Debating the Debate (not the way you think)

Questions to ponder after last night's debate: When was the last time I changed someone’s mind? Persuaded a person with diametrically opposed views to see things my way? Convinced someone to abandon their core beliefs?

I mention these questions because here we go again. Another presidential debate. Instead of an evening of civil discourse, we, the American people (and the rest of the world), had front row seats to two individuals exchanging insults, lies, vitriol, accusations, and personal attacks, all of which will fuel further division.

And the debating continued long after the candidates walk off the stage.

In today’s world of Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, everyone has a voice. With posts, tweets and blogs, people are vying to be heard. With news broadcasts, radio programs, talk shows and podcasts, the entire country is talking. Everyone wants to offer their opinions, confer their beliefs, and promote their political agenda. And by golly, everyone better listen.

But what happens when what we are saying is not getting through? When our words scatter in the wind like confetti?

The talking gets louder. And faster. It becomes accusatory, dismissive, and very, very judgmental. The talking resorts to name-calling and labeling people as Democrat or Republican, Christian or non-Christian, middle class or poor, educated or uneducated. We reduce the entire essence of a person or group into one tiny label until that label is all we see anymore.

One cannot change someone’s mind by yelling at them, pointing a finger, or calling them names; one cannot solidify their position by toppling statues or breaking windows; it is impossible show someone the way when they have been shoved to the ground.

Civil discourse is a lost art, mainly because listening is a lost art. Once upon a time people listened with the intent to understand; but today people listen only to hear themselves speak.

So, after we witnessed yet another poor example of politics in America, ponder these questions instead: When was the last time I listened? Responded to what a person said rather than focus only on what I wanted to say? Explained my position without trying to push an agenda?

Conversed, rather than pontificate?

It is not an easy thing to do. Passion fuels our political ideals, but when we can acknowledge that passion and hate bubble forth from the same wellspring … well, maybe we should calm our bad selves down. 

"I love argument, I love debate. I don't expect anyone just to sit there and agree with me."

-Margaret Thatcher

The Most Perfect Saturday Morning

A perfect day is so subjective. It can depend on the weather, or whether you are on vacation, or if your favorite football team is winning. It can involve doing something grand, or nothing at all. It might involve sleeping in. Sometimes a perfect day is planned, while other times it is wholly unexpected.

As I type this I am reflecting on what was, without a doubt, a most perfect Saturday morning:

Sitting on the covered patio of my favorite coffee shop, sipping a cappuccino, listening to the drip, drip, drip of a lightly falling rain.

Walking around the downtown Farmers’ Market with my polka-dot umbrella.

Purchasing a miniature painting, not because I needed it, but because I knew it would make the vendor’s day—a sale when crowds were small due to the weather and competition from the annual Aiken's Makin’ Festival.

Listening to live music, the musician huddled under a tent. The music, sunshine on a rainy day, so a few bills in his tip jar to give him a little sunshine in return.

Purchasing the most perfect heirloom pumpkin, in the most perfect shade of verdigris and sporting the most perfect curlicue stem.

Typing this.

Reflecting.

Smiling.