OBS Challenge: Getting More People Outdoors
In mid January I issued a Challenge on the OBS blog. This is my answer to that challenge.
I suppose there are a lot of ways to get people to enjoy the outdoors. You can get them involved in a fun outdoor activity. You can take them on a trip that passes through many beautiful outdoor vistas. You can teach them a new skill that allows them to experience the outdoors in a new way. You can simply take someone by the hand and tell them to look up and count the stars. Getting people to enjoy the outdoors may involve a cool swimming hole on a hot afternoon or a chocolately, sticky s’more made over a campfire on a crisp autumn night. There are as many ways to get people to enjoy the outdoors as there are people.
There is, however, really only one way to ensure that people don’t enjoy the outdoors and that’s this: force them to be there.
Trust me on this one, I speak from personal experience.
When I was a kid I spent a lot of time outdoors. We rode bikes and built forts and skateboarded down the neighbors driveway and played elaborate games of pretend that centered around the trees in our yards or the park behind our neighborhood. By the time I became a teenager, however, my interest in the outdoors had waned a bit. I liked to read and write. I sang and did musical theater. Most of the stuff I enjoyed was indoor activity, and so I wasn’t getting as much exercise or as much outdoor time as I previously had done. I put on a few pounds and that worried my parents.
Now, I see they were trying to help. Then all I knew was that they were constantly dragging me outdoors to go for a walk or go for a bike ride. It probably wouldn’t have bugged me as much if there was some purpose to it, or if I had some say as to when or where we went, but that wasn’t the case. I was told I was being forced to be outdoors “for my own good” and, like a lot of things we are told are for our own good, I came to loathe being forced to do something I didn’t want to do.
The end result of all this was to foster a rather strong dislike of outdoor activity that persisted for several years. To me, the outdoors had become a place of obligation, not something I could voluntarily choose to experience and enjoy. Since it had become something I was forced to experience, I generally chose not to be outdoors when it was left to me to choose.
It was only when I was well into adulthood that I started coming to grips with the outdoors and discovering that I could find serenity and peace and even enjoyment from being outdoors and participating in outdoor activities. These days, now that I can choose, there are days I crave being outdoors and other days when I’m perfectly content to be inside. I’m also slowly trying new outdoor activities and knowing that I’m free to decide whether or not to continue with those outdoor activities makes all the difference.
If there is a moral to this story, and since I’m writing it I’ve decided there is, it would be this: everyone comes to the outdoors in their own way. If you have a child or a friend or a significant other that you’re trying to introduce to your favorite outdoor activity, make sure you give that person the freedom to choose their reaction. Understand that not everyone likes the same things, and be willing to accept that your way of enjoying the outdoors may not be another person’s way. There’s enough variety when it comes to outdoor activities that almost everyone could find something they enjoy. The trick is to allow everyone the freedom to make their own choices.
Fishing With Myself
As I write this, the lovely fishing pole that Jody sent me for my birthday almost a year ago is leaning against the wall by my front door. The reel has been cranked a few times to demonstrate the cool flashing lights, but so far the rod has yet to be used to catch a fish. That’s something I think needs to be changed. There’s only one problem.
I’ve never gone fishing by myself.
When I was a kid my parents or grandparents took me fishing. When I grew up, my Dad, who is a dyed in the wool angler, took me fishing. I’ve never had to bait my own hook, set up my own rod and reel or take my own fish off the hook. I don’t have the first idea what should go in a tackle box or how to set up a rod properly for fishing. Even though I’ve been fishing several times over the course of my life, I really have no idea how to go about fishing, other than taking an already prepared rod and casting it from the boat or from shore. I am, in short, woefully uneducated when it comes to how to fish.
I’ve always enjoyed fishing and part of me is kind of dismayed that I don’t know more about it than I do. Of course, when I start thinking about fishing on my own, I remember hooks and the fact that I’m not all that great with sharp things. I remember slimy fish, and wonder if Jody will loan me some handi-wipes. I remember crawly worms, which are only a step away from snakes, and then I wonder if I could use flies or lures, until I remember I don’t know which flies or lures to use. As you can clearly see, I’m desperately in need of help and advice. That’s why I’m turning to all of you.
Those of you who fish, please share any advice that you would give a novice angler. What do you wish you’d known when you started fishing? What was the first time you went fishing on your own like? Please leave any tips or advice you’d like in the comments section.
In Praise of Winter
My name is Kristine and I love Winter. I love the blinding whiteness of the snow when the sun shines on it. I love the vivid blueness of the sky on a cold day. I love the scribble of the bare branches covered with snow against a gray sky. I love the soft fall of snowflakes on a quiet night. I love being cozy and warm inside while it blows and snows outside. I love everything Winter has to offer.
Don’t get me wrong, I complain about the cold as much as anyone else. I’m not fond of wearing boots and layers and heavy coats so I don’t freeze when I go outside. I don’t like snow covered or icy roads and I’m not fond of whiteout blizzards while I’m driving. I’ve also done my share of slipping on a icy spot and landing on my behind. I’m not blind to the fact that Winter can have an inconvenient and at times downright dangerous side, I just think that the good outweighs the bad, at least in my opinion.
Winter has always been more my season than Summer. I suppose part of that is because I have skin that doesn’t always react that well when exposed to sun. In the Summer the sun is stronger and the air is hotter and the humidity is higher, all of which causes me to be a red skinned, frizzy, sweaty mess. I’m a creature of air conditioning, so the natural air conditioning brought by Winter suits me fine.
I think the thing I like best about Winter is that it gives me permission to stay indoors if that’s what I want to do. In the Summer, I feel like I should be outside taking advantage of the sun and warmer temperatures. In the Winter I have a built in excuse to stay at home and hibernate if I want. All I have to say is it’s too cold or the roads are too icy and everyone understands. I can spend my time in solitude and contemplation and inside and no one thinks it’s weird.
I suppose everyone has their favorite time of year. I’ve mentioned my reasons why Winter is my favorite time of year, now I’d like to hear why the particular time of year you like best is your favorite. Please leave a comment and share with me what season or time of year you like best.
Losing(and Finding)My Religion
I’m not a fan of organized religion. I don’t go to church unless forced to do so by circumstances. There have been times when I was pretty certain God didn’t exist, and there are days, even now, when the jury is still out on that. I know there are a lot of people who find solace in organized religion, and I know that there churches and pastors and religious laypeople out there who do a lot of good, but it has just never worked for me. I don’t know if I’m too cynical, or too skeptical, or if I’ve been burned too often by people who claimed to speak religion but really spoke hypocrite. I just don’t buy the whole organized religion thing. For me, it just doesn’t work.
Given that I’m not much of a fan of anything connected with religion except, in some cases, their architecture, you’d probably imagine that I’m quite spiritually impoverished and drifting without any moorings. If that is your thought, you couldn’t be further from the truth. Although I don’t have a brick and mortar church, and I don’t speak to a flesh and blood pastor, I do have a cathedral of sorts, and I do talk to someone or something. Sometimes, not often, I think someone or something talks back.
I first found my cathedral in the worst year of my life, the one I still call “the dark year”. When I was 24 I entered a dark tunnel called clinical depression. I didn’t care about anything. I lost my job, there were days when I didn’t eat, and I probably would have killed myself, except I couldn’t be motivated to care enough to do it. After years of dealing with a variety of issues, I’d had it, I was done. The darkness was pulling me under and I didn’t care enough to raise my hand for help.
During that time, one of the things I did often was spend hours sitting at the window of the small apartment in which I lived, watching what I called my “Monet Trees”. Through the screen on my window the trees across the park from my apartment looked pixelated and rather like a Monet painting. As the year went on and I sank deeper, the trees grew and changed color, then lost their leaves and drew stark lines against the sky. I’d walk by the trees on my way to the library, which was the one place I did go, and scuff my shoes in their leaves, and see that things could grow and change. In a strange way, at a time when it all seemed hopeless, the trees gave me hope. They were still striving and growing and living. If they were doing it, maybe I could too.
It took a lot of work and some help but eventually I did get better and I started living again. I moved to Northern Michigan, and I found solace in the lakes and the rivers and the beautiful scenery. I’d walk along the beach of Lake Michigan and think about how small my problems seemed against the immensity of the lake. On occasion I’d write my problems in the sand and let the lake wash them away. I’d drive along the winding roads in the Fall and let the beauty of the leaves feed my soul. I’d scamper around in the snow with the dogs because my Mom who was standing at the window had cancer, and me being a cold and wet idiot made her laugh. The outdoors soothed a part of me that nothing else could quite reach. I didn’t even have to experience the beauty first hand. Just seeing it through a window was enough.
The outdoors became the place where I went to ask the big questions. “Why me?” when I had to have heart surgery. “Why her?” when the hospice nurse told us my mother only had days to live. “What next” when I wasn’t sure which way I wanted to go with my life. I sought guidance, and even if it came only from my own brain and my own heart, I got it. Maybe it was just that being in the outdoors quieted the chatter of my mind and my heart and let me hear the still, small voice that spoke the truth, but I found the sharpest clarity in the moments when I contemplated the outdoors.
I’m not a religious person.
I’m not entirely certain I believe in the conventional idea of God.
I do, however, get the moment that motivates people to say Thank You when they’ve seen a particularly beautiful sunrise. I understand why hunters often say a prayer or thank the animal they’ve just taken for its sacrifice. I identify with those who love the cool, crisp stillness of an autumn morning or the smooth, unblemished whiteness of an early morning snow.
I’m not religious.
But I do have religion.
Can I get an Amen?
Guest Post: On Hunting
Kristine’s Note: A while back I wrote a post on the OBS blog detailing the fact that I was busy and blocked and could use some help filling space on my blogs. Ranger Squirrel of RangerSquirrel’s Ramblings kindly offered me this post. I think it’s a thoughtful discussion of an issue I’ve been considering myself, and I’m proud to share it with you here.
My wife and I are engaged in a very civil debate at the moment about hunting and whether I should do it. I feel compelled to learn the skill. She doesn’t like the idea of me killing small furry creatures unless it’s a survival necessity.
What I don’t think I’ve expressed very well to her is that I don’t much love the idea of killing anything. It’s just not my way.
Since I’m absolutely positive that she and I are not the only ones disagreeing about this issue, I thought it might be helpful if I documented it so that perhaps others can benefit.
Here’s where my wife and I stand in agreement:
- We both see hunting not as a sport (name another sport where your opponent doesn’t know you’re playing), but as a skill.
- We both have legitimate concerns about the people who are out there killing animals just for fun. In my opinion, these are the same people who, as children, used to do things like put Alka-Seltzer in a frog’s mouth and toss it into the water.
- We both see hunting as an entirely valid means of food gathering if it’s a necessity.
- We both recognize that there is a food chain and that small furry creatures are part of it (as are humans).
- Up to this point, we’ve both agreed that there is no need for me to hunt. We have never gone hungry and don’t foresee a situation in which we would be forced to do so.
I can’t rightfully claim to understand her viewpoint completely and for that reason I won’t try to represent it here because I don’t want to seem to belittle what I’m sure is an entirely valid point of view from the person I love and respect the most in this world. The truth is, we haven’t really talked about it at length. With the baby coming, our focus has been on other things.
Instead, here’s where I’m coming from:
- I am a father of 4 (well, almost 4…still waiting on the 4th to arrive any day now).
- I am the sole provider, financially, for my family and I work in an occupation that is almost entirely unnecessary to the world’s continued existence. I could stop working tomorrow and it would make zero difference to anyone except my family. My entire division makes ZERO profit and generates very little revenue for the corporation I work for. In fact, we actually cost the company somewhere in the tens of millions annually – yet despite the economic downturn, my company has yet to have any layoffs in my division. So everyone is waiting for the other shoe to drop, and arguably, axing my whole division would make sense (at least temporarily).
- While it is true that hunting is a skill and that I wouldn’t ordinarily plan to use it except for survival, the same can be said of shelter building, water purification, primitive firemaking, foraging and so on – yet I’ve practiced all of those to at least a basic degree of proficiency – because knowing it’s possible to do something and actually being able to do it are two very different things.
- In the Army, I carried a rifle in the wilderness often enough to know that stalking prey isn’t as easy as it sounds. It takes practice and skill. I’ve also associated with enough combat veterans (and hunters for that matter) to know that killing is not something that comes easily, emotionally speaking.
- If I’m going to list the ability to hunt among the tools in my family’s survival toolbox – doesn’t it make sense that I should actually have practiced it a few times? At least to a level of basic proficiency?
I used to rationalize away my desire to hunt by telling myself I don’t actually need to kill something to learn the skills. After all, I can track, and shoot for that matter, with a camera as well as a rifle and I already know I’m one helluva good marksman. What’s different this season is that I called “bullsh*t” on that line of reasoning.
Tracking and shooting with a camera will certainly help me build some of the skills I need for hunting, but it will not make me a hunter. When it comes to providing food in a time of emergency, my family will need a hunter, not a photographer. A paintball player is not a combat veteran and neither is a war correspondent. I wouldn’t trust a combat journalist with my life in a firefight, and I’m not going to put my family’s well-being in the hands of even the most experienced photographer.
Moreover, tracking and pulling the trigger are not the only skills involved in hunting. If you don’t develop the familiarity with your firearm to place the shot accurately, you risk wounding the animal and causing a great deal of suffering. Similarly, you don’t need to learn to field dress, skin and butcher an animal when you’re just taking a picture.
There are many other arguments in favor of hunting:
Philosophical – most of us soft Americans are too far removed from the production of our food. We have no idea where it comes from and we don’t, therefore, have any respect for the process or the food itself. I remember reading a blog comment recently that said, “To all you cruel and unthinking hunters out there – why don’t you just buy your meat at a grocery store so no animals will be harmed?” I’ve always hoped that comment was tongue-in-cheek, but I’ve also always suspected otherwise.
Health – Compared to store-bought food, wild game is usually fresher, leaner, healthier, and about as free-range and organic as you can get.
Environmental/Ecological – Hunters play an important role in monitoring and controlling the population of game species as well as the health of the environment as a whole. Even countries that have outlawed so-called sport hunting have regular “controlled” hunts to keep these populations down. The natural predators have been eliminated for the most part, and hunting pressure at least partially rectifies that problem. Over populations of a particular species can result in the destrution of crops and even whole habitats. Moreover, it’s things like hunting and fishing licenses that help the state raise the money necessary to actually regulate the environmental conditions in the state.
Humanitarian – Indiana has a program where you can drop off harvested game to participating butchers and they will process the animal and donate the meat to charities across the state. Under this program, one deer can provide up to 200 meals (that’s DNR’s statistic, not mine) for families in need. Healthy, fresh food for hungry people.
Safety – unchecked populations of game animals mean more car accidents from animals crossing the road. This can result in death for both the animals and the people who hit them with their cars.
I agree with all of these reasons, but the one that really compels me is my instinctual need to develop this skill for the protection and providence of my family.
I don’t know how it will come out in the end. I do know this – I would never harvest an animal for fun. I would never be disrespectful to an animal’s body or waste the nutrition it would provide, and I would never want to kill an animal unless there was a purpose for it. This is not a sporting interest for me – it’s the development of a necessary survival skill.
- RangerSquirrel (http://rangersquirrel.wordpress.com)
My Changing Outdoor Image
I’ve been having a conflict of late, which is why this blog has been largely silent. (O.k., that’s one reason, the other was that I’ve been insanely busy, but since no one really wants to read a post about that, we’ll stick with I’ve been conflicted.) My conflict centers around the fact that, while other people may see me as an outdoor voice and an outdoorsperson, I don’t really see myself that way. I’ve always been a woman who likes her creature comforts. As my recent trip to Texas proves, I’m very much enamored of room service and plush hotels. I’m not much inclined to tramp around in the cold and the wet, or the hot and the humid for that matter. If I see a snake you’ll hear my scream three states away, and my sense of direction means any hike I take has a 50/50 chance of being a hunt for home. I’m probably the unlikeliest of people to be writing about the outdoors, let alone actually participating in outdoor activities.
I struggled with this fact for a while because I started feeling like a bit of a fraud. When I’m writing for the Outdoor Bloggers Summit I’m writing on behalf of the organization and I’m writing as a blogger. I have a lot of experience in being a writer, I’ve been writing one thing or another since I was six years old. I know how to write and I know how to give advice about writing and blogging and marketing. More to the point, I feel qualified to give advice and talk about writing. I feel like I’ve earned my spurs in that arena.
When it comes to the outdoors I’m not even sure I qualify for novice status. While there are things I want to try, there is also a lot of stuff about the outdoors (dirt, heat, snakes, animals that bite) that doesn’t appeal to me at all. There is also the fact that I support a lot of activities, say hunting for instance, and write about those activities, without ever having done them and without really being sure I will ever want to do them.
I think, sometimes, I feel a bit like Jody does, a trifle insecure about my status in this outdoor world that I’m just learning to know, a bit concerned that I might be trying to seem like something I’m not, and a little bit eager to see if I could be something more than what I think I am. If I’m being totally honest, there’s still a part of me that like the outdoors best when viewing it through a window. There is, however, also another part of me that wants to be out there, to test the limits of what I can do, or at least of what I want to do.
I’ve come to grips with the fact that I will never be the consummate outdoor woman. It’s taken a little longer to get comfortable with the idea that I don’t have to be. I guess I needed to hit myself over the head with one of the things that I so often say on the OBS blog, the outdoors is for everyone. There isn’t a prescribed way to enjoy it, and there isn’t a specified amount of time you must spend. Everyone goes about enjoying the outdoors in their own way, and that’s a good thing.
Now You See It, Now You Don’t
They say the first one always holds a special place in your heart. I currently write for five blogs, two of which deal with the outdoors, but the first outdoor blog I ever wrote, the Hunt Smart, Think Safety Blog, will always be special to me. I did a lot of good writing there, if I do say so myself, but more importantly it is where I learned that I might have a place in the outdoor world, and where I discovered that I did have more to say about outdoor issues than I’d ever suspected I would.
I started writing the blog in 2006. When I started I didn’t know what it would be. I wasn’t even sure I knew enough to write more than one post. The company was new, the product was new, and I was brand new to the outdoor world. The fact that I was even attempting to write a blog about outdoor subjects filled me with equal amounts of excitement and anxiety. What if no one wanted to read what I wrote? What if the outdoor community thought I was a fraud? What if the blog was no good?
In any case, I had a brand new job, and part of that job was publicizing an outdoor products company, and part of publicizing the company was writing this blog. So I wrote and I read a lot of other blogs and I left comments and slowly, very slowly, I started to carve a niche for myself in the outdoor world. I also slowly came to love that world. It wasn’t a world to which I had ever expected to belong, but I gradually started to feel that I had a place there. No one, trust me, was more surprised by that than I was.
Unfortunately, almost three years to the day after I wrote my first post on the blog, it became apparent that the company wouldn’t survive the economic downturn. The decision was made to shut things down, and the blog went dark. It has lingered in a kind of limbo these last few months, but I was informed today that the domains have been released. Pretty soon the blog will go dark for good.
When you put your heart and soul into something, and when you do what you know is good work, you want to believe that it will outlast you. I guess I’m now receiving a lesson in how impermanent the Internet can be. As proud as I am of the work I did on the Hunt Smart, Think Safety Blog and as much as I wish it could be available for years to come, it won’t be, and nothing I do can change that.
I guess in the end all I can do is be grateful that I got to write that blog in the first place. Everything else I’ve done in the outdoor world, the Outdoor Bloggers Summit, this blog, the friends I’ve made, all stems from that blog. Without it, none of the rest of this might ever have happened. As much as it pains me to see that blog go dark, and to see all the work I did disappear, I still have no regrets. Sometimes what you write on the Internet is fleeting, but that doesn’t make the writing any less worth doing.
Besides, if I want to write something that will be around forever, I could always write Turning Tricks in a Treestand.
After all, books stay around forever.
Don’t they?
Challenge Post: Fighting Like Susan
Stories of people who have triumphed over enormous odds have always fascinated me. I suppose, when you’ve faced some pretty steep odds yourself and come out the other side, you start to collect stories about others who have done the same. You study those stories, looking for tips and hints, maybe even looking for similarities, gaining hope and strength from the idea that what others have done, you can do too.
When I set the Fighting Like Susan Challenge before the OBS membership, I quoted one passage from the Fat Cyclist blog which I thought aptly summed up what this Challenge was about. The passage was this:
Susan’s part in the battle is over, but she didn’t lose. She led the charge. She showed the rest of us how to fight: with determination, focus, creativity, and outrageous endurance.
Now it’s up to the rest of us to Fight Like Susan.
Heroic people, inspirational people, often don’t know they’re heroic or inspirational. They’re just living their lives, doing the best they can and hoping to live the best life possible. That’s all Susan Nelson and her family were doing. That’s all Elden Nelson was doing when he started writing about Susan on his blog. I don’t think anyone knew what Susan would inspire or what the Fat Cyclist blog, and the readers of that blog would create. I’m willing to bet that the Nelson family would trade all of it to have their wife and mother healthy and whole and with them today.
When we think about fighting I’m guessing it’s the big battles most of us envision, but we need to remember that the big battles and the heroes everyone sings about aren’t the people who win the war. The people who win the wars are the people who are out in the trenches day after day, doing what needs to be done, taking their lumps as they come, and never, ever giving up. They don’t generally get a lot of recognition, and they don’t always win, but they keep fighting until there are no more fights left to be fought.
There are a lot of trenches still to be filled, and a lot of fights still to be fought. If you’re looking for ways to help in the fight against cancer, here are some places that can help you find ways to contribute:
Challenge Post: Not With a Mallet
Just over a week ago, I issued a Challenge on the OBS blog. The subject of the Challenge was one I felt strongly about, and one that I knew had impacted a lot of outdoor bloggers including myself. I figure some of the OBS members will write some very personal stories and given that, I feel it is only fair that I share mine.
My mother and I didn’t always have the easiest relationship when I was growing up. We were, to use a British saying, as different as chalk and cheese. Everything she cared about meant nothing to me. Everything I revered she thought odd. We spent a lot of time talking at instead of to each other.
If there was one comfort during the troubled years of our relationship it was this, I knew we had tons of time. After all, the women on my mother’s side of the family lived forever. In fact, I used to joke that you had to hit them over the head with a mallet to take them out. I had great aunts who lived into their late nineties. My maternal grandmother lived to be 98. I had no reason to expect or believe that my mother wouldn’t do exactly the same thing.
Until I did have reason.
Mom was diagnosed with liver cancer in the late 90’s. By the time they found it the cancer was very advanced. Liver cancer is also one of the hardest cancers to treat and has a very high fatality rate. The doctor who diagnosed Mom gave her six months to live. I’m guessing, privately, he thought she had less.
The cancer fought hard, but Mom fought harder and bought herself three more years. If it can ever be said that good can come out of something horrible, then those three years were an awful lot of good. Since I knew our time was limited, and that perhaps I wouldn’t have the luxury of years to make amends, I said what needed to be said, apologized when apologies were due, and got to know my mother in a way I never had before. It wasn’t all roses and sunshine, in fact a lot of it sucked monumentally, but I finally made peace with Mom and with myself.
Mom died in 2002. It wasn’t a gentle death or an easy one. The cancer robbed her of her speech and her coordination and finally her life. The jokes I’d made about having to take the women in my family out with a mallet suddenly didn’t seem so funny. At that time, pretty much nothing seemed funny.
My mother, Glenda Ackerman Shreve Fosgitt was 56 when she died.
We should have had more time, but cancer came along and suddenly everything was different.
Across the Great Divide
I’m a big believer in a community. If nothing else, the Outdoor Bloggers Summit is ample evidence of that. I believe that people who come together and work in harmony toward a common goal can do great things. I also believe that many people need to get their heads out of their asses and remember that simple fact.
In a time when there are a host of serious issues facing us on a number of fronts, many people seem more concerned with pointing out the differences that divide us rather than focusing on the similarities that bring us together. In the clamor of all the name calling and back biting and drawing lines between “them” and “us” the real issues get obscured. Suddenly the issue becomes whether you’re a “them” or an “us” rather than what skills or talents you can bring to the table to help solve the real issue at hand. It feels sometimes like the entire world has become a giant game of “Red Rover, Red Rover” except no one ever gets to cross over and make a connection with the other side.
Connections are important to me, and it angers me when other people’s perceptions of who I am or what I believe, based on no real knowledge of who I am or what I believe, get in the way of making a connection. Getting to know a real human being is a lot of work. Over the centuries it has become apparent that we’re always willing to take the shortcut of slapping a person or a group of people with a label and thinking that label tells us who they are, what they want and what they believe. It saves all the hard work of actually talking to someone and thinking about what they say. Heck, if you slap on a label you don’t actually have to listen at all.
If we’re going by the label system, I’m a whiny Liberal, or perhaps more Moderate, but certainly not Conservative. I’m a child of divorce, with an alcoholic biological father. I’m a sexual abuse survivor. I survived a year long depression in my early 20’s which nearly killed me, so I suppose I am, or was, mentally ill. I’m a writer. I like men rather than women, so I’m a heterosexual. I support hunting, so in PETA’s eyes, I’m a murderer. The list could go on and on and on.
The point I’m trying to make is that you might think all these labels tell you something about me, and that something will be positive or negative based on your own belief system, but in reality you really don’t know anything more about me than you did before. Each of those labels is just a fragment of my story and the only way you’ll know how they all combined to shape my personality and my beliefs is to put aside your preconceptions and talk to me in an open and accepting frame of mind.
Of course, the same goes for me. I try to be non-judgmental, but I’m sure there are times when I let someone’s professed beliefs or comments color how I think about them. Everyone does it, and it’s doing a lot of harm. What we focus on ideologies instead of ideas, we lose an opportunity to connect and work together to solve the issues that we face. When what one person believes about another person’s beliefs stops them from having an honest and open conversation, and finding the similarities in their differences, then we all lose.
I’m sure there are some who will read this post and think I’m a granola eating Liberal hippie, who is spouting peace and love and understanding 40 years after such things were fashionable, but that’s not my problem. I’m standing on one side of the divide and I’m reaching across.
I’m hoping to find some people out there who will reach back.
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