AR – Page 99 – intramuralist ™

03/26/2017

when incivility wins

Every now and then I read an editorial I wish I would have written; however, I’m so thankful it’s more than me that shares such an opinion. What’s also true is that I learn from opinion other than my own.

From Lori Borgman…

… an author, columnist, speaker…

Also — dare I say — a person who speaks the truth. In a recent column, here, no less, is the truth she shares:

An “Old West and New West” cartoon shows the “Old West” side with a cowboy holding his hands above his holster, ready to draw. It’s labeled Gunslinger.

The “New West” side shows a man in jeans, T-shirt, and a bandana with globs of mud in both hands and more globs of mud at his feet. It’s labeled Mudslinger.

It would be even funnier if it weren’t so true.

We’ve taken mudslinging to new heights. Make that new lows.

If you don’t like someone’s stand on an issue these days, start calling them names. Fascist is a popular choice, as are racist and bigot. Liar, moron, and homophobe are in the top 10 as well. If none of those do the trick, pull out the big guns – call somebody a Nazi.

The smear has become standard operating procedure. Don’t attack the argument; attack the person espousing the argument.

And we’re the grown-ups. Well, in name at least.

It’s like the entire nation needs a time-out to contemplate incivility.

Ronald Reagan and Tip O’Neill went to the mat in vehement disagreement over policy. They often made witty but disparaging comments about one another (name-calling light). Yet at the close of many work days they sat down for drinks together in the White House.

Today, opposing factions would be more tempted to throw drinks on one another. Our incivility is all-encompassing — from Wal-Mart brawls to both sides of the political spectrum.

The internet and social media have become cesspools of incivility. The pseudo-anonymity of posting online serves as a cover for knee-jerk, brash and reckless. Post now, regret later. Or never. People say things online that they would never say to someone face-to-face. (Hopefully.)
Online media outlets are forced to close the comments section on articles due to incivility of readers’ remarks. Someone posts a comment relative to the article. A second poster questions the IQ of the first poster, a third poster slams the second poster for slamming the first poster and it’s a slugfest.

On Twitter, you can barroom brawl in 144 characters or less.

Incivility shuts guest speakers out of venues on college campuses, places that were once bastions of the free exchange of ideas. Odd, isn’t it? We punish bullying in some quarters but give it free rein in others.

Incivility is why some are contemplating discontinuing Town Halls. You can’t have a public forum when nobody can hear what anybody else is saying over the din of rabble rousers. Those who can crank up the volume the most seem to be winning.

Or are they? When incivility wins, everybody loses. When incivility becomes standard fare, civil people pull back. They want no part. Mudslinging, hurling insults and vitriol are degrading and embarrassing to all.

We don’t have to agree with one another. We don’t even have to like one another. But in the name of survival, we do have to be respectful of one another.

[Amen, sister… amen…]

Respectfully…
AR

03/23/201703/23/2017

very bad & blessed

So on Tuesday (follow my train of thought here, as we’ll eventually make our point)…
With minimal sleep and a totally swamped, exhausting day before, I awoke with two of my two and half bathrooms unusable. With my spouse out of town and carpet layers home instead for a substantial, two day project, the furniture in the soon-to-be carpeted rooms was temporarily stacked in the bathrooms. Note that when stacked from floor to ceiling, brushing one’s teeth becomes unviable and taking a shower, out of the question.

With the carpet crew and the paint crew both working steadfastly on this day — albeit in separate rooms — the only indoor area absent of contractors was a booth in my kitchen. Don’t get me wrong. I love my booth; but it was the only place in my entire home in which I could peacefully sit.

Strike that peacefully part… I knew there would be two days of this, overlapping the crews for some desired home improvements, and so on the previous day, I took my one year old pup to my favorite “doggie daycare,” so the noise of the stripping and pounding would not be cause for her to stir; however, Tuesdays are for small dogs only; my pup weighs 53 lbs.

So on Tuesday, my faithful Yogi stayed right where she typically does — by my side — which now included barking and barking and even more barking due the pounding of the carpet layers, who were not yet, her known friends.

I suppose I could have let her outside; granted, it had rained this morning.

At one point, the barking got the best of her. She took off all a sudden, slamming my left hand against a metal table. It hurt so much, tears immediately flowed. While I no longer think it’s broken, it remains swollen and available only for minimal use.

My son then called — couldn’t find his written excuse for the orthodontist. I had to then call both the school and the ortho.

“Time for lunch,” I thought. “I’ll sit down and find some comfort food.” Yet before taking my very first bite, I walked out to the garage to throw something away… until… when what to my wondering eyes should appear? My car, that was sitting in the garage all night, had a flat tire.

Geesh.

I admit: when initially considering penning a relevant post, my thoughts pretty much paralleled “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.” But somewhere amidst the pondering, I realized if I focused on what truly seemed a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I would miss any blessing.

I’ve seen a few blog articles swirling around cyberspace lately talking about use of the word “blessing” — or “blessed.” And mostly what I’ve seen has been an ardent admonition to quit using the word.

I disagree. We shouldn’t stop saying the word; we should instead start using it correctly.

Being “blessed” is not a matter of material fortune.
Being “blessed” is not a matter of prosperity, victory, or success.
Being “blessed” is not a matter of circumstance.

Even though my Tuesday was indeed a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I was still blessed…

I was blessed being able to interact and communicate with the ethnically diverse contractors in my home that day.
I was blessed that they would allow me to make them dinner, thankful for them using their skill and expertise in an area that I had none.
I was blessed by the kindness of the Good Samaritan who came to my house to fix the tire.
I was blessed by the prayers of friends who knew I was struggling.
And I was blessed by that special needs son, who told me before he left for school that day, “It’s ok, Mom. God’s got it all under control.”

Thank God my Tuesday didn’t keep me from seeing the blessing.

Respectfully…
AR

03/21/2017

defining “neighbor”

As one who intends to always be an active student — recognizing there will forever be more to learn — I find myself consistently amazed at the truth embedded in stories of faith. I also find that for me, when I’m immediately rejecting of faith, sometimes that’s more about me and my own hangups than it is about any embodiment of truth.

One of the stories that continually challenges my core thinking is the infamous idea of “defining one’s neighbor.” Allow me to briefly share the scenario:

Just then a religion scholar stood up with a question to test Jesus. “Teacher, what do I need to do to get eternal life?”

He answered, “What’s written in God’s Law? How do you interpret it?”

He said, “That you love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and muscle and intelligence—and that you love your neighbor as well as you do yourself.”

“Good answer!” said Jesus. “Do it and you’ll live.”

Looking for a loophole, he asked, “And just how would you define ‘neighbor’?”

Jesus answered by telling a story. “There was once a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. On the way he was attacked by robbers. They took his clothes, beat him up, and went off leaving him half-dead. Luckily, a priest was on his way down the same road, but when he saw him he angled across to the other side. Then a Levite religious man showed up; he also avoided the injured man.

“A Samaritan traveling the road came on him. When he saw the man’s condition, his heart went out to him. He gave him first aid, disinfecting and bandaging his wounds. Then he lifted him onto his donkey, led him to an inn, and made him comfortable. In the morning he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take good care of him. If it costs any more, put it on my bill—I’ll pay you on my way back.’

“What do you think? Which of the three became a neighbor to the man attacked by robbers?”

“The one who treated him kindly,” the religion scholar responded.

Jesus said, “Go and do the same.”

The part of the story that challenges me is the question of who actually is my neighbor (… well… and, actually, the part about treating him kindly and going out and doing the same…).

But I think about that… “Who’s my neighbor?” Who are we called to be kind to that we struggle with — a question all active students must ask, regardless of adherence to any faith.

Am I kind to the person who looks differently than me?
Am I kind to the person who lives differently than me?
Am I kind to the person who believes differently than me?
Am I kind to the person who behaves differently than me?
Am I kind to the person who votes differently than me?

Am I kind to my neighbor? Or am I intentionally justifying withholding kindness from some?

The reason I find the above teaching so continually challenging, lies in the reality that I am not always kind. Sometimes I justify withholding kindness and respect because of differences in how others look, live, believe, behave, and vote.

Looks like remaining an active student is a wise choice after all.

Respectfully…
AR

03/19/2017

true bracket challenge

I’d like to think I’m a reasonable, teachable person. I’d like to think when the truth presents itself, I could immediately accept it as true. I’d like to think that I never craft truth from a limited perspective, holding on so fiercely, that I fail to sift objectively through other valid perspective. Case in point — and please, please, I need great grace here, friends; it’s a sticky subject this time of year…

I speak, no less, about one small, public, co-ed university on the southeast side of Wilmington, North Carolina, only five miles from the Atlantic Ocean… the University of North Carolina at Wilmington (UNC-W)… and… of course, this year’s NCAA “March Madness” bracket.

Each year millions complete an empty bracket in the days leading up to the tournament. The beauty of a clean bracket/slate/etc. is that it allows us to aver whatever we wish. And so all sorts of persons select all sorts of teams to win all sorts of rounds in college basketball’s most popular, annual competition.

This year, NBA star Steph Curry predicts Duke will win it all. Charles Barkley picks Arizona. And both former Pres. Obama and country singer Tim McGraw think North Carolina will be victorious.

Each of the above may be right. But they won’t all be.

Due to my noted competitive nature, I, too, completed my bracket with a great sense of not-yet-fleeting hope. I ended up choosing the Wildcats of Villanova to repeat, with the awareness that winning two years in a row is an increasingly rare occurrence. As noted by yesterday’s results, I was totally wrong. But also noted in round one, came my awareness of manipulating the truth; let’s return to the UNC-W…

I’m a knowledgeable fan… semi-humble, perhaps, but knowledgeable nonetheless. And so I read and research and do my necessary homework.

In round one of the 64 seeded teams, 12th seeded UNC-W was set to face 5th seeded Virginia. Hence, simply based on the selection committee’s seeding, Virginia’s very capable Cavaliers/Wahoos/Hoos (all acceptable nicknames) were expected to win. They were perceived as the better team.

But picking upsets is part of the fun of the “madness.” I read other, reputable perspectives. From The Washington Post’s John Feinstein: “[Virginia] Coach Tony Bennett and his players know that the [UNC-W] Seahawks, champions of the Colonial Athletic Association, are one of those double-digits seeds that people see as a potential upset pick.”

From the Sporting News’ Mike DeCourcy: “No. 12 UNC Wilmington over No. 5 Virginia. In addition to the very cool nickname of ‘Seahawks’ – how many Wildcats do we need, people? – Wilmington has a terrific offense with four double-figure scorers led by guard C.J. Bryce and 3-point rifleman Denzel Ingram, who is top-20 in the nation in 3-pointers made. They’ve never seen anything like the Virginia defense, but they’re good enough to make this happen.”

So when I picked UNC-W over Virginia — even though varied opinion existed — I was not alone. I thus found comfort and confidence-building in those who shared my perspective.

After tip off, as I expected (and as I predicted), UNC-W took off, dominating the Cavaliers/Wahoos/Hoos. They were actually ahead by 15 points after only 12 and a half minutes of play. I was thinking pretty highly of myself. I was thinking I was right. But as the game went on, the Cavaliers/Wahoos/Hoos not only came back from the substantial deficit, but proceeded to lead most of the second half. It was close at some points, but Virginia was far more in command than UNC-W.

In those closer moments, even though I have zero relationship with either team — no exceptional like or dislike — I found myself actively cheering for the Seahawks of UNC-W (… grace, please, Wahoo fans). Yes, it’s fun to root for the underdog. But the other factor very much in play here (if I’m willing to admit it) is that I wanted to be right. And if UNC-W actually upset the talented team from Virginia, then I would be right and wouldn’t have to wrestle with the idea that part of my thinking was wrong. I wouldn’t have to wrestle with the validity of any other perspective.

Isn’t that part of our madness? Sometimes being right becomes more important than what may be true.

Respectfully…
AR

03/16/2017

flyers, friars, and more

Oh, how I love this time of year…

We have Jayhawks and Cardinals and Catamounts and Ducks. (With all due respect…) What exactly is a “catamount”? (… a medium-sized wildcat, like a cougar, I’m told…)

Besides the birds listed above, we have heroic Cowboys and Spartans and all sorts of Trojans (and more Trojans… yes, we have two).

Yikes… I omitted a few avian competitors; we have soaring Seahawks, Bluejays, and Eagles, plus two sets of Gamecocks and Gaels. True, a Gael is not a bird; it’s a Gaelic-speaking person (… but thanks, Iona; it sounded good there…).

Let us not, however, discriminate against any, especially the by far, formidable animals in the tourney; we have multiple mammalian entries…

There are Wolverines and a Wolf Pack… Wildcats, too. Granted, most are familiar with our feline friends from Villanova, Kentucky and even Kansas State. But God bless Northwestern; welcome to the tournament. It really is the cat’s meow.

Forget we not, no less, the Bruins, Bisons, Bears, and smaller bears, i.e. the Bearcats. There are Bulldogs, also, hailing from both Butler and Gonzaga (that private university in Spokane, enrolling approximately 8,000 students, in case you were unaware).

Truth told, I’d probably be a little more apprehensive about facing Jackrabbits instead of Terrapins, although I’m not quite sure how to feel about Hokies, Aggies, and Norse.

There are Commodores and Cavaliers…
Pirates and Privateers…
Mustangs and Musketeers…
And a tall order in the Mountaineers.

There are Fighting Hawks and Fighting Irish…
Flyers and Friars…
Blue Devils and Blue Raiders…
And Seminoles representing our respected Native Americans.

Also included are the talented sets of Tarheels and Tigers, Razorbacks and Rams, Badgers and Buccaneers.

And last but not least we have Golden Eagles, Golden Gophers, and even Golden Flashes. Since “golden” makes everything sound better, we also have hopefully golden Gators.

My apologies to the Demon Deacons. Again, with all due respect to my friends this time in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, I simply pay minimal attention to evil.

Wait… I did leave out my beloved Boilermakers. “All hail Purdue,” the song goes… (… so I’ve only sang it, maybe 37,142 times…).

All that to say I love this time of year. I love all the teams and people gathered, as we simultaneously celebrate the potential of the underdog and the talent of the top seeds. We appreciate each for who they are, enjoying them, recognizing that shining moments happen far more than once, for far more than one. There is so much in so many to enjoy.

Oh, how freeing.

Did I mention I love this time of year?

Respectfully…
AR

(P.S. Go Boilers go…)

03/14/2017

reality?

For 18 years, the host began by asking the primarily female audience, “Would you like to be queen for a day?” And for the next 30/45 minutes, “Queen for a Day” ran on radio, then NBC Television, and on ABC Television, beginning in 1945.

Host Jack Bailey would engage with multiple contestants, as they shared the uniqueness of their individual circumstances, publicly sharing their financial and emotional plight. The more dramatic and dire the straits, the more intense and sustaining was the audience applause meter. The audience applause meter would then lead to the chosen “queen.”

Donned with a crown, robe, and throne, with roses an apt gifted decor and “Pomp and Circumstance” played in the background, the winner’s typical tears were drowned out seemingly only by the announcement of a plethora of prizes. To quote the host in his trademark sign-off: “This is Jack Bailey, wishing we could make every woman a queen, for every single day!”

Friends, welcome to the onset of reality TV.

“Reality TV” is the television genre featuring real-life situations and supposedly real-life people — not actors (… ok… one can decide for themselves if any of the Kardashian’s mimic real life…). What takes place is arguably unscripted (… granted, any regular reality viewer will acknowledge a key suspicion of some moments that are far too uncanny to be totally authentic).

While “Queen for a Day” may have been the beginning of this unique, far-cheaper-to-produce format, reality TV gained steam in the early 90’s in Europe, and then in the U.S. in the late 90’s, as MTV’s “The Real World,” CBS’s “Survivor,” and all the musical “Idols,” biggest somethings, etc. spurred the format on. A whole new genre became accepted television viewing.

My sense is there is no issue in the format being acceptable; the issue is in the acceptance of the television being reality.

It makes this current events, cultural observer wonder…

Are there places we are unknowingly mistaking circumstances, reactions, and relationships as something other than they actually are? Are we thinking something is real that is not?

“Fear Factor” used to seemingly pride itself in creating the most grotesque eating challenge possible. FOX’s “Temptation Island” used to divide actual couples into two locales, filling them each with multiple persons willing to aid in their potential, adulterous stray.

If we accept each somehow as “reality,” does that mean it’s acceptable and honorable human behavior?

Even as a semi-frequent viewer, “Survivor” sometimes reminds me of those grade school kickball days, where there was that punch-in-the-gut feeling for the unpicked kid left standing on the sidelines. And “Big Brother” — geepers — I really don’t need to watch any person 24/7… and if I do, I’m ok if they have a little more clothes on.

My point this day is not to knock reality television. Truth told, my household tends to find many such series quite entertaining. My concern instead is where are these pockets and places where we confuse what’s on TV with reality? Because it’s not… TV’s not… TV’s not always good and true and right… much less even acceptable. My sense, therefore, is that reality TV is totally, completely, unfortunately, inaccurately named.

Last night, by the way, was the conclusion of ABC’s “The Bachelor.” This was their 21st season, of one man — or one woman — choosing between seemingly three zillion, desiring others. Which one would be their soulmate? Which one could he/she propose to? “Real love” is the pursuit… real love is the answer… real love.

Noted, veteran contestant Nick selected beautiful Vanessa to be the one… she wins!! And Nick proposed! They’re in love!!

I’m so happy! It was so sweet, so wonderful… no doubt they’ll make it! I love reality!

(… ok… so I hope it is…)

Respectfully…
AR

03/12/2017

walking out the door

Have you heard of “Amazon Fresh”?

“Welcome to Amazon Fresh. Skip the trip to the grocery store and spend more time doing the things you love with AmazonFresh grocery delivery service…

We’ve made shopping for groceries simple. Here’s how: Shop our great selection… Reserve a delivery time… Get it fast and fresh…”

Amazon Fresh is the innovative idea from its like-named parent company that delivers fresh groceries to your house. Currently only in specific, targeted areas of the country, for an annual fee ($299) and a few clicks on your computer, Amazon Fresh will cater to all your grocery needs, bringing beets, beer, meat, nuts, seafood, bread, etc. all straight to your front door… so you never have to exit your front door.

Listen to a few testimonials…

“After just 2 weeks, I don’t know how I ever lived without Amazon Fresh…They have such a huge variety, everything you’d find at a regular grocery store and much more. So many organic produce options. I haven’t had to go to the grocery store in weeks!”

“… The only reason it gets 4 stars instead of 5 is that if some of your items will not be available for several days, it does not allow you to split your order… it still beats the heck out of going to the grocery store on Saturday morning!”

“I just used this service for the first time this past weekend and am already spreading the word to my friends and family. Online ordering was so convenient and efficient!… I may never step foot in a supermarket again! Thank you Amazon.”

First, a couple thoughts before I get to my main point this day…

One, I love all things Amazon. At Christmas time especially, they make shopping more efficient and convenient while still being cost-effective.

Two, when I think of young moms attempting to cram multiple kids into the mini-van, trekking off to the grocery store for a seemingly too long, chaotic adventure of the day, I get it. That’s tough. Amazon Fresh is indeed a breath of fresh air.

But something within the progression of the online grocery delivery service got me thinking, as this is not solely the mindset of Amazon. Kroger, Walmart, Safeway, etc. are each also targeting specific test markets.

I was thinking of the stated benefits… this idea that I never have to leave my house… I don’t have to mess with the hustle and bustle of the store… I don’t have to deal with the kids and the crud and the crowds and other perceived annoyances of life.

I don’t have to deal with other people.

And then I look at the vitriol which continues to digress in social media. On some days, it seems we are headed to some sort of evil, awful civil war, as we increasingly justify the lack of listening to others. Our patience has grown thin. We want nothing to do with another.

Why? Because they aren’t like us.

They don’t look, act, think or do something like us.

Maybe the first step in civil, wise, interactive discussion is being again willing to walk out our front door… and deal with the kids and the crud and the crowds… walking along and in step with others. The more we isolate instead — intentionally avoiding the perceived annoyances that come with unlike others — the more our communication deteriorates as well.

Respectfully…
AR

03/09/2017

25 Q’s

It is no secret that the Intramuralist loves the question mark. It’s the only punctuation piece that invites an answer (… and we wonder why we keep conversationally shutting down one another…).

With a search spanning the pages of Facebook, Forbes, Readers’ Digest, and my own, etc. — recognizing that some of life’s questions are oft related to the thrill of victory or the agony of defeat — I found myself pondering the following…

… especially in regard to the current socio-political climate that is less than conversational… less than respectful… less than inviting… less than good…

(… yes… less than good…)

What are the questions we each must answer?
What am I pretending not to know?
What are my values and am I being true to them?
What — or who — am I living for?
In what ways am I being perceived, that I’m not aware of?
In what ways am I being deceived, that I’m not aware of?
Do I honor the authorities in my life? Am I actually willing to acknowledge authority?
Where are my blindspots?
What is wrong with the world?
How can what’s wrong be made right?
Is money the root of all evil?
What is the definition of evil?
Where am I less than patient?
Where am I withholding grace? From whom am I withholding grace?
What don’t I know, that I don’t know?
Would I be focusing on the same things today if I knew I was dying tomorrow?
How would my role models act and carry themselves?
Who is God and what does he ask of me?
Is there anything within my control that I need to change today?
Where have I been unkind?
Where have I been discriminatory?
Where have I been awful to the person who doesn’t think like me?
Who has the right — and the ability — to judge?
Where am I being judgmental? … and…
What did I learn today?

(… hopefully something…)

Respectfully…
AR

03/07/2017

civil discourse

As reported by The Hill:

“On Friday, Charles Murray, author of ‘Coming Apart’ and ‘The Bell Curve,’ was driven out of the McCullough Student Center at Middlebury College by a mob of angry students. He gave his talk via live stream from an ‘undisclosed location’ on campus. The live stream was chanted over, the fire alarm pulled to cut power, and at the end of the talk Charles Murray’s car was surrounded and Professor Allison Stager, his interlocutor, was assaulted, her hair pulled and her neck injured.

The protesters were successful. They drowned out freedom of speech, silenced those with whom they disagree, and attacked the defenders of democracy.

The words that carried the night were not Murray’s. And they were not the reasoned arguments of those who disagree with Murray. They were the chants of an angry mob who believed that disagreeing with Murray necessitated silencing both him and those who had asked him to speak: ‘Charles Murray go away,’ the students chanted, ‘Racist, Sexist, Anti-Gay.’”

One can agree or disagree with the message of Murray. What I found myself pondering was the sincerity of the protestors.

Even though their tactics were disrespectful, deplorable, and/or “de-something,” my sense is the protestors were sincere. They do not want Murray’s message to be spread… because they obviously believe it to be absolutely wrong, incorrect, maybe even evil.

Via the wisdom of an articulate friend, it reminds me of the abortion protests in previous decades. While the anti-abortion movement remains an active voice, prior to the enacted buffer zone laws in recent decades, previous protests sometimes included the destruction of both property and people.

Noting that their tactics that were sometimes disrespectful, deplorable, and/or “de-something,” I again ponder the sincerity of the protestors.

It seems in both examples, regardless of our agreement or disagreement with the protestors or the issue at hand — and admittedly, this is a tough thought to swallow… but… the protestors may be potentially, fully sincere. While their tactics sometimes fall somewhere short of democratic — and even in some cases, criminal — my sense is the protestors may still be sincere.

Granted, sincerity remains not a justification for the “de-something” means… at least not in a democracy.

As The Hill article questions, even with sincere, passionate protests, civil discourse is a central tenet of democracy, so how within our democracy do we actually engage in it? How do we resist the need to shut opposing opinion down, even when we don’t agree with the opinion — or we believe it to be, maybe even evil? Shutting down opposing opinion means disallowing civil discourse.

As the The Hill states: “Democracy is based upon the principle that citizens can think for themselves, choose for themselves, and vote their conscience. The tradition of free speech, freedom of the press, and freedom of assembly that we are so lucky to enjoy in America is meant to provide all Americans with the capacity to promote their views. These liberties help to protect us from tyranny no matter its form — whether the despotic rule of one or the vulgar justice of a mob…

Protesters who silence others by angry chants presume their fellow citizens not capable of choice — unfit for self-government.”

So two questions:

One, who are we to declare entire groups of others as “unfit”, thus shutting down their opinion?

And two — perhaps most significantly — do we really believe in democracy?

Respectfully…
AR

03/05/201703/05/2017

limiting my own perspective

I’m thinking I won’t be venturing out on too much of a rhetorical limb here when I suggest current political discussions have become fairly difficult — at least difficult in navigating through via an interactive, respectful, honoring-of-all kind of way.

I witness such weekly within a few online groups I belong to, in which politics and various socio-economic issues are intentionally discussed.

We often struggle with respectful dialogue. We often also disagree as to why.

This week, for example, a respected friend started a conversation with the following:

“It remains amazing to me how there are millions of people that love this country and want what’s best for it. Yet somehow they are willing to simply shrug off the exploding volume of evidence…”

As the thread continued with multiple participants, it seemed amply one-sided, affirming the perspective of the conversation’s initiator. The opinions stated were also pretty strong. Please note: there is zero problem with that; many of us have strong opinions — and it’s ok to share them. There were also no insults, disparaging treatment or direct attacks, nor anyone believing it was ok to add “you idiot” at the end of their individual expression.

At one point, however, my friend asked where I was…

“AR… Nothing to say in response to the original post? Do you agree? Disagree?”

My friend sincerely wondered what I thought.

And so I chimed in…

“Your original post gave me the impression that you were starting a discussion from a point of telling everyone else how wrong they are, if they don’t have your perspective. With the far majority of persons sharing such strong opinions, that is where many of these threads seem to start… I find many of these threads not interested in interactive, varied, balanced, and respectful dialogue. Hence, it’s easier not to engage than be immediately told why I’m wrong and why there’s no validity behind my perspective.”

He then asked a brilliant question…

“As long as your mindset is as you described, and therefore you choose to avoid comment or participation, how can anyone even know what your perspective is or tell you that you are wrong?”

He was right. How can anyone know what we think if we choose not to tell them?

I added…

“That is an excellent question. And you’re right. No one can tell what my perspective is if I choose not to share it. My impression — and it may be wrong — is that most of us don’t listen long enough nor intently enough to truly understand why another person has the perspective that they do. And that’s a problem on all sides of the aisle… in Washington… on Facebook… here…”

Again, my friend sincerely wondered how I thought and desired my participation. Yet the interaction made me question the impression each of us offers to unspoken others — and how inviting we are to all. It made me wonder…

Are we allowing and promoting environments which clearly welcome diverse opinion?

Are we giving the impression that we will or will not listen intently to others?

And…

Are we limiting our own growth and perspective, by only listening intently to the likeminded?

Respectfully… always…
AR