Safe Places

There are places where one can be alone with one's thoughts...places where it is safe to question beliefs, ideas, and conventional wisdom. It's safe there even to question one's own motives. The key is finding those safe places. We all have them, though they may be hidden deeply within the crevasses of our minds, hidden beneath all the detritus left from the surging flood of socialization.

Shortcuts on Everyday Activities

A Facebook friend shared this. Some of the "tricks" are pretty slick.

Coffee

I think it may have been unwise to have a pot of coffee this evening after 8:30. Even though it was a small pot, I am now wired. I just KNEW there was a reason I tried to avoid coffee in the evenings.

At least I think it's the coffee. It's that or I'm just on edge. Or very near it.

Competing Priorities

I have more to do than I want to do. Or, I should say, I want to do a lot, just not what's on my list of things to do.

When I look at what is "on my plate," it's a veritable feast of things to do for other people, people with whom I do business. For the moment, at least, my interests and my obligations are completely at odds with one another.

BirdCam

I like this product. At least I think I do. I've only seen it in a magazine and, now, online. But that limited exposure has me convinced. I want one!

BirdCam

Better Than a Sharp Stick

I just spent about an hour and a half working on information for an upcoming client board meeting. It's Sunday morning, not quite 7:00 am. I did it because I don't want to start the week tomorrow with an overwhelming burden of work. But I don't want to do it anymore. And so I won't.

Instead, I'll see about taking time today for myself, my wife, and my life. I'll think about a road trip and start to plan it, to the extent I want to...I don't much like "planned" road trips. But I will plan when I can go. Mid-to-late-May is probably the first opportunity. Unfortunately I won't be able to take much time, but I'll plan on three days, plus a weekend. We can go a long way and get back in five days.

It's not what I want but, as the saying goes, it's better than a sharp stick in the eye.

Just Say "No"

I didn't realize how much client board meetings could take out of me. I got home yesterday afternoon after a two-day, back-to-back set of board meetings. I piddled around a bit, had dinner, and by 7:30 pm was worn out. I decided to take a "nap" and the next thing I knew it was 6:00 am this morning, an hour later than I normally get up. Ten and a half hours of sleep is, for me, EXTREMELY unusual. But I suppose I must have needed it.

I feel fine today; rested, alert, and full of energy. I waited to make breakfast until my wife woke up (quite some time after I did...a LONG time after I did). Then, after breakfast, I got some office work done done (logged in to my office computer), showered, shaved, and am chomping at the bit to go out and do...something! I don't know what.

One thing is sure; I have to go to Central Market to pick up a pound of Lola Savannah coffee beans, as I finished up the last of the beans this morning. Sunday morning without them would be sacrilege. Weekends tend to be times I can get a lot done at the office because I am not constantly interrupted by telephone calls, email. questions from staff, etc., etc. But, on the other hand, I really want (and need) time to get away from work. It's a conundrum; I need to get a lot of work done, I can get a lot done on the weekends, I need to be at work every weekday, I need time away, weekends tend to be the only time I can get away...what to do, what to do?

Another jam-packed week awaits, with lots of meeting follow-up, catch-up from two days out of the office, a client webinar I'm presenting on Tuesday, and preparation for another client board meeting next weekend.

I have a feeling this weekend will be devoted primarily to personal stuff, for me. My wife is already preparing to go to the office, but I don't plan to join her this morning. Instead, I'll get a haircut, buy my coffee, and plan on meeting her somewhere for lunch. Would that we could both just say "no" to work at the same time.

Energy

Yesterday was a productive day for a client; its board met and addressed issues that needed to be addressed. More today. I hope the results are clear and give the group a needed focus and infusion of new energy.

Life as Art

I love engaging in the big-picture stuff, the "what if" questions that paint pictures of the way the world could be. But reality requires messy administration. Many days, I prefer fantasy to reality. This is one of those days. But, since I have little choice in the matter, I will slog through the mundane, day-to-day requisites so that, once day, I might have more time for painting that big, fabulous picture.

Still the Same

He spent decades behaving badly. Very badly.

He did not know he was afraid. He didn't know his bad behavior was his maladjusted way of responding to being unable to deal appropriately with the way the world dealt with him.

Not that it mattered. Millions of people don't behave badly just because they are afraid. They don't react badly to the way the world treats them. They just deal with it.

But he did not. He did not deal with it. At least he did not deal with it well. The way he reacted to the world's rawness was to claw and scratch and shout. And demean. And condemn. And hurt people He was good at hurting people. If you can call that good. His response to pain was to cause pain, but to amplify it and make it grow into a powerful beast,

In the right novel, someone like him would have been a tragic character. He would have been pitied. His belligerence would have been portrayed as a cry for help. But in the real world, he got what he got. Shunned. Loathed. Avoided.

I wonder where he is today, and whether he's still the same old guy.

The Start

I begin the week with confidence I will do what is important for me to do.

The value of time is in how you spend it.

Paper

Paper. Think about paper.

Give thought to the origins of the paper on your desk. The book you are reading. Look how smooth it is.

Consider how readily the paper in your book accepted ink to allow words to be printed on it. That paper then enabled those words to be transferred to your eyes. From your eyes, those words were recognized by your brain and your brain processed them to form ideas and, ultimately, understanding. All of that from simple paper. Though technology has reduced the importance of paper in storing and transmitting ideas, paper remains central to our lives.

If you are like most people, you know very little about paper. You don't think about paper much. You don't imagine the world without paper.

It is part of the packaging of many of the foods you buy. You may eat from plates made of paper when you go on a picnic. You use paper to clean yourself; it is softer than corn-cobs.

How many other important elements of our lives are, like paper, taken for granted? Consider that question. But first, think about paper. Really think about it.

Love Beyond Convenience

My decision, that I would not father any children, was made many, many years ago. It's one decision that I've never second-guessed. I knew then, and I know now, I would have made a very poor father. I don' t have the patience for children.

Rearing children properly requires patience, self-sacrifice, and love beyond convenience. I admire people who do it right. I do not hold the rest in high esteem. Unfortunately, there are far too many who fall into the latter category.

Patience and self-sacrifice are, I think, widely acknowledged as requisites for rearing children who are well-adjusted, happy, and who will grow into decent adults. They're requisites, but they're not sufficient by themselves, of course.

When I say "love beyond convenience," I refer to what I believe is lacking in many parents that has damaged, and will continue to damage, children in their formative years. It's not the only thing, but it's an important thing.

Love beyond convenience is what ensures that parents don't succumb to their children's insistence that they be fed McDonald's happy meals instead of healthy diets. Love beyond convenience is what assures children that their sources of entertainment are not limited to television or video games. Love beyond convenience drives parents to insist that their children develop a love of learning and ideas. It ensures that parents decide that their children's immediate rejection of exposure to new ideas or new experiences is not sufficient to leave those ideas and experiences, never to be explored again. Love beyond convenience personifies perseverance.

The concept of love beyond convenience is hard to define and may be harder still to understand. The willingness to suffer the inconvenience of taking one's child to soccer games or violin practice or school plays does not, by itself, demonstrate love beyond convenience. Suffering those mechanical inconveniences may be necessary, but it does not get to the core of what is required of parents.

Insisting that a child read a book instead of scanning the CliffNotes, and taking time to ensure that happens, is a sign of love beyond convenience. Refusing to give in to a child's rejection of an item on the dinner plate by replacing it with her favorite food requires love beyond convenience. A parent who does not immediately accept a child's accusations of unfairness against a teacher but, instead, takes the time to learn all about the issue and collect information that allows a rational judgement is apt to be one who understands love beyond convenience.

I remember an occasion when I was a sixth-grader when my mother demonstrated love beyond convenience. I had been reading Tortilla Flat and took a copy to school with me and read a passage from the book alound to a friend. The passage was pleasing to me because of its harsh language; I remember it quite well: "Sicilian bastards! Scum from the prison island! Dogs of dogs of dogs!" My teacher heard me reading the book to my friend and she found it offensive. She took the book away from me and told me I was too young to be reading such books. I am certain I was too young to understand the book well, but my mother did not care. She cared that I wanted to read and that I was reading.

My mother called the teacher and got the teacher's side of the story; she then told the teacher it did not matter which books I was reading, only that I was reading books, period. She insisted that the book be returned to me. And then my mother told me that she was glad I was reading and enjoying the book, but she took time to explain to me why the teacher did not like hearing me reading such language aloud and why I should not focus only on what was to some foul language but, instead, on the story.

I don't know how much time my mother spent on what was, after all, not a particularly important issue in the overall scheme of life. I remember she had more important things to do; she was an English teacher and had papers to grade and other children of her own to look after. But she interrupted her life to do the inconvenient thing for me. It would have been easier for her to have ignored it; she could have bought me another copy of the book and left it.

Ultimately, love beyond convenience means doing things that are best for the object of one's love, rather than taking the easy way. And it's more complex than it might seem on the surface. It can be downright hard. For example, a parent must be willing to do what is required to question a child's stories and statements without giving the child the impression the parent thinks the child is a natural-born liar. On the other hand, a parent cannot legitimately assume the child is always telling the truth and is "on the side of right." Doing it right takes time, energy, and more love than some people are capable of giving to a child. They may be able only to love one person, perhaps a spouse, with that level of energy and devotion.

Those people, the ones who can't do it right, shouldn't have children.

The Right Path

One of my mother's favorite aphorisms was "the road to Hell is paved with good intentions." And so it is.

It is easier to sit and rest on an uncomfortable, splinter-laden bench than to blindly stumble down a dark road strewn with boulders. But sometimes that road is the right path.

Mending Irene

Irene's infectious smile belied struggles that most of us would never survive. She didn't let kidnap and torture and endless war keep her down. I don't know her whole story. But I know that watching a video about her has opened a hole in me. I cannot fathom what humankind is allowing ourselves to do to...ourselves.

Read. Watch the video. I'm torn between letting my admiration of Irene's tenacity keep my own hope alive and just falling to the floor, weeping forever and wondering what it is we do.

Question

Kicked hard in the gut. Figuratively speaking. Well deserved, but takes the breath away, anyway. Makes me question things. Myself, mostly.

Sleeping on Newspapers

It's windy and bitterly cold, the kind of demonic cold that breeds frigophobia and gives rise to bizarre approaches to protecting pipes from freezing. This snarling, biting cold launches dreams of long, hot days on humid beaches in the tropics.

This steep dip in temperatures causes these things in me. I wonder what it does to people who have no home in which to take refuge from the cold, who sleep on newspapers? I think I know. My complaints, in comparison, are Paris Hilton whines about the challenges of poverty in Beverly Hills.

Unwise Sharing

By the time you read this, I will have cursed myself for having written it. Or, at least, for having given it away, never to retrieve it back into its private little hell.

And you will wonder why.

Let me tell you why.

When I share unfinished poetry, especially rhythmic poetry, I tend never to return to it. I'm not sure why, but I suspect I am hoping for responses to it but rarely get them. I wonder why, but I'm afraid I know. The lack of response is the most convenient and least stressful way of saying "you are not a poet; you are not even a writer...you should have your fingers seized and incapacitated to save us all from your assault on the language." Oh, and by the way, piss off in advance for saying to me I'm striving for the pity appreciation.

That notwithstanding, I'm sharing something. Not a finished poem. Not even part of an unfinished poem. No, I'm sharing bits and pieces of poetry that I've started and to which I haven't yet returned. And I'm sharing only fragments. In almost every case, there is considerably more than what I'm sharing here.

Despite what it may look like, it means something to me. In fact, it might mean quite alot. Why am I sharing it? Sadness. Joy. Fear. Love. Who knows. I don't. Here goes.

Those words are like weapons,
They’re sharp and they’re straight
They convey what you're feeling,

You're guilty of hate.

But the hatred's not outward

Not again the dark sky,

It's all turned back inward,

Someone's hoping to die.

+++++++++++++++++++

Those were the days, down by the sea.
We drank shots of tequila and tried to believe.
But we knew way too much, we'd seen the power of fire
And the color of chemistry, the funeral pyre.

Try as we might to relinquish the wisdom,
Experience teaches, it's better with rum..
Criminals stole all our heavenly wallets
During our wagers, all those bad losing bets.

+++++++++++++++++++

Flashes of brilliance or flash in the pan,
Some say I can’t write, but I know I can.
I witness the words, as they fill up my brain,
Painting the pictures of love and deep pain.

+++++++++++++++++++

He's a walking contraceptive

Partly true, partly deceptive,

Screams an overblown invective

As he wonders toward the zone.

(With apologies to Kris Kristofferson)

+++++++++++++++++++

They stretch and they scar,

They stab and they burn.

Why can’t I get over it,

Why can’t I learn?

(S)Now (S)Now (S)Now (S)Now

It snowed here yesterday, a rarity for Dallas. The temperatures dipped steeply last night and will drop even lower tonight. Because most drivers here are not used to driving in snow or ice, there is a sharply-increased chance of weather-related accidents on the roads this morning.

If the collective citizenry behaved coherently, we would stay home until the roads thaw, or at the very least make the treks to our destinations very, very slowly and deliberately.

But we do not behave coherently, do we? We rush. We hurry. We act as if getting to work were highly important. For very few of us, it is. For most of us, it pales in comparison to staying alive, uninjured, and in possession of vehicles that remain undamaged by collisions on icy roads.

Yet still we hurry and buzz about as if the world might end if we don't make it to the office on time. Why is that? It's because we worry about what someone else will think about us. And because we permit someone else to control us. The boss won't like it if we're late. The client won't understand why we don't answer the phone. The customer won't tolerate our acts of self-preservation that, coincidentally, will make us temporarily unavailable to address his issues.

I'm just as guilty as the nice person. It's 6:02, yet I'm thinking I need to leave early to give myself extra time to get to the office on time. And I'm wondering whether everyone will make it in today...if I can do it, so can they. It's a cycle of its own making.

There's a better way, such as telephone systems that allow remote answering, etc. Every year when the inevitable snow and ice threaten to make travel to the office treacherous, I consider what I need to do to address the issue next year so neither I nor my staff will have to take our lives into our hands to satisfy the expectations of the world around us.

Now. Now. Now. Now.

Stop

When I first heard of the Arizona attacks and murders and the shooting of Representative Giffords, my immediate reaction was to place blame. I zeroed in on certain Republicans and Tea Partiers, including Sarah Palin, and others who often appear to me to subtly and not-so-subtly encourage "take no prisoners" attitudes. They seem to me to be inflexible and opinionated zealots who care more about achieving their objectives than they do they legitimacy of the means used to get there.

I was ready to take sides and stand shoulder-to-shoulder with my progressive brethren in saying, "See! See what you've done with your bullying ways and your public persona that suggests the ends justify the means?!"

But then I took a breath and allowed myself to acknowledge that I don't yet know enough to determine whether my suspicions are well-founded. We don't know yet, for sure, whether there was one shooter acting alone or whether there were two or more or even a gang or conspiracy. We don't know with certainty what drove the shooter to wantonly murder people, to do unspeakable things. It's simply unreasonable to jump to conclusions, though I understand what would prompt us to do so.

It's not right to condemn anyone, even someone I dislike as much as Palin, for "causing" the murderer to do what he did unless we know, with certainty, that's what happened. Even then, it probably is beyond reasonable for most of us to do more than condemn what we think led to the terrible events in Tucson.

It is, though, perfectly reasonable and rational and legitimate to insist that public discourse in this country be conducted in ways that show respect to all sides. Affording respect to one's opponents, even those opponents one finds repugnant, must be the "new" way for us in this country or, I believe, we are doomed. Even if opponents promote positions that I might find reprehensible, I should attack the position, not the person taking it. That's hard to do and, perhaps, impossible to do without bending one's own principles just a bit.

I know it's going to be hard for me, because it sometimes is virtually impossible for me to think of a person who holds a position I find immoral to be anything but just as immoral as the position the person holds. But it's necessary to divorce the person from the position.

Regardless of what motivated the attacker(s), the vitriolic attacks from one side of political divide on the other is unacceptable. Neither conservatives nor liberals can claim they are the innocents in this escalating battle. Both must either find a way to focus on ideas and persuasion or they must simply shut up.

Although I am very much a liberal, I have no more tolerance for liberals bashing conservatives than vice versa. Yes, it's the pot calling the kettle black; but I recognize my mistakes and will correct them, because to attempt to do anything else would be irresponsible, irrational, and beneath dignity.

I've made my share of mistakes. I've condemned plenty of people for the positions they hold, the party they support, or the extent to which their positions do no mirror mine. I hope the rest of this county's ranting screamers will join me in a collective correction.

Disconnect

A disconnect. That's what it is. A void interrupting the relationship between what is and what should be. There are lots of them. Just look around, you 'll notice them everywhere.

There's a disconnect between a man's love for his wife and the way he treats her.

There's a disconnect between a nation's love of peace and its waging of war.

There's a disconnect between speaking of tolerance and inciting hatred.

There's a disconnect between calling for serenity and causing calamity.

There's a disconnect between a friend's words of encouragement and her scornful resentment.

There's a disconnect between disdain for bigotry and practicing to make bigotry perfect.

Hope

A blue glow from the television screen lights that mile-wide smile

showing the way to the promised land.

A melodic voice washes over us with a reassuring wave and soothes

our jagged fears of what we know but won't accept.

A seed of doubt tries to sprout amidst the shattered songs we've heard before

but the caustic light and noise burn the roots.

Remember, though, burned roots may lie beneath the strongest trees.

Volcanoes

Somewhere deep inside the fissures of the brain

are neurons and chemicals that control us.

We say we control them, but we're wrong.

If not for the neurons and chemicals , we'd have to accept

blame for the volcanoes whose lava

engulfs civilization during explosive eruptions.

You can't attribute blame to volcanoes and you

can't find fault with the neurons and chemicals that create them.

But I can.

Ruminations

I'm reasonably comfortable in my own skin, a significant departure from how I've felt the majority of my life to date.

For many, many years, I was extremely self-conscious about many facets of my personality. For example, I always have tended to be rather emotional, the opposite of the stoicism that is viewed as evidence of masculinity. And, despite having strong (and, over the years, widely divergent) political viewpoints, I've always been able to see the other side of virtually every issue. That ability to argue both sides, especially of a contentious, emotional issue, strikes some people as evidence that my views are not strong, or that I do not have strongly-held convictions. Worse, being able to understand and appreciate the "enemy's" point of view makes one highly suspect. Especially in the political arena, that can lead people to question whether I am, in reality, a traitor to the "cause?"

Those things bothered me, quite alot, for many years. I think some of those facets of my personality are viewed by some as, for lack of a better descriptor, "feminine." They don't fit the male stereotype. Because people tend to feel more comfortable with others who share their philosophies, beliefs, opinions, etc. (at least I believe that's true of people), I have found it difficult for people to accept that I can, at once, hold strong opinions about an issue while understanding completely how a person might come to a point of view that is at odds with my own and, more importantly, with theirs.

I say I'm reasonably comfortable in my own skin. Others' opinions of me still matter more than I'd like them to matter. But I've decided that most of my attributes that once caused me to be self-conscious are OK and, in some cases, actually more than OK. I'm glad to have the capacity (albeit sometimes unused) to see both sides of an issue. I'm glad my emotions are sufficiently fragile to allow me to react, sometimes physically, to things that tug at my heartstrings.

While there are many things about myself that I wish were different and many things that warrant improvement, I am who I am and will always be that person. And I'm OK with that.

Change It

A friend posted the following on her Facebook page last night:

There comes a time in life when you walk away from all the drama and people who create it. You surround yourself with people who make you laugh, forget the bad, and focus on the good. So, love the people who treat you right. Forget about the ones who don't. Life is too short to be anything but happy.

On the one hand, I couldn't agree more. On the other, I realize sometimes I'm one of "the ones who don't."

When you read unflattering comments about yourself in unexpected places, it gives you pause, don't you think? While the post wasn't directed at me, it made me think about the way I treat people.

I recognize I'm "one of those." In order to be happy with myself, I have to change it. I will be happy with myself.

Standing on Principle

I received an email today from someone who doesn't know my liberal leanings, or I presume she doesn't know them. The email told a "joke" about a West-coast "tree-hugger."

The story says the tree-hugger bought land in the Pacific northwest and climbed one of the trees on her land to survey the beauty of her place. As she neared the top of the tree, a spotted owl attacked her and she slid down the trunk to the ground, getting splinters in her crotch. She went to the doctor and explained what happened. He had her sit in the waiting room for three hours. When he returned, she angrily asked what took so long.

He responded, "Well, I had to get permits from the Environmental Protection Agency, the Forest Service ,and the Bureau of Land Management before I could remove old growth timber from a recreational area. I'm sorry, but due to Obama Care, they turned me down." The joke ended with "God Bless America.

Yesterday, I wrote about how humor keeps me sane. This wasn't what I was writing about. This sort of thing doesn't keep me sane; it tends to work the other way.

But I have to remember, it's not the joke that upsets me, it's my reaction to it. I hope my response to the sender was enough to express my lack of appreciation, yet not be reactionary. I responded that I was someone with rather liberal leanings and might be considered an environmentalist...and that spotted owls tended not to attack people but, instead, it was the other way around. And I ended with a "smiley" emoticon.

I could have simply ignored the message. Most times, I probably would. But this time the message was from someone with whom I communicate fairly often and I felt it would be inappropriate to simply ignore the email. In my response, I tried to show my disapproval without being disagreeable.

Stand on principle, but don't stand in the way of communication.

Creative Writing

I once wrote a short story I entitled "Regret." It was the story of the very different recollections of an old man and an old woman who once had been lovers. Their illicit relationship had lasted for years, but time and distance finally brought it to an end.

The woman's life after the relationship ended was built on a new foundation, but the man could not get past its demise. He let his life be consumed by memories of what he believed to be a relationship that was destined to be, but that, in his mind, had tragically ended.

The woman's recollections of the relationship were simply that: recollections. The man, though, had a collection of regrets that defined his memories. He was bitter about the end of the relationship and, though it had occurred fifty years earlier, his pain was as raw as the day it ended. Every moment of his life that followed, what he believed was the loss of his one true love was measured against the euphoria he experienced while he was in the relationship.

What possessed me to write that short story is beyond me now. But I recall writing it and I recall giving a great deal of thought to how the two characters felt and how their lives unfolded in completely different ways. I remember feeling sorry for the old man I created.

I have thought about that story many times in the years since I wrote it. Now, I think it probably was not well-written. The characters were probably rather two-dimensional. If I could find a copy of it, I would try to rewrite it, pouring into it what I've learned about life in the intervening years. As I recall the story, as I wrote it, there was little more to it than a description of divergent emotions and how those emotions drove different lives. There was no lesson.

Maybe the characters would be more real. Maybe their stories would convey a lesson.

It's OK to Laugh

As overwhelming as the world can be, as full of pain and suffering as it is, as hard-edged and dangerous as this earth is, we need something to carry us through. For me, part of that "something" is humor. A well-used sense of humor helps me keep my sanity (I realize some people would say humor didn't work in my case, but that's another story).

I heard an example of humor that I find appealing yesterday afternoon, as my wife and I were driving home from some errands. What I heard was Sharon Olds reading her poem, Diagnosis. The radio program was A Prairie Home Companion. I encourage you to read the poem (click on the link), Diagnosis. Tell me whether your sense of humor carries you through tough times.

It Matters Now

My kitchen is warm, though it is cold outside this morning. The coffee is dark and strong, made from freshly ground beans. My bills are paid and I face no overwhelming debt. To the best of my knowledge, I am in reasonably good health. My wife is safe and asleep in bed.

I have what I need. I want what I have.

There are millions and millions of people on this earth who cannot say the same. Is there a reason for me to feel guilty about the abundance in my life? That's a question that warrants exploration. What do I deserve? What does anyone deserve? How can anyone reconcile that, but for chance circumstance, one's life could be measurably worse off? Or that others who suffer could be measurably better off?

I think the answers to those questions involve a great deal of thought. If I dismiss the questions as too hard, I have abandoned my responsibilities as a human being. If I allow myself to enjoy the luxuries with which I live without acknowledging that they may come to me, at least in part, at the expense of someone else upon whom hardship is visited, I have allowed myself the easy way out.

More than simply thinking about these things, I think I need to do something about them. In my view, it's not enough to feel compassion for people who are less fortunate. If, instead of allowing myself to enjoy yet more luxury, I redirect the resources that would have been used to obtain it to enable someone else to live with a little less pain and a little less hardship, I will have done something worthwhile. Is it enough? I may never know.

It occurs to me that keeping a running tally of the luxuries we enjoy and comparing that tally with one that records the good deeds we do to help others would be a telling and humbling exercise. I will do that for myself.

I cannot stress it enough: I have to act! Thinking about making the world a better place without doing something to make it so may be worse than simply ignoring the needs of the people of the planet or proclaiming one's lack of responsibilities for others.

Will any of this matter to me in 100 years? No. But it matters now.

Striving to be Better

Finally, I am initiating a new blog, one that I feel comfortable sharing with “the world.” Heretofore, I have openly shared my writing with a select few people and have only anonymously shared with the rest of the world. Because I tend to lean toward the left on matters of social and economic policy, I have been hesitant to openly express my opinions. I have feared that my opinions might drive a wedge between me and representatives of my client companies, many of whom tend to be quite conservative. While I don’t want to create such a wedge, I think the best way forward is to say what I think. But, I intend to be less strident. And I won’t regularly attach my name directly to my new blog. However, I won’t take pains to conceal my identity, either. For the moment, I will write as the “Free Range Philosopher.” Those who bother to look will find that person to be one and the same as John Swinburn. Here is my first post. It’s fitting that this first post is being written on the first day of a new year, 2011.

I believe people always should try to be better. Not just better workers, or better at parenting, or better children, or better at sports. Better people. The sub-roles, I think, will follow naturally if we focus on the primary one. I also believe I do not, and cannot, have a particularly significant influence on what other people do. I believe my behaviors will have a much more profound influence on others than will my admonitions. So I should focus, first, on myself.

The beginning of a new year is a convenient time for self-reflection. It is as good a time as any other to make promises to oneself about changes that will make one a better person. Becoming a better person matters. That’s my opinion. Here’s a bit about what I believe.

• There is never “enough” time to do all we want to do. The best way to spend the time we have is to give as much of it as we can to our friends and family. No matter how much I like what I do, it does not define me and does not deserve as much of me as the people who matter most to me.
  
• My political philosophies notwithstanding, my opinions about social and economic issues should be driven by what is best for society and not what supports my political positions.
  
• Patriotism should not be confused with nationalism; the latter is dangerous and the former generally is irrational. Similarly, faith in the superiority of one’s religious beliefs should not be confused with truth. I should care what’s best for my fellow man, not just my fellow countrymen. So, I suppose humanism is what drives me.
  
• It’s easy to find fault with other people and easier still to find fault with oneself. If those things are easy, I should aim to make life considerably harder on myself.
  
• No matter how “right” my viewpoints are, others frequently will not share them. We can choose to draw lines in the sand and, in so doing, impede progress and movement or we can choose to seek common ground and relax our demands that others accept our points of view. There is a time to unflinchingly stand on principle. However, I must work to understand how to differentiate between compromise and abandonment of principles; my gut tells me the line in the sand is more often drawn by emotion than by intellect.
  
• It is far too easy to reach conclusions based on opinions; I must strive to consider issues from a dispassionate perspective. Otherwise, I will risk becoming the person I so often condemn.
  
• The fact that a person suffers in silence does not make his or her suffering just. It is my responsibility to be the voice for people who need an advocate.
  
• My assessment of another’s beliefs as irrational or groundless does not justify my treatment of that person as stupid. This is something I believe, but it may be difficult for me to ensure that my emotion is aligned with my belief. I need work on this, especially.

If I can successfully translate these beliefs into behaviors, I will be a better person. During the course of this year, I will judge the degree to which I have made progress. I will write about my progress here.