Recently I've been contemplating some poems and sayings by the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche. Now I know that makes me sound very bookish (which I sort of am) and intellectual, but I can't take credit for discovering his writing on my own. In general, I don't read a lot of explicitly philosophical material. But my friend Anthony kept mentioning Nietzsche in conversation; then lo and behold, I go to my first English class this semester, and I see Nietzsche on the syllabus. Immediately I'm interested. ("Coincidences" in life capture my attention and usually compel me to further investigation.) So I go to the library, check out a few books by Nietzsche, read a few pages in one, and quickly fall head-over-heels in awe with the simple style but profound content of his words.
I suspect you'll hear more of Nietzsche from me in the future, but for now, here are just a few of his sayings which I'm considering tonight:
"An uncomfortable trait.
- To find all things deep - that is an uncomfortable trait: it makes one constantly strain one's eyes and in the end always find more than one had wished."
(I definitely have this problem; I call it "over-thinking everything".)
"Being deep and seeming deep.
-Those who know they are deep strive for clarity. Those who would like to seem deep to the crowd strive for obscurity. For the crowd takes everything whose ground it cannot see to be deep: it is so timid and so reluctant to go into the water."
(Does anyone else feel that in the midst of striving for clarity what they usually - or most quickly - achieve is obscurity? I feel like this right now.)
"Limits of our sense of hearing.
- One hears only those questions to which one is able to find an answer."
I do not believe this last phrase is always true, because right now I feel like some of the questions I have can never be answered. But I hope I am wrong; I hope the reason I am confronted with such frustrating questions is because they have answers, and not just because asking such questions is a valuable exercise of the mind.
A few days ago Diane challenged me to be courageous enough to sit and feel my own chaos. That's probably one of the hardest exercises I've ever tried to complete. I turned to at least nine other activities first: Eating, sleeping, exercising, talking, dancing, drinking, serving, studying, cleaning.
Finally, the voice inside my head commanded me to Sit down. Now. Stop doing. Stop moving. Just be.
Reluctantly, I sat down.
I closed my eyes.
I took a deep breath.
I opened my ears.
And I heard the front door open and my roommate come home.
The other voice inside my head said
Ha. Now this will have to wait until Later.
I breathed a sigh of relief and greeted my roommate.
I do not want to feel my chaos. I want to feel in control. I want to be orderly. I want to neatly place all of my thoughts and ideas into pre-labeled drawers. I want organization. I want Peace. Not Chaos.
But Later finally came today.
Today I faced myself.
Today I felt my own chaos.
Or at least, I tried to feel it for about an hour.
And it was close to terrifying and far from reassuring.
In the midst of the awkward, uncomfortable silence, I heard these questions:
Should I keep searching for Peace, for rest?
Or should I learn to be content with - and even excited about - Chaos?
Do I believe in "the hole" that so many religious people talk about?
Is my lack of Peace evidence that "my hole" not only exists but is empty?
I don't think I believe in "the hole".
But am I living like I believe in it?
Maybe.
If it exists, am I trying to "fill" this "hole" with the activities I choose to spend my time doing? Am I trying to "fill" it with relationships, with people?
I don't know.
But if "the hole" exists, and if I am trying to "fill" it, do I think I can succeed?
No.
If "the hole" exists, do some people learn to live life without needing to fill it?
Yes, I think so.
Am I the type of person who can be content with an empty hole in my soul?
I doubt that very much.
But does this "hole" even exist?
Or is it a figment of my religious upbringing?
Do you ever struggle with these questions? What other questions do you hear? Can our questions be answered? I don't know, but I hope so. Nietzsche seems to think if we are able to ask our questions, then we are also able to answer them.
Friend, I hope you are well - body, mind, and soul. I hope you have Peace. But if you do not - if you, too, have only Chaos - then I hope you find courage: Courage enough to be:
Silent - hear the loud voices in your mind.
and
Still - feel the restlessness of your soul.
Namaste. And love - to you - from your rafiki.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Someone, please touch me.
The URL for this blog comes from a poem I wrote back in May of this year, so I figured I would share it with you eventually. Recently I've been feeling again many of the emotions I felt when I originally wrote this. Most of this stems from one simple, honest desire: Someone, please touch me.
Touch is a powerful action with many different abilities: It can inflict pain; it can bring comfort; it can answer questions; it can raise questions; it can reassure; it can stir up memories; it can do so much...
But mostly for me, Touch brings comfort and assurance. When Someone touches me, I know that I am alive. When Someone touches me intentionally, I know that I have worth. When Someone touches me softly, gently, carefully, I know that am beautiful.
Touch communicates life, dignity, beauty. Do we remember the last time we received Touch? The last time we gave It? What a Gift we have; why don't we give and receive and enjoy It more often?
Maybe this sounds odd to you. And maybe it is odd. Maybe it only applies to me and a handful of other weird, needy people. Or maybe it applies to many of us, but it sounds odd because we do not admit our needs often enough. You be the judge: Dependence for All
I believe in human touch:
A gentle shoulder squeeze,
A soft peck on the cheek,
A warm, strong embrace,
Even a simple hand shake.
To deny that people need one another,
Is a huge mistake.
Even after we’ve grown,
Even after we’ve left our mother,
The truth still reveals itself in every face:
We each crave to be touched, to be loved, to be known.
Finally, this misconception’s cover is blown:
The independence for which we’re taught to seek,
Is only an elusive mirage, a fake.
But our state of dependence does not make us weak.
Our need for one another is not an immobilizing crutch—
Even if we’re taught to view it as such.
Instead,
Living in dependence frees.
Like birds,
Which ride a breeze
With their wings wide spread,
It frees us to rise above
Unconvincing, easily spoken words,
And enables tangible expressions of love.
For how can someone know they are lovable,
Before being shown they are touchable?
How can someone believe they are beautifully created,
Simply by hearing what someone has stated?
Whether you are naturally bold
Or usually cold,
Your touch has the power,
To show those who cower,
That they have dignity and worth,
That they have been loved since before their birth.
Our society is wrong.
Independence ought not to be our goal,
For it is living in dependence that makes us strong.
Needing one another brings freedom and faith to our soul.
So please,
Let us open up our eyes,
Let us awake,
Let us speak,
Let us denounce these destructive lies.
Let us again believe in human touch.
Let us every opportunity seize.
Let us learn not only how to give, but also how to take.
Sharing one quick, friendly hug may not seem like much.
But, oh, what a difference it might make,
Not only for us, but for humanity’s sake.
Touch is a powerful action with many different abilities: It can inflict pain; it can bring comfort; it can answer questions; it can raise questions; it can reassure; it can stir up memories; it can do so much...
But mostly for me, Touch brings comfort and assurance. When Someone touches me, I know that I am alive. When Someone touches me intentionally, I know that I have worth. When Someone touches me softly, gently, carefully, I know that am beautiful.
Touch communicates life, dignity, beauty. Do we remember the last time we received Touch? The last time we gave It? What a Gift we have; why don't we give and receive and enjoy It more often?
Maybe this sounds odd to you. And maybe it is odd. Maybe it only applies to me and a handful of other weird, needy people. Or maybe it applies to many of us, but it sounds odd because we do not admit our needs often enough. You be the judge: Dependence for All
I believe in human touch:
A gentle shoulder squeeze,
A soft peck on the cheek,
A warm, strong embrace,
Even a simple hand shake.
To deny that people need one another,
Is a huge mistake.
Even after we’ve grown,
Even after we’ve left our mother,
The truth still reveals itself in every face:
We each crave to be touched, to be loved, to be known.
Finally, this misconception’s cover is blown:
The independence for which we’re taught to seek,
Is only an elusive mirage, a fake.
But our state of dependence does not make us weak.
Our need for one another is not an immobilizing crutch—
Even if we’re taught to view it as such.
Instead,
Living in dependence frees.
Like birds,
Which ride a breeze
With their wings wide spread,
It frees us to rise above
Unconvincing, easily spoken words,
And enables tangible expressions of love.
For how can someone know they are lovable,
Before being shown they are touchable?
How can someone believe they are beautifully created,
Simply by hearing what someone has stated?
Whether you are naturally bold
Or usually cold,
Your touch has the power,
To show those who cower,
That they have dignity and worth,
That they have been loved since before their birth.
Our society is wrong.
Independence ought not to be our goal,
For it is living in dependence that makes us strong.
Needing one another brings freedom and faith to our soul.
So please,
Let us open up our eyes,
Let us awake,
Let us speak,
Let us denounce these destructive lies.
Let us again believe in human touch.
Let us every opportunity seize.
Let us learn not only how to give, but also how to take.
Sharing one quick, friendly hug may not seem like much.
But, oh, what a difference it might make,
Not only for us, but for humanity’s sake.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
a "new" (yet old) way to read "religious" texts...
Today I was blessed to read this paragraph in an e-mail from the Gainesville Catholic Worker House, so I wanted to share it with you in hopes that you may also share in this blessing. I find their description of what it means "to do scripture" very refreshing, freeing, and new. But, as Shane Claiborne likes to say, I have a feeling this is simultaneously a "new and ancient way of life". This way of reading and understanding a religious text like the Bible may seem new and different to me today, but it's quite possible that many people in the past have studied it this way before and will probably continue to do so in the future. Yet somehow certain groups of people manage to live their whole lives without considering the many possibilities... So I'm thankful for groups of people like the GCW family who not only take the time to consider options, but who also care enough to both share what they discover with those around them as well as learn from those - no matter who we are or from where we come - who wish to share their own discoveries. But without further ado, here you are:
"We try to do scripture a little different at the GCW than what some of you may be used to in your churches, from Sunday school, etc. We start with the premise that these stories have something really thought-provoking and life-changing to tell us about the world in which we live. We emphasize that the stories in Scripture are critiques of our own culture and our own society, and the stories that various segments of society try to indoctrinate us with regarding questions about value, meaning, what it means to be human, what our responsibilities are to one another and more. We believe that the story about the Reign of God, which is at the heart of Scripture, is a story which critiques the world we live in–its various systems be they political, economic, religious, etc–and challenges us to live our lives in such a way as to give witness to a deeper reality, an alternative vision of what this world could be."
"We try to do scripture a little different at the GCW than what some of you may be used to in your churches, from Sunday school, etc. We start with the premise that these stories have something really thought-provoking and life-changing to tell us about the world in which we live. We emphasize that the stories in Scripture are critiques of our own culture and our own society, and the stories that various segments of society try to indoctrinate us with regarding questions about value, meaning, what it means to be human, what our responsibilities are to one another and more. We believe that the story about the Reign of God, which is at the heart of Scripture, is a story which critiques the world we live in–its various systems be they political, economic, religious, etc–and challenges us to live our lives in such a way as to give witness to a deeper reality, an alternative vision of what this world could be."
Monday, September 8, 2008
when Peace doesn't come
What do we do when peace fails to come?
We must realize that peace doesn't have to fit our time frame;
She functions independently from our expectations of her.
So we must wait.
Peace is gift.
We can't just demand to have her whenever, wherever, and however we want her.
We can ask for her. We can search for her.
But in the end, she must be given to us.
So we must wait.
But what to do when we're tired of waiting? What to do when it feels like we've been waiting for weeks and months - even years - with what feels like no progress? What to do when the people around us demand to see the progress for which we've "wasted" our time waiting? What to do when our own minds demand to see the same? What to do when we have nothing to show? What to do when it feels as if we may still be standing in the same place in line as we were six months ago?
Why does waiting so rarely involve patience?
Can we remember a time in our lives when we patiently waited for anything at all: an event, a person, a feeling? Whether we're waiting in line at the grocery store, waiting to hear back from a job or program application, waiting to hear from a special someone, or waiting for Peace to come, it seems we usually wait impatiently. Not patiently.
So what to do when we're tired of waiting? We do have other options besides waiting, and when we realize this, sometimes we take advantage of them. We can try to busy ourselves with other thoughts and simply forget we have an unmet need for Peace. We can search Elsewhere for Peace. But somedays it feels like we've searched Everywhere for Peace without finding her. Peace, Peace, oh where are you hiding? Oh. Maybe we forgot to check this spot. Let's search there.
Sometimes Peace comes through Nature.
But yesterday, Nature failed me.
Yesterday I sat on the beach for the first time in over a year and expected the power, the beauty, the mystery of the ocean to bring me Peace. The eternal waves, the ever-changing sky, the constant sea breeze, the horizon that can never be reached: these have all given me Peace in the past.
But not yesterday.
Yesterday the sight of the turbulent waves only reflected rather than calmed the unrest in my soul. Yesterday, as the gentle sea breeze caressed my face, it laughed at my inner distress. But it only laughed because its soft carress could not reach my depths.
Yesterday I watched the sun light up the world. Yet as I watched, it burnt my skin but failed to light up my soul.
Sometimes Peace comes with remembering We belong to each other
(thank you Mother Teresa).
But yesterday, We failed me.
Or at least it felt that way.
Or is it possible that Me failed me?
Perhaps I have forgotten to search within myself for Peace?
But I do not feel she is hiding there.
I feel Peace comes from Somewhere outside of me.
Maybe she even comes from Someone outside of We.
Somehow I doubt Peace can be found by searching.
She is a gift.
But even if we do succeed in finding her
(As a child discovers a hidden present before Christmas morning),
Because she is a gift, she won't yet belong to us.
Even if we hold her in our hands, we can't have her
Until
She is given to us.
So we must wait.
Can we learn to wait patiently?
I hope so, yet I doubt.
I doubt my ability to wait patiently in the midst of a world, in the midst of a mind, that demand tangible progress and proof.
But what if Peace can only come after we have learned to wait patiently?
What if Peace IS waiting with patience?
Then we must learn how to wait patiently.
We must learn this together and individually.
But what to do if Peace still doesn't come?
What to do when we're tired of waiting?
What to do when we don't have any answers?
We must realize that peace doesn't have to fit our time frame;
She functions independently from our expectations of her.
So we must wait.
Peace is gift.
We can't just demand to have her whenever, wherever, and however we want her.
We can ask for her. We can search for her.
But in the end, she must be given to us.
So we must wait.
But what to do when we're tired of waiting? What to do when it feels like we've been waiting for weeks and months - even years - with what feels like no progress? What to do when the people around us demand to see the progress for which we've "wasted" our time waiting? What to do when our own minds demand to see the same? What to do when we have nothing to show? What to do when it feels as if we may still be standing in the same place in line as we were six months ago?
Why does waiting so rarely involve patience?
Can we remember a time in our lives when we patiently waited for anything at all: an event, a person, a feeling? Whether we're waiting in line at the grocery store, waiting to hear back from a job or program application, waiting to hear from a special someone, or waiting for Peace to come, it seems we usually wait impatiently. Not patiently.
So what to do when we're tired of waiting? We do have other options besides waiting, and when we realize this, sometimes we take advantage of them. We can try to busy ourselves with other thoughts and simply forget we have an unmet need for Peace. We can search Elsewhere for Peace. But somedays it feels like we've searched Everywhere for Peace without finding her. Peace, Peace, oh where are you hiding? Oh. Maybe we forgot to check this spot. Let's search there.
Sometimes Peace comes through Nature.
But yesterday, Nature failed me.
Yesterday I sat on the beach for the first time in over a year and expected the power, the beauty, the mystery of the ocean to bring me Peace. The eternal waves, the ever-changing sky, the constant sea breeze, the horizon that can never be reached: these have all given me Peace in the past.
But not yesterday.
Yesterday the sight of the turbulent waves only reflected rather than calmed the unrest in my soul. Yesterday, as the gentle sea breeze caressed my face, it laughed at my inner distress. But it only laughed because its soft carress could not reach my depths.
Yesterday I watched the sun light up the world. Yet as I watched, it burnt my skin but failed to light up my soul.
Sometimes Peace comes with remembering We belong to each other
(thank you Mother Teresa).
But yesterday, We failed me.
Or at least it felt that way.
Or is it possible that Me failed me?
Perhaps I have forgotten to search within myself for Peace?
But I do not feel she is hiding there.
I feel Peace comes from Somewhere outside of me.
Maybe she even comes from Someone outside of We.
Somehow I doubt Peace can be found by searching.
She is a gift.
But even if we do succeed in finding her
(As a child discovers a hidden present before Christmas morning),
Because she is a gift, she won't yet belong to us.
Even if we hold her in our hands, we can't have her
Until
She is given to us.
So we must wait.
Can we learn to wait patiently?
I hope so, yet I doubt.
I doubt my ability to wait patiently in the midst of a world, in the midst of a mind, that demand tangible progress and proof.
But what if Peace can only come after we have learned to wait patiently?
What if Peace IS waiting with patience?
Then we must learn how to wait patiently.
We must learn this together and individually.
But what to do if Peace still doesn't come?
What to do when we're tired of waiting?
What to do when we don't have any answers?
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
private goes public
Yesterday was a very long day for me, and I decided to be bitter about it. Normally I try to keep a positive attitude and remember the many people in the world who suffer from worse plights than mine, but yesterday I just felt like being cranky. So I did. Yesterday was Labor Day, a holiday off work for many people in America. But not for me. I scooped for almost 8 long hours at the ice cream shop. When I got there, I was cranky about being there. While I was there, I was cranky about how much extra work we had to get done, about how understaffed we were, about how many customers we had, about how sick (literally) and exhausted I felt; I was so determined to be cranky that neither my friend Sutania nor India Arie's music could cheer me up. When I finally left work, I was cranky about having spent so much time there and about having to go directly to campus to work on a frustrating group project for a class. And when I finally got home and went to bed late that night, I was cranky about having spent the whole day in a cranky mood.
As I waited for slumber to overtake me, I stared at the ceiling and thought about my day. These are the words that immediately came to mind: What a waste. Those three words are powerful ones to me, because I believe strongly in not wasting my life. I believe each day, each hour, each moment is a gift not only to be received, but also to be given away; I believe life as I know it now could cease to exist even before I am finished with this blog entry. Taped to my computer monitor is a fortune cookie message that reads, "A day is a span of time no one is wealthy enough to waste." So to me, wasting an entire day of my life is a big deal. It is a big deal because how I spend my day affects not only me, but also the people around me. So my time is not actually my time; it is our time; it is your time. My attitude affects your attitude. And as I contemplated yesterday, I felt it was almost a total waste. Not only did I have a miserable, cranky day, but I also managed to complain about my day to others. Somehow I momentarily chose to believe that my eighteen-hour pity party was private and all about "me," when it was actually public and all about "we". With each new day we are given the power to either encourage or discourage the people around us. We must inevitably do one or the other. And yesterday I chose to discourage my community.
Now I believe in honesty and expressing emotion. But I also believe a fine line exists between honest emotional expression and self-centered complaint. Yesterday I crossed that line. And as I lay awake in bed, I knew it, and it saddened me. I thought, How foolish; how silly; how wasteful. As I finally drifted off to sleep, I expressed to the divine my hope for the power to encourage someone tomorrow.
And thus tomorrow became today. The alarm clock woke me up at five minutes past five; I slowly rolled out of bed twenty minutes later. My goal was to arrive at the twenty-four-hour computer lab by 6:30 AM to finish my part of a group project. After dressing and eating breakfast, I hopped on my scooter and rode to campus. As I walked from my parking spot to the computer lab, I felt the cool breeze, observed the calmness of the morning, and silently wished I could take some time to stop and enjoy the dawn instead of rushing onwards. But onwards I marched. At 7:00 AM I arrived at the metal, double-door entrance to the computer lab and pulled down-and-out on the door handle to open the heavy door. It didn't budge. I tried again with no success. Was it locked? Then my eyes met the sign on the door which stated that during the second week of classes, the twenty-four-hour computer lab would only be open for seventeen-and-one-half-hours: from 7:30 AM to 1:00 AM. I was annoyed and even a little angry. How dare the twenty-four-hour computer lab not be open when I needed it? Why did I have to wait for 30 minutes to enter a lab that was already supposed to be opened? Now I would have to waste 30 minutes that I could have spent sleeping. Aargh.
But then I stopped, and I even smiled as a new thought struck me: Now I can take some time to stop and enjoy the dawn. So I did. I turned my back on the metal double-doors, found myself a picnic table, and sat down to watch the new day unfold. Almost as soon as I sat down, I was greeted by this thought: "I want to watch the sun rise every day." And out of that initial thought, the rest of this poem followed:
I want to watch the sun rise every day.
I want to feel the wind carry my cares away.
I want to let the quiet stillness erase
The words I thought I had to say.
All of this busy, worthless rushing to-and-fro,
I am learning more and more to loath.
What I want to learn (how to pray)
Lies in Nature's slow but constant growth.
As I walk beneath of the shadow of trees,
I wonder with each new hour what it sees.
What wisdom does it come to know,
As it observes the creatures hurrying beneath its ever-watchful leaves?
As the sun marks time by changing face,
Does the rest of Nature rush to keep in pace?
Or does she grow in peace?
Perhaps I, too - by standing still - can escape the pressure of this race.
Afterwards, I entered the computer lab and finished my part of the project. Later on that day, between classes, I reread the poem. And guess what I did after that? I turned the page and wrote a to-do list. Life must go on. For most of us, life means running some sort of race. But we can choose how to run, and we can choose when or if to stand still. We can choose to encourage, or we can choose to discourage. Yet no matter what we choose, we must choose. So as we make our choice, we ought to remember that "my" choice will not only affect "me"; it will inevitably affect "we."
As I waited for slumber to overtake me, I stared at the ceiling and thought about my day. These are the words that immediately came to mind: What a waste. Those three words are powerful ones to me, because I believe strongly in not wasting my life. I believe each day, each hour, each moment is a gift not only to be received, but also to be given away; I believe life as I know it now could cease to exist even before I am finished with this blog entry. Taped to my computer monitor is a fortune cookie message that reads, "A day is a span of time no one is wealthy enough to waste." So to me, wasting an entire day of my life is a big deal. It is a big deal because how I spend my day affects not only me, but also the people around me. So my time is not actually my time; it is our time; it is your time. My attitude affects your attitude. And as I contemplated yesterday, I felt it was almost a total waste. Not only did I have a miserable, cranky day, but I also managed to complain about my day to others. Somehow I momentarily chose to believe that my eighteen-hour pity party was private and all about "me," when it was actually public and all about "we". With each new day we are given the power to either encourage or discourage the people around us. We must inevitably do one or the other. And yesterday I chose to discourage my community.
Now I believe in honesty and expressing emotion. But I also believe a fine line exists between honest emotional expression and self-centered complaint. Yesterday I crossed that line. And as I lay awake in bed, I knew it, and it saddened me. I thought, How foolish; how silly; how wasteful. As I finally drifted off to sleep, I expressed to the divine my hope for the power to encourage someone tomorrow.
And thus tomorrow became today. The alarm clock woke me up at five minutes past five; I slowly rolled out of bed twenty minutes later. My goal was to arrive at the twenty-four-hour computer lab by 6:30 AM to finish my part of a group project. After dressing and eating breakfast, I hopped on my scooter and rode to campus. As I walked from my parking spot to the computer lab, I felt the cool breeze, observed the calmness of the morning, and silently wished I could take some time to stop and enjoy the dawn instead of rushing onwards. But onwards I marched. At 7:00 AM I arrived at the metal, double-door entrance to the computer lab and pulled down-and-out on the door handle to open the heavy door. It didn't budge. I tried again with no success. Was it locked? Then my eyes met the sign on the door which stated that during the second week of classes, the twenty-four-hour computer lab would only be open for seventeen-and-one-half-hours: from 7:30 AM to 1:00 AM. I was annoyed and even a little angry. How dare the twenty-four-hour computer lab not be open when I needed it? Why did I have to wait for 30 minutes to enter a lab that was already supposed to be opened? Now I would have to waste 30 minutes that I could have spent sleeping. Aargh.
But then I stopped, and I even smiled as a new thought struck me: Now I can take some time to stop and enjoy the dawn. So I did. I turned my back on the metal double-doors, found myself a picnic table, and sat down to watch the new day unfold. Almost as soon as I sat down, I was greeted by this thought: "I want to watch the sun rise every day." And out of that initial thought, the rest of this poem followed:
I want to watch the sun rise every day.
I want to feel the wind carry my cares away.
I want to let the quiet stillness erase
The words I thought I had to say.
All of this busy, worthless rushing to-and-fro,
I am learning more and more to loath.
What I want to learn (how to pray)
Lies in Nature's slow but constant growth.
As I walk beneath of the shadow of trees,
I wonder with each new hour what it sees.
What wisdom does it come to know,
As it observes the creatures hurrying beneath its ever-watchful leaves?
As the sun marks time by changing face,
Does the rest of Nature rush to keep in pace?
Or does she grow in peace?
Perhaps I, too - by standing still - can escape the pressure of this race.
Afterwards, I entered the computer lab and finished my part of the project. Later on that day, between classes, I reread the poem. And guess what I did after that? I turned the page and wrote a to-do list. Life must go on. For most of us, life means running some sort of race. But we can choose how to run, and we can choose when or if to stand still. We can choose to encourage, or we can choose to discourage. Yet no matter what we choose, we must choose. So as we make our choice, we ought to remember that "my" choice will not only affect "me"; it will inevitably affect "we."
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