change

Taking Our Pulse

It’s been an intense time.

Most of us are neither cavalier nor warrior, yet find ourselves oscillating between the two, even if only in our beliefs.

We have been inundated with commentaries and reactions, hoping for a new way to parse the constant barrage of anxiety provoking events—political and societal. The intensity of our politics and divisions only seems to get interrupted by terrorist attacks at home and abroad, when we aren’t mourning cultural icons whom we have worshipped and found ourselves grieving as though we lost a family member (along with our youth).

The anxiety and grief are difficult enough, but the incessant barrage of audio and video clips, articles, tweets, and responses heighten our anxieties and negative emotions and leave us enervated.

The issues that seem so acute and immediate, and the seemingly always extreme rhetoric, may continue to demand attention, but also seem to be repetitive and unable to be reasonably resolved. It feels like unending noise—often overwhelming, and too often threatening to our sensibilities, yet commanding visceral responses while we crave rational and critical thought. It feels like adrenaline overload; like living near a war zone, except we know our situation is not quite that grave, nor are our political fights matters of imminent life and death, despite the fear mongering.

We may be deeply divided politically and economically, as well as ideologically in many ways, but we seem to be united in states of anxiety and fear, and strangely enough, united in states of exasperation and a sense of insufficiency.

After seemingly endless violent attacks at home—whether by homegrown terrorists, and/or hate, or by individuals so detached and driven toward violence with the easy accessibility of guns and endless rounds of ammunition, we have seen and are reeling from the confluence of factors that seem to generate increasingly frequent episodes of gun violence— especially the intentional killing of innocent folks.

Last week’s massacre during Latin Night at the LGBT club Pulse in Orlando felt at once like a familiar spasm, and also like a new or more unendurable convulsion. It was like a grand mal—even more horrific than we had previously seen.

The typical response to such horror and terror—the moment of silence and prayer—was disrupted with cries of despair and demands for change through action (legislation). The silence wasn’t doing anything. United in a state of grief, Pulse became ours. Whether we knew anyone at the club or not, we knew that those affected by the massacre were our extended kin.

With all the commentary and reactions, and the overwhelming noise, it is easy to want to disconnect. But Taking our Pulse reveals that we are indeed united in our state of grief and despair, recognizing that hate and terror come from internal as well as external arteries. Our vital signs are a bit iffy, but after our Pulse was taken last week, we may now be ready for more moderate exercise.

It is too soon to know if our heart rate is still resting, or if a subtle shift has occurred since our Pulse was taken. Using well established protocols and procedures, there is a palpable response and a bit of resuscitation of character and strength to restore our health. We may not be able to avert all attacks, but if Taking our Pulse will cause us to respond more thoughtfully and courageously to make it at least as cumbersome to get guns, especially assault weapons and ammunition, as it is to get an abortion, or vote, or as regulated as buying Sudafed, then we will at least have honored those who were senselessly slain. And we may even be stronger and healthier going forward.

Outthink Disruption

I recently saw a Facebook ad for IBM Analytics with the slogan “Outthink Disruption”. What a perfect tagline for our current culture of politics, and our culture and our politics. Forget distractions; we live in the age of disruptions, as though that’s a good thing.

Those who seek to disrupt feel that they are not served by the status quo. Disruption may be effective and even appropriate. Altering or even destroying the structure of something may be important to contributing to or saving lives. Or, such a disturbance may merely interrupt or cause more problems.

When I saw the tagline “Outthink Disruption”, Donald Trump had just become the presumptive nominee of the GOP (a nostalgic name for what is not very related to the modern Republican Party). Certainly Trump has been a Disruption, and he encourages his Trumpeters to Disrupt.
One could say that Bernie Sanders is also advocating Disruption, although without the mishugas, obnoxiousness,low brow-ness, narcissism, insults, hate, misogyny, racism, jingoism, xenophobia, or winking at violence.

The momentum for Disruption is palpable, but we have been living through 8 years of thoughtless disruption that has yielded frustration left and right. Disruption can’t be the goal. We have to Outthink Disruption. Progress occurs incrementally, and often through compromise—something that our culture  (or politics) doesn’t embrace. We expect instantaneous results—disruption—and we tout our way of life as the ultimate because we can do whatever we want in an instant.

Except we can’t. Not without ramifications.

As a culture, we have become hateful—not only of those we fear might seek to destroy us, but hateful of ourselves, and we are destroying ourselves. The vitriol that occurs during Primary season, and through the general election, seems to heighten each cycle. I’m not sure if we are really more hateful than ever, or that hate has a YUUUUUUUGE platform. Everyone yells and posts and overexposes and then stays within one’s own social and anti-social media bubble, condensing the ire and agreement.

I’ve heard all sorts of statistics, (which I take with a grain of salt), about how much hate there is for Trump and for Hillary. HATE. Hate is very powerful. It envelops and distorts. It is irrational. It is toxic. I hate hate. I have certainly felt hate. The fire of hate fuels the ego’s sense of what is right. But I don’t want to hate people. It’s actually too easy. I hate intolerance. I hate plenty of ideas and ways of being. Hate can lead to dangerous disruption—not merely shaking things up or tweaking the status quo.

We have to Outthink Disruption, which means examining our love of hate (and our uncomfortableness with thinking outside our comfort zones).

When I saw the tagline “Outthink Disruption” for IBM analytics, I thought it was a clever, albeit almost 20 year late, response to Apple’s “Think Different” campaign. “Think Different” was actually a response to IBM’s motto “Think”. And here we are in 2016….

Can we Outthink Disruption?

Pope and Change

No, that’s not a typo. And yes, it does sound familiar.

I have been thinking about this Pope’s compassion. His willingness to pastor to those whom others have sought to ignore or even vilify, has been a welcome change. The institution of the papacy has not changed, although there is a growing movement to break down old,seemingly sacred barriers to include people who have been previously excluded, and to actually reform what has given cover to corruption and abuse. The change that the world is witnessing with Pope Francis, is one of greater compassion, caring, and reverence for actual life, not merely theoretical life, including sustaining our environment and taking action to mitigate climate change.

Many mock “Hope and Change” as a bumper sticker for the presidential race of ’08, and site everything that has challenged their beliefs or seemed wrong, or was difficult and incomplete, and even worse in some respects, as evidence that hope and change was a hoax. We must remember the reality of hope: Hope is not a solution. It is a spark.

Hope may evoke an ideal, and even ideas of change, but the words and deeds produced out of that hope are indeed seeds of change. Fear may also evoke an ideal, albeit a negative one— a hazard. The energy of fear often produces extreme speech and rigid responses. It limits possibilities in order to confirm a conviction of threat.

It is easy to feel despair and point to all that is wrong to confirm the hopeless conviction. It is difficult to create change in the space of despair. Resignation eliminates possibility. Moreover, it is easy for fear to take over, and fear has an energy that can overwhelm us, limiting possibility, or unleashing repressive or aggressive speech and/or actions.

For  many, this week is holy. For others, it may be a highly ritualized few days. Regardless of religious interpretations, this Pope’s visit is at once specific to a tradition and inclusive of those beyond that specific tradition. For those who observe the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year in Jewish tradition, forgiveness of oneself and others is the primary concern. Atonement is practiced both privately and among the community. There is hope for change (for the better) after acknowledging wrongdoings—intentional or unintentional—and seeking to repair that which was broken.

Of course, at -one- ment, that experience of unity, is fleeting. After the blessings and the rituals and the speeches and the excitement have passed, whether it’s the Pope or the President, or the candidate, or the pundit, or the teacher, or the tweeter, or any other revered or merely popular figure, it’s our own words and deeds that require regular attention, and a willingness to not say and /or do what we’ve always done.

I am curious to hear the Pope as he visits the U.S. for his first time. Although I am not Catholic, I welcome wisdom and compassion and the cultivation of peace through peace. So many Americans of so many different religious traditions find him to be a welcome change and an inspiration. We do not have to have been raised in the same institutions or culture or religious faith to be inspired and educated and glean wisdom. We can welcome the Pope, and change.