WORD

As a teacher and scholar of rhetoric and the use of public words, I am loving the way the Democratic primary distinctions are revealing themselves. It appears that it is becoming a choice between words and action. Of course, it's not really that simple, those with nice words also have deeds, and those with records of accomplishment also are fine crafters of language. But, this exchange in last night's debate was telling.

Hillary:

So you know, words are not actions.

And as beautifully presented and passionately felt as they are, they are not action. You know, what we've got to do is translate talk into action and feeling into reality. I have a long record of doing that....

Obama:

[T]he truth is actually words do inspire. Words do help people get involved. Words do help members of Congress get into power so that they can be part of a coalition to deliver health care reform, to deliver a bold energy policy. Don't discount that power, because when the American people are determined that something is going to happen, then it happens. And if they are disaffected and cynical and fearful and told that it can't be done, then it doesn't. I'm running for president because I want to tell them, yes, we can. And that's why I think they're responding in such large numbers.

Now, for the record, I am no fan of bluster or sophistry absent substance and follow-through. However, Obama's speech is much more than that. Who accused of FDR ("We have nothing to fear..."), JFK ("Ask not..."), or MLK ("Ihave been to the mountaintop.") of empty speech, simply because they sounded good and galvanized a society around a shared vision of hope and nobility? What's so wrong with a leader rising up who can use the power of speech to make us all believe we can do better and become better? Sure, if there was incompetence or other suggestion of an inability to back it up, it would be nonsense; but there is no evidence of a weak mind or soft resolve in this case.

Ultimately, it's about cynicism. The jaded among us scoff and sneer at the pollyanna notions of transcendence and imagination, opting for the verifiable pragmatism of the known quantity. It is a fair and reasonable reaction. But, if we hope to leap ahead, rather than crawl, we have to believe.

I'm ready. Word.

FIRED UP?

Ready to go.

RESOLVE

Some time ago I encouraged my sister (some of you may recognize her comments...she goes by, um, "Sister") to guest author a little sumpin' sumpin' for this sorry excuse for a blog. Just in time, she rises to the occasion.

December 2007

Resolutionary

I'm not big on making New Year's resolutions. Seems like a big set-up for failure, if you ask me. Ever so much better to do well that which no one expects than to fall short of achieving lofty goals, yes? This new year, however, I find myself approaching with something that feels suspiciously like resolve.

Clearing out has been a big theme with me for some time now. Digging deep and challenging those internal beliefs that no longer serve me and definitions that no longer know me. Cleaning out and discarding (or selling on E-Bay! Check it out!) physical items that are cluttering my living space and blocking my energy. Revamping what sort of things I do in exchange for a paycheck. Clearing out the old to make room for the new has laid claim to my dreams, my meditations, my prayers and my time.

It's good work, but hard.

The physical clearing out forces me to deal with packed away remnants of a former life. The emotional remodel entails somewhat painful excavations of long-held certainties of who I was and what and why. Spiritually I'm questioning everything and trying to Be Still and listen long enough to hear the answers. I'm not as sure of myself as I once was and I'm teetering, slightly off-balance in the upheaval. Yes, it's hard. Hard, but necessary if forward motion is to be achieved.

Yesterday I noted (for the hundredth time) a very large, very dead tree along the fence row of the pasture behind my house. I thought (for the hundredth time), "That tree really needs to come down," but then (for the hundredth time) went on about my business, forgetting it until the one hundredth and one time it catches my attention.

This morning as the coffee brewed and I stared absentmindedly out the kitchen window, I saw the pasture that was clear the day before now littered with branches and trunks and vines. Sometime in the night the tree that needed to come down did so with a crash, taking a couple of fence panels out with it. Now any plans I had for the day have been scrapped. I'll be bundled up in the cold sunshine, cutting up dead wood and repairing fence.

Already though, as too-hot coffee scalds my tongue and I gaze at the woods where decay had been taking center stage, I can see how much more pleasing that portion of the landscape is with barrenness erased. Already I can see how accustomed I had become to believing beauty was out of sight. Already it's better. All that's left now is work.

And I can do that. Oh,yes. That I can do.