Glowing Rectangles

Many of us spend much of our days in front of some glowing rectangle. When we wake, we grab one right away. We stare into it hoping to get a jump on whatever responsibilities and expectations were dumped on us overnight. We might then turn on another as we drink our morning coffee, hoping to get “caught up” on information that is mostly meant to distract and not inform. Most of us work all day in front of one, our tasks directed, next steps informed, and labor performed inside the glowing rectangle on our desk. Even those who work in fast food or retail are largely directed by a glowing rectangle telling them who ordered what and what is expected next. We kill time in lines and waiting rooms with the rectangles. We are entertained by them. We sometimes bring our rectangles into bed with us. Because, increasingly, our books are in there.

I’m no different. I grabbed my first rectangle very shortly after waking. I will likely stare into several throughout my day. For work and for pleasure and as a way to simply pass the time. Heck, my regular gas station has them built into the pumps now. My guess is that when one is distracted by the local weather or the two-for-one beef jerky special they tend to buy more gas. In fact, I’m staring into a glowing rectangle right now. Tapping away at the illuminated screen. Convincing myself that this is the best way to write about them. That, if wisdom is born of knowledge and experience then, right now, this rectangle is supplying both.

Yet, I’m going to present myself with a small challenge this week. One you may wish to take on yourself. It is a modest change but one that, hopefully, will lead me to see if if makes difference enough to expand. I’m going to avoid glowing rectangles as much as I can for one hour after I wake up and one hour before I go to bed. If I need to write or work or wish to read, I have plenty of non-glowing rectangles for that. And, if that is not enough, I have plenty of other non-glowing shapes that would benefit from my increased engagement. I know that my soul might benefit from staring into the dark circle that is my morning coffee for some quiet contemplation.

I’m going to see if this makes any positive difference for the week ahead. And, if it does, perhaps I’ll next try a bit more.

This Is Home

For the past few months I have been a happy subscriber to The Listserve. The Listserve operates like an email lottery. Every day, one person is chosen from its list of subscribers and given the chance to say anything they want to the rest (currently more than 20,000). What people choose to say is always interesting to me. It is sometimes very personal. Sometimes funny. Sometimes controversial. Sometimes inspirational. Sometimes someone just shares their favorite recipe or movie. And, that is the fun, it could be almost anything.

That said, I have noticed a trend. It seems that people who live in small towns in distant countries from the US almost always want to share a bit about where they live and what life is like there. Especially if that place has seen recent rough times. Almost always, there is a sense of hope and resolve in their descriptions. One that says the place they live is not perfect, but they love it because it is home.

I find it further interesting that I see little of this from those here in the United States. Perhaps we tend to assume everyone knows. Maybe it’s hubris or the knowledge that our primary export is our culture. I’m not sure why. But I see few people from here using their opportunity to describe what life is like where they live to others on the list.

I think this is a missed opportunity. I would bet that those who’s small country I now know a bit more about would love to hear a bit about Saint Paul or West Bend or Missoula and why we call this home. I bet they would be as surprised and delighted as I am when I see their home through their eyes. To feel just a little bit less far away from wherever they are.

The Process Of Love

Love is a process.

Love is a commitment to the process.

Love takes a love of the process.

Love falters when the the process becomes misaligned. That is to say, when one side is either further ahead or farther behind in the process.

Love falters when either side is not committed to the process. That is to say, of keeping the process on track.

Love falters when either side no longer loves the process. That is to say, when either side is unwilling to do the work that love takes.

Love that is immediate, quick, instant, or effortless is likely not love. Love is not a sensible default. Love is a final choice. You may know that love is possible right away and you may begin on the process immediately, but you will not yet know what love means or what the process holds.

Love is slow. Love takes time. Love takes effort and commitment. Love means a love of that effort and commitment. Love means taking the time to build and know and love the process.

Love is a process.