletes. The OLD ones really stand out because the young own the Olympics. In gymnastics you are an old lady if you are 20 years old. The Cuban volleyball team looked like junior high kids to me even though they were all over 6 foot tall and could jump over my head. The Brazilian superstar women’s soccer player is still in High School. During the opening ceremonies the youth from every culture parade by the cameras. They come out dignified in their national uniforms to hear their country announced in three different languages and then the cheers of the crowds. For most of them, that will be their only moment in the TV spotlight as the file into the stadium since they have no chance of medalling in their event. As they approach the TV camera for their 15 seconds of fame they wave their small flags and then look strait into the camera and … stick out their tongue, pull a funny face, and even say “hi mom” just like every teenager in the world would do.
You can take the kids out of their teenage years but not the teenagers out of the kids. All the sacrifice and hard work that got them there is forgotten as they pose for the camera for those few seconds. To be at the Olympics is the goal and the win becomes secondary.
As we continue in a season of war and terrorism in our world we take a breath and pause for just a few weeks and focus on the joy of being human – together. Competition breeds respect, which breeds acceptance, which leads to understanding and perhaps … love.
www.themoralbusiness.com
The first thing I have noticed is the age of the athletes. The OLD ones really stand out because the young own the Olympics. In gymnastics you are an old lady if you are 20 years old. The Cuban volleyball team looked like junior high kids to me even though they were all over 6 foot tall and could jump over my head. The Brazilian superstar women’s soccer player is still in High School. During the opening ceremonies the youth from every culture parade by the cameras. They come out dignified in their national uniforms to hear their country announced in three different languages and then the cheers of the crowds. For most of them, that will be their only moment in the TV spotlight as the file into the stadium since they have no chance of medalling in their event. As they approach the TV camera for their 15 seconds of fame they wave their small flags and then look strait into the camera and … stick out their tongue, pull a funny face, and even say “hi mom” just like every teenager in the world would do.
You can take the kids out of their teenage years but not the teenagers out of the kids. All the sacrifice and hard work that got them there is forgotten as they pose for the camera for those few seconds. To be at the Olympics is the goal and the win becomes secondary.
As we continue in a season of war and terrorism in our world we take a breath and pause for just a few weeks and focus on the joy of being human – together. Competition breeds respect, which breeds acceptance, which leads to understanding and perhaps … love.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Use it or Lose it
I was heading to my truck, parked on the 6th floor of a parking ramp when I saw a man wandering through the ramp with his armed raised. He was looking from side to side and pressing a button on his keychain that would set off an alarm or horn on his vehicle. He had clearly forgotten where he parked and was using his alarm to find his car. As I drove out of the ramp I saw him on a different floor still searching with his arm upraised and thumb pressing the button repeatedly.
I used to be good at remembering phone numbers. I could still rattle off the phone number of my home in Indiana from 40 years ago and other than my college dorm room number I can give you every one up until now. I know my in-law’s number, a few brothers and sisters and even a grandparent’s number. But something has happened recently. I was asked the number for my wife’s cell phone and I was stuck … I said, “Umm … all I know is that it is number one on my speed dial.”
That man in the parking ramp and I are victims of “Use-it-or-lose-it” syndrome. Modern technology has cause us to use totally different parts of our brains and even different parts of our body. I bet we have teenagers with the most versatile thumbs in history because they grew up using them on computer games, TV remotes, and arcade games. We have adults that have learned to dial phones, drive, and chew gum at the same time. This amazes me but what have we lost with all these advances.
It used to be on the farm that all the neighbors HAD to get together at harvest time because one farmer could not bring in the crops on time by himself. Modern technology allows more self-reliance but a loss of neighbors as friends. I have my cell phone with me at most times and I have lost meals without interruptions. I can make my car’s horn honk from a distance but don’t remember where I parked it. I can call my wife but I cannot tell others how to call her. We’ve gained but what have we traded?
“There’s the rub.” What is the tradeoff? Have you ever stopped to ask yourself what you must let go for this new gadget?
www.themoralbusiness.com
I used to be good at remembering phone numbers. I could still rattle off the phone number of my home in Indiana from 40 years ago and other than my college dorm room number I can give you every one up until now. I know my in-law’s number, a few brothers and sisters and even a grandparent’s number. But something has happened recently. I was asked the number for my wife’s cell phone and I was stuck … I said, “Umm … all I know is that it is number one on my speed dial.”
That man in the parking ramp and I are victims of “Use-it-or-lose-it” syndrome. Modern technology has cause us to use totally different parts of our brains and even different parts of our body. I bet we have teenagers with the most versatile thumbs in history because they grew up using them on computer games, TV remotes, and arcade games. We have adults that have learned to dial phones, drive, and chew gum at the same time. This amazes me but what have we lost with all these advances.
It used to be on the farm that all the neighbors HAD to get together at harvest time because one farmer could not bring in the crops on time by himself. Modern technology allows more self-reliance but a loss of neighbors as friends. I have my cell phone with me at most times and I have lost meals without interruptions. I can make my car’s horn honk from a distance but don’t remember where I parked it. I can call my wife but I cannot tell others how to call her. We’ve gained but what have we traded?
“There’s the rub.” What is the tradeoff? Have you ever stopped to ask yourself what you must let go for this new gadget?
www.themoralbusiness.com
Where the Sharks Are
I lay down in the water floating. The pool is cooler than my body temp but my body quickly adjusted to the point where it felt like I am floating on nothing. I breath carefully because a deep exhale would send me under and dramatic breaths caused me to bob like a buoy in a windstorm. I looked up into the evening sky and see airplane lights and a few stars peaking through the thick Las Vegas night. The only lights are the lights of the pool, underwater, causing the pool to have a clear glass with a green tint look. But those lights make all the difference.
We had a pool growing up on the farm and I used to like to swim at night there too, until something happened. That something was a movie called Jaws. After I saw the movie I felt strangely uncomfortable swimming at night. As I would float I could almost hear the “DaDumDaDump” of the movie soundtrack, as the shark got closer. Any little movement or a touch from the floating chlorine dispenser would send me into waves of convulsions escaping the danger. Years later at the cottage owned by my in-laws I would swim at night and be reminded again of things that swim, unseen, under the surface. While I was able to control the convulsions I would feel an adrenaline rush if some seaweed brushed my leg during those night swims. These swims were as calm and relaxing as a rollercoaster ride.
The difference is light. Illumination causes fears to flee. Darkness creates unseen and unimaginable and, normally, unfounded dangers. I float easily and relaxed in a lit pool, but uneasily and nervously in a dark one.
There are so many areas that could use this as a metaphor I don’t know which one to chose from: The illumination of knowledge over the darkness of ignorance; the shadows of lies versus the shining light of truth; the beauty of the full spectrum of color compared to the monochrome grays; and the hidden fears dispelled by shining understanding. All of these could be used and would make a great column – but I won’t. I will use this for a simpler message: Stay in the light! Flee from the darkness! Simply, don’t go where the sharks are.
www.themoralbusiness.com
We had a pool growing up on the farm and I used to like to swim at night there too, until something happened. That something was a movie called Jaws. After I saw the movie I felt strangely uncomfortable swimming at night. As I would float I could almost hear the “DaDumDaDump” of the movie soundtrack, as the shark got closer. Any little movement or a touch from the floating chlorine dispenser would send me into waves of convulsions escaping the danger. Years later at the cottage owned by my in-laws I would swim at night and be reminded again of things that swim, unseen, under the surface. While I was able to control the convulsions I would feel an adrenaline rush if some seaweed brushed my leg during those night swims. These swims were as calm and relaxing as a rollercoaster ride.
The difference is light. Illumination causes fears to flee. Darkness creates unseen and unimaginable and, normally, unfounded dangers. I float easily and relaxed in a lit pool, but uneasily and nervously in a dark one.
There are so many areas that could use this as a metaphor I don’t know which one to chose from: The illumination of knowledge over the darkness of ignorance; the shadows of lies versus the shining light of truth; the beauty of the full spectrum of color compared to the monochrome grays; and the hidden fears dispelled by shining understanding. All of these could be used and would make a great column – but I won’t. I will use this for a simpler message: Stay in the light! Flee from the darkness! Simply, don’t go where the sharks are.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Science Faith
What do you do when science and logic disagree? We are so used to logic and religion or religion and science disagreeing but what happens when logic disagrees with science? Science tells us that if you cut the distance between two lines in half and keep doing that. Keep cutting the distance between two lines in half to an infinity amount of times, the lines will never meet. Science tells us that you can go from an inch apart to a half inch, quarter inch, eighth inch, sixteenth, thirty-second, sixty-fourth, etc. and the two lines will never meet. Logic tells us that this cannot happen, that infinity of halves is impossibility. Logic cannot exist in a system of quantum physics. Logic says if A = B and B = C then A = C. Logic says that if A = B then A m B is false. If A equals B is cannot NOT equal B at the same time. Science now will tell you that A can be both B and non-B at the same time. It goes beyond light as both a ray and a wave. It applies to many equations and is covered in phrases like: dark matter, hidden factors, inherent errors, false integers and unknown equations.
All the math and physics going on at major universities now are delving into areas where logic never dared or could tread. Papers are being written in speculation of things hidden that will someday be revealed as we build bigger and faster computers. Dark matter of amazing power will be revealed when we super collide atoms. Mysteries will be revealed when the patterns of prime numbers found in pi are deciphered and gathered. Megabytes turn into Gigabytes which turn into Terabytes, then to Petabyte, then to Exabyte and beyond.
It is interesting to watch and read about this conversion of science. No longer are we talking about healing the sick with medication and surgery we are talking about altering genes and nanotechnology to heal. To us lay people, science will be a matter of … “I don’t know what it is, but they say it is supposed to work.” I read in a magazine recently that we will soon have genetically enhanced, robotic leaches and parasites that will email us information on how our body is doing and what we should eat in the upcoming meal. We will take it as a matter of … faith?
Hmm… Maybe within the next few years those universities should pull down their “Science and Math Department” signs and put up “Department of Faith and Religion” signs.
www.themoralbusiness.com
All the math and physics going on at major universities now are delving into areas where logic never dared or could tread. Papers are being written in speculation of things hidden that will someday be revealed as we build bigger and faster computers. Dark matter of amazing power will be revealed when we super collide atoms. Mysteries will be revealed when the patterns of prime numbers found in pi are deciphered and gathered. Megabytes turn into Gigabytes which turn into Terabytes, then to Petabyte, then to Exabyte and beyond.
It is interesting to watch and read about this conversion of science. No longer are we talking about healing the sick with medication and surgery we are talking about altering genes and nanotechnology to heal. To us lay people, science will be a matter of … “I don’t know what it is, but they say it is supposed to work.” I read in a magazine recently that we will soon have genetically enhanced, robotic leaches and parasites that will email us information on how our body is doing and what we should eat in the upcoming meal. We will take it as a matter of … faith?
Hmm… Maybe within the next few years those universities should pull down their “Science and Math Department” signs and put up “Department of Faith and Religion” signs.
www.themoralbusiness.com
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