Gary, part 3

From January 18.

Part 1 | Part 2

You called and left me a voicemail at 6:30 this morning. (my world rarely exists that early). I'd wondered if you would call. I woke up and saw the voicemail from an unknown 612 number, and I figured it was probably you. The first of many confessions: I confess I dilly-dallied listening to my voicemails, because not knowing was infinitely safer than knowing that you had actually called to ask if you could come to church with me.

Eventually I listened to to your message; you said you'd be out at the usual place. And I struggled. Actually I struggled all morning not even knowing for sure what the voicemail was. Because I realized I want a safe life. I want a comfortable life. I don't want to be pushed outside my comfort zone, and you push me outside my comfort zone. When I'm at church I want to do the things that I want to do and see the people that I want to see. I resolved that if I did bring you today, I would be selfish and tell you "I'm going to help tear down today, and I'm going to visit with my friends" and the killer is, I know you would have been okay with that.

I left home later than I'd planned, and plugged in my iPhone and listened to two songs, Brand New Day and Lord of Lords, and I was crushed by their lyrics:

This is our time, this is our time
To make a new tomorrow
This is our call, this is our call
Can you hear the sound of change
Kick down doors, tear down walls, bring light to the shadows
...
Will you join me in the streets, living out what you believe,
Cause it's who you're meant to be
Will you love a broken world, til the people are restored
And His truth is reigning

followed by:

I am Your servant
Come to bring You glory
As is fit for the work of Your hands

and I knew the answer to "what would Jesus do?" He'd be out there on the corner with you, He'd be talking to you there, He wouldn't be questioning it at all, it would have been an automatic response, but for me it is so hard. Crying from and cursing my naïve prayers in which I'd begged for a Spirit-led life, I realized my "default" action (the action I'd end up taking if I failed to make a conscious decision) was: I had to pick you up. I drove down to 46th, drove past the gas station, and you weren't there. I was later than you'd expected me, so I drove toward your new apartment, supposing maybe I'd find you walking that direction. No joy. I came back, parked, poked my nose in the Burger King, in case you'd gone inside to warm up. I couldn't find you.

I must make another confession: I felt relief. In fact I was hugely relieved. And I am so, so sorry that my response to not finding you resembled joyful peace instead of lament. You are a human being, and you deserved better. Once again I found myself praying: "Jesus, I'm sorry I'm not You." The more I read the Gospels the more it has become abundantly clear that Jesus loves and cares for the poor and the outcast. How then can I call myself a follower of Jesus if I do not follow His model?

So here we are. I can't call you back, because you don't have a phone, and you've called me from a different number each time. (actually, I did try: one number was answered by a squealing modem; another turned out to be the corner gas station, and so I asked the attendant that, if he saw you, to ask you to call me; and the third was some random dude's cell phone who'd let you borrow his phone only once, and was quite flummoxed why I was calling [understandable, sir - I readily admit it's a weird introduction to say "Hi, my name's Jeremy, and I gave a pan-handler my number and he used your phone to call me, are you still in contact with him?"]).

I've struck out. I don't have much left in the way of options for finding you. Worse, I feel like I bait-and-switch'd you; while bringing you to church with me once may have been being the "hands and feet" of Jesus for that one day, I know my behavior after that fell far short of ideal, and I'm sorry.

Despite my failure, I will allow myself at least a little bit of Grace, because of this: Monday, the day after I didn't bring you to church, I had a phone call with one of the pastors about his upcoming sermon, and he asked about you. He'd seen us together last Sunday, and he said he was moved, and challenged, and inspired. It left him asking a lot of questions about his own walk of faith. And from the comments on my Facebook wall from my previous blog posts, I know he wasn't alone. I've long believed (and experienced) that God brings people into our lives who will inspire us at exactly the right moment, often in a permanently life-altering way. Gary, whether we meet again in this life or not, you were a rock tossed into my life's stream, causing a splash, causing ripples, and permanently altering the face of the riverbed.

Audiobook reflection: Looking for Alaska

At the end of November I finished another John Green novel called Looking for Alaska (John Green also being the author of The Fault In Our Stars [which I read in 2014 but didn't blog about] and co-author of Will Grayson, Will Grayson, which I read not long ago). The story follows teenager Miles (nicknamed "Pudge," because he's actually very skinny) during his junior year at a boarding school away from home. He befriends prank-loving fellow students Chip ("The Colonel") and Alaska, and they have many adventures... I make it sound like an after-school special, but it's not, I just can't say much more than that without giving away half the story.

This author has an hilarious and often hyperbolic writing style that frequently cracked me up, even though I was listening by myself. For example, this quote:

He told me this while ripping through his duffle bag, throwing clothes into drawers with reckless abandon. Chip did not believe in having a sock drawer or a t-shirt drawer; he believed that all drawers were created equal, and filled each with whatever fit.

When I heard that, I thought to myself, "this reminds me a lot of how the author in Will Grayson, Will Grayon described his characters." Then I remembered, oh, right, same author! Not that I'm the pickiest critic ever, but seeing as this is book #3 of his that I've read in 6 months, I think that says something.

Much of the book's conversations and inner-voice monologues revolve around these two central quotes: Simón Bolívar, "How will I ever get out of this labyrinth?" and François Rabelais, "I go to seek a Great Perhaps." In a rather flippant way, I think those quotes aptly express the human experience: how do I deal with life, what is my Calling, what is my potential, where does it all lead?

While L4A can be vulgar, I agree with the author's comments that I found quoted on the Wikipedia article:

"Some people say, 'You wrote a dirty, dirty book.' But there are very old-fashioned values and even a lot of religion in it.... There are some adults who think that the only kind of ethics that matter are sexual ethics. So they miss everything else that is going on in the book."

The characters behave realistically, and more importantly, the story addresses some heavy hitting issues, like (spoiler alert) death. The book is divided roughly in half, with each chapter heading reading either, for example, "51 days before," or, "3 days after," with the central unifying event between those two halves being the death of one of the main characters' friends. Journeying with them on their paths toward healing is a powerful experience as a reader. I think this quote in particular captures something of what it's like to lose someone you care about:

I have lost something important, and I cannot find it and I need it. It is fear like if someone lost his glasses, and went to the glasses store, and they told him that the world had run out of glasses, and he would just have to do without.

What I really like, though, is that the author doesn't rush the characters through mourning. They get half the book to work through their five grief stages. I don't think enough stories give that necessary space.

On a last, happier note: I loved the religion teacher, Dr Hyde, who garnered a number of my favorite quotes (below). Also the narrator's choice of old-man voice for Dr Hyde was quite amusing, really helped sell his "get off my lawn" attitude.

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My favorite quotes

"So this guy... François Rabelais. He was this poet, and his last words were, 'I go to seek a Great Perhaps'" That's why I'm going. So I don't have to wait until I die to start seeking a Great Perhaps." - 5:05

He told me this while ripping through his duffle bag, throwing clothes into drawers with reckless abandon. Chip did not believe in having a sock drawer or a t-shirt drawer; he believed that all drawers were created equal, and filled each with whatever fit. - 17:08

Her library filled her bookshelves, and then overflowed into waist-high stacks of books everywhere, piled haphazardly against the walls. If just one of them moved, I thought, the domino effect could engulf the three of us in an asphyxiating mass of literature. - 23:36

"Have you really read all those books in your room?"
She laughed.
"Oh, God no. I've maybe read a third of 'em. But, I'm going to read them all. I call it my life's library. Every summer since I was little, I've gone to garage sales and bought all the books that looked interesting, so I always have something to read. But there's so much to do! Cigarettes to smoke, sex to have, swings to swing on. I'll have more time for reading when I'm old and boring."
She told me that I reminded her of the Colonel when he came to Culver Creek. They were freshmen together, she said, both scholarship kids with, as she put it, "a shared interest in booze and mischief."
The phrase "booze and mischief" left me worrying I'd stumbled into what my mother referred to as "the wrong crowd." But, for the wrong crowd, they both seemed awfully smart. - 33:03

You can say a lot of bad things about Alabama, but you can't say that Alabamans as a people are unduly afraid of deep-friers. In that first week at the Creek, the cafeteria served fried chicken, chicken-fried steak, and fried okra, which marked my first foray into the delicacy that is the fried vegetable. I half expected them to fry the iceberg lettuce. But nothing matched the Buffrito.... A deep-fried bean burrito, the Buffrito proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that frying always improves a food. - 37:55

"My name... is Dr Hyde. I have a first name, of course, so far as you are concerned it is 'Doctor.'" - Dr Hyde, 57:55

"...you may be smart, but I've been smart longer." - Dr Hyde, 59:03

This teacher rocked. I hated discussion classes. I hated talking and I hated listening to everyone else stumble on their words and try to phrase things in the vaguest possible way so they wouldn't sound dumb. And I hated how it was all just a game of trying to figure out what the teacher wanted to hear and then saying it. I'm in class, so teach me! And teach me he did. In those 50 minutes, the old man made me take religion seriously. I'd never been religious, but he told us that religion is important whether or not we believed in one, in the same way that historical events are important whether or not you personally lived through them. - 1:00:14

I learned that "myth" doesn't mean a lie. It means a traditional story that tells you something about people and their worldview, and what they hold sacred. - 1:01:41

"Jesus, I'm not gonna be one of those people who sits around talking about what they're gonna do. I'm just gonna do it! Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia.... You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it'll be, and imagining that future keeps you going but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present." - Alaska, 1:42:25

[Alaska] said that it was sexist to leave the cooking to the women, but better to have good sexist food than crappy boy-prepared food. - 2:54:58

People, I thought, wanted security. They couldn't bear the idea of death being a big black nothing, couldn't bear the thought of their loved ones not existing, and couldn't even imagine themselves not existing. I finally decided that people believed in an afterlife because they couldn't bear not to. - 3:11:23

...he really didn't seem worth hating. Hating the cool kids takes an awful lot of energy, and I'd given up on it a long time ago. - 3:31:43

There comes a time when we realize that our parents cannot save themselves or save us. That everyone who wades through time eventually gets dragged out to sea by the undertow. That, in short, we are all going. So she became impulsive, scared by her inaction into perpetual action. - 3:50:40

I thought, that is the fear. I have lost something important, and I cannot find it and I need it. It is fear like if someone lost his glasses, and went to the glasses store, and they told him that the world had run out of glasses, and he would just have to do without. - 4:29:38

She had proved to me that it was worth it to leave behind my minor life for grander maybes. And now she was gone, and with her, my faith in perhaps. - 5:25:02

You left me perhaps-less. - 5:25:31

"Karl Marx famously called religion 'the opiate of the masses.' Buddhism, particularly as it is popularly practiced, promises improvement through Karma. Islam and Christianity promise eternal paradise to the faithful, and that is a powerful opiate, certainly, the hope of a better life to come. But there's a Sufi story that challenges the notion that people believe only because they need an opiate. Rabi`a al `Adawiyya, a great woman saint of Sufiism, was seen running through the streets of her home town, Basra, carrying a torch in one hand, and a bucket of water in the other. When someone asked her what she was doing, she answered, 'I am going to take this bucket of water and pour it on the flames of hell. And then, I am going to use this torch to burn down the gates of paradise, so that people will not love God for want of heaven or fear of hell, but because He is God.'" - Dr Hyde, 5:27:48

The Buddha said that suffering was caused by desire, we learned, and that the cessation of desire meant the cessation of suffering. When you stopped wishing things wouldn't fall apart, you'd stop suffering when they did. 6:11:21

We'd failed, maybe, but some mysteries aren't meant to be solved. - 6:41:46

"You need not specifically discuss the perspectives of different religions in your essay, so no research is necessary. Your knowledge, or lack thereof, has been established in the quizzes you've taken this semester. I am interested in how you are able to fit the incontestable fact of suffering into your understanding of the world, and how you hope to navigate through life in spite of it.

Next year, assuming my lungs hold out, we'll study Taoism, Hinduism, and Judaism together."

The old man coughed, and then started to laugh which caused him to cough again.

"Lord, maybe I won't last! But, about the three traditions we've studied this year, I'd like to say one thing: Islam, Christianity, and Buddhism each have founder figures, Mohammed, Jesus, and the Buddha respectively. And in thinking about these founder figures, I believe we must finally conclude that each brought a message of radical hope.

To seventh century Arabia, Mohammed brought the promise that anyone could find fulfillment and everlasting life through allegiance to the one true God. The Buddha held out hope that suffering could be transcended. Jesus brought the message that the last shall be first, that even the tax collectors and lepers, the outcasts, had cause for hope. And so that is the question I leave you with in this final: what is your cause for hope?" - Dr Hyde, 6:48:32

"After all this time, it still seems to me like 'straight and fast' is the only way out. But I choose the labyrinth. The labyrinth blows, but, I choose it." - The Colonel, 6:51:08

He was gone, and I did not have time to tell him what I had just now realized: that I forgave him, and that she forgave us. And that we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day, things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future. If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can't know better, until knowing better is useless. - 6:54:46

Thomas Edison's last words were, "It's very beautiful over there." I don't know where "there" is, but I believe it's somewhere, and I hope it's beautiful. - 6:59:57

"I was born into Bolívar's labyrinth, and so I must believe in hope of Rabelais's Great Perhaps." - The Author, 7:03:03

Gary, part 2

From January 11.

Gary came to church today.

You called me last night around 9, asked if that offer to bring you to church was still good; I said yes, and you said you'd be in the usual place.

When I picked you up, I became grateful for my dull sense of smell. You had trouble moving, struggled again to put on your seatbelt. You hadn't had breakfast yet, so I gave you one of my "homeless bags" to munch on a cereal bar. You got to see me hand out a couple more during our drive. I got a quick update from you, too: you'll be moving into your apartment Monday morning - literally 24 hours from now your life will be different.

We got to church awkwardly early. No one at Jacob's Well shows up on time (granted: hyperbole), but we were like, 15 minutes early. I clearly miscalculated this. If I'm honest, I was hoping we could sneak in unseen. You wrestled your way out of my car. When we got in the door, I introduced you to ... was it Melissa? Someone. "This is my friend Gary". You mumbled something incomprehensible, because the band was still rehearsing and the music drowned your words. You meandered painfully slowly to the coffee table and poured yourself some of that black bitter water.

We found a seat in the corner where you could stretch out your legs. Is it wrong I'm grateful you didn't want to sit in the front row? I told you you were more than welcome to refill your coffee during the service; what I didn't anticipate was your difficulty navigating stairs - you less-so walked down and more-so fell-down them, but maintained vertical-ness with assistance from your bent and dented cane (apparently another taxi hit you in the last few days, adding another reminder of life's unfairness to your already-battle-scarred cane).

You talked to me a little too loud during the songs - or maybe, just maybe, I was being extra sensitive and fearful of people judging me. (why? because I'm overly concerned with other peoples' perceptions of my delicately crafted external persona; because I live in America and that's what we do).

I was eternally grateful when my friend Chris came and sat with us, so I wasn't alone.

In his sermon, Greg told us a story about his family driving back from Wisconsin 15 years ago. They were already running late, traffic was backed up, but they still stopped to help an old man change his tire on the side of the road. 15 years later none of them remember where they were coming from or going to or what happened because they were late, but they ALL remember stopping to help that man. This was, as Greg called it, one of those "damn you Jacob's Well!" moments :) Seemed timely. I think I just took a crash course on learning that lesson for myself.

Church ended, I wanted to catch up with a couple people, you said take my time, while you downed some more of that gross black caffeinated liquid. You handed me your cup to throw away, and said you'd meet me at the door. I came back to see you eyeing up the steps, bracing yourself, and performing your [scarily dramatic, Gene Wilder/Willy Wonka-esque] fall-rather-than-step act. Well, except I'm sure it wasn't an act. You stuck your landing, vertical still, a good 6 feet from the base of the steps. So awkward. I look around. Yep, people saw. Awkward awkward awkward.

Melissa came up and asked if you were new, and gave you a small bag of chocolates as a "welcome to Jacob's Well" gift. At which point you decided you couldn't wait 1 minute 'til we got to my car, but instead needed to stop walking, open the bag [agonizingly slowly] and eat them right there, in the middle of the exit pathway. I admit: I just wanted to go, I just wanted to get myself out of that situation. Because I much prefer ministering to people of my own financial class. It's easier, it's less scary, and it's less uncomfortable. You pushed my comfort zone.

I had to buckle you in and get out to close your car door for you. On our ride back you asked about my evening church; I tried nonchalantly to say "I'm meeting a friend beforehand for a movie," aka, 'please don't ask me if you can come with, please please please...' Because I was embarrassed. That whole comfort zone thing, remember? And you telling me about your medical issues, how much your stomach hurt, how you'd started bleeding again last night (don't know where, don't really want to know, just please don't bleed on my 1-year-old car! #firstworldproblem), and how you expected to end up in the ER [again] today, and maybe it's all hyperbole but it makes me uncomfortable and I'm not used to dealing with this!

Yet at the same time... I know that the Jeremy today has seen tremendous growth from the Jeremy of ten years ago. I remember in 2004 when I met my friend Matthew, he would stop and help people on the road, all the time. He told me he actually expected he'd die in the midst of trying to help people, like breaking up a bar fight and getting shot, or getting hit on the side of the road trying to help a stalled vehicle; for all his human faults, I have always admired about him his willingness and constant availability to offer help. I also always thought, "I can never be that, that would scare me too much." And now, slowly, I am becoming that person.

Last week, I was driving home, it was close to or past midnight, and I stopped to fill up with gas. A couple mid-late-twenties men approached me asking if I had jumper cables. Based on how they were dressed frankly I thought they were hoodlums looking to jump me instead of their car, but turns out they were actually nice people truly just trying to get their car started. I didn't have cables, but I did happen to have a portable battery jump-starter thing my Dad got me for Christmas, that I thought I'd never use. Well, two and a half weeks post-Christmas, on a bitterly cold night, it enabled me to help some strangers in need. Thank you, Dad.

So here I am, becoming who I want to be, inspired by people like Matthew, and Darrell. To some degree, living out Matthew 25:34-40 (the whole "whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me" thing). I still find myself praying, "Jesus, please forgive me, because I'm not You. I know You would have put your hands Gary and healed him, and invited him to Your home, You would have said 'let Me take care of you,'" and I couldn't bring myself to do that, because there's still a lot of selfishness in me. So, Jesus, I know I didn't ace this one. Probably only got a C-. But that's a few steps above an F, so let's call that progress, okay?

Audiobook reflection: Predictably Irrational

Way back around Thanksgiving I finished reading (aka "listening to") Predictably Irrational, a book about "behavioral economics," or, "human judgement and decision-making," written by professor of psychology Dan Ariely. For a more complete description of his experiments and conclusions from the book, check out the Wikipedia article, or the book's website, http://danariely.com/tag/predictably-irrational.

Some points that jumped out at me:

• Pulling bandages off patients slowly causes less overall suffering [for the patient] than ripping them "quick like a band-aid." (the author himself was once burned head-to-toe, so has personal experience, in addition to his scientific research, to attest to this)
• The idea of a "hot state" vs a "cold state," with regards to anger, arousal, road rage, etc. (hint: always better to make decisions in a cold state, aka, not in-the-moment; this can be applied to interpersonal relationships as well as purchasing decisions)
• Perceiving ownership: once you perceive ownership of a thing, it becomes a real loss psychologically to lose it, even if you never actually owned it. For example: bidding in an auction, you start to think of the thing as yours, emotionally disposing you to fight for it when another bidder outbids you - even though you don't own the item yet, you perceive a "loss" of the item when you're outbid. Other examples included having a 30-day free trial, or a money-back-guarantee.
• Owners attribute higher value to an item than non-owners. For example, a house owner views his/her home with a higher value than a prospective buyer, partly because of their emotional investment. Same with a car. Dan proposed a goal challenging himself to approach everything as a non-owner. This is something I'll need to bear in mind next time I'm buying something expensive, or trying something out (such as right now, as I've engaged in a 30-day free trial of Amazon Prime).
• He oft used the word Orwellian, which is a phenomenal word and I must start using it more myself.
• Regarding prescriptions and over-the-counter medications, "...you get what you pay for. Price can change the experience." (meaning psychologically, not in actual quality of the medicine)
• They saw similar results in studies conducted with pain meds, drinking wine, and eating food - the presentation (such as using the right wine glass, or charging more for a brand-name medication) changes our perception of quality, even while in their double-blind taste tests of the same, participants reported no differences.

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My favorite quotes

Humans rarely choose things in absolute terms. We don't have an internal value meter that tells us how much things are worth. Rather, we focus on the relative advantage of one thing over another, and estimate value accordingly. For instance, we don't know how much a 6-cylinder car is worth, but we assume it's more expensive than the 4-cylinder model. - 22:27

Most people don't know what they want unless they see it in context. We don't know what kind of racing bike we want until we see a champ in the Tour de France ratcheting the gears on a particular model. We don't know what kind of speaker system we like until we hear a set of speakers that sounds better than the previous one. We don't even know what we want to do with our lives, until we find a relative or friend who is doing just what we think we should be doing. Everything is relative, and that's the point. Like an airplane pilot landing in the dark, we want runway lights on either side of us, guiding us to the place where we can touch down our wheels. In the case of The Economist, the decision between the Internet-only and print-only [subscription] options would take a bit of thinking. Thinking is difficult, and sometimes unpleasant, so The Economist's marketers offered us a no-brainer: relative to the print-only option, the print and Internet option looks clearly superior. The geniuses at The Economist aren't the only ones who understand the importance of relativity. Take Sam, the television salesman. He plays the same general type of trick on us when he decides which televisions to put together on display. A 36" Panasonic for $690, a 42" Toshiba for $850, a 50" Phillips for $1480. Which one would you choose? In this case, Sam knows that customers find it difficult to compute the value of different options. Who really knows if the Panasonic at $690 is a better deal than the Phillips at $1480? But Sam also knows that given three choices, most people will take the middle choice, as in landing your plane between the runway lights. So guess which television Sam prices as the middle option? That's right, the one he wants to sell. - 23:43

It has been shown repeatedly that the link between amount of salary and happiness is not as strong as one would expect it to be. In fact it is rather weak. Studies even find that countries with the happiest people are not among those with the highest personal income. Yet we keep pushing toward higher salary. Much of that can be blamed on sheer envy. As H. L. Mencken, the 20th century journalist, satirist, social critic, cynic, and free-thinker noted: "a man's satisfaction with his salary depends on" - are you ready for this - "whether he makes more than his wife's sister's husband." Why the wife's sister's husband? Because - and I have a feeling that Mencken's wife kept him fully informed of her sister's husband's salary - this is a comparison that is salient and readily available. Now that you know this fact, and assuming that you are not married, take this into account when you search for a soul-mate. Look for someone who's sibling is married to a productivity-challenged individual. - 46:37

...we can actively improve on our irrational behaviours. We can start by becoming aware of our vulnerabilities. Suppose you're planning to buy a cutting edge cell phone... or even a daily $4 cup of gourmet coffee. You might begin by questioning that habit. How did it begin? Second, ask yourself what amount of pleasure you'll be getting out of it? Is the pleasure as much as you thought you would get? Could you cut back a little and spend the remaining money better on something else? With everything you do, in fact, you should train yourself to question your repeated behaviors. In the case of the cell phone, could you take a step back from the cutting edge, reduce your outlay, and use some of the money for something else? And as for the coffee, rather than asking which blend of coffee you will have today, ask yourself whether you should even be having that habitual cup of expensive coffee at all. I am not claiming that spending money on a wonderful cup of coffee every day, or even a few times a day, is necessarily a bad decision. I am saying only that we should question our decisions. We should also pay particular attention to the first decision we make in what is going to be a long stream of decisions, about clothing, food, etc. When we face such a decision, it might seem to us that this is just one decision, without large consequences. But in fact, the power of the first decision can have such a long-lasting effect, that it will percolate into our future decisions for years to come. Given this effect, the first decision is crucial, and we should give it an appropriate amount of attention. - 1:31:36

...you can maintain the status quo with a 20 cent fee, as in the case of Amazon's shipping in France, or you can start a stampede by offering something free. Think how powerful that idea is. Zero is not just another discount. Zero is a different place. The difference between 2 cents and 1 cent is small, but the difference between 1 cent and zero is huge. - 2:05:51

Money, as it turns out, is very often the most expensive way to motivate people. Social norms are not only cheaper, but often more effective, as well. - 2:45:30

...understanding arousal's impact on behaviour might help society grapple with some of its most difficult problems, such as teen pregnancy, and the spread of HIV/AIDS. There are sexual motivations everywhere we look, and yet we understand very little about how these influence our decision-making. - 2:50:43

A recent study found that a teenager driving alone was 40% more likely to get into an accident than an adult. But with one other teenager in the car, the percentage was twice that. And with a third teenager along for the ride, the percentage doubled again. - 3:12:38

It may be that our models of human behaviour need to be rethought. There is no such thing as a fully integrated human being. We may, in fact, be an agglomeration of multiple selves. Although there is nothing much we can do to get our Dr Jekyll to fully appreciate the strength of our Mr Hyde, perhaps just being aware that we are prone to making the wrong decisions when gripped by intense emotion, may help us in some way to apply our knowledge of our Hyde-selves to our daily activities. How can we force our Hyde self to behave better? - 3:16:54

Interestingly, these results suggest that although almost everyone has problems with procrastination, those who recognize and admit their weakness are in a better position to utilize available tools for pre-commitment, and by doing so help themselves overcome it. - 3:29:48

Resisting temptation and instilling self-control are general human goals, and repeatedly failing to achieve them is a source of much of our misery. When I look around, I see people trying their best to do the right thing, whether they are dieters vowing to avoid a tempting dessert tray, or families vowing to spend less and save more. The struggle for control is all around us. We see it in books and magazine; radio and television airwaves are chocked with messages of self-improvement and help. And yet, for all this electronic chatter and focus in print, we find ourselves again and again in the same predicament as my students: failing over and over to reach our long term goals. Why? Because without pre-commitments we keep on falling for temptation. - 3:30:16

When it comes to medicines, then, we learned that you get what you pay for. Price can change the experience. - 5:30:46

If I were to distill one main lesson from the research described in this book, it is that we are pawns in a game whose forces we largely fail to comprehend. We usually think of ourselves as sitting in the driver's seat, with ultimate control over the decisions we make and the direction our life takes. But alas, this perception has more to do with our desires, with how we want to view ourselves, than with reality. - 7:17:22

A second main lesson is that although irrationality is commonplace, it does not necessarily mean that we are helpless. Once we understand when and where we may make erroneous decisions, we can try to be more vigilant, force ourselves to think differently about these decisions, or use technology to overcome our inherent shortcomings. - 7:19:22

Gary

Driving home from my lawyer, wrapped up in my own world's concerns, I drove past you. In fact I planned to blow right on through the next green light, desperately wanting to ignore what I knew already was the Spirit's nudge. Surrendering with an exasperated [and audible, to an empty car] "fine," I signaled right, pulled around the block, and found you where I'd seen you, leaned up against a sign pole.

I opened my passenger window and leaned over to hand you a bag of snacks; you leaned against my car to take it, shaking from the bitter cold. It's 2 degrees right now. Colder with windchill.

"It's too cold out here, man; you gotta get inside. Where are you gonna spend the night?"
"Don't know," you said, ignoring a snotsicle clinging on your mustache.
"I can give you a ride to a shelter," said I, foolishly and naively trusting. (thank you for not murdering me, by the way) You described your choices - one shelter was $15 for the month, another was free, over in St Paul. I said I'd pay the $15 if you wanted. You liked the one in St Paul better. Dorothy Day, you said it was called.

I unlock my car to you, a stranger, a stranger I picked up off the street. You stumble inside, battling unwilling legs, a dented cane, and layer upon layer of coats; I help you fasten your seat belt, because your hands are frozen, while my nose notices you've fill my car with the smell of smoke. But I guess that's your only relief from life, isn't it? I turn the fans on high, for the luke-warm air to thaw you; at least it's warmer than outside.

"You'll need to give me directions to the shelter, okay?" Huh. What you're describing sounds like the building I drive by every day on my way home from work. (and, turns out, it was)

What's your name?

Well, Gary, it's nice to meet you. You're a human being.

You said "thank God," and told me this was a God thing. You have no idea... or maybe you do... how right you are. I mean, I was ready to leave you behind, let you fend for yourself. Now I'm fighting back tears, my heart breaking as I listen to your story. You served in the marines, then the navy, for 19 years. Now for want of $25, your savings wasn't quite enough to pay your first month's rent at the new apartment building, and payday's 10 days away. You left your old one because you could smell the crystal meth they were making, and you've been clean so many years you couldn't let yourself go back to that lifestyle. So tonight you're homeless. But you're not bitter; and that amazes me.

Do you have a church you go to? No, but you're looking. What kind? A Baptist one. Hmm. I don't know many. You've been a Christian most of your life. Well... come check out mine?

Your stomach's starting to hurt. Maybe it's the cancer. I didn't quite follow all the details, just saw that you were in pain.

Nearing the shelter, I check my wallet. I don't usually carry cash, but I have exactly $25. Exactly the amount you need. It's yours. Yeah, I agree, it is a God thing.

You want my number? Here's my card. You say you'll call me tomorrow from the doctor's office, I think you want to prove to me that your story is real. I didn't say it to your face, but - I choose to believe you. I did say, though, that you're welcome at my church, and I can pick you up. Sounds like you might take me up on it.

As you leave, once again willing your legs over the rim of my car's doorway, you make it into a fully upright, and look back. I look into your eyes, again acknowledging your humanity. I sincerely meant it when I said it was a pleasure to meet you. Because you are an eye-opener for me.

I wait, watch to make sure you get inside without falling, then pull away.

Now I'm driving home. Run my hand through my hair. I don't know what to do with this experience. It affected me deep down, and I don't know how to handle it. I want to break down in sobbing. I want to fix it. I want to escape it because sitting with you in my [let's face it, rather luxurious] car was not just "kind of" awkward, it was full-on "my life's so easy compared to yours" awkward. My problems? I forgot all of them.