“NO. WRONG” I beamed, strolling into the library past the sign for the evening event, shaking a few hands.
“Oh WAIT…How not to argue with strangers”…
(It’s always a good Thursday when you can reference the brilliant Monty Python argument sketch.)
Three cheers for the Botetourt County library system. They had me by for a series on civil discourse.
“Why are we here? Well…to stop war, I’d guess.”
So that’s what we did. People came out over a few evenings, and we sat around to talk about differences, psychology, listening, Jonathan Haidt and Solzhenitsyn and Vaclav Havel, and what we might do about things.
It felt like a tiny corner of the world finally got to have dinner together. How I like table talk.
A few lessons popped up that are worth mentioning.
1. The Problem is Clearly Defined
Kudos to the tact of everyone. Nobody said who they were voting for. Still, I noticed (to my delight) that there was a range of opinion present. Good.
Everyone seems to feel the pot is starting to boil. Everyone agrees that the division has bad effects. And everyone was willing to sit around and talk.
While people may point one way or another as to which way the bad wind blows from, the meteorological consensus is: yes, there’s a storm. I think I spend a little too much time belaboring that point, and listening to those who do the same.
2. Fire Chicken Little
People also seem tired of the hand wringing and the “experts” who are so great at spotting specks in their opponent’s eye.
3. Something To Hope For
I get so darn sour and serious sometimes, but the world has a knack for slapping a fish of reason against my face repeatedly. Why are you hitting yourself?
And once I shake my eyes straight, I bless the process. Keeps me grounded, you know.
“I want my son to know there’s a world worth living for” she said.
Darn right there is. What a time to build it. I’m pumped.
4. The Magic of Table Talk
Sitting around a table (or in a circle) and talking with folks is where it’s at. Jonathan Haidt talks about how our blind spots are cancelled out by opposing viewpoints. I believe that. But it sure is hard to see on Twitter. Or even standing in front of a room giving a speech. Sitting at a table, elbow to elbow, I don’t see theories. I see people. And we’ll figure it out if we can keep talking.
5. What’s After Dinner?
When I take my ideas out into the world, get slapped with that aforementioned fish a few times, have an old guy shake his head and leave (that was way out east during a blues talk…boo on me), and then have to put the rubble of thought back together in a shape that might be of service–well, that does me good.
That’s also why I’ll die to keep speech free. How else will we figure things out?
A wall I smashed into–but not quite through–is specifics. What’s after dinner?
The Wall
The problem is defined. The hysterics aren’t helping. There’s a bright future if we create it. We sit around our community table, glad to break bread together and realize we’re able to do so. But how? What’s after dinner?
I’m a little short on specifics. So far, all I’ve got is Havel’s two ideas: 1. Tell the truth. 2. Try to live a good life.
But I’d like to articulate this more, clarify it, have something I can point to, and say “this is what I’m doing.”
I’m calling this Phase III.
Phase I is awakening to the situation. Phase II is discussing it with increasing clarity. Phase III is taking action.
I used to think that meant signing a petition or passing a bill. Sometimes that’s the case. But I’m more concerned about the personal, the individual, the thing I’d rather not deal with. We all know immediately what that is. I’d like to start living this more.
I’m off to load telescopes for an evening astronomy program. And think. But most of all, listen.
Thank you, BoCo librarians. Thank you fellow diners. Thank you world.
It’s a good night to go hunt down some faint galaxies. See ya Monday.
–Josh
For the real question is whether the brighter future is really
always so distant. What if, on the contrary, it has been here for a
long time already, and only our own blindness and weakness has
prevented us from seeing it around us and within us, and kept us
from developing it?
–Vaclav Havel