Think About Courage

It's hard to say good-bye. Even to an abstraction of time, such as a year. What does it really mean to say that 2011 is over and 2012 has begun?

I'm not one for New Year's resolutions. I don't need to wait until the beginning of a new year to try to better myself. For me, it's a daily process, a weekly process, a forever process. As it happens, though, 2011 was a tough year for me for a number of reasons, and the unpleasant whirlwind began in January. Consequently, for most of the year, I struggled to center myself again and it seems that the end of December is when I started to find some sort of balance, or, at the very least, some kind of peace for myself. It's not solidified yet, but these things rarely are. So, despite my aversion to New Year's resolutions, it seems that as the new year has begun, I am also beginning again.

Still, it's hard to say good-bye to a year that seemingly passed me by, as I merely went through the motions much of the time...just trying to get through each day. In my haze I often forgot to be thankful for all of the positive elements and people in my life, of which there are many; and I'm remembering to be thankful now.

I see, in my memory, a collage of the many new friends I met this past year--smart, creative, unique people whom I'm fortunate to have crossed paths with. These new friends (along with my other already "established" friends...and family, too, of course) mean more to me than they probably even realize. (It's also amazing, by the way, how some small words of encouragement from people you've never met--but feel like you know anyway, merely because you're experiencing (or have experienced) similar situations--can make such a difference. My Twitter friends--you know who you are--I thank you as well.)

And here's something I've learned: it takes courage to heal; it takes courage to live your life the way you want to live it, the way you need to live it.

In October I signed up for a Grand Canyon hiking adventure trip for the week between Christmas and New Year's. I couldn't easily afford it, but I knew I needed to do it, so I dipped into my savings. I needed to start the new year in a different way, in a way that would help me shake off the pain and sorrow of 2011. But signing up for a trip three months in advance is different than the looming reality of it when it's two weeks away. By mid-December, I was nervous. Taking a trip with a bunch of people I didn't know? What was I thinking?

But I had also started reading a book called Only Pack What You Can Carry: My Path to Inner Strength, Confidence, and True Self-Knowledge by Janice Booth. Although it may sound like it, it's not a self-help book (I don't read those, on principle). Published by National Geographic, this book is part memoir, part adventure story, part geography lesson, and part history class. Booth, a travel writer, writes about her adventures as she combats her fears and finds the courage to be an active participant in her own life.

Booth refers to courage as a muscle that gets strengthened with use. As a teenager I made a rule to myself not to avoid activities that I really wanted to do just because the prospect seemed scary. Shy and awkward back then [as now...], I convinced a friend to audition for the junior high play with me. I landed a part. I had always loved acting but, at the same time, I was terrified. Of what? Of being judged by my peers? Probably, but after I got the part, that supposed judgment didn't even matter. My courage muscle became stronger.

Once you do something that's somewhat frightening, the next time it is not so intimidating. I acted in plays throughout high school; it was as natural to me as breathing. When I went out for roller derby a couple years ago, I was petrified. I loved it, though: the fast-pace, the danger, the intense workouts. I'm not dissuaded by physically demanding exercise: if you can do roller derby, you can do anything!

After spending this past year just trying to keep up with the day-to-day, my courage muscle needed strengthened again. My trip to the Grand Canyon (just over a week ago) was amazing, possibly the perfect antidote. Five million people visit the Grand Canyon each year, and less than one percent make it down to the bottom (a smaller amount actually hike down, since some ride the mules), and now I am one of that small percentage of people who have hiked down to the bottom and back up again.

And I'm ready to do it again.

My courage muscle is flexed; bring on the next adventure!

Think About Libraries, Part 2

You've probably heard this phrase (or similar wording) before: If you're not outraged, you're not paying attention.

There are a lot of people not paying attention.

In the latest Toledo-Lucas County Public Library e-newsletter, the library director writes that the Toledo [Ohio] Public Library system "continues to see major increases in customer use. Last year, nearly 3 million visitors, more than any other Lucas County institution, visited one or more of our 19 library locations, while checking out over 6.9 million items." Access to books, computers, information in general, is essential to human development. Not all households have computers or internet access. Not all households have books.

Children who do not have early access to books start falling behind in their formal education before they even start school. According to the National Institute for Literacy: The Partnership for Reading, by age three, children should be able to recognize books by their covers, they should pretend to read books, and they should understand how to hold books and how to turn their pages ("print awareness"). They should understand what words are. Even when children are only a few weeks old, they benefit from being read aloud to. Those first few years of a child's life are critical for learning to read. When children are read to often and in a positive environment, reading becomes a pleasant experience. Children learn about print, words, "book language," and the world. It's also important for young children to see others reading--newspapers, magazines, books. It helps them grasp the significance of reading. And reading IS significant.

If parents or guardians do not have access to books or if they cannot read, the children are the ones who suffer. Many libraries offer programs that can help. Or, at the very least, it costs nothing for a parent to take a child to the library. For this reason, libraries are one of the most important public institutions in this country.

But here's the thing: "Although demand and usage is high, unfortunately since 2001 state funding for public libraries has continued to drop, prompting TLCPL [Toledo-Lucas County Public Library] to spend less on materials...."

The TLCPL e-newsletter goes on to tell about the job search and computer skills programs that are available for FREE at the main branch library. This career service is highlighted with one patron's personal story. Read her story, and you'll see that public libraries clearly make a difference.

And if we're not doing something to make a positive difference (directly or indirectly) in someone's life, what are we here for?

Are you outraged yet?

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On a semi-related note, I highly recommend the book Readicide: How Schools Are Killing Reading and What You Can Do About It by Kelly Gallagher. I read it a couple of years ago and consider it one of the most important books I've ever read. Check it out at your local library!

Think About Libraries

There are a number of problems in the United States: dysfunctional governments, failing public education programs, problematic justice systems, and an unmanageable national debt...to name just a few. These aren't new issues.

We Americans have gotten cocky, thinking that because we were once the "greatest" country, we always will be. Writes poet Charles Simic in a May, 2011, article, A Country Without Libraries: "[Our nation] no longer has the political will to arrest its visible and precipitous decline and save the institutions on which the workings of our democracy depend." He's referring to the large number of public libraries that have been closed down all over the country. When I was visiting Pasadena (CA) earlier this summer, I was saddened to see the large empty building that used to be a Borders bookstore. But Borders Group, Inc. is a corporation--I have very little sympathy for corporations. Libraries, on the other hand, are a public necessity. A closed-down empty building is sad, but an empty library is a crime. Not illegal, but it should be.

Libraries are part of many of my fondest childhood memories. Whenever I picture my elementary school, my mind's eye goes directly to the library. I remember it as the most well-lit and friendliest place in the school. Rainy days made the rest of the school seem dreary. Not the library though.

In the summers, it seemed like I spent much of my time at public libraries, in my own city and in the towns in Iowa and Indiana where either set of grandparents lived. I inhaled books, sometimes several "chapter books" a day. Encyclopedia Brown. Nancy Drew. The Mouse and the Motorcycle. Aldo Applesauce. And Ramona Quimby, of course. And that's just off the top of my head.

I was in awe when Stan and Jan Berenstain (of Berenstain Bears fame) came to our public library when I was five or six. These were the writers/artists who created the bears that I felt I knew as though they were my real friends! Brother Bear and Sister Bear went through the same things--first days of school, new friends, etc.--as I did. Meeting their creators was inspiring. A couple of years later, author Daniel Pinkwater came to the library. Another year, it was author Marc Brown.

My first semester in college was a disaster. I was several states away from home and had a roommate who disliked me to the point of making my world as miserable as possible. I spent almost all of my time in the college library, only returning to the dorm to sleep. I read constantly--it was my only means of escape. (As a result, I also aced that semester!)

Fast-forward to the late '90s, living on my own, after college. I had an apartment that was freezing in the winter and way too hot in the summer, but I could walk the three blocks or so to the public library. And that's exactly what I did almost every other day after work. I decided right then that I always had to live within walking distance to a library (and, except for one lone year, I always have).

When I read Simic's article, I realized I was not alone in my sentiments. He states: "Like many other Americans of my generation, I owe much of my knowledge to thousands of books I withdrew from public libraries over a lifetime." I am not of Simic's generation, but I concur with his statement. If libraries continue to close due to lack of funding, what will happen to current and future generations' wealth (or poverty?) of knowledge?


As I've mentioned in previous entries, I started this blog in part because I have observed that people (in general; Americans, in particular) are getting stupider. It seems as though we've let the generations before us do all the work, and now we are coasting along as if everything is peachy--never bothering to analyze situations, think independently, take a stand, or act ethically. Obviously I'm generalizing, and I'll never claim to know the way to correct our broken systems. All I know is that we need to think about what is wrong, take a stand against unethical practices, and do something to make a change.

Writing and thinking are what I know how to do.

Think About Thinking

I started this blog, Inciting Thought, in part because, based on many (but certainly not all) of my interactions with people, I've come to the conclusion that society (generally speaking) has lost--or, is losing--the ability to think. Some possible contributing factors: the United States' education system, the influence of mass media, and a general narcissistic attitude.

When I read The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains by Nicholas Carr (which I also referred to in Think About Solitude, Part 2), I realized that the problem runs much deeper than I had originally thought, and much of our thinking problem has to do with internet and technology usage. Our brains are literally changing, and there's no easy way to reverse what's happening. Carr writes: "Experiments show that just as the brain can build new or stronger circuits through physical or mental practice, those circuits can weaken or dissolve with neglect.... The mental skills we sacrifice may be as valuable, or even more valuable, than the ones we gain. When it comes to the quality of our thought, our neurons and synapses are entirely indifferent. The possibility of intellectual decay is inherent in the malleability of our brains... [T]he farther we proceed down [the paths of least resistance], the more difficult it becomes to turn back" (p. 35).

Scary.

Terrifying, actually.

The more time and energy that we spend on the internet or using our i-gadgets--checking email, Facebook, Twitter, and/or texting, etc., the less time we spend in a quiet space reading (or writing) for an extended amount of time. According to Carr, in the "undistracted reading of a book, people made their own associations, drew their own inferences and analogies, fostered their own ideas. They thought deeply as they read deeply" (p. 65). Now, even when we do read deeply, "we do so in the busy shadow of the Internet." Already in 1997, literary critic George Steiner noted that "the silences, the arts of concentration and memorization, the luxuries of time on which 'high reading' depended are largely disposed" (pp. 110-111). Carr states that, while it's possible to think critically while reading on the Internet, it's "not the type of thinking the technology encourages and rewards" (p. 116).

Carr further cites how reading and writing skills are declining. Between 1992 and 2005, literary reading aptitude dropped twelve percent (p. 146). And, as our reading and writing skills decline, so do our critical thinking skills.

And, then, as our critical thinking skills decline, we become more and more a society of robots...or cookie-cutter cookies, whichever metaphor you prefer. I would argue that self-actualized people know how to think deeply, but when I see so many young people (it's not just young people, but they are the most susceptible) wearing the same clothes, sporting the same hair-styles, talking in the same manner, listening to the same music, etc., I question how self-actualized they really are. It is difficult for one to have a healthy and successful relationship or marriage without truly knowing and loving oneself first. I would even argue that these lack of critical thinking skills are partly responsible for the high divorce rate in this country.

Ever since our reading, writing, and thinking skills have waned--most notably, since the mid-'90s--I've also been aware of a decline in "feminist" (I use the term loosely) thought. I'm not talking about a "men are scum" mindset; I'm talking about women and equality. I'm talking about women feeling good about being women and about women being independent people (not dependent on men). I'm talking about making sexist remarks and stereotypes of women disappear.

If any of you are familiar with author Peggy Orenstein/her blog, PBG, or Hardy Girls Healthy Women, you are familiar with what we--meaning: the above people/groups and any other woman who thinks deeply about the images and issues surrounding her--thinking women are up against. People and organizations such as those three, which try to combat the disgraceful commercial images that stereotype and/or degrade women, are few and far between.

Encourage the females (I'm focusing on females, but, actually, this applies to males as well) you know to think critically and deeply, to read deeply and often, to learn about themselves and the world, to be unique and independent individuals. I see so many young (let's say under 25, give or take a few years) women who "relationship-hop," thinking they always need to have a boyfriend. But one cannot easily learn about herself when she's always connected to another person. People change. I know with certainty that I am not the same person I was when I was 25. I thought I knew what I wanted back then, and, yes, some of my goals have remained the same. But many are different. And, in many cases, the reasons and the processes have changed. I've matured; I've grown. I've read and thought and learned.

And, because of all this deep reading and thinking, I know who I am.

Think About Haiku

writing good haiku:

climbing a tree and reaching

to the highest branch

Haiku are fascinating. They look simple, but, much like the moments and thoughts they represent, are deceptively so. Although my haiku attempt above has several elements of a true haiku, I'm not sure if it would actually count as one; I am, by no means, an expert.

I became interested in haiku about eight years ago when I came across (and subsequently bought) the book How to Haiku: A Writer's Guide to Haiku and Related Forms by Bruce Ross. But, as sometimes happens, my interest waned. Life went on. A few times throughout the years I tried writing haiku, but, getting frustrated or bored, I'd go back to other forms of writing that I was more comfortable with.

My interest in haiku was renewed, though, when I received the book, Haiku Mind: 108 Poems to Cultivate Awareness & Open Your Heart by Patricia Donegan, as a Christmas gift this past year. Maybe it was because I was older (more mature? wiser?!), but writing and reading haiku (and about it) felt more natural to me, less exasperating.

Haiku Mind is a book that you can pick up, read for a couple minutes, set back down, read another book, then come back to, without losing your place or having to backtrack several paragraphs or pages. Each poem and explanation is independent of all the others. Consequently, I was reading it slowly, two or three pages at a time, taking time for many other books in between.

Then, a couple weeks ago, my dad ended up in the hospital after a heart attack and open heart surgery. I found myself doing a lot of sitting at the hospital that week, which, ordinarily, would be a perfect time to read. I was between books at the time, though, and didn't have the concentration to start something new. So, a bit absentmindedly, I grabbed Haiku Mind to take with me to the hospital. It ended up being the perfect book to read there. Throughout the week I read two-hundred pages while my dad slept, ate, or just sat. It was a book I could easily stop, start, and stop again, if my dad wanted to talk or if the doctor or nurses came in.

Not only that, but haiku poems are excellent reminders of the preciousness of life and the value of each moment. Haiku Mind inspired me to write a number of hospital poems (although not necessarily haiku). The hours I spent at the hospital with my dad were the clearest moments of that week for me. I was living in a haiku state of mind...living in the moment...cherishing the present. In the book, author Patricia Donegan states that "[w]e are so caught up in hope and fear about the future or rethinking the past, that we are rarely in this present moment" (p. 197). How true! The combination of reading haiku, writing "in" the moment, and praying gave me clarity, understanding, and peace of mind. And, I was thankful. Very thankful. Of life. Of each moment. Of being in each moment.

One of the days, I spent several hours reading while my dad just slept. It was important to him that someone was there, though, and being there was equally important to me. Even though he was sleeping. Even though there was silence. Donegan tells us, though, that "[m]ost of our deepest moments occur when we are alone in silence or with others in silence. It is a gateway of nurturing, of healing, of renewal, and sometimes of revelation" (p. 151).

As a society, we tend to move so quickly that we forget the little moments that make up our lives. Donegan writes: "If we could but stop for a moment, if we could turn off the TV, computer, iPhone, or whatever gadget we are using, feel our breath moving through our lungs, smell the air, and see around us, we might be amazed by what we find" (p. 47). It is precisely that mindset that helped me really "feel" the moments with my dad at the hospital. Those moments led to poems. To thoughts. To lucidity and understanding of the situation.

I have a new awareness of haiku now, a new passion for it. I'll keep practicing being in a moment, valuing it; and I'll keep practicing recording that moment as well, even if it's in the form of an imperfect haiku.
 

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(For more of my thoughts on being aware/being in a moment, see the post, Think About Being Present.)

Think About Solitude, Part 2

(If you haven't read my original post, Think About Solitude, I encourage you to do so--but you do not need to have read it to make sense of Part 2.)

I recently read The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains by Nicholas Carr (which I mentioned briefly in Think About Books, Part 2). It was a fascinating book and I will probably refer to it in several upcoming posts. It's one of those books that I keep pondering, even though I finished it two days ago. That seems an appropriate reaction, too, since thinking deeply (or, critically) is one of the main ideas that Carr discusses in the book.

As Carr demonstrates, the internet is changing our brains in such a way that one might say it's creating, generally speaking, a society with technology-induced ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder). The internet limits one's ability to really contemplate and understand the information one reads and how it might apply to his or her life. Carr writes that "[t]he development of a well-rounded mind requires both [my emphasis] an ability to find and quickly parse a wide range of information and [my emphasis] a capacity for open-ended reflection.... We need to work in Google's 'world of numbers,' but we also need to be able to retreat to Sleepy Hollow. The problem today is that we're losing our ability to strike a balance between those two very different states of mind" (p. 168).

Carr later quotes novelist David Foster Wallace: "Learning how to think really means learning how to exercise some control over how and what you think. It means being conscious and aware enough to choose what you pay attention to and to choose how you construct meaning from experience" (pp. 194-5).

In other words, we need to "unplug" every so often. We need solitude, nature, and some form of silence. We need time and space to think.

This evening I rollerbladed a little over 11 miles. A lot of people like to listen to music when they exercise; but, when I exercise, I like to just think about things--in the way that constantly "connected" people might not be able to.

Me, unplugged.

While I rollerbladed I thought about Carr's book, and that is when the idea for this blog post came to me. I also pondered my career/job options. I wrote poetry in my head while I rolled along. I thought about my friends and family. I listened to my wheels against the pavement and enjoyed the sound they made. I delighted in the little noises of nature and watched bunnies hop through the reeds along the path. I thought about how, at 90+ degrees (even in the evening), there was no way I could do the full 15.8 miles I've done the last few times I've been out.

And every thought took me back to Carr's book and our society's reliance on technology and the distractedness it creates. I am certainly not immune to this technology-induced ADD; and, as I thought about Carr's book, I realized that I don't want to lose my capacity to read deeply and think critically. Therefore, I think that in order to hold on to this ability, I need to make time to read, write, or do any other activity uninterrupted--time when I'm not texting or checking email, Facebook, or Twitter.

Solitude.

Think About Reading

I'll proudly wear the title of Literary Snob. I'm okay with that, I admit it. There are some authors that I won't read because their books don't contain what I think of as "good" writing. They may be engaging stories, but their writing is simplistic and basic. Their characters are flat. No depth.

So, yes, I'm a Literary Snob. I'd rather stay a more-or-less unpublished writer than be an author of a flatly written book. That's just me. I value good literature. Likewise, it's what I strive to write.

However, I also believe that if millions of people are reading a poorly written book, that is far better than not reading any book at all.

Think about everything you might read in a day, words you read without even thinking about it. When I became a tutor for a local literacy organization, I realized just how much I take my reading ability for granted. Twice a week I meet with a student who managed to graduate from high school without knowing how to read fluently. Every day she faces struggles that the average adult knows nothing about. Menus, prescription bottles, recipes, receipts, billboard signs, ingredients on a box of cereal, and on and on.

Although poor writing, grammar, and proofreading skills irk me, having poor reading and reading comprehension skills sadden me. It saddens me because it is often under-privileged children who are the victims of poor reading skills. Through no fault of their own, these children may start school already academically behind their peers, simply because nobody has ever read to them or taken them to a library or even showed them a book.

But what about the children who are not under-privileged? I don't want to make this an issue about the public education system in the United States; that's only part of the problem.

A larger part of the problem in this country has to do with our society's values (or lack thereof?). A large chunk of people in our society put emphasis on the wrong things: money, status, fashion, outer beauty..., to name a few. An enlightening article from the April 18th Publishers Weekly articulated this idea nicely for me. In "The Light at the End of the Publishing Tunnel? On finding fans, not formats," Rudy Shur writes that "[i]nstead of focusing on how our books are going to be delivered to the reading public, we ought to be concerned with who will be left to read books."

Think about that for a moment.

Additionally, he cites that video game sales surpass book sales. Twenty years ago, books were a common form of entertainment. Now, though, a lot of people look for ways to BE entertained, as opposed to finding a way to entertain themselves. To that point, Shur writes: "While other countries focus on educating their children, we seem more focused on amusing them.... However, the responsibility of raising children who value education, and hence read, in any form, is no longer a priority. Without a vibrant and growing reading public to buy e-books or tree-books, who are we going to sell our titles to in the future?"

I will counter Shur here and suggest that many people will still buy books (e-books or otherwise); for some, it's about status--a way to show off their e-gadget--or a way of appearing intellectual. Whether they will read them or not...?

Perhaps the people who have earbuds fused to their brains, ipods sutured to their pockets, and cell phones superglued to their hands actually take e-breaks when they are alone. Turn off the tunes, switch off the television, and power down the laptop. And, then, maybe they simply sit on the couch with a book (or an e-reader).

Ahhh.... Simple pleasures. When I learned to read, my mom told me that a book could transport me anywhere, that I could do anything or be anyone by reading. Not only that, but I soon discovered all sorts of stuff I could learn by reading!

Think about reading. Actually, don't just think about it. Read to yourself or read to someone else. Read to a child!

But, mostly...READ.

Think About Books, Part 2

Back in October, I posted "Think About Books." After reading an article in the April 11th Publishers Weekly just now, I felt compelled to write on this subject again.

The article is "Books Without Batteries: the negative impacts of technology," written by Bill Henderson. (I read it in the print version, by the way.) Henderson's thoughts echo many of my own, although he has different reasons for them. He refers to the book The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains by Nicholas Carr, a book I was not familiar with (but have just requested from the library). Henderson states that Carr's premise is that people cannot read in depth anymore, that people can't think anymore, in general. "They are becoming 'chronic scatterbrains...even a blog post of more than three or four paragraphs is too much to absorb.'"

I have to agree that many people can't (or, at least, don't) think anymore. Working in retail, I witness this scatterbrain-ness on a regular basis, though I think "scatterbrain" may be too nice of a term. I am not sure if it's due to technology, as Henderson and Carr state, but it's definitely out there. I tend to think that it stems from our superficial materialistic society, in general, and our public education system. But, whatever is causing the problem, it has created a society of people who read poorly, write poorly, and, as a result, think poorly. They just don't take the time to do those things anymore. I regularly see Facebook posts where people use your instead of you're (and vice versa). (It's just Facebook, I know...not a big deal. But it works toward my point anyway. See my post "Think About Professional Communication.")

I'm sure there are many reasons that people love their e-readers, and I have no issue with that. Some people like gadgets, and that's fine. Some adamant proponents of e-readers, though, think that they're good for the environment. Of all the things Americans are wasteful with, print books and the paper they use are probably the least of the problem. One does not usually read a book and trash it. Library books can be re-read for decades. A person who buys a book often loans it to other people or, at the very least, ends up selling it at a garage sale or donating it to Goodwill. In any case, most books get read more than once, usually multiple times, by different people. Even textbooks that go into new editions every couple of years (which is a problem in itself, one that I won't address here) get used more than a couple of times.

E-readers, on the other hand, are like any other gadget in that they become outmoded, sometimes within a few months. Not only does that feed American society's heavy consumerism (which is problematic in itself), but it isn't as "green" of an option as those who rationalize it that way might think. According to Henderson: "To make one e-reader requires 33 pounds of minerals, plus 79 gallons of water to refine the minerals and produce the battery and printed writing. 'The adverse health impacts...from making one e-reader are estimated to be 70 times greater than those for making a single book,' says [a recent New York Times article]. Then you figure that the 100 million e-readers will be outmoded in short order, to be replaced by 100 million new and improved devices..., and you realize an environmental disaster is at hand."

Henderson goes on to say: "Here's what it takes to make a book, which...will be shared by many readers and preserved and appreciated in personal, public, and university libraries that survive the gigantic digital book burning: recycled paper, a dash of minerals, and two gallons of water. Batteries not necessary. If trees are harvested, they can be replanted."

As both an avid reader and avid writer, I can't help but love books. As though they are my own kin, I want to protect them. And, if anyone chooses to read on an e-reader, that is his or her choice, which I respect. But, please, PLEASE, please, don't drag the printed book and all that it encompasses down with you. According to Henderson, "Books are our history and our future. If they survive, we will, too."

So, if you made it through this blog entry and understood what you read: Congratulations, your brain has not yet been stunted by digital society! The world needs more like you! And, if you really understood what you just read, you'll pass this link on to others to read because knowledge is power, and knowledge comes from words. And maybe, just maybe, knowledge can start to displace the ignorance and apathy which are all too prevalent in American society.

(And, trust me, the irony of my platform here--the internet--is not lost on me. However, if someone offered me a book deal right now, I'd willingly put my blog on hold to write for the printed page.)

Think About Routine

You are no doubt familiar with the (over-used) phrase instructing us to "think outside of the box." I think we've probably all heard it so many times that we don't even think about what it means anymore. It, of course, means to be creative and innovative. It means that we need to look at a situation from a different point of view. It means that we need to break what is routine, habit, or instinctual.

If you are anything like me (human), this can be difficult. To use another trite phrase, I am "a creature of habit." Each morning, I do my morning things in the same order. And, whenever I come home from somewhere, I always put my keys, coat, and bag in the same spots. Being this habitual is not necessarily a negative thing. For example, I always know where my keys are. I've also never been a "regular" at a coffee house where the barista didn't know what my usual drink was (and I've been a regular at a lot of coffee houses!). Sometimes I look at the menu as though I might get something different (every once in a while I do), but, usually, I end up ordering the same thing as previous visits: a tall soy mocha, no whip.

While routine can be comforting and easy, it can also be too comforting and too easy. Fifteen or sixteen years ago (maybe more), I made a sort of pact with myself to do something out of my comfort zone at least once a week or so (I don't remember the specifics). With that, I began going to poetry readings regularly and met some wonderful friends that I would not have met otherwise. It was really scary at first. But, then, there was the reward and satisfaction that followed. This is the way you learn about the world. Not only that, but you can learn about yourself this way also. You learn how strong you are. The next time, then, you can stretch yourself even a little further.

Several books that I read last year made an impression on me to the point that I consider them "life-changing" books, although "mind-changing" may be a more accurate description. Derrick Jensen's Walking on Water: Reading, Writing, and Revolution was one of these books. Jensen writes about why schools are failing their students, and he demonstrates what should be done differently--with anecdotes of what he has actually done differently when teaching in the (college) classroom. I cannot go over all of his ideas here (but, as a sort of side note, I would definitely encourage anyone interested in teaching, education, writing, and creativity to read the book).

One idea, though, that has stuck in mind ever since I read the book, is Jensen's "seating rule." From the book: "'The one rule in seating,' I say, 'is that you can't sit where you sat yesterday. Nor can you sit next to the same people.'...The first reason for making this rule is obvious: I want for them to try to see things from a different perspective each day they come in. The second is sneakier, and something I wish my teachers had done for me when I was in school: I want to give the shyer members of the class an excuse to sit next to someone they might be interested in educing, or at least talking to, or at the very least admiring from close-up rather than afar" (Jensen, 2004, p. 25).

In his classroom, Jensen makes (perhaps, demands?) his students to think outside their boxes; he makes them break their routines. He gives them lectures that leave them with more questions. He does this because he believes that students (everybody, actually) need to question everything. He makes his students look deeper, beyond the lecture, beyond their papers, beyond the questions and the supposed answers. His goal is for students to discover something about themselves that they didn't know before. I think that this is what could be called critical thinking--something which I know is lacking in many classrooms in the United States. "When people know what problem they can solve using the gifts that are unique to them in all the world, they often know what they need to do next" (p. 46).

Those gifts cannot be discovered (or, at least, nurtured) until a person steps out of his or her normal routine or comfort zone. Think about what routines you may break in the upcoming weeks. Leave comments below, and let me know how it goes!

One final thought on routine (from Jensen's book): "If they give you lined paper, write the other way." There's a notation that he is not sure to whom to attribute that statement..."might have been Ray Bradbury, William Carlos Williams, e.e. cummings, or Juan Ramon Jimenez" (p. 53).

Think About How You Can Make a Difference

At yoga this past Wednesday, the teacher read us a poem called "Our Deepest Fear," written by Marianne Williamson. Part of the poem reads: "Your playing small/does not serve the world/There's nothing enlightened about shrinking/so that other people won't feel insecure around you/...We were born to make manifest/The glory of God that is within us." The idea of making a difference (or, serving the world, as Williamson refers to it) is fused with fear; often it's hard to pinpoint the fear, but it's there.

After I read the book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller this past summer, I thought (and continue to think)--A LOT--about creating meaning from my life and the natural fear that accompanies this process. It is not easy to make the changes in one's own life so that other lives can be changed; it's scary. But, Miller reminds his readers that fear can manipulate people into living boring lives. So, to me, it's necessary to face the fear and to fight my way through it (it's kind of like walking through the slew of cobwebs in my basement).

It's important to stretch ourselves (both our bodies AND our minds). In my post "Think About Stuff," I refer to the book Being Consumed: Economics and Christian Desire by William T. Cavanaugh. That book pushed me to a different level of thought; Cavanaugh urges readers to think about how each person's actions AND inactions can/will affect another person or people. I began looking at stuff in my closet and basement that I hadn't touched in a few years (except to move it...), and I considered the people who could benefit from the stuff that I wasn't using.

It began with donating "stuff" to others that could use it, but it hasn't ended there. I continue to try to stretch myself in ways that (I hope) will make a difference to others. It's sometimes a slow process, but Williamson's poem was a good reminder that we all have a duty to fulfill as children of God. It doesn't have to be big; it just has to be.

"We are what we do." Who are you?

Think About Books

I love books. I love the feel of one in my hands. I love to touch and smell each page as I read. I fold over the corners of the pages when there's something I want to come back to. I often make notes in the margins and underline important or interesting points. Inevitably, I also correct typos or grammatical errors that I find.

Digital society, though, is trying to make the book as I know and love it disappear. Kindle, the Nook, CafeScribe, and other digital platforms threaten independent bookstores. But, I'm not interested in talking about the business aspect of this subject. Instead, I wish to wax nostalgic about the way a book's pages yellow and crinkle with time; about how I can fall asleep reading and wake up on top of the book, its cover bent or torn; about how I can spill a few drops of my soy pumpkin spice latte on a page and know that the stain will be there for the life of the book; and about how I can look at a unique price ticket on a book and remember where I was when I bought it and, maybe, even why.

A book can create stories and moments other than the one its words tell.

I once knew of a person who started to read the book Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig. When he realized that the book wasn't actually about motorcycle maintenance, he threw it across the room. How many people will do that with their digital books?

Think about it.