I just love you...

I’m just your mother, after all…

Her voice rather trailed off after she said that. She was never one to drop a guilt trip on me and she never, ever played the victim, so I think that’s why for the first time in my life, I realized something rather horrendous; I had been consistently disrespectful to the person who showed me the most love, the most kindness and who had always been my biggest supporter.

At the time, I was a college student, working at least one job and raising a daughter myself, by myself. My mother had come to visit. Blaming a busy schedule and knowing deep down that “my mother understood”, I didn’t clean my condo very much before she arrived. I didn’t even change the litter box; even though I had a big ol’ boy who dropped aromatic bombs in it.

Had that been my father who came to visit that day, I would have killed myself to make sure everything was as perfect as possible – of course, no matter what I did, it probably wouldn’t be, but I still had to try. Why? Because I was terrified. Not because I didn’t want to dishonor him, but I didn’t want to provide any fuel for him to explode into a cruel diatribe about how lazy and terrible I was, how I was living like “pure white trash”, as well as how in the world did I turn out that way, among any other hateful things he could think to say. Lord help me if I showed that anything hurt my feelings, because then that would provide the direction for the upcoming assaults. It had always been that way and now that I’m older, I understand some things and I especially understand that anything gained through fear is not worth having. Or giving.

So this evening, for some reason I remembered my mother saying “I’m just your mother after all” and it made me reflect on why we often treat people we’re scared of better than the people we love.

It should be the other way around, but I don’t believe it often is. It takes an enlightened awareness to be kind, to love unconditionally and to give warranted, selfless respect.  Even this can be turned around into an egotistical mechanism for hopefully receiving the same in return, but that’s not enlightened – that’s bartering and it’s hardly better.  The true mark of character is how well we treat those who we know can do absolutely nothing for us in return. Who said that? Ghandi? I’m not sure, but I believe it.

But back to my story.  I covered “do unto others” in another blog post.

I’m talking about giving honor and respect where it’s due. 

One day about almost two years ago I was in a classroom of (mostly) teen age boys. Catholic school boys. The Red Hot Chili Peppers sang about Catholic school girls, but the boys, I think, are equally rambunctious.

They knew I was American and they were directed to ask me some “cultural” questions. For that age group, it’s very common that they’ll ask about “free sex”, parties like they’ve seen in Hollywood movies when the parents leave home for a weekend, and other such related “cultural” questions. One brave kid threw his trump card. He thought he’d throw me off my respectable and unshaken perch. He asked me what I did as a teenager that I felt the most guilt and regret over.

As honest as I had already been, I’m sure he thought the class was in for a big story, but I shocked them with another equally honest and straight forward story.

Of all of the things I did as a teenager that I had no business doing, the one that makes me the most regretful and that still hurts my heart is this: I lied to my mother. I lied to her regularly. My ego was so pumped. I just knew I was the best liar in the world and I imagined a bright future as a business leader, politician or lawyer.  What I didn’t realize until I was older is that it wasn’t that I was such a wonderful liar, it was that my mother trusted me. She loved me. She believed me and believed in me. And I took that for granted.

So why do we do that? Why do we often treat the ones we love with an apathetic dose of “Eh. Whatever.”?

Often on Facebook there are those (cheesy) shared photos that remind to tell our loved ones we love them because we never know how long we’ll have them around. Well, I guess the intentions are good, but it’s still all about us. Tell the people we love we love them so that we won’t hurt so much if they go before we do. Hmm.

How about we just show the people we love that we love them? Period. Let’s appreciate them, thank them, be honest with them and love them. What do we lose?

Maybe it’s the way I grew up, or maybe it was the realization that happened to me the day my mother reminded me of who she was, but I decided then and there I wasn’t going to give into fear any more. I’m not wasting my energy on people who are trying to scare me into doing their bidding. I will not be bullied.

I’m going to focus all of my efforts on the people who are good to me, who love me and who deserve my very best. I’m not going out of my way to hate the haters, but I’ll certainly try my best to never let those I love and who love me feel taken for granted and unappreciated. Not because I want them to do the same for me, but because they deserve my best. And I’m going to do my best to give it.

No strings attached.

Masih Menjalani Panggilan (Still Following the Call)

Just over a year ago, I wrote a post called Menjalani Panggilan. It was one of the first reflections that I composed specifically related to following a call; what it means, as well as what it means to and for me.

My employment with PC(USA) ended almost a year ago, as did my "teaching" assignments...but I'm still here. Why? There are many reasons, but the main two are actually just one. 1) I am in love and am completely committed to this relationship, and 2) I am continuing to follow my call. (These are related because if it weren't for #1, there would be no #2 - I would have gone elsewhere LONG ago.) In short, 1 + 2 = Continued Service to Christ. And that is my call. To prayerfully follow Christ, as best I can, through continued service.

Part of traveling abroad, and all of living abroad, involves understanding the culture. It's easy to appreciate and honor what is beautiful, different and inspiring. This link from the Indonesian Embassy details many of them. It's also really easy to "pass judgement" on things that seem wrong, so we have to take a minute (or much, much longer) to reflect.

In Indonesia, there are surely the infamous sweat shops (don't think I've seen any yet), as well as unplanned, sporadic growth accompanied by untamed and swift flowing traffic.  There are age and gender restrictions for employment opportunities. The majority of middle class families rely on a multitude of paid "helpers"; nannies, maids, gardeners, drivers, etc. There are violent flare ups based on some kind of inter-group conflict, religious, ethnic or otherwise (these have happened a bit closer, but thankfully I've yet to witness violence, just the POTENTIAL for violence).  There are many situations here that could be "poster children" for a newly developing democracy, but the ones with which I've had the most experience are a bit different.

Approximately halfway between the capital city of Jakarta and the island of Bali is the city where I currently live. The experiences that I relate are based on my experiences here in this city unless otherwise stated. Yogyakarta is promoted as the center of Javanese culture and is a special region with unique political recognition.

There are status and power issues the revolve around ethnicity (real or perceived), education, gender based entitlement, and even Christianity. These issues swim about in a sea full of the salty water called "tradition" and "culture". These are handy terms to excuse a culture of violence.

What gives me any legitimacy to speak of a "culture of violence"? I'm a white American Southerner from a long line of Protestant Christians. The South dominates the region referred to as the Bible Belt and is also home to some of the most heinous atrocities against humanity that have occurred in the United States; namely slavery, but also the participatory violence against Native populations. That background allows me a more intimate awareness of how some people like to use "tradition" and "culture" to justify certain things, especially those which oppress and harm others.

That being said, I'm proud to be Southern. I'm proud of the way that many of us fight the evils of the past and continually seek out ways to embrace what is beautiful and good about our culture; strong family ties, faith traditions, hospitality and a sense of community. I'm proud of our authors such as William Faulkner, Eudora Welty, Richard Wright, Flannery O'Connor, Zora Neale Hurston, Thomas Wolfe, O. Henry, and more who wrote about the South in ways that shared our culture, good and bad, with "outsiders". I am also very proud of the people involved in the Civil Rights movement, black and white, who risked life and limb to fight social and legal mechanisms of oppression and hatred. I'm proud that Martin Luther King, Jr., an African American, Southern and Christian pastor is known the world over for his commitment to justice and peace. Helen Keller, also a tireless advocate for justice and social empowerment, was also Southern. Many of the strongest voices of the Christian Left, those who promote the Christian values of love, grace and redemption are Southern; how about Bishop Shelby Spong? Their efforts and those of others go hand in hand with an acknowledgment and concerted effort to discredit attempts to perpetuate cultural attributes that hurt others, namely racism, elitism, white privilege and exclusionary practices.

Many people here are quite proud of their culture and rightly so. There are many wonderful things. There is beauty, art, culture and history. There are stories of bravery, of love, of courage, and of justice. The work of Proemedia Ananta Toer, as well as the music of both Iwan Falls and Gombloh fill my heart with respect and admiration. Knowing a bit of history and seeing the temples that reflect a diverse and integrated past. Photos of Sukarno, Indonesia's first president, always make me smile and even make me feel proud.

Even so, if there's one thing about being Southern that permeates my being, it is this. I realize the importance of treading lightly; this is not my place. This is not my territory. And the road that brought me here can also take me home. I am not here to pass judgment, but I am also not here to passively accept what I know serves as a tool of oppression, especially when it hurts the people I love.

In that spirit of respect and trepidation, the cultural realities I witness, as well as knee-jerk assumptions, judgments and conceptions of  what's "right" often make it hard to determine what's worth paying attention to and what is necessary to ignore. Early on I developed a rule of thumb that I rather like; if something hurts someone's soul, it's "wrong" so I can pay attention and even try to do something about it if possible. I haven't met anyone yet who is confined to a sweatshop. I've yet to meet anyone who complains about the age or gender restrictions on employment opportunities. I've also not yet involved myself in groups that either oppose others or are attacked by others based on religion or ethnicity. But I know many people who are hurting. And these hurts are all, in one way or another, related to issues of status and power.

Over the coming weeks and months, I'll continue to describe some of these issues. I'm still working through them and feel quite overwhelmed, honestly.  The social mechanisms specifically used to "keep people in their places" can marginalize and exclude people in order to maintain an order based on privilege, power and selective freedoms; this contradicts the quick, but false and misleading, retort that these things are used to promote "social harmony". Harmony based on fear is not harmony.

The hurt with which I'm most familiar and has already been touched on in various blog posts, results from any of the following:

• Childhood or teenage experiences that set the tone for the rest of one's life (molestation, pregnancy, marriage/divorce, alcohol/drug experimentation, death of a parent)
• Difference, in any way, real or perceived, from the majority of peers; fatter, lighter or much darker skin color, taller. Different kind of intelligence, different ethnicity or sexual orientation.
• Educational traditions, administrations and methods that stifle and discourage independent thought, creativity and innovation.
• Patriarchal oppression and objectification of both women AND men 
• Domestic abuse, emotional and physical
• Majority/minority relations
• What it means to be a Christian

I don't know yet the most effective ways of sharing these experiences and reflections. I'm not in a hurry and I will not disrespect, objectify or vilify any to the best of my abilities. It'll be a slow going process and I ask your prayers for me as I continue my service. My call that took me from a safe and comfortable life in a beautiful city, surrounded by wonderful and loving family and friends, into a mysterious land of beauty and contradictions. And love. 

My call to love without ceasing.

Poetry

Sometimes I'm so overtaken by emotion that I don't want to write about it, but I have to get it out. I have some short poems I've written...but I'll share this one now, because it reflects how I've felt the second I got off the airplane...I just didn't know why. I know now. As a Southerner, I know well the whole "If you don't like it, leave" mentality.

Believe me, I'm working on it.

Hate treads silently

Creeping along the ground and wafting through the air

Admiring strands of passerby quietly offer nourishment to ensure safe passage

It seeps in and covers the surface, eventually

Soiling your feet with its filth and stench

You wash your feet with water, but it comes from the angry, soaked ground

Your hands are dripping with the residue of its sickness

You try soap, but the towels and the air are infused with conformity, shame and malice

Eventually you understand

In this place, hate is the Way, the Truth and the Darkness

Vengeance is the answer

And revenge is the only thing that’s truly sweet.

I want to live in the Light.

Vengeance is NOT Mine...thank goodness...

When I share a certain and personal concern of mine with my mother, she often laughs and jokes about her aunt, a preacher’s wife, who reportedly pleaded in her daily prayers “Lord, and please don’t let me be mean today”.

That used to rub me the wrong way because I believed that once you’re aware of a behavioral issue, you can (and should!) change it. If you know you’re mean, just stop being mean for goodness sakes! What I know now that I didn’t know then is that she WAS changing it…and she knew that she couldn’t do it alone. I regularly beg God for the same…and one night when I realized it, I thought of my great-aunt and my Mother’s laughter.

Dear God, please help me be nice and kind and PLEASE don’t let me be mean to anybody!

My prayerful request is a little more expressive, a little more of a soulful cry for help, and it is never relegated only to my nightly prayers, but whispered with sincere reverence throughout the day.

Here I must confess that I have a terrible temper. I believe it’s genetic and I have it pure and true from both sides of my family. It is, for me, a huge accomplishment that I can keep my temper in check…even when I lose it, it’s still of a much lesser intensity than I actually feel…and I believe that’s progress. I don’t scream, throw things or destroy everything I can get my hands on…and I now believe that I don’t even believe in the death penalty anymore…oh, I’m one conflicted human being!

There are two main reasons I want to control my temper. Number 1, I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of unabated rage. I never want to hurt anybody – especially someone I love and care for. Secondly, I believe that not being in control of yourself represents the lowest and most base form of humanity…so I fear that my second reason stems more from a sense of classicism and ego than purity of heart; we don’t behave like that. We don’t do that. Educated people don’t act like that. Christian people don’t do that. Only rednecks act that way.(sounds pretty judgmental as I proofread and make final edits...) Take the high road… the voice in my head is clear. I am not permitted to behave in ways that may be consistent with the way I feel, especially as related to anger or anything of a “base” nature, regardless of my sense of self-righteous indignation, justifiable anger or witness of systematic abuses. I have to control myself. And most of the time, I do.

It’s a constant struggle and I always fight with myself (not fighting with others, just against myself with the same amount of vitriol…is that OK? Anyway – I digress) and what always happens is that I get even madder.

Why is it that some people can act in any way they please; spew hate, judgment, vengeance, etc., and they seem to not only be permitted that freedom, but they are often supported and encouraged? Why do I have to be better? Am I not human? May I not unleash the fury of my own anger and indignation without suffering the consequences as so many other people are allowed? (...you're not everybody else...)

All I can do is use my voice in the most controlled manner possible to share the way I feel. I can write. I can share. I can try to empower, love and uplift others. All I can do is to control what I can control…and the only thing that fits that criterion is me.

The most important thing? The thing that gives me hope, strength and peace?

“Dear Lord, please help me be good and nice and dear Lord PLEASE don’t let me be mean. I really want to be good. Please help me. I want to follow you. I ask this in Jesus name, Amen.”

Beautiful Disaster?

I've heard a lot about Disaster Tourism since I've been here in Indonesia. I'm aware of some of the reasons that it exists, but surely there are more; compensating for lost business, opportunistically capitalizing on something that will surely turn a profit, and increasing awareness of the damage to expedite assistance.

My first understanding of such took place near the city of Yogyakarta where I currently live. Mount Merapi, a powerful and active volcano that keeps watch over the city, had violently erupted in October of 2010; mere months prior to my arrival in January of 2011.

There remains a huge swath of deforested mountainside through which the hot lava and ash flooded the areas below. Rivers were choked with volcanic ash and houses, businesses, and everything else was covered with ash that took months to remove (if the structure was still there and such was even possible). The damage was severe and the effects of the eruption are still very visible. At the time of the eruption (and maybe even now), people who lived in the area charged people to come in for a closer look at the destruction. I never partook in that kind of outing for I could see enough.  The eruption of Merapi was a natural disaster and the business of Mother Nature...

Speaking of business, here's the "disaster tourism" site in Eastern Java near the city of Surabaya that I accidentally did visit. I don't regret it. A dear and much loved girl wanted us to take her with a friend to the "mud flats" so of course, we went.

I'm accustomed to taking pretty pictures (patting self on back). I realized I was doing this at this humongous mud plain...and then we started talking about it.

Taken from the elevated, gravel roadside of the site

Even though I had seen it from the actual road more than a year ago and had therefore known about it that long, I didn't know 3 things. One, that the accident happened 7 years ago (!) Two, that it's an industrial accident resulting from a failed attempt to move the mud by-product from drilling (I believe for oil, but not 100% sure). And finally, that the people most affected, those who actually lost their homes, businesses, and sense of place, have yet to receive any compensation from the company (!) The company maintains that their machinery malfunctioned due to an earthquake that happened about 5 hours away....who knows, but anyway. It's a serious disaster. Luckily the mud flowed slowly and all of the community members were able to move to safety, but houses, businesses and PLACE was covered by mud...currently higher than the rooftops of the houses underneath by more than 12 meters....

The road around the site was clumped with people from the community looking to capitalize on the disaster. For me, and in a serious way, this is a much more troubling situation than the volcano. We know what caused this problem and that it was not natural. We know how long it's been a problem. We know who has received compensation and who has not. We also know that the owner of the company is now running for president (!)

Anything more on my part would be an assumption, but assuming things is not as taboo here as it is in the US. Even so, I'm not there yet. But I can imagine.

I decided a long time ago that in many, if not most, countries that are either listed as developing or were once listed as such, there are two things that are striking. One is that most are former colonies and two, they are not poor countries. The distribution of wealth is just skewed. Big time. Believe me. When I was in Brazil in 1985, I saw wealth. I see it here, too. But what I saw and continue to see more is non-wealth. Injustice. Systematic oppression and institutionalized efforts to minimize empowerment, specifically towards students, employees, and those deemed to be of the "underclass".  I don't associate social justice with the former political systems of Eastern Europe. I associate it with democracy. Full access to opportunity. Accountability. And a governmental commitment to the general welfare.

This is one disaster tourism site that I shouldn't even have to mention. It shouldn't exist. But it does. And it has for seven years. The mud is still flowing. Steadily. Slowly. You can see the oil floating on top of the water in the fresh channels. You can feel the spongy, oil-saturated soil as you tread the settled mud. You can smell the oil in the air.

Can you imagine the water quality in the area? Do you know what happens when one mud producing area is plugged? Flammable gases pop up in random, unexpected areas. Can you imagine the possible health risks of all this "natural looking" industrial discharge? I can. And I'm sure the people who are still fighting for some kind of justice do a lot more than just imagine.

Had I stood here 7 years ago, I'd be level with the road. (and there'd probably be more activity on both sides of the street)

Chips freshly plucked from a drier spot serve as tiles for safe passage across the unstable ground

Judgment, Justification and Jive

I just learned a new term this week: Altruistic Punishment. I unintentionally discovered it when I read a book review for "Trial by Fury" related to the Amanda Knox case.

Experiments show that when some people punish others, the reward part of their brain lights up like a Christmas tree. It turns out we humans avidly engage in something anthropologists call “altruistic punishment.”

It roughly states that we, as human beings, seek to punish people who did not directly hurt us, but who have gone against socially accepted norms, or are perceived to have just done something WRONG.  Altruistic punishment refers to the desire to punish those deemed deserving of such and the motivation for the punishment is that these people have committed a crime against the social norms of the community, therefore the desire to punish them is justified.

As I looked for more information, I realized that there is a wealth of information related to altruistic punishment and the most telling for me and for the purpose of this post is this quote from an article in the Science section of the New York Times:

"...in the Jan. 10 issue of the journal Nature, Dr. Ernst Fehr of the University of Zurich and Dr. Simon Gachter of the University of St. Gallen in Switzerland offer evidence that people will seek to punish a cheat even when the punishment is costly to them and offers no material benefit -- the very definition of altruism. The researchers propose that the threat of such punishment may have been crucial to the evolution of human civilization and all its concomitant achievements."

To think of punishment as the flip side of compassion is quite new to me. 

Of course, punishing people for their “wrongness”, if you will, is the purpose of law, but it this case, I'm talking about social punishment which has, it seems to me, at least 3 components; seeking to punish based on a judgment (based on a sense of right and wrong, good or bad), then a justification for that judgment, and finally, the jive of making all of that fit together as if we’re doing the right thing by actively seeking to punish someone.

We, as Christian people, are told in no uncertain terms and in a very direct way, that it is not our job to judge others (there are many other verses, as well, but these popped into my head first)

Luke 6:37

“Judge not, and you will not be judged; 

condemn not, and you will not be condemned;

 forgive, and you will be forgiven"

Matthew 7:5 

You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye,

and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from

your brother's eye. 

We quickly can ignore this, however, when we feel that someone has acted against one, or more, of the Ten Commandments. Commonly experienced, however, is that the chosen Commandment is usually one that reinforces social norms rather than reflecting the bigger picture of the Biblical story of love.

For instance, alongside with “Thou Shalt Not Murder” is “Thou Shalt Not Lie”. Other than Bill Clinton, how many people are dragged over the coals for an untruth or white lie? What about “Honor Thy Father and Mother”. If your parents wanted you to be a doctor and you’re a retail sales clerk, have you dishonored them? Should you be punished for that?

The point I’m trying to make is that we selectively choose rights and wrongs based on our cultural leanings, often ignoring one to choose another that is more in line with our accepted “social norms”. In doing so, we can justify these judgments indefinitely by creating a kind of hierarchy of “better than/worse than” scenarios. For instance, to kill someone is worse than lying to someone, or lying to someone to exploit resources from them is worse than killing a convicted rapist. Stealing seems to have a bit of leeway, for instance Jean Valjean in Les Miserables had to steal to feed his family, but should we kill him for it? Isn’t there a bit of “give” when we think an act is justified?

I’m beginning to believe that this is why we are instructed NOT to judge others; the criteria is not consistent, the justifications are malleable and the jive is, well, jive.

Not one of us is free from the desire to mete out punitive vengeance on another person, especially one we deem to have done WRONG.

Not one of us is immune to the desire to punish others for their real or perceived wrongdoings; even the most gentle soul may happily applaud a lengthy prison sentence given to an animal abuser. 

I've been mulling over this issue for quite some time and there are no quick and easy answers. Many people who know me well know that I have a very tight list of “rights” and “wrongs”. It is wrong to hit children, abuse another person (verbally, emotionally or physically) ESPECIALLY spouses and children, it is wrong to be lazy, it is wrong to not work to take care of your family, it is wrong to waste money, it is wrong to take advantage of systems meant to help, it is wrong to take advantage of our skin color, status, or educational attainment to elevate ourselves above others…I could go on and on. I have lots of beliefs about right and wrong BUT…

I’m learning. 

I’m learning that those are rights and wrongs for ME and how I should act; I cannot impose my beliefs on other people. It’s not my job. The only person’s actions I can control are my own and it is not for me to seek punishment for those who do things that I believe to be wrong. This of course also means that it is not anybody else’s social job to judge and punish me for a deed, real or perceived,  based on cultural bias, open to interpretation or easily justified with the same jive talking that makes it easy to judge the act in the first place.

This is not to say that there are not "good" behaviors and "bad" behaviors, but in this changing world of increased equality, globalization, and technological changes, maybe we need to work on the skills of dialogue, understanding and respect. Maybe we should strive for an elevated sense of humanity - one that doesn't grab onto the fastest, easiest answers and assumptions; maybe a more love-based humanity. Maybe like the one Jesus talked about.

Social norms have always changed. What was once good for the community may or may not be today. One thing is certain, social norms will continue to change and evolve, people are more mobile and interconnected than ever before. Power structures are shifting. In light of these leaps and shifts, perhaps we should be aware that often our deep seated desires to punish others are based on limited cultural concepts of right and wrong, good and bad. Maybe we need to learn to communicate, to listen and to seek understanding. And then either let the courts handle it or give it to God, but I think we have better things to do.

Friends...how many of us have them?

Two songs popped into my head today as I thought about what I wanted to share. Two totally different songs; the first is the rather sweet one best known from the Golden Girls TV show (Thank you for being a friend...), and the other a commonly quoted hip hop song from my high school days, Friends, by Whodini.

These two songs reflect the constant conflict in my head that shifts from an almost innocent appreciation and idealism and the other a harsher, less-trusting view of the world.

A friend from the US posted on Facebook today how it hurts so much when you realize that people who you thought were friends really weren't. I responded to her that it certainly does - I experienced the same halfway around the world and it's taken months to get over the bitterness of it.

This post isn't about bitterness, though. It's about blessings.

Last night, I gathered with a small group of people for dinner; some of my very best friends. We are a diverse group, 2 from Indonesia (different parts of the island of Java), 2 from Greece (1 from Athens, 1 from Sparta), 1 from Australia and 1 from the US. I could further label us into subgroups, but that's not my point; my point is that even though we have 1 thing in common, we're all educated progressively-thinking people, roughly the same age (with one exception), we have different opinions on many things; the gender identities of women and men, the institution of marriage, the role of art in culture - what IS culture, even - and many other things. The thing is that sticks out for me, however, is how we listened to each other with respect, good-natured laughter and love. We tried to understand each other's perspectives and we all, I'm sure, grew in the relatively short time we spent together.

On Facebook the other day, I posted a status of thanks. I have such a diverse group of friends; conservatives, liberals, traditionalists, people of faith, agnostics, progressives, geeks, party-people, world-travelers, people who've never left their home countries, and I could go on. The thing that I love about my friends is that we never shut the other out - we may have different ideas about politics, morality, what it means to be a _______ (fill in the blank), but we do so civilly. We do so, consciously or not, with the end in mind to grow intellectually and/or spiritually, and the beginning of that journey is respect, appreciation, and even love.

There's a saying from where I come as follows "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar". Why do some people not understand that it's so much easier to hear, comprehend and reflect on things said and not screamed? When I was younger, I used to love a good yelling match, but the fact is, they're not effective. Even if you're scaring somebody into compliance, it won't last. As soon as there's a way out, they're gone, so what good is anything if it's forced?

Maybe another reason I love my friends, even the ones with whom I disagree, is that if we know we get overheated about a certain topic, we tread lightly, but can still say what we believe. We don't try to change the other - we don't denigrate, judge and hate. We dialogue.

Dialogue. The world would be a different place with it, that's for sure.

With the group of friends last night, we had nothing resembling disagreements, but we regularly had different paths of understanding that had led us to our common beliefs. We weren't trying to change any minds - we were only sharing. And laughing. And listening. And loving.

That's the kind of world I want to live in. How about you?