The Bridge Builders Local 540 met last night on a chilly evening.
“Had to climb out of the holler to get here” J said. “Parked the cars back up the hill due to snow.”
We all gathered at the Buchanan library, grabbed a slice of pizza, and sat down to talk about…anything.
“Breaking Bread, Building Bridges” said the program.
I’ve never focused like that, or thought so hard, for 90 minutes.
Ain’t No Utopia
Nobody was out to build utopia. I loved that. You know, that music festival tight-lipped smile of everything’s good as long as everyone agrees and we’re a big happy family and….TRUMP.
Oh no.
So we didn’t set out to establish that vibe. On the contrary.
Still, it scared the heck out of me.
The library brought me in for this. I’d better say something smart. Oh no, is the conversation going well? I’d better say something witty. Oh no, is everyone going to explode in rage and exile me to the frozen wasteland of Purgatory Mountain?
(Purgatory mountain is real, rises 2989 feet above sea level, towering about Buchanan. My inner dialogue is less tangible.)
So, for any of my fellow bridge builders reading this, I’m sorry for getting skittish and wrenching the conversation to a “safe” road.
Boo on the idolatry of safety. I even wrote a book about that.
‘Beggin’ your pardon, guv’nor.
Three Cheers for Decency
Don’t let ‘em lie to you. Don’t do it. Don’t buy the brainwashed, evil, unthinking _____ (leftist, right winger, cosmopolitan, country, etc etc) idea that they sell on TV. “Oh, you’re all right, but those ____ aren’t.”
About a dozen of us drew up to the table in a little town on a cold night when the snow made the hollers dicey.
At least a dozen (and a half, if you count the conflicting ideas that I entertain) opinions were represented.
And every one cared. Every one wanted to do something about the world, about the fact that something smells like it’s burning, no matter how you look at it.
Bravo.
These good folks defy the “all” and “every” slanders wretched up by the screens.
The Crucible of Reality
If I think long enough, and pace among my books and records, sometimes I’ll cook up an idea that would “fix” everything if implemented properly.
Then I go out and talk to people, and they blow it to bits.
God bless ‘em.
The crucible of Reality stress-tests anything. Put forth an idea, and people kick the tires, proving how free speech is a bedrock of thought, and open discussion an antidote to intellectual sepsis.
The “inaugural session” of this conversation topic was dedicated to listening and Jon Haidt’s elephants: how we feel before we think. Realizing this, we can relate to our neighbors a little better.
(I wrote a blog about it a while back. It’s here if you’re interested.)
What is Step 3?
The clock hands pointed to the exit. The mountain pass called. We all sat there for a moment.
What next?
How do you change the world? I was so wrapped up in delivering, hosting (and getting in the way sometimes), that the question eluded me, only to come crashing down.
Step 1 is to care, and come out on a cold night to talk with your neighbor.
Step 2 is to snag a few tools for the kit, on how our minds work, how we react then rationalize. For the record, that was the goal of the session, but…
Step 3 is….?
Is it top-down, systemic: building a non-profit, starting a church, running for office?
Is it bottom-up, individual: cleaning your room, standing up straight, telling the truth?
I started going to a Bible study with some good friends recently. I asked them how do you walk with God? The question had been eating at me.
Jerry looked at me, smiled, and said “that’s a lifelong process, a living of the question into the answer.”
It can be maddening, though. I drove up and up, careening around the shoulders of Purgatory mountain, making the crest, hurtling down the south side as the stars played hide and seek with the winter clouds.
What is step 3? How does one go about putting the world back together?
Is it memorizing the Havel essay The Power of the Powerless? Yes. Is it feeding the hungry? Yes. Is it dealing with the obsessive need for control and breezy arrogance rooted in insecurity that stifles my neighbor’s voice? Yes. Is it saying the hardest words? Yes. Is it listening? Yes. Is it fixing what is broken? Yes.
Strange how simple questions lead straight to the highest and toughest. What isn’t a “walk with God.”? (I know the G word is unfashionable. I have a way I mean it, but it doesn’t have to be the way you mean it. The similarity is, agreeable to atheists and the devout alike: the highest ideal we can conceptualize.)
I have the sneaking suspicion that the task–and opportunity–lurks in every second of every glorious moment that the Earth spins through black infinity.
I’m off to start walking. I think that’s Step 3.
Josh
