#9: Mini Me.

I feel so small.

Petty and insignificant. Look around: look at the struggles for freedom and democracy in the Middle East. While I blog about television commercials. I didn't follow the story, didn't investigate, didn't try to speak up for the right side, or speak out against the wrong side. When I saw it on the news, I turned the channel. A cashier at my local Safeway, who sees me frequently wearing a coat with political buttons on the lapels ("Save Our Libraries." "I Read Banned Books." "Question Authority."), asked me a few weeks ago if the Egyptian president had actually decided to step down, when Mubarak held his big press conference, because she assumed I would be following the story. I didn't know. I didn't even know Mubarak was having a conference.

Or the conflict minerals in the Congo. Hell, anything about the conflict in the Congo. I don't know about these things. I didn't pay much attention when I found an article in the Xerox machine at school a few months ago that talked about the minerals used in cellphones and laptops coming from mines in Eastern Congo that are controlled by the warlords and the militias involved in the genocidal wars that have been going on since the 1990's, other than to be vaguely fascinated by the fact that one of the minerals in question was named tantalum, which is a reference to Greek mythology, and is ironic. That's right: I noticed an ironic mythology reference. But about the genocide? Nothing.

I don't pay attention, don't look into these things; of all the books I read, none are about current world events. I spend more of my time playing video games and the like. I don't watch the news very much, other than local news, and then I complain about how it only covers petty, insignificant local stories.

What am I, if not a petty, insignificant local story?

You ever think about the water you waste? Ever watch water go down the drain as you give a pot one final rinse that it didn't really need? You ever think about the number of people in the world who don't have clean drinking water? The number of people who starve because their crops are wiped out in generations-long droughts? While I keep the tap running? I do. Not that I do anything about it, but I think about it. So at least I've got that going for me. Surely the fact that it crosses my consciousness means something.

Oh, of course it doesn't. Of course it doesn't matter. How can anything I do matter? Out of all the seven billion, eight billion people, however many of us there are now on this planet,who am I? What do I matter? What could I do?

Let's say I pick a project. Let's go with the Congolese conflict minerals one; that's near and dear to me in some ways, because I already rail against modern technology and capitalism. See, I looked up the conflict minerals subject because I wanted to use it to make a point about the Kindle, which I hate. I wanted to talk about the price we pay for technology, for the ease and convenience of our gadgetry, and about the price that other people pay for it, as well. And I still believe that -- but how can I write about this? How can I bemoan the loss of printed books in my elite, intellectual, bourgeois circles when there are people dying in the Congo? How can I turn that conflict into a cheap argument tactic? They are people. People. Dying. And here I sit in my robe and my warm socks, drinking my expensive coffee, typing on my computer.

Sorry: lost my point. Let's say I pick a project, and take action about the Congolese conflict mineral issue. How much influence will I have? I don't even know anything about it; how long would I have to investigate to even begin to understand why these groups of people have been killing each other for going on twenty years? And then once I understand -- what? Could I go to the Congo and start a peace movement? Or maybe aid the victims? They wouldn't listen to me, I'm a white American; I would be yet another paper doll in the history of colonialism. I could try working on it from my side, try to convince the US Congress to regulate the use of conflict minerals, or try to organize Americans to take part in the boycott -- but what the hell good would I do? Who listens to me?

I've thought about that, quite often. I am a writer, I am a teacher; I have an audience, and I have a voice. I could have an impact, I've told myself. I could take up a cause, focus on something, and actually change people, affect events, do something. But could I really? Do my students pay attention? There are people who read my blog, I know -- but how many? And would my words ever change them? Did I change when I found that article that my colleague Ben Bleckley printed out for his students about conflict minerals in cellphones? Did I even take the article to my classes?

No, I gave them an article on lab-grown meat. Because it was funnier. That genocide thing is just depressing.

I wrote about creationism and evolution a few weeks ago,and I got into an argument afterwards. And while that argument was very entertaining to me, it didn't change anything. I think I had every point right over the guy who commented initially; I think my old high school buddy Sam had most of his points right over me (And I'd bet Sam thought he had every point right over me) -- but I didn't change the initial responder's mind, not one iota, and Sam didn't change mine. I've been teaching persuasion to my students for several weeks now, but it has just gone to drive home the point: it's almost impossible to convince anyone of anything. You can't really change people's minds. I knew that, of course, from my years arguing on debate forums; I never won an argument there, never converted anyone, as far as I know. It's possible I opened some eyes, but still -- what good does that actually do?

My eyes have been opened to what's happening in Africa, even if I don't know much about it, still. But how will that change me? I'm already thinking about ways I can wrap this blog up with some pithy statement about how we need to focus on our own small lives, since those are within our sphere of influence; then, I'm thinking, I can get back to blogging about topics that are more near and dear to my heart, my life. That are more fun. Even while I'm thinking about this, which I don't do very often, I'm trying to shy away from thinking about this.

And then there's the issue of selection: there are a thousand atrocities going on in our world, a thousand things that revile the soul and sear the mind when you hear about them. There are innumerable worthy causes that I should get involved with. Hey, I could write for them! I could write press releases or speeches, maybe even give the speeches -- I'm a pretty decent public speaker. You know, maybe I could even get involved in politics; I have a good mind, a good personality, no particularly horrifying vices or past scandals. I could run for political office, and I might even be able to do pretty well. I would run into trouble dealing with my integrity, because honestly, I wouldn't play ball with the special interests, and so I assume I would get crushed in my reelection bid if I ever won a serious office, but maybe not. Maybe I could lead the charge of useful, honest public servants, which is a thing I think this country needs.

Then what? Do I spend my time trying to protect the public service unions, which is a cause I believe in, I think (Gotta love that determination and conviction.)? Or do I try to have an impact on the number of people worldwide dying of dysentery and malaria? Do I work on the deficit, try to improve modern education, end the reliance on high-stakes testing -- or do I work to end genocide? Or maybe deal with global poverty? Or religious conflict -- maybe I could try to convince everyone to give up on these belief systems that have led to so many deaths and so much suffering. Homelessness? Oppression? Injustice? Prejudice? Stupidity?

Which problem do I try to solve? Which problem could I solve?

Do any of them ever get solved?

My primary drive in my life has always been my own happiness. I have done well with that; I have a largely happy life. But I don't know if there's any particular purpose to my existence, and I worry that I'll never find the drive, and the specific cause that fires that drive in me, that will lead me to accomplish anything other than my own happiness. And there can't be any way that can be the right way to live, just trying to make myself happy. Not when so many people are suffering.

Except that it is the only way to live. I am petty, I am small, I am insignificant. I am only me. I can only do my petty, small, insignificant things to affect my life and the few other lives that are linked to mine. But because my life, the lives of my family and friends, are as small as me, my influence on them, on me, can be large. It is within my scope, within my grasp. It is something I can handle. Therefore it is what I should do. This is not helplessness: this is the reality of power. I don't have much. Certainly not enough to sway the destinies of millions. My force is small, so I must focus it carefully and use it wisely -- not waste it trying to move the world. Especially not based on the poor assumption that the direction I would move the world would be the right direction. Who am I to make that decision? Would I even want that responsibility? I have trouble sleeping when I think my students aren't living up to their potential; could I handle the weight of the world? Of course I couldn't.

The serenity prayer goes, "Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." (Sometimes there's a "God" in the front of that, but not in my version, thank you.) I think this is about knowing your size, and understanding the size of the problems you face. I do believe that one small person can combine force with many other small people and have an impact on large things; this is my ultimate goal with the two or three causes I may be able to lend myself to, because they are things that I know about, things that I understand and care about, things that I believe in very strongly and have the courage of my convictions. There are places where my small strength could have an impact, and that is where I must direct it. Education, art, and books; that's me. Those are my causes. World-shaking? No, but then, I am not a titan, not a god, not a strong enough, large enough person to carry the weight of billions.

I am small, and I live a small life. A happy life. For which I am grateful.

That's all I've got.


EDIT TO ADD:
Taken from a Facebook comment attached to the link to this blog. By my friend and colleague Mary Wells. Who also admires the Dalai Lama and hates the Lakers.

Here's a cause. Hate the Lakers. "Pray" in some form, for one or more of them to sprain an ankle, get arrested, something that keeps them from winning. Sometimes that's where the passion is...something simple. This isn't as "off topic" as ...it might seem...trust me.

I also, JUST yesterday, found out about the conflict metals...and as with you, I am at a loss as to what can be done about it. Getting it out into the light will help. (It made national news yesterday.) Those with a "Laker Hate"-like passion about this issue, will kick it into gear. (Not quite sure how to word that. I am passionate about hating the Lakers. There will be those with the same level of passion on this issue. Just as some young whites went to Mississippi in the 60's and some older whites joined M.L.King...you go where you are called.)

I was not an early demonstrator against the Vietnam war...I was afraid of getting kicked out of college....and then I didn't demonstrate once I got a job because I wanted to be rehired the next year. BUT I used every current events lesson (Sr. Soc. Studies) to teach about critical thinking, to get kids to question what they were being told, to look for the publisher of their books, to research the background of the authors of their textbooks. (For example, the John Birch Society published books but called themselves something benign/dishonest. I taught kids to look for those things.) And President Johnson's big lie about the Gulf of Tonkin broke on cue! And kids realized I was telling them something important. Do they still question? I don't know. But they were good at it in 1971/2.

Regarding black rights and gay rights...I mostly make sure that "peace starts at home"...I make sure my behavior is "correct". That if I dislike someone it isn't on the basis of some "label"/ category that they happen to be in. I did, however, become quite active on Measure 9...the first Oregon attempt at legally discriminating against gays. I had a nice, canned speech I delivered around the county...asked people to say the Pledge of Allegiance and then asked them if they really listened to the words and meant them...."Of course," they said. And then I asked about that "liberty and justice for ALL" part...told them to either drop that last part or mean it. Doing this was a risk. I worked for a homophobic boss and I was a Curriculum Director in Rainier...a HOTBED of the Oregon Citizen's Alliance. They tried to get me back by accusing me of being a Satanist and slitting the necks of goats for sacrifice and offering up virgins for sacrifices. I wanted to sue their butts but the school district lawyer blocked it. But, in that instance, I knew I was making headway! I did NOT change one conservative mind. But I changed many moderates or those that were apathetic and I lit a fire under some liberals. And that's the kind of change you have to go after. And their actions against me cost them moderates and some conservatives as well.

The only way to change polarized people is to open the door and make it inviting to come in.

It's a common philosophy for working with alcoholics. We know if a practicing alcoholic does not get help, he/she is headed for a cliff. But along that road, those of us who care (professionally or personally), need to open doors along the way and invite them in. Many times our efforts are ignored and the alcoholic keeps heading for the edge. But the philosophy reminds us that other people will be opening doors along the way and, just maybe, the alcoholic will finally choose to go in ONE of the doors. It doesn't have to be OUR door. It's a process...a chink in the armor here, a dent there. And so it goes with most issues. (By the way, I'm not making any parallel arguments between alcoholics and conservatives or any other group. It's just a philosophy that works.)

Back to my Measure 9 issue and my belief that I didn't change any conservative minds. (After all, most of them believed it was a Biblical sin and my Pledge of Allegiance didn't hold a candle to that.) But JUST MAYBE, over the course of their lives, other doors have been opened and maybe they finally came in off their path ...whatever it is. I don't know but I OPENED one door and, perhaps, was part of a process.

I very much like the analogy. But when I think about it, and when I think about my religious "belief" (not beliefs), I know I'm not as good at it as I should be. I have one religious belief and it's stolen from the Dalai Lama. "The one TRUE religion is KINDNESS." And as to the opening of doors, it needs to be inviting...or so giftedly presented as to be appealing. I often am not good at either.

But because of this discussion this morning, I'll be better tomorrow.

All we can do is open doors, open windows and invite in fresh air and ideas. And do our menial parts like recycling, help where we can and wait for an idea that makes us passionate. With billions of people in the world, we can't all be passionate about the same things or even be passionate at the same time. We wait for the one or two things that hit us in a way that makes us motivated enough to step out and up. In the meantime, we try to be kind and hate the Lakers and the Kindle. (Just to keep our passion from getting rusty.)

MARY...

Thanks, Mary.