Fitting Others Into Patterns: Judging

Fitting others into patterns can be another manner in which community life is destroyed. A while back my friend David Weddle and I were driving home from fishing.  I was sharing a poem with him about community life by William Stafford (see earlier post on community life). I was reciting the lines,

“If you don’t know the kind of person that I am and I don’t know the kind of person you are then a pattern that others made in the world may prevail”.

David said, “Say that last part again”. I repeated, “A pattern that others made in the world may prevail”.

David shared with me a valuable insight and  the significance of those lines as it relates to community life. He talked about “patterns that others have made” or what we call stereotypes. He talked about “Categories” or “patterns” that we “fit” people in to because we really do not know them. I could see how I have done this with people and how it is hurtful

“If you don’t know the kind of person I am and I don’t know the kind of person you are”,  is the beginning of the problem.  If we really don’t know each other then we are prone to judge and be judged. It is quite easy to do this if we really do not know the person we are putting in to a pattern. We just assume the person matches the pattern, a pattern that others have made.  And it is far easier to superficially match patterns based on past data, rather than get to know someone deeply.

Perhaps, as Christians we could take this a step further. As Christians we should know each other, or at least begin to know each other in the deeper sense of who we are in God. We should know each other as individuals with unique gifts and life experiences, but sadly even in church we rarely know each other at a deep level.  As the poet says, more often, "The parade of our mutual life gets lost in the dark", And no real community can be established. .

We judge others. I judge others. It happens often. If a group of people who do not know each other share what they do for a living, often people are categorized into a pattern or stereotype. The words: Lawyer, doctor, teacher,  preacher, professor, carpenter, business man, fly fishing guide, all can form images in the minds of listeners. We then might then think we know a pattern. We then categorize.

We even judge other fly fishers. We say things like, “He does not know what he is doing. He can’t cast. He only uses San Juan worms or egg patterns. He can’t use a dry fly. He fishes the same hole every time, (or ‘God forbid’), he uses bait and eats his fish”.

We even judge others for being judgmental. We think we  see a pattern and we just assume that a  person is judgmental.

What is strange is that we tend to think of our judgments and “categories” as being uniquely our own insight into the character of others. We think putting people into these patterns is a reflection of our own individualistic and independent wisdom. This leads to a certain sense of pride and smugness even though the reality is that often someone else made the pattern. Remember the words of the poet suggest we merely follow, “as elephants parade holding each elephants tail; . . . a pattern that others made may prevail” and “following the wrong god home we may miss our star.”

We see in the Gospels how Jesus was judged and “pattern-ized.”  If he was seen eating with the “wrong” people they put him into a category. He, more than anyone, knew the pain of not being known and misunderstood.  Strange how none of those patterns or categories fit him because he did not match any known pattern on Earth.

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And because we are at least in some small way,  “in God”, the patterns we think we see in others really don’t match either. As soon as we try to fit someone into a pattern or stereotype seemingly out of no where some thing from beyond the pattern rises as from a far off land  or as a trout rises, and we are pleasantly surprised and proved to be wrong.   

Fly Fishing Experts: How to Catch More and Bigger Fish?

Not really.

We live in a society where we practically worship gurus. It’s not really their fault. We prop them up. We prop them up in many areas of life. I hear of them in fly fishing, sports, fitness and finance and education. I hear about them on how to live the spiritual life. I hear about them in regard to how to catch more and bigger fish.

 I wonder why we do this propping up and putting folks on stage.  It is almost as though we have a neurotic need for gurus. We sit in workshops and classes and in church pews taking notes and listening to their every word. I guess I have grown skeptical of it all.

In contrast to guru idolization, I love the message of a rather cynical poem by Charles Bukowski titled “The Secret”.  In the poem he assures us that no one is really all that special and magical.

“Nobody has the strange and hidden power, Nobody is exceptional or wonderful or magic, they only seem to be. It’s all a trick, an in, a con, don’t buy it, don’t believe it” 

Maybe this idolization of gurus is symptomatic of the “Sibling Society” we now live in as described by Robert Bly (Sibling Society, 1996 Bly). If we are a bunch of little immature kids all competing for recognition and immediate gratification then the idea of having gurus fits in nicely. We blindly welcome this idolization of gurus because we think they will give us the edge over the other squabbling siblings.

In fly fishing, we think that the guru will show us magically how to catch more or bigger fish all the time. Just like magic.

In the spiritual life there is always some guru offering some new way to always be happy or blessed or fulfilled or on how to live a victorious life.  

Bly also describes this sibling society as one that “participates in more and more nonevents”.  A guru announces that he is speaking on how to catch more trout or bigger trout and the masses show up. But most often, it is another ‘non event.’ Nothing new or magical is presented.

In the field of education I wish I had a dollar for every workshop, taught by some expert, that I had to sit through on some new way to teach. Maybe I could have retired a few years earlier.

Perhaps in the end this is what the fly fishing and the spiritual life have in common. There is no magic. No one really has it all figured out whether it be about life or fly fishing. The truth is that we really don’t know a whole lot.  And on any given day we can find ourselves stripped of everything and overwhelmingly stumped. Completely humbled.  Fishless. Spiritually, financially and emotionally bankrupted.

There are no gurus. There are no guides.  Not really. At least not in the way we most often think.

Bukowski concludes his poem with this final thought.

“There are no strong men, . . . at least you can die knowing this and you will have the only possible victory”.

Educational Meander: How to Paint A Donkey? Unfolding Individuality in Teaching

This poem, “How to Paint a Donkey”, by Naomi Shihab Nye, describes an emotionally hurt child who could not paint a donkey pleasing to her teacher.

She said the head was too large,

The hooves too small,

I could clean my paintbrush,

But I couldn’t get rid of that voice,

While they watched,

I crumbled him,

Let his blue body stain my hand,

I cried when he hit the can.

She smiled, I could try again.

Maybe this is what I unfold in the dark,

Deciding for the rest of my life,

The donkey was just the right size.

The child heard the criticism of her teacher…

“She said the head was too large. The hooves too small”.

And as a result, she throws the painting away,

“I crumbled him.

Let his blue body stain my hand,

I cried when he hit the can”.

We can feel how personal this donkey was to this child. But it was not acceptable.

We are aware of the stereotype of the insensitive teacher being too critical of children but perhaps we are at a time when it is teachers who feel criticized for the way they teach. Many teachers are discouraged. In one way or another they are often being told that there is only one way to teach and their own personal way is not good enough. ~There is pressure to conform. ~As a result their own personalized art of teaching they once loved and embraced is being crumbled up and thrown in the can. ~

I don’t think we fully realize how if the vast majority of teachers have to conform to one style we are disempowering them of their passion, their gifts and their sense of belonging. We cannot continue to throw aside the unique personhood and style of the teacher.

What can we do?  Like the child in the poem, maybe we can find a quiet place in the dark and “unfold” what we have crumbled up and canned. We need to grieve over what we have thrown away and decide for the rest of our teaching career that our donkey was just the right size.

Lost On the River

But sometimes, lost
on his way to somewhere significant,
a man in a long coat, carrying
a briefcase, wanders into the forest.

He hears the voice,  . . .
he sees the thrush and the dandelion,
and feels the mist rise over the river.

And his life is never the same,
for this having been lost –
for having strayed
from the path of his routine,
for no good reason.

Michael Blumenthal, “A Man Lost By a River"

Dante spoke of awakening in a dark wood where the true way was wholly lost. This is the paradox of becoming lost but awakening, of being lost but of being found.  Jesus said he came to find the lost.

I think I was better at being lost when I was a kid than I am now as an adult. I would wander the hills fishing little ponds looking for bass. Some times I would get a bit lost looking for a way to fish someone’s private pond or I remember sneaking into reservoirs at night crawling under troublesome fences. Sometimes, in the darkness, I got lost trying to get back out.

In those moments of feeling lost, I don’t remember feeling fear or as though I was wasting time. It was all part of the adventure. I did not have to hurry up and get to a meeting as I do now. Maybe as a kid it was easier to find that different pace Thoreau spoke of and hear the beat of a different drummer.

As an adult, I now have to carry a brief case and wear a long coat. I don’t know if I could crawl under that fence with out that briefcase or the coat getting snagged on the wire. I don’t  know if I could stray from the path of my routine for no good reason. Now I have to stay on task, be responsible and "successful". 

I get the feeling that I am not alone in this and that perhaps many adults don’t know how to get lost anymore. It is as though there is not any  time to stray. One cannot afford to get off the main road.

So I ask myself. Can I put my brief case down?  Do I know how to get lost anymore?   Can I still wander the hills ?  Can I still wander into the forest and feel the mist rise over the river?

And if I could still stray from the routine, would my life never be the same for this having been lost?

Could I become lost so as to be  found?

Fly Fishing On Uncertain Terms

It doesn’t really matter what the arena is; The job,  fly fishing, sports, debating politics, teaching, or dealing with complicated moral  religious issues, I have often been perplexed by the certainty I see expressed in others. There seems to be little doubt.

I don’t know if I missed a seminar somewhere on positive thinking, self confidence or self esteem. Or, maybe it was a class on how to always know the absolute one way to live life and always catch fish.

When it comes to fly fishing (and for that matter many areas of life) it often feels as though it is a “toss up” whether I will catch the fish I am stalking. It also feels like a toss up if I am offering the right advice to a client I may be guiding or a friend I may be offering counsel.

Maybe it is an illusion, but often when I talk to others I get the feeling they sound so much more certain. . This seems to be particularly true if one is offering a service or selling a product of some kind. We seem to be getting the message that one better come across as certain or people will lose their confidence in you and what you are offering. But there is something that seems inauthentic about always being so confident.

Ironically, I find some comfort when I hear uncertainty in the voices of those I interact. In fact, I am far more comfortable and trusting being around people who are less certain. I get particularly uneasy when people confidently start pontificating what God’s will is.

In regard to faith, I think our uncertainty and our doubting can be an indication that our faith is more authentic and reverent. But, often, I guess I am not even certain of the value of my doubting.

During an evening church service, minister and friend Dave Shaw shared with us some thoughts about reverence. This theme of certainty and uncertainty and knowing or not knowing God’s will was at the core of the discussion. We seemed to share the idea that proper reverence of what God’s will might be has some level of uncertainty. And in a sense this admitting of uncertainty is reverence.

We ended the evening when Dave shared some words by Abraham Lincoln while he was struggling with some very tough religious moral issues of his day.

“They come to me and talk about God’s will …

Day after day, laymen and ministers , . .  

Defining me, God’s will…

But all of them are sure they know God’s will,

I am the only one who does not know it.

And yet if it is probably that God

Should, and so very clearly state His will

To Others, on a point of my own duty, It might be thought He would reveal it to me

Directly, more especially as I

So earnestly desire to know his will”

( Paraphrase by Stephen Vincent Benet in “John Brown’s Body”)

And those words strangely help me feel better about not being so confident in myself. 

Brutal Facts: Calling It Like It Is. Honesty In Guiding and Communities

Sometimes when you are fly fishing and you make a bad cast it is better to just call it what is. Something like, “Well, that’s not even close. That was terrible”. Or, sometimes with some sarcasm you might say, “Nice cast you only missed by 20 feet”. Then regroup and try again knowing the brutal fact of how badly you messed it up.

I remember years ago reading the quote from Jim Collins. He said, “First, we have to look at the brutal facts”. I like this idea.  There is something about direct brutal honesty in regard to where we are at that is “clean” and powerful. Call it like it is.  We can grow from such honesty.

Besides poking fun of myself when I make a bad cast or do something stupid in life, I even sometimes say such “brutal” things to my clients. “Now, what were you thinking when you slapped the line and fly on the water”? We laugh. Often such honesty is appreciated and trusted but of course like most things in life, discretion has to be used.  And jokingly casting such brutal facts is also a bit of an art similar to the art of delicately landing a dry fly above a trout in shallow clear water. 

I find that often in life instead of being honest and direct we dance around the truth. Consider the corporate work world. David Whyte in, “The Heart Aroused” describes how a friend working for a big corporation had to respond to a presentation by an important CEO. Everyone in the room had to cast a number from 0-10 on what they thought of the proposed plan. So, they went around the room. One by one, each person gave the proposal a ten even though everyone knew this project was a zero. His friend listened and considered the proposal.  In his heart he knew this plan would not work. It came time for him to cast his vote and like a little mouse he squeaked out, “ten”. 

We waste a lot of time squeaking like mice.

Often when it comes to our families and communities we don’t say what we really think. Many church communities are particularly good at pretending. The poet William Stafford calls such pretending cruel,

“Although we can fool each other we should consider” . . .

 “I consider it cruel and perhaps the root of all cruelty to know what occurs but not recognize the fact”. 

We pretend we don’t see the fact. We know what occurs but we don’t recognize it as a brutal fact. Such pretending only makes for a rather cruel situation as we remain lost in the dark. The power of the individual and his possible role and contribution to the community is lost.

1984 Fly Fishing; How Good Was The Fishing On The South Platte's 'Dream Stream' ?

 In George Orwell’s “1984” novel describing a dystopian society the main character Winston Smith is fascinated with what the past was really like. In his society all historical records have been fabricated and altered so he does not know what is true and what is propaganda.  Yet, Winston has “some kind of ancestral memory” of life being different and through out the story he seeks to know the truth.

In the novel, Winston seeks out an older gentleman and says, “You are very much older that I am. You must have been a grown man before I was born. You can remember what it was like in the old days. People of my age don’t really know anything about those times. We can only read about them in books, and what it says in the books may not be true. I should like your opinion on that”. 

As much as I hate to admit it, I am now one  of those older gentlemen who remembers what the fishing was like back in “1984”, or, if not specifically1984, then at least during  the 80’s and 90’s . And like Winston I too am seeking the opinion of others who may remember.

I can say with relative certainty that I have not seen the 'dream stream' as good as it was in those early years. Every run and riffle had dozens of large fish rising to tricos, caddis, PMD’s and midges. During the trico hatches it seemed as though the whole river was covered with hundreds and hundreds of rises. I don’t think I am distorting the past. I am sad as I remember. And I wonder what went wrong.   

As I lament the “good old days” for the dream stream I also think about what I can learn from this loss. Perhaps the most important issue is to know that there are no guarantees in regard to any high quality trout fishery. Just because a fishery is catch and release does not mean it will last forever. Tremendous pressure is placed upon our high quality waters.  While I do believe catch and release is our present day best solution and strategy for helping maintain a high quality fishery it is not the perfect solution. In my opinion more is needed to relieve the fishing pressure from the masses of fly fishers who hook and handle fish every day on such a river as the dream stream.

What can we do?  I think the first thing we need to do is to remember and lament what we lost.  Like Winston in 1984,  I ask older folks what they remember. What do you remember about the dream stream?  Then and only then can we figure out a way to bring it back.