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Sometimes the advice for writers, especially for non-fiction, is “Write what you know.” 

In my experience, the mantra is “Write about what you want to know.”  Writing is creative exploring.  The desire to know, to clarify, to crystallize the confusing into something useful is what pulls us forward.

I suspect that creating music, sculpture, art of all kinds are also creative explorations of the edge of what we don’t know.

Marriage and parenting are likewise always at the edge of what we don’t know.  That’s why you must build marriages and family relationships on revealed truth, reliable foundations. 

Formal speaking is different.  You must understand what your audience needs, then develop what you will say and how you’ll organize and deliver the content.  What pulls speakers forward is the strong desire to share with others.

I have had three different bosses who needed to “think out loud” in front of an audience to know their own mind.  It took me some time to discern – differently for each of them – when they were thinking out loud and when they were giving me specific direction or establishing policy.  If you’re one of these people, it’s a great gift to your listeners to clearly advertise when you are thinking aloud!

Back to creative exploration…

I had two conversations recently with people who portray themselves as victims.  They didn’t use that word, but their behavior tells me that’s what they believe.  They deserve more, better, different, and it’s “other people” who are blocking them, denying them, undercutting them, misunderstanding their abilities.  

I’m wondering today if, perhaps, they’re at the uncomfortable edge of creative exploration, and just hope someone else will take the next steps for them.  What they want (or think they deserve) is on the far side of that uncomfortable edge.  Perhaps they assume that this uncomfortable edge is somehow controlled by others.  I could be wrong.

One part of it, for sure, is that other people make decisions that affect us.  The people who make those decisions generally have the power to make those decisions. You might have a different idea, but you don’t have the authority to make that decision, and you need to make your peace with this. 

There are loads of things which didn’t go like I wanted them to.  I’ve been passed by multiple times for promotions and opportunities I wanted.  Though I’ve made progress on the maturity scale, I still find myself jealous of others. I’m deeply blessed (and certainly beyond what I know!) yet struggle with comparisons.  I would have been just like Peter, comparing myself to another disciple. Like everyone else, I’ve paid a price for decisions made by elite leaders who didn’t have skin in the game and suffered no consequences.  This is a busted-up world run badly by fallen people.  Every day is a fresh opportunity to work within our sphere of influence, focus most intently on things within our control, and remind ourselves God’s sovereign power and love for us.

I frequently hear people use the word ‘Fair.’  As in, “It’s only fair,” and “That’s not fair.” 

‘Fair’ is rarely a useful standard.  It works when you tell one kid to cut the donut in half and let the other kid choose which half to eat. I used to tell our kids that if you want fair you should look for a different universe.  I admit it took me years to figure out that fair most often means one side got what it wanted in a way the other side couldn’t complain about. 

Unequal distributions are the norm of the world. 80/20 (or 70/30 or 95/5) distributions are everywhere in the universe.  My reading of Scripture is that there are unequal distributions of rewards in heaven, too.  Frankly, given the wickedness in my life and the holiness of God, I don’t want ‘fair.’  I’m grateful for grace!

Rather than ‘fair,’ which is incredibly subjective and doesn’t fit a world of unequal distributions, we need to bind ourselves to imago dei, personal responsibility, truth rather than lies, and equal treatment under laws.

Sometimes the advice for writers, especially for non-fiction, is “Write what you know.” 

In my experience, the mantra is “Write about what you want to know.”  Writing is creative exploring.  The desire to know, to clarify, to crystallize the confusing into something useful is what pulls us forward.

I suspect that creating music, sculpture, art of all kinds are also creative explorations of the edge of what we don’t know.

Marriage and parenting are likewise always at the edge of what we don’t know.  That’s why you must build marriages and family relationships on revealed truth, reliable foundations. 

Formal speaking is different.  You must understand what your audience needs, then develop what you will say and how you’ll organize and deliver the content.  What pulls speakers forward is the strong desire to share with others.

I have had three different bosses who needed to “think out loud” in front of an audience to know their own mind.  It took me some time to discern – differently for each of them – when they were thinking out loud and when they were giving me specific direction or establishing policy.  If you’re one of these people, it’s a great gift to your listeners to clearly advertise when you are thinking aloud!

Back to creative exploration…

I had two conversations recently with people who portray themselves as victims.  They didn’t use that word, but their behavior tells me that’s what they believe.  They deserve more, better, different, and it’s “other people” who are blocking them, denying them, undercutting them, misunderstanding their abilities.  

I’m wondering today if, perhaps, they’re at the uncomfortable edge of creative exploration, and just hope someone else will take the next steps for them.  What they want (or think they deserve) is on the far side of that uncomfortable edge.  Perhaps they assume that this uncomfortable edge is somehow controlled by others.  I could be wrong.

One part of it, for sure, is that other people make decisions that affect us.  The people who make those decisions generally have the power to make those decisions. You might have a different idea, but you don’t have the authority to make that decision, and you need to make your peace with this. 

There are loads of things which didn’t go like I wanted them to.  I’ve been passed by multiple times for promotions and opportunities I wanted.  Though I’ve made progress on the maturity scale, I still find myself jealous of others. I’m deeply blessed (and certainly beyond what I know!) yet struggle with comparisons.  I would have been just like Peter, comparing myself to another disciple. Like everyone else, I’ve paid a price for decisions made by elite leaders who didn’t have skin in the game and suffered no consequences.  This is a busted-up world run badly by fallen people.  Every day is a fresh opportunity to work within our sphere of influence, focus most intently on things within our control, and remind ourselves God’s sovereign power and love for us.

I write out the list of questions I’m pondering because seeing them on paper somehow makes my brain work better. These are questions without simple answers.  No Google search or ChatGPT query is sufficient.  I use these questions to help guide what I pick to read and study. They also become prayer matters when they stay on my mind and heart. 

Partial list (does not include the quite personal and I choose to keep those confidential):

• What should wealthier seniors sacrifice for common good (beyond their families)?
• What is the best process to recover trust in institutions after that trust is eroded/destroyed?
• How will the Church respond to polyamory, polygamy, and reducing the age of consent?
• What is the best course of action for individuals when organizations become corrupted? 
• What capabilities for students should we expect from schooling?
• How can the Western Canon become a stronger part of the foundations for adults who want to learn?
• What are the critical things I need to be teaching the next two generations of leaders?
• What should I do now to be better prepared for <family challenges I can see coming>?
• What are the secondary and tertiary consequences of ai tools in education, living wage employment, and social/political structures?
• Who in my sphere of influence needs more from me, and who less?
• What do I need to surrender today? 
• There are growing and unstainable national, state, pension, corporate, family debt instabilities.  What are the least bad options through this to a better future?
• Does it always require a crisis to change the status quo when the people with the power to change it are the same people who benefit from the status quo?
• Were we to get into an active war with a major adversary, what individual liberties are most important to protect?
• Where must we draw lines on gene editing?
• How can I best model “innocent as doves and wise as serpents”?
• In what ways do I need to reinvent my practices to continue to drive to excellence?
• Dear God, I know you do a thousand things at once, so what are you doing with <this situation>?

Have you written out your big questions?  What are the key questions you’re exploring? 

My friend MW recently recommended Psalm 11 to me. 

In the Lord I take refuge;

how can you say to my soul,

    “Flee like a bird to your mountain,

for behold, the wicked bend the bow;

    they have fitted their arrow to the string

    to shoot in the dark at the upright in heart;

if the foundations are destroyed,

    what can the righteous do?”

The Lord is in his holy temple;

    the Lord’s throne is in heaven;

    his eyes see, his eyelids test the children of man.

When faced with awful and dreadful possibilities, the answer is “The Lord is in his holy temple.”

I observe that many of us (I include myself) spend considerable fruitless energy and time wanting to be something we simply aren’t.  Or wanting someone else to be someone they aren’t. 

Why is it so difficult to accept certain truths about ourselves and others? 

We wrestle with this at multiple levels.  For our place in relationship with our Creator, we should listen carefully to what He says we are.  The rest of it — our ‘career,’ what we do, who we associate with, how we think about our gifts and talents, and more – becomes a battle about who we want to impress or please.  I can chuckle at some goofy things teenagers do to be well-thought-of by someone else, but ‘mature’ adults do this too.  The stakes for adults might even be higher.

We like the language of ‘self-made’ man or woman.  Our choices shape us, but there’s a deep starting point that we don’t own.  The people in our lives, beginning in utero and continuing through this very day, have a tremendous impact on us, too. 

There’s a story about a scientist who figures out how to create life.  He goes to God and offers a challenge.  “Let’s each start with a handful of dirt.  I’ll bring forth a new life and you do the same and we’ll see which is more impressive.”  God accepts.  The scientist reaches down and scoops up some dirt. God says, “Go get your own dirt.” 

A key to understanding and embracing who we are and are meant to become is to first realize that none of this began when we arrived on the scene.  We are always grounded in a great “before me” reality.

Once we get that through our thick hearts, then we wrestle with what price we’re willing to pay (and for how long) to achieve our potential.  There’s always a cost.  I’ve written before about our tendency to want to be the noun without doing the verb.  I want to be super-fit and lean without doing the exercise and healthy eating. I want to be godly without sacrifice and humility.  I want to be deeply studied in 12 minutes.  No free lunch, sorry!

I’ve spoken to multiple people who connect the Star Wars idea of The Force to what they experience as a divine, beyond-the-physical-universe, spiritual power.  It’s the vague-but-real sense of experiencing Nature. I know some Unitarians who, when asked whom they are praying to, say “Love.”  Warm, fuzzy, safe.

Jesus used the descriptor of ‘friends’ for his disciples:

“I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.” (John 15:15, NIV)

“I tell you, my friends, do not be afraid of those who kill the body and after that can do no more.” (Luke 12:4, NIV)

Jesus replied, “Do what you came for, friend.” Then the men stepped forward, seized Jesus and arrested him. (Matthew 26:50, NIV)

He called out to them, “Friends, haven’t you any fish?” “No,” they answered. (John 21:5, NIV)

The Force is impersonal, abstract.  Friendship is intensely personal.  Friends like one another and enjoy being together.  I’m speaking here of true friendship, not ‘Facebook’ friends.

The conviction that Jesus likes me as His disciple, and enjoys me, sustains me through up and down days and weeks.  This conviction converts crushing loneliness into rich solitude.  A personal connection, being known, is to some far less safe than an abstract and distant ‘divine power.’ But I will take the embrace of friendship as the greater treasure.  As Mr. Beaver said of Aslan, ‘Course he isn’t safe.  But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

My home office window looks out to a large gardenia bush.  I’m reliably informed that it should flower once annually each Spring, a massive display of white flowers that practically cover all the greenery.  This bush does indeed bloom like this.  But it also sends out occasional blooms at other times.  Sometimes just one or two.  One day in late August I counted 21 blooms.  Today there are 9 blooms.

This encourages me.  God can make something bloom “at the wrong time” and be beautiful.  I’m not in charge of Creation (though I’m commanded to help steward it as a co-ruler with God).  An “untimely” flower in the hottest and driest time in the Florida panhandle brings joy.  Perhaps this is a picture of what God is doing amidst what appear to us as worrisome and stressful times.

Homeostasis is a set of processes which bring things back to ‘normal’ – like how your body works to keep your temperature steady. 

Allostasis is a more recently invented terminology which better explains our full physiology.  We have stores of energy and more oxygen processing capacity than we need when we’re resting – because when we need to exert ourselves we can.  We can operate at a higher level of output for long periods when necessary.   Our hormonal systems (e.g., adrenaline) can make us hyper-alert and ready to change.  Yet basic cellular maintenance continues (e.g., red blood cell replacements, detoxification in the liver, immune system hunting down viruses). 

Allostasis is more how we need to think about our lives.  Some things need to be rock-steady; for everything else we must be able to surge capability, and be adaptable.  We can develop physical and mental capacity through training before we need it in the crisis moment. 

…

I finished listening to this podcast series on The Cold War.  Highly recommended.  It brought back many memories and gave me information I didn’t know.  I’m older than most of my work colleagues, who don’t have memories of bomb drills in school or long gas lines or maps showing the most likely nuclear targets.  (I lost recess privileges one day when I explained to our class that crouching under our desks was not going to save us from thermonuclear war, and apparently scared the other children.)  I remember the ‘malaise’ of the 1970’s and the despair of some families whose sons died in Vietnam.  There was no formal declaration of war with the Soviets but it was bloody, and thankfully only bloody short of nuclear weapons.  It was an incredible relief when the Soviet Union fell after the Berlin Wall came down.    

The West beat the Soviets on technology innovation and economics. (The US spent 3% of GDP, the Soviets 25%!)  Yet the real power of the West – Individualism vs. Collectivism — was the moral difference. The Soviet leaders were killers and murdered millions of their own citizens.  Kennan ended his famous “long telegram” with this counsel:

“We must have courage and self confidence to cling to our own methods and conceptions of human society. After all, the greatest danger that can befall us in coping with this problem of Soviet Communism, is that we shall allow ourselves to become like those with whom we are coping.”

The US is in a kind of cold war with China today, albeit different in many dimensions.  Perhaps someday there will be a good historical review of this cold war.  How will our times be remembered?  What stories are we living now?  How can we maintain our efforts to live up to the ideals of the Declaration of Independence, flawed as we are?

Perhaps I should be thinking about what allostasis is needed now for peace and human thriving in the future.

Our dog Watson’s world is contracting.  He can’t hear or see well.  He’s on multiple medications for Cushings and other problems.  He loses his doggy mind sometimes for reasons we don’t understand, especially later in the day. He is more sweet than smart. He’s always been an anxious pup but now he’s an anxious old man (about 12-13 years, we think; Watson was a rescue).  I should get a T-shirt that says “Not the Momma” because my beloved wife is the gravitation center of his universe. No one is second.  I might be fourth, good for walks and belly rubs.

The smaller his world becomes, the more attached Watson is to my wife.  He follows her around closely.  He’s not truly happy or settled without her close presence.  Watson wanders around the house looking for her when she’s out, again, and again.  

In part, this is an image of following Jesus.  There’s an old Jewish saying, “May you be covered by the dust of your rabbi,” meaning that you’re close enough that you breathe in the dust raised as your rabbi walks ahead of you.

Watson’s devotion to Cathy is tiresome at times, and she occasionally longs for a break.  The Gospel accounts make it clear that Jesus loved his disciples, but I’m pretty sure he looked forward to times alone.  Perhaps this is why he occasionally said “Go!”  (Just kidding.)

…

We had two intense thunderstorms two days ago.  (We live in one of the lightning capitols of the world, apparently.)  Watson loses control, becomes inconsolable, quakes, drools, pants with sustained panic.  My beloved was out at an appointment, so “not the momma” tried patiently to calm him. 

I think after all these years of living safely inside through thunderstorms he would learn that he doesn’t need to panic.  He doesn’t need to hyperventilate, because the storm will end and he will be fine all through it.  Not so. 

Reflecting on this, it does remind me to ponder what my gravitational center is.  How many storms have God carried me through, and yet I still am instantly likely to panic and worry?  As Jesus challenged the disciples, “Where is your faith?” (Luke 8:25)   

Vines are my nemesis in our yard.  My beloved wife tells people, “It’s Glenn vs. the Vines!” 

I’ve identified 5 different varieties so far.  Four have thorns.  Two of the varieties grow 1-2” a day (yes, I’ve measured this), at least 10 months of the year.  Left unchecked they will take over an azalea bush or oak tree in a few months.  They are uncannily capable of using any vertical surface to climb. At least we don’t have kudzu. 

I’ve whacked off the vines close to ground level.  This certainly gives the plants, trees, and fence relief.  But they’ll start growing back immediately.

“OK, let’s kill the whole plant!”  I’ve carefully pulled the vines away from bushes, laid them down on a plastic bag, and sprayed them with herbicide.  This is better, but I’ve yet to completely kill them.  It doesn’t work at all for two of the five varieties. They glow better with RoundUp™ treatment, I swear! 

Digging up the root systems has been a hopeless effort.  The network of fine roots breaks off.  It looks like one way these vines spread is by sending out long roots underground to new locations to pop up. 

“OK, let’s try a stronger herbicide.”  I picked up a potent herbicide at a local Ace Hardware, described to me as “Agent Orange for the suburbs” in hushed tones by the store employee.  The label warns “Powerful defoliant, use with caution.” It works better, but after a few weeks the vines reappear.  Apparently, the extensive root systems are difficult to kill off.

I’m left with a monthly battle against the vines.  Spray, slash, rip. It’s weirdly satisfying to fill our yard waste bin.  I tell myself it’s part of my “move more” exercise program. 

It occurs to me that this is an interesting picture of evil.  We fight it, we beat it back, we cut it off, we blast it with armaments, but the deep roots are never killed off entirely.  Tolkien has Gandalf explain that the evil Sauron is only an emissary of a greater evil.  Paul reminded the Ephesian church that “our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” (Eph 6:12, NIV) Our task is to fight evil when we find it, and trust that the Ultimate Evil Fighter will vanquish it someday.