Just do it (what you can)

I was really stuck in my life at one time. Oh, on the surface I wasn't doing so badly. I was married, had a lot of friends, a college degree. But on the inside I was a mess. Thing is I thought I should be able to do the things a married college graduate with lots of friends should do. But the fact of the matter was that the mess I was on the inside wasn't going along with that plan. So yeah, I was stuck, big-time.

So I wasn't out there getting a big job and hauling in big bucks. I wasn't going to be winning any fancy awards. I didn't have what it took to be a hero. About all I knew at that point in my life was that I was going nowhere, and I couldn't see any way out of it.

Then I discovered one single bit of information that changed my life.

Somebody told me that if I couldn't do all the high-falutin' things I wanted to, I should just do what I could. It seems so obvious now, but at the time it was absolutely revolutionary to me.

So if I couldn't get that big job, I could still do the best I could at my crappy little job. If I couldn't be a superstar, I could at least say a kind word to the mailman or smile at the old man waiting for the bus. Everything counted. Even if it was just effort and not results. I started counting days that only had one line in my journal—"Tried hard and failed."—as successes.

Doing what I could has been my motto ever since. It's freeing. It works. Don't worry about what you can't do (and feel you should be able to). Just do what you can.

Are you seeing stars?

Image

No, not in that way. :) In the way of looking up into the sky.

If stars appeared only one night every thousand years, how we would marvel and adore them. —Ralph Waldo Emerson

Life is magical. We're given such a gift and yet 99% of our lives we don't appreciate it. To be born. To live. To experience this earth. Its joys. Its sorrow. Its majesty and squalor. It's all a gift, a magnificent gift. Yet we don't see it.

Perhaps some people see it when they near the end of their lives (or if the end is thrust upon them). Then suddenly they have a keen appreciation of life, of how very precious and magical it is. Otherwise, it's hurry hurry hurry. Hamsters on a hamster wheel.

Sometimes I think about life in terms of technology. Everything man-made requires a power source. It needs to be plugged in or needs a battery. And yet, we don't. We walk around untethered. Yes, life is magical. Want proof there's a God?

Think about your life. Life is God manifested.

And the Emerson quote. How utterly true is that?

I think of people who fly on airplanes. So many of them pull the window shade and play video games on their phones or watch a movie. I wonder what Gallileo or DaVinci or Isaac Newton would've given to go up in a jet, soaring above the clouds, the mountains. They would've been breathless with excitement, with sheer wonder.

And we can be too. If we slow down enough to appreciate this wonderful, magical thing we are so privileged to experience, this thing called life.

Is there justice in the world?

Image

Such a heavy topic. Here it is Christmas Eve and I'm thinking about justice. But that's what the holidays do to me—they make me think about things that matter.

Everybody wants fairness. You see it everywhere. People will endure all kinds of problems uncomplainingly but when something happens that violates their sense of fairness they explode. "That's unfair!" And they'll go to the ends of the earth to pursue getting justice as "a matter of principle."

So just like when your favorite basketball player sinks a game-winning shot at the buzzer and you jump up and throw your arms in the air, you also recoil when something is unfair. It's just hard wired into us.

So is there fairness? Is there justice in the world?

Yes. Only it's often not very apparent. Justice according to what standard? That's a key question. For many people the standard is worldly success—a beautiful spouse, children, wealth. That's as legitimate a standard as any, but it doesn't reflect justice in a deeper sense.

Justice in a deeper sense involves deeper things. Things like integrity to others and one's self. Like how you feel about how you've lived your life. It's about love and respect.

In that deeper sense there's perfect justice in the world. We may not all be equal but in one fundamental aspect we're all the same—we start out in life a certain way and we develop by how we live until we end up who we are. In that sense, justice is in our own hands. How have I lived? Have I done my best? Have I loved? Contributed to the world?

When you get done answering questions like that, you will see that where you're at in your life is perfectly just.

Big god, small problems. Small god, big problems.

Image

All faith is not the same.

There are a million variables that influence it and the effects it has on our lives.

Big god, small problems.

If your god is the omnipotent omnipresent eternal creator of the universe. Well, then it can handle anything you're going through. In fact, anything you're going through is chump change.

Small god, big problems.

Who's your god? Is your god an afterthought? Somebody you pray to when you get around to it? A god who is undependable and only comes through some of the time? I wouldn't pray to a god like that personally. That sounds like a very small god. With that god my problems would seem gigantic.

Of course your problems are the same whether you have a big or small god. It's a question of  what kind of power does your god have to clear them up. And there's a lot of peace knowing you have a big god.

Does thinking about dying help you live?

Image

Nobody really likes to think about death? But what if thinking about it can help you. Then it's worth thinking about.

I'm finishing up listening to Walter Isaacson's biography Steve Jobs. At the point I'm at, Steve has pretty much gone through his storied life and now he has cancer and it's metastasized. He's still living full-tilt (as much he can, as his physical stamina is greatly diminished) but he's also thinking about his legacy, of what he'll leave behind, of his wife and kids.

I can imagine we'll all go through something similar.

But is there a way to use that knowledge of death now? Now, before we get the bad news from the doctor?

They say one of the benefits of owning a dog is that (with the dog's vastly shorter lifespan) it reminds us of our mortality. See, for me, thinking about dying changes my thinking entirely.

I remember this quote from a Buddhist text. It was:

All must one day die. He who knows this fact in him all strife is stilled. 

Isn't it the truth? Even listening to the Jobs bio when I got to the point where he was diagnosed with the terminal cancer I softened toward him. He was vulnerable and sad. Life's fleetingness was once again re-established in my mind.

Thinking about death helps me to focus on what's really important. It makes me kinder. It makes me less self-centered. It's like when there's a natural disaster. (And being from Illinois that usually means a gigantic blizzard.) The neighbors all come out and survey the scene. We might not hardly talk all year but now we're helping shovel each others cars out. We're making sure old Mrs. Hanson has enough groceries and is okay. Because we all suddenly realize our shared vulnerability, life becomes beautiful.

And that's the kind of life I want to live, that's the kind of world I want to live in. If thinking about death is going to help me do that, I'm all for it.

What's the "just right" amount of description in fiction?

Image

Writing description is perilous. Write too little and it's as if your characters are wandering around in a void. Write too much and the reader puts the book down and goes online to check the weather. What's a writer to do?

No worries. Here's how to know how much description to use.

Trust your characters.

There you have it. Oh, you want a little elaboration? All right then.  :)

When your character enters a scene what does she see? What are her circumstances? Does she have time to fully look around the room? Is there any reason she would notice anything (or perhaps the complete room) in detail? What's her background? What kind of things would a person of her background notice? What about the difference between what a guy and what a woman would notice?

So an art historian wanders into the Louvre's main gallery fulfilling a lifelong dream. Well, she is going to describe a hell of a lot of stuff. She's blown away. The beauty is overwhelming her senses. And being an art expert she is going to notice the nuances of the paintings, the thicker brushstrokes of the Van Gogh or the flawless perspective of the Vermeer. If you gave a short generic description here, your reader would find it hard to believe and question your character's authenticity.

But a French guy, a motorcycle mechanic by trade, dragged to the Louvre for the umpteenth time by his girlfriend, walks in and looks around. "Same boring paintings everywhere," he says, and he checks his cell phone for the soccer scores.

Or how about the time factor? Our art historian has all day to look over those beautiful paintings. How about a crack addict who's coked out and holding up a 7-11? His eyes are glued to the clerk's and the cash register, the eyes in the back of his head looking at the parking lot to see if anybody's pulling in. What if he were to give an in-depth description of the store? "On the floor next to a refrigerated case filled with twelve-packs of beer there was a "Big Gulp" cardboard poster. The air conditioner was running and just about drowned out the Katy Perry song on the overhead speakers. The air smelled faintly of fresh-brewed coffee and doughnuts." Uh, the reader's thinking, is this guy a normal human being?

Remember that to just describe a single scene setting you could write 100,000 words.

And don't forget to use all the senses in your description. That air might be perfectly room temperature in the Louvre. (The art historian would notice this because she knows the air needs to be that to protect the masterpieces.) The crack addict's hand is so sweaty the door handle slips out of his hand when he gets to the 7-11 and he has to open it again.

The temptation, especially if you're writing fast, is to just use visual writing. And writing fast may be a good way for you to go—get your story down. Then when you go through it again you can add non-visual descriptors.

Just don't forget that too much non-visual description is also a mistake. The majority of your description is going to be visual and that's as it should be because that's the majority of how we take in the world. But if your character is constantly feeling things, or smelling stuff, or hearing things, that's going to come off as inauthentic.

I've heard of writers suggesting things like 'Use two non-visual descriptors each page.' Don't do it. Good writing is organic writing. That writer is going to have to stop twice on every page. That manuscript is going to be stilted as hell (and inauthentic). And you may want to use ten non-visual descriptors on a page if it's called for. Think of a character on their first trip to a farm. The freshly cut hay smell. The apple blossoms. The tilled soil. The manure in the stables.

Trust your gut with the non-visual stuff. Again, what would your character notice? If he's a baker he's going to notice a smell every time he walks into a restaurant. A musician will notice music more. Etc. etc.

Be judicious (and limiting) with your use of adverbs and adjectives. The Chilean poet Vincente Huidobro wrote: "The adjective, when it doesn't give life, kills it."

Ditto for adverbs. And don't forget that adverbs modify verbs. Enhancing your verb will often eliminate the need for the adverb.

"I'll be home soon," Jimmy said angrily and he hung up the phone.

-or-

"I'll be home soon," Jimmy said and he slammed down the phone.

If he slammed down the phone we know he spoke angrily, right?

And as with all writing, characters are compelling when they are doing something. Jimmy slamming the phone down has us watching him closely. What's he going to do next? And that is exactly where you want your reader.

The one place you might want to use an adverb is where the character's mood is entirely opposite of what they say.

"I love you," Jimmy said angrily.

-or-

"I love you," Jimmy said and he slammed down the phone. (That doesn't quite cut it.)

So it's not hard. Trust your characters to tell you the "just right" amount of description you need. Remember who your characters are. The situation they're in. The time frame. The things they would notice. Keep that as your rule of thumb and you can't go wrong.

Does God play favorites?

Image

It's the classic example. Near the very end of a tie baseball game, the batter praying for a hit, the pitcher praying for a strike-out. Whose prayer does God answer? It seems silly even as I write this. But that sort of stuff happens all the time.

Or what about people groups feeling like they're 'God's people' or 'chosen' or 'elect'? Has God somehow set these people aside for preferential treatment and favor?

Or take a more commonplace example. The person born to wealthy, beautiful, intelligent parents, and who is accordingly set for a life of ease and pleasure.

And then there's the flipside. Someone  born into poverty to dumb parents who perhaps sexually or physically abuse the kid. The kid's maybe fat or has a limp or is ugly.

Is God making those decisions? Is he setting some up for a life of ease and others for a life of suffering?

No one can completely know the answers to these questions, but I think it unlikely that God is pulling all these strings. The way I look at it, he wouldn't be much of a God if he did.

Same goes for the 'chosen' or 'elect.' I'm sure it's comforting to think that way, but what kind of God would show such unmerited favoritism. Again, he wouldn't be much of a God if he did.

We play favorites. God doesn't.