Me

Cosmo Brown: Talking pictures, that means I'm out of a job. At last I can start suffering and write that symphony.
R.F. Simpson: You're not out of job, we're putting you in as head of our new music department.
Cosmo Brown: Oh, thanks, R.F.! At last I can stop suffering and write that symphony.

From Singing in the Rain

So when times get hectic – when I find that I am just way too behind on my “things that must be completed today” list – blog posting is one of the first optional activities that gets chucked. It’s either write or sleep, and since I tend to run on way too little sleep as it is, choosing the latter would almost certainly result in me getting wretchedly sick, or in a horrible car wreck, or both.
But the ideas just keep coming. I’ll be toodling along through life, minding my own business, when an idea will strike; some interesting juxtaposition of events, a remarkable metaphor, some theological connection. I will then have the urge to write about it. I will often scribble the basic outline in my legal pad that I keep with me for business. Then I look for time to write. Days pass. Other ideas float to the top. More days go by. The ideas pile up but then start to get lost. They end up drifting into the piles on my desk, or to the floor of my car, or into the recycling bin. Then when I do find a half hour that I can justify writing, I sit here and wonder where all those great ideas went.
Ah, the life a great artiste intellectualle is so fraught with hardship. What is a genius to do?
Why, write about himself, of course! The self-referential writer is the most pitiful of all creatures. It's like living in some depression era Mickey Rooney flick, where it's all about the actors having trouble getting their movie made.
So here I am, writing about me writing about me. I keep thinking that if I do this long enough, the fabric of the space-time continuum will open up and I will sucked into the interstitial space between dimensions. Then I should have plenty of time to write my magnum opus.

Thought for Ash Wednesday

Even though I missed Ash Wednesday services, it is good to mark the beginning of Lent. It is even better to keep Lent, and remember in our bodies the life and suffering of our Lord Jesus.

“Perversity and pride can lead us to insist on our suffering for selected sins. This one, my special sin, I am going to make atonement for. This is a denial of Christ and Calvary. There is nothing of you that He left out of His atonement for you, left out of His forgiveness. Christ died for you, the whole person, for He would make you whole. There is fact here and there is process. You are forgiven; you are righteous with Christ’s bestowed righteousness. He counts for you; you are justified.

Now you are to become what you are.”

Norman Nagel - From Selected Sermons of Norman Nagel

Dopplegangers and Bizarro World Candidates

As I was our running through the slush this morning, enjoying the fresh snow that has been falling gently gently for the last 6 days, my thoughts turned to democracy and our wonderful elections. I thought about the brave and strong candidates, who thoughtless of their own safety, hurl themselves into the harsh light of public scrutiny, subjecting themselves to all manner of physical and emotional torment at the hands of the people, all for the paltry prize of becoming the leader of the free world.

I occured to me that there were some fasinating parllels among the candidates. It seems in fact that each candidate in the field has his own doppleganger, his own Bizarro complement. Each pair hails from a different party, but shares a style of candidacy. Within each pairing, there is shared style, but a much different emphasis on substance and focus.

STYLE SUBGROUP	REPUBLICAN	DEMOCRAT
TECHNOCRAT	ROMNEY	CLINTON
EMOTICRAT	McCAIN	OBAMA
POPULIST	HUCKABEE	EDWARDS
POLARIST	PAUL	KUCINICH
NON-STARTER	THOMPSON	RICHARDSON

Technocrats are candidates who are focused on technology (in the Ellulian sense), "the totality of methods rationally arrived at, and having absolute efficiency (for a given stage of development) in every field of human activity." In other words, governing is all about the methodology, the programs, the technique. Romney and Clinton don't really differ that much in style. They differ mainly in the tools and ends they would use the technology of government for. The danger of either, of course, is whether the technology really serves humanity, or vice versa.

The Emoticrats seek to lead by inspiring, by appeal to the emotional desires and dreams of the citizens. McCain says, "I will never back down in hunting and killing the enemies of our Great Nation. I will Never Never stop!" That appeals deeply to certain segment whose main concern is the enemy without. Obama says, "We need Change. I will bring Change. We need to Unite. I will unite us." This appeals to the hearts of those who fear the enemy within, which is only those who cannot just get along, or who don't want to change. Of course, change is never defined. The great danger is that an emoticratic appeal can move millions to action, but to what action? They use similar styles, but their ends are very different ends.

The Populists set themselves up as the contenders for the people against the overwhelming machine of the big bad Wolf we can government. Huckabee wants to save us from the grasping claws of the IRS that want to steal the money that is rightfully ours. Edwards wants to save us from the iron heel of the military industrial bureaucratic complex that presses our necks down so that we cannot earn the money that is rightfully ours. The both style themselves as saviors of sorts, but their means are quite different.

The Polarists stand on the far ends, shouting as loud as they can. Unfortunately for them, they stand so far out there that only a few, those whose hearing aids are already tuned to their special frequency, can actually hear them. It has been said that a sign of integrity is what you do when no one is watching. If this is true, then God bless Ron Paul and Dennis Kucinich. They are trying to fit 10 pounds of integrity into a 5 pound sack.

The Non-Starters are good guys who apparently just have no idea whatsoever how to actually run a national presidential campaign. They might have had something good to add, but just totally screwed themselves.

I'm not sure how much value this analysis has for actually choosing one candidate or another, but it's kind of interesting to see how it all breaks out. The question is, will the parties choose there candidates with matching styles, or will they pit one style against another? How will that affect the campaign? If this happens in the national election, you may see one candidate trying to change their style to counter the other. My guess is that the candidate the changes will most likely lose.

No Child Left Inside

My daughters do not play outside nearly as much as I did at their age. One might tend to think this is the result of their age or that they are girls, but I think not. My mother's litany was, "It's a beautiful day. Go outside and play." And I did. I did not worry, and think my mother did not worry much either, about various dangers and accidents -- that was all just part of raising boys. The horrors of predatory adults were not high on the radar either -- at least I think not.

I am concerned that even though I live in a distinctly rural area, my kids are living a suburban life. They don't play as much as I think they should. We tend to think of kid activities as things we must take them to. Yet our house is surrounded by woods. I can't think of a better playground. It's not that the girls aren't interested in it, either. The eldest loves all things vegetable, animal and mineral. But tell them go to outside and there are a million reasons why things get uncomfortable or scary and the boomerang back in.

An article I recently came across in Drive Magazine made me think of this more. Apparently I'm not the only one who thinks that we are raising kids who are very "concerned" about "the environment" but don't actually spend much time in it.

Within the space of a few decades, the way children understand and experience nature has changed radically. The polarity of the relationship has reversed. Today, kids are aware of the global threats to the environment – but their physical contact, their intimacy with nature, is fading. That’s exactly the opposite of how it was when I was a child. As a boy, I was unaware that my woods were ecologically connected with any other forests. Nobody in the 1950s talked about acid rain or holes in the ozone layer or global warming. But I knew my woods and my fields; I knew every bend in the creek and dip in the beaten dirt paths. I wandered those woods even in my dreams. A kid today can likely tell you about the Amazon rain forest – but not about the last time he or she explored the woods in solitude, or lay in a field listening to the wind and watching the clouds move.

Worth Reading and thinking about. I'm sending my kids out there and locking the door. It's for their own good.

I'm Going to Stop Before I Hurt Myself

It's a good thing I'm not a real football fan. I feel mildly bummed out, and I am not really that into it. If it mattered a lot to me, I would be really upset. I know some people who will be. That's a hard way to live.

Congrats to the Giants, eh? They earned it.

And...because nobody really cares what I think about football, I'll stop now.

Training BS

I am a professional trainer and speaker. I stand up in front of people and teach them useful skills for living and working more effectively. It used to be that people who did this were said to be part of the “Self Help” business. Now it is the Personal Development Industry. Whatever.

I love this business. I love the look that I see in my students’ eyes when they realize that the have just accomplished something they did not think possible. I dig it when a student tells me a story about how what I taught them helped them in some way. My mission is to give people tools to help them to live better lives, and it gives me great satisfaction.

But I gotta tell ya, there are a lot of things about this business that drive me batty. Today, my pet peeve is the “urban legends” of my business. These are stories and illustrations that you will find widely quoted as fact in books, CD’s, seminars and presentations. They are quoted as fact, but as far as I can tell, they have no real basis anywhere. Could be that I’m just missing something, but I don’t think so. In fact, I think I’m smelling something pretty stinky around these stories.

The first is the story of the Bamboo Tree. The story has is that when a bamboo farmer (is there really such a thing as a bamboo farmer?) plants a bamboo, he waters it and tends it for 10 years with no visible results. Then in the 10th year, the plant suddenly shoots out of the ground and grows at some astronomical rate, like a foot a week or something. The moral is that much of our work is like this. We plant and water and tend to our business, and the results are slow in coming. But if we are faithful, and don’t give up, the results will be spectacular. Good story. I think, however, that it is a total load of crap. I have been unable to find any documentation of the growth cycle of bamboo that supports this story.

Second is the widely reported statistic that 97% of our communication is non-verbal. I first heard this in college in my Introduction to Communication class. It is generally accepted fact. Yet I have found no studies or documentation to actually support the claim. How do you measure it? What’s the methodology that came up with that number. The general concept may even be true, but it ticks me off that this is probably just a made up thing that has worked it’s way into the collective psyche.

Third is the widely referenced Harvard University Study on Goal Setting. The story is that “once upon a time” Harvard Business School did a study. They asked a sample of people if they had goals, what they were, and if they had written them down. Only 3% had written goals. 30 years later, they looked up the same people and guess what they found? The 3% who had written down their goals now rule the world. The rest of the sample now live in poverty in Bangladesh. OK, that’s not exactly how it goes, but close enough. I cannot find any such study. The only specific thing I can find is that it happened at Harvard. No year, no publication, no authors. Nothing. I think it’s a load of bunk. Again, it may be true that people who set goals and write them down are more successful, but why must we resort to lies to teach the truth?

I am currently reading Awaken the Giant Within by Tony Robbins. I have tremendous respect for Tony and his work, and I’m really enjoying and learning a lot from the book, but one thing in he wrote really rubbed me wrong. As an example of the power of constant and never-ending improvement, Robbins cites basketball coach Pat Riley. Robbins relates this story, that took place at the start of the 1986 season with the Lakers.

He convinced the players that increasing the quality of their game by a mere 1 ercent over their personal best would make a major difference in their season. This seems ridiculously small, but when you think about 12 players increasing by 1 percent their court skills over 5 areas the combined effort makes a team that is 60% more effective than it was before.

Ok, I’m not a math whiz so I can’t explain why in technical terms, but the logic here just seems wrong to me. A one percent increase in 5 separate areas for 12 players does NOT add up to 60% overall improvement. The categories are mixed up. This sort of noodling with the facts just drives me bonkers. Aren’t there enough REAL stories to illustrate the point. Can’t you use actual logic, rather than made up pseudo-math?

Stories and word pictures are powerful and useful for helping people to grasp the concepts involved, not just cognitively, but emotionally as well. That’s why speakers like to use stories like these. When people change behavior, it is almost always the result of some sort of change in emotional state, not a logical decision. Stories and images tap into emotions much more effectively than facts. The power of facts often comes from the emotional weight granted to authorities like Harvard.

I believe that goal setting is indeed a powerful tool for living an intentional and purposeful life. I agree that we should persevere even when results seem to be delayed. I am certain that how we say things is often more powerful than what we actually say. And I believe that constants incremental improvement can add up to dramatic progress over time.

Yup. I believe all these things. But I don’t buy the stories. Not for a minute. I wish my colleagues would stop spouting nonsense, even in the service of truth.

XLII Haiku

What can better capture the truest essence of world’s most bombastic professional sporting event like poetry? The distillation of the purest spirit is surely the domain of the bards, and this is no less true if the subject involves the fierce clashing of will, and the violent collision of bodies on the turf. And so, in honor of our glorious Patriots and the bid for pigskin history, I bring you Superbowl Haiku.

Belicheck is grim.
The hoodie hides his head while
His lips stay clamped down.

Fourth down or field goal,
Rushing, blocking, blitzing. Sack!
The QB eats turf.

Arizona heat.
It don’t snow nor never rains.
Is it real football?

The beer. The hot wings.
The chips in salsa verde.
Eating and yelling.

A win by touchdown,
Field goal or the extra point.
Which one is sweeter?

Brady’s targeting
Computer is now locked on.
One fire is one kill.

There will be a shot
That will win the game. The hit
Heard around the world.

When Welker, Moss and
Stallworth are hot, Brady fires
Heat seeking missiles.

No pass game? No prob.
We hit the ground running it.
Right down their throats. Boom.

This misbegotten foray into "poetry" was inspired by the NPR program It's Only a Game, where they had a special feature on Superbowl Haiku. You can hear it HERE. Start listening at 40:35 into the program.

Pickled Pigskin

My wife and I watched the game last Sunday. It is a clear sign of how much living in Green Bay affected us that we both watched the game. As I have said before, I cannot be legitimately classified as a sports fan – never mind a football fan. And I must say that one of the things that my wife found attractive about me (besides my devastating good looks, my scintillating intellect, and irresistible charm) is that I do not typically spend hours watching various professional and collegiate sporting events on TV. Needless to say, she seldom spends more than a few seconds a month even thinking much about sports herself.
So when Sunday night found us tuned in and attentive to the Green Bay game, it really was quite an unusual event. Even more so since I had just finished watching three hours of football as the Patriots managed to put down the upstart Chargers. In fact, at one point, my girls started grousing about watching the game. “Dad?” said the little one, “can we watch something else?” After I said no, the complaining continued and began to take on a bit of a whine. At this point I simply pulled rank. It sounded something like this. “I almost never watch sports. I have not watched a single game this year. If, on this day, I wish to watch a football game, then I am allowed to do so.” I resisted the temptation to add, “Your Father the Emperor has spoken. Now be silent.” But it was clearly implied in my tone.
I did actually miss the first part of the GB game, as we stopped watching to eat dinner, and then put the kids to bed. We picked up sometime late in the second quarter. I kept waiting for the Packers to drive downfield and score so as to put the game to bed, but it just seemed that the were unable to put together a sustained drive. Even to my untrained eye they seemed to lack the power to make the plays. As the game progressed and it stayed close, my wife and I were actually getting really excited. It’s not too unusual for me to talk to the TV. My wife usually refrains from addressing electronic devices directly. In this case, we were both calling out, encouraging Brett to move, egging on the defense to blitz, moaning when the pass was incomplete or the runner stopped short of the first down. At one point, I turned to my wife and observed that we sounded like we are from Green Bay. And of course, for those few minutes, we actually were from Green Bay once again. It felt good.
Of course, that did not last. It was a real let down, a bit of a shock really. How could this happen. No, the Pack is supposed to WIN. Favre is supposed to pull something out of the hat. But no, it was not to be. Both of us felt sad and sorry for the outcome.

You may recall from post The Joy of the Pack, my Jedi powers were at work. As the Pack went down, I knew exactly what was going on in GB. The weeping. The gnashing of teeth. And those are not figures of speech. I know many football fans. I know some who are very…enthusiastic. In the small city of Green Bay, tucked into the northeast corner of Wisconsin, it is a qualitatively different experience. It is as if the town itself breathes in and out to the rhythm of the gridiron. It is the universal topic of conversation, even supplanting the weather in priority. To live in Green Bay is to be culturally immersed in football in a way that I think no other place offers. I suspect it is a function of threethings: deeply rooted thought habits, a high level of saturation, and fierce group identification.
The Packers have been around since 1919. They were not among the very first franchises of the NFL when it was formed in 1921, but they are among the oldest still existing, along with the Chicago Bears. I remember once, while getting my hair cut in 1996, hearing a 90 year old man telling the tale of watching the Packer’s play against Marinette when he was 10 years old. This kind of history as allowed the Packers to settle deep into the cultural consciousness of the town.
Then there is the size of Green Bay relative to…well…an NFL Franchise. GB is about the same size as Manchester NH. That is to say, it’s not that big. The city itself carries just under 100,000 people, with the surrounding environs accounting for another 100,000 or so. That allows the Packers to effect an inordinately strong cultural impact. Imagine two 5 gallon buckets filled with water. In one, you will drop a tablespoon of salt. In the other you will place a 20 lb salt lick. Allow both to dissolve. Let’s just say that the cultural water in Green Bay is much more savory with the taste of pigskin than that of…Boston.
As a result of the intensity of the brine and the long fermentation period, I think that the identification with the Packers by the people of Green Bay is much stronger than is typical. While every NFL city boasts its true believers, I suspect few of them draw their TB’s from such a broad cross section, and from such a deep well as the Packer’s do in Green Bay. The psyche of the city is bound up with the Packers to such a degree that if by some natural or man made disaster the Packers ceased to exist, I suspect that the entire city would melt away, like so much smoke in the wind in the span of a few years – perhaps sooner with global warming and all.
How else could I explain how Green Bay, somehow, someway actually got me to pay attention to football, at all? It must be something in the water. So my heart goes out to my friends in GB. Sincerely. That part of me that still lives there wept with you.
Of course, I was drinking granite laced NH water long before I moved to GB. So when the Patriots take the field, I will very much enjoy watching them grind the Giants down to size. Yes. I plan to watch the game. I’ll be watching the Patriots, but I can thank the Packers for that.