OF REACHING AND GRASPING

As a general rule, I despise the comment, “there are two kinds of people in the world.” Such remarks usually serve as prelude to idiotic observations describing a two-dimensional reality painted in red and blue and populated with paper dolls. So imagine my surprise when I discovered that…I believe the world is made up of two kinds of people (Whitman said, “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself.”). There are reachers and there are graspers.

The differences between graspers and reachers are not easily discernible. They don’t have distinct speech patterns, body odors, or group affiliations (although some, like the leadership of the Southern Baptist Convention, are probably heavy on graspers). It’s just that there are people whose values trend toward a desire for certainty, finality, patterns, proof, knowledge, conquest, predictability, a sure-thing, tangibles, endings, decisions, efficiency, comfort, power, control, security, resting, precision, destinations, explanations, frowns, judgment, and big stuff. And there are those who seem to value risk, mystery, spontaneity, randomness, trust, adventure, beginnings, conversations, wandering, dancing, variety, diversity, long shots, underdogs, happy dogs, relationships, process, freedom, journeys, questions, laughter, grace, and small stuff.

Graspers are motivated by results, completion. Reachers are stimulated by impulse and whatever’s around the next bend. Of course all of us stumble around somewhere between reaching and grasping; but our hearts usually lie with one or the other.

I’m a recovering grasper. There was a time when I inhabited the far end of the grasping scale. I didn’t just hold on, I used my graspology as a cudgel to hammer people into my image. To know the truth and to bring others into submission to my version of it was my life’s mission. But I have been delivered (can I get an amen?). I suppose the source of my conversion may be the subject of future posts.

Don’t misunderstand me, I love graspers. Sometimes they have to hold on to the reachers in their lives to keep them from flying off the face of the planet. Grasping itself is not the problem. Like the overhead bars on the jungle gym, a strong grasp precedes a good reach. No grasp and you’re eating mulch. It only becomes a problem when we cease to reach. Like monkeys with trapped fists, unwilling to let go and be free.

Dan Fogelberg said it in bluegrass:

The higher you climb
The more that you see
The more that you see
The less that you know
The less that you know
The more that you yearn
The more that you yearn
The higher you climb

The farther you reach
The more that you touch
The more that you touch
The fuller you feel
The fuller you feel
The less that you need
The less that you need
The farther you reach

(“The Higher You Climb” High Country Snows © 1985 Epic/Hickory Grove Music-ASCAP)

It’s good to reach, but reaching can be dangerous. When we reach we stretch, exposing the weakest parts of the body to injury. Have you ever stretched out for something only to be poked in the ribs or otherwise taken advantage of while in a vulnerable position? It hurts. It also fosters distrust, making it less likely you will stretch as eagerly the next time.

I suppose that’s the beauty of reaching—it’s not without risk. We embrace the paradox and find our strength in weakness.

The aim of this web log is not to settle the issues of the day. The aim is to extend our reach. Who knows what I will be writing about? I suspect we will discuss religion, politics, culture, media, music, books, and the like. I will be too earnest and dramatic for some, while my natural flippancy and smartassedness will be a bit much for others. Sometimes I will be stretched out too far (or not far enough) for your tastes. Feel free to pull me in or push me further out. Just remember, watch the ribs.