Is like chasing the present moment.
You can never fully grasp it unless you pay attention. And as quickly as you get it, it’s gone…
unless you continue to pay attention.

My favourite simulation to run with my class is a game called StarPower. Originally developed in 1969, it is a teaching tool that still stands the test of time in showcasing the use and abuse of power.

For the first time in years I got to run the game.
And the results… were exactly the same as before.

My students, even though they are more aware of the issues of today than ever before, fell right into the simulation’s trap. Those who took power in the game attempted to use and abuse it all the way to their supposed victory.

The problem with power is once you get it, and you’re rewarded within a system for the control you can exert once you do, you will do anything and everything to keep it. You don’t wield it for the betterment of others, but for ensuring you maintain it perpetually.

Robert Caro wrote a brilliant biography on Robert Moses all about this (it’s a book I recommend everyone read at some point in their lives) and followed it up with a series on Lyndon B. Johnson. They’re long reads, but illuminate the issue so wonderfully.

The nice thing about the simulation is it has an end-point where participants are stripped of their status and we can debrief about what happened.

Unfortunately, we can’t do that in life.

The closest thing we can do is try to change the system that allows this behaviour in the first place.

It certainly has been some time since I’ve allayed my thoughts to the world. While I would like to say there was something tremendous in the works while I’ve been radio silent on here—I can’t.

I just severely underestimated life.

It feels like a giant disappointment to have this audacious word count goal that I was committed to only to have it derail in a harsh way. While part of me suspected I wouldn’t hit that number this year, I took solace in knowing there would still be great strides in getting there.

In other words, I was trying to write more than I’ve ever had previously.

Instead, the storms of life just kept pushing me one way and another until I had no option but to just hang on until the weather cleared. Given the city I’m in just experienced a storm that shut down our energy grid and left a mess of trees everywhere, this analogy is almost perfect.

Yet, here I am, coming up for air and getting back to it.

I’m not sure what I was thinking at the onset, but I definitely need to temper my expectations a little more. Set them high, but keep them reasonable.

Life continues to happen and I should always remember that for everything I plan.

Saturday mornings are a double-edged sword.

It’s the time when the kids can play, but also when there’s time to get stuff done around the house.

Specifically, clean up from the week.

And this problem is further compounded as the kids make an even bigger mess in their rush to play with everything they have, but also demand attention for someone to play with them… or at least show them what they’re working on.

I often fight with this tension of how I want to use that time, but lately, I’ve felt the last two years have taught me an important lesson:

You can always clean a mess, but you can never get time back.

If the floor is a bit dusty, but the weather is nice—I’m taking them for a bike ride.

It’s a fortunate circumstance when you’ve grown such a wonderful circle of people in your life. These are people you can rely upon for a multitude of reasons.

And while there are some people who only come into your life for a season, they still leave a mark that you feel gratitude towards.

While it’s a blessing, there still needs to be room for solitude. The constant pinging and messaging of our interconnected world does wonders to keep us in each other’s lives, but the temptation to keep it running from sun up to sundown is taxing.

There needs to be time to slip away.

Not necessarily the physical act of retreating somewhere off the grid (if that even exists anymore), but the conscious act of turning off the world and tuning in to our own needs. It’s the recharge needed to replenish our empathy, drive and creativity.

In today’s world, the idea of solitude probably needs a new definition. It’s not the physical act of escaping from the world, but the deliberate act of selfishly stealing time for yourself.

Unfortunately, the hardest part about making this happen is removing the guilt felt for those you temporarily ignore during this time. If they’re as close as you think—they’ll understand.

A Further Appeal to Bullhorn Guy

About a month ago, I took my son downtown for art lessons. Having been away from the core for so long, it became an opportune time to revisit the sights and bask in the atmosphere of an area I used to live.

Then it happened.

Mic’d up, speaker-system in tow, were the blaring messages of a preacher.

His minions were handing out flyers along the street while he lamented about sin and the “good news.” On and on he went about our need to hear the message—and that’s when something inside of me snapped.

I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I’ve since figured it out. What it boils down to, and pardon the cadence, is I’m sick of that shit.

I mean, here I am, a Theology major, Religious Studies scholar, high school Religion teacher and someone who has been deeply studying this for over twenty-five years… and while I’m passionate about it, still feel like I know nothing. One thing I can say is the person of Jesus was one of action. That’s why people followed him. In instances where he stopped to preach, people often walked away or became angry with him.

And that’s what set me off.

This preacher, and many like him (including this incident that got my picture in the news), are surrounded by those in need, but choose to yell at random people instead.

Rob Bell has a wonderful reflection called ‘Bullhorn’ which elucidates this frustration beautifully. Basic argument: the bullhorn strategy isn’t working, nor has it ever worked.

In my anger, I approached this person, looked at him and yelled, “God is dead!”

A perplexing (and dare I say ironic) thing for me to yell considering my background, but in that moment, I felt it.

Within a few blocks of us were homeless shelters, soup kitchens and many organizations in need. There is so much work to be done and if all we’ve done with God is reduce a universal creator to demanding we stand on street corners and yell at people while quoting some poorly translated words… then God is dead and we’re responsible for that murder.

The preacher’s response was immediate.

“God isn’t dead—we are! And it’s our sin that did it.”

More yelling.
No dialogue.
No action.

What’s it going to take to bring God back to life?

I don’t know, but I’d like to think I’m working at it.

There is nothing more versatile as a medium than paper. The charge of our digital era is finding ways to replicate what can be done on paper in a more streamlined, efficient and extended way.

The problem is we’ve taken efficiency and function to the be the starting point, training us to change our behaviour for the tool instead of using the tool for our needs. Take, for instance, the word processor.

Developers are constantly adding new features to make work “easier.” While the functions are useful, they mask doing real work in exchange for getting distracted with the presentation. You can play with font styles, sizes, headings, etc. all you want, but that still won’t help with the actual writing.

Same goes for note taking apps, organization systems and even slide deck presentations. And then there’s also the issue of when software is abandoned, migrating to other platforms or even your favourite program getting an upgrade thereby making your older files unusable. You’re left with a decision of figuring out how to transfer your work or accept that it will be lost.

While I still love paper, I’ve gone back to simple text files for most of my digital life.

They’re versatile, small and platform neutral. You can open and use them anywhere, modify them as needed and never have to worry about them being obsolete (or so I’d hope, given how long they’ve been around).

However, their big advantage is they force you to do the work.

Consider the act of putting together a slide deck for a presentation. Most of us get lost in the design of our presentation rather than doing the hard work of making a good presentation. Getting it down first in simple text to see its flow bridges this gap nicely. Save the design for post-production to ensure the technical elements enhance, not distract, from the message.

Yes, there are an incredible number of tools out there, but I am done committing to a company looking to grow its user base in order to sell its platform to advertisers, a larger company or sell me on being a subscriber to their service.

If I find your offering useful in post-production, I’ll consider it. If not, I’m sticking to simple text files.

I hear this claim a lot and no matter who the claimant presents (typically some entrepreneur or corporate manager), I always have to ask:

Have you met a farmer?

A mother?

Or ever consider how narrow your definition of productive is?

It seems we devalue the work of those we take for granted. If we really want to learn how to be insanely productive in life, we might better learn from those that make it happen.

We cannot allay our true feelings to each other. We can share what we’re experiencing, and do it in a way that might be clear, but it will always miss the depth into which they are experienced. However, they are personal and they are true.

What we should do is to sit with our feelings;
speak with them,
learn from them.

Recognize they form who we are and are responsible for the greater part of what makes us unique as a lifeforms on this planet… in this universe. They are a well of wisdom and an inspiration for tomorrow.

They are reminders of tough times and joyous occasions.

They should be embraced and celebrated.

Most importantly, we should find more opportunities to experience them.

Fleeting thoughts.
Bad ideas.
Dead ends.

They belong in the wastebasket.

No need to clutter our mind, notebooks or digital space with them.