The Tyranny of Choice (Part 3)

This is Part 3 in a Series.  Click to read Part 1 and Part 2.



Choice is a distraction, but it gradually becomes a tyrant. It creeps it's way into the commonplace corners then unassumingly takes over larger arenas.

The Fall of mankind occurred because of a devastating choice.  Eve chose to eat the fruit. She wanted it. It looked good. Why would God say she couldn't have it?

Please do not misunderstand.  Choices can be a very great blessing. Yet choice, like any good gift from God, can quickly usurp His place in our hearts.

And where it once was considered a privilege, choice is now regarded as a right.

The "right to choose" is the great justifier for snuffing out millions of little lights, for families crumbling to bits, for the re-sculpting of faces and bodies. Some parents are now allowing their young children to decide whether they want to be boys or girls as evidenced by the Girl Scouts accepting a seven year old boy into their ranks because he "identified as a girl."

We may choose to do with our bodies what we will, choosing to give it to anyone we like, yet we can also choose to eliminate the consequence of that giving with a simple stop at a clinic. We may choose who we wish to marry and just as quickly choose when to end it.  

We have fashioned choices to avoid the consequences of our choices.

We leave our jobs, leave our spouses, leave our gender and leave our unborn babies in trash cans because we have "the right to choose." WE are the authors of our own lives.

Choice is regarded as so intrinsic to well being that we sneer at cultures who still practice arranged marriages  or religions that discourage divorce. Choosing abstinence.  Choosing faithfulness.  Choosing loyalty.  These are questionable choices because they certainly couldn't generate happiness.  Could they?

These choices in our culture would suggest that we are happier.  Yet it doesn't work out that way.  Choice promises to make us happy, but it doesn't.

I am quite glad of the many choices I benefit from today.  Two hundred years ago my lot as a woman would have been quite limited. The ability to vote, go to college, marry whom I choose or pursue a career would be unlikely. I am grateful that I have these options, but could I say that my happiness entirely depended upon them? Doesn't that somehow bind the quality of my life to externals rather than internals?

Yet we cannot accept this.  If we end up unhappy it must be that we made the wrong choice.  So we shop for a new spouse, a new religion, a new couch.  If happiness eludes us there are always other choices available.

We cannot fathom the character building discipline of being able to accept our lot. Of being able to seek joy not in what we have but in who God is and who we are in Him. So choice continues to rule over us, preventing us from learning the true secret of contentment and averting our eyes from God.

To Be Continued




Photo Credit

Four

She got an umbrella for her birthday. 

It was the one thing she wanted.

She now spends hours hoping for rain.  Even dark clouds will do.

She also received two volumes of Shel Silverstein.  

Two volumes because, well, one can never have too much Silverstein.  

Her favorite poems are the most disturbing ones.  

She laughed when the page opened to this drawing.

And said she'd like to have this hat. 

Her own drawings have improved. I often find her huddled up in a corner devotedly sketching the things she loves. Trees, penguins, our family and furry Japanese forest spirits.

I asked her if she would share her umbrella with Totoro.  

She was understandably conflicted.

Yesterday she emptied her piggy bank and carefully counted each coin with her daddy.  We took her riches to the credit union where she proudly endorsed her first check.  She told the friendly teller that she liked her earrings and thought she looked "beautiful this morning."  Then she told her that her funny voice sounded like the Wicked Witch of the West.  I deflated.  Then I snatched up the innocence that trickled through the words. 

 That stream grows thinner by the day. 

She creates worlds I cannot see populated by friends whose names belong to no language but her own.  I have waited years for her to begin calling her invisible companions by names which are found in the known world.  I hope she keeps me waiting a few years more.  

I will miss Hulla, Hairydo and Flaxsa.

The booster seat is gone from the table.  The bed rail is permanently tucked away and each night she is tucked under a more sophisticated bed spread.  But she still wants her blankie beside her.  This helps soften the blow.

When asked her age at the library today she held up an extra finger.  

She doesn't even hesitate, as if she has spent her whole life preparing for this question.

                                                   

                                                   Those scratchy marks there on the wall,

                                                   They show how short I used to be.

                                                   They rise until they get this tall,

                                                   And Mama keeps reminding me

                                                   The way my dad would take his pen

                                                   And as I stood there, stiff and straight,

                                                   He'd put a ruler on my head

                                                   And mark the spot and write the date.

                                                   She says that it's my history,

                                                   But I don't understand at all

                                                   Just why she cries each time she sees

                                                   Those scratchy marks there on the wall.

                                                                                 Shel Silverstein from "Everything on It"

The Tyranny of Choice (Part 2)

This is Part 2 in a Series.  Read Part 1 HERE.

I often wonder why I am so happy in Uganda, why I feel so daily underwhelmed when in actuality everything is overwhelming. It is more than just loving the place and the people. It is something about the lifestyle I lead there.

Some say this is the "simplicity" of life in Africa.  By this I assume they mean the lack of material possessions, because life in Uganda, from all that I have seen, is not "simpler."  If anything it appears far more complex.

I do know what others are trying to convey when they say life is "simpler" in Africa.  They mean there is less stuff.   For Americans who practically swim inside a sea of belongings, the lack of material possessions in Africa can be refreshing.  Visiting Westerners are like hoarders tunneling out into the fresh air and realizing another sort of life exists.

I know that this clutter free life is one of the reasons I feel lighter while we're in Uganda, but that isn't the whole of it.  I feel lighter because while we're in Africa I don't have to make so many choices.

I eat what is put before me.  If we go to a restaurant there are only three or four options to choose from. My closet only houses a handful of dresses, half of which are usually dirty.  I don't have to choose from 8,000 movies on Netflix or 12,000 books at my library, what style of lampshade to buy at Target or brand of wash clothes to buy for which bathroom. I don't even have to decide which route to take into town because I don't drive there.

I hate shopping while we're in Uganda. I will often sit and wait for Scott as he makes his trips to the tourist and wholesale markets. I did not understand this atypical repulsion until recently. After all, why would I despise an activity I usually enjoy? What I realized is that I hate shopping in Africa because it forces me to make choices in a world where I am so comfortably choice free. The stakes of my choices there also feel incredibly high. Sales dramatically affect the lives of the sellers. How will I choose who to buy from? What will I buy?

There is a sort of freedom in Uganda as I am released from the multitude of choices I encounter day to day. It is like a cutting away of chaff, leaving substance in its wake. I am able to take the time, energy and stress I was expending on outward choices and turn it toward things of more significance. My soul, my relationships, my actual life.  I thought my life was enhanced by choices, but in truth they were distracting me from it.

"Is life not more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?"

To Be Continued

The Tyranny of Choice (Part 1)

Me and my sister at Disney Word circa 1991

On our family vacations, my parents always gave us spending money.  This, I suppose, eliminated the perpetual whining in retail stores and demonstrated to us the value of a dollar.  Standing at the gates of the Magic Kingdom, our little faces would tilt up expectantly to hear how much credit was going to be applied to our "account."

Within hours my sister would have typically blown every dollar she was given.  She'd prance around fantasy land in a flashy hat, clutching a stuffed animal with the tag still in it's ear.

In direct contrast, the last day of vacation always found me with every dollar still intact.  I agonized over the need to make a decision.  There were so many choices, good choices.  Would I make the right one? Perhaps around the next bend, the next park, there would be something even better. My parents, wanting to return home, would prod me to just "pick something already."  

I envied my sister's ability not to be tormented by the responsibility of choosing.  She acted and enjoyed.  I didn't act and even after acting did not always enjoy.

Every day we each spend a large amount of time making choices.  We open a closet full of clothes and debate over the shirt, pant, shoe combination.  Which cereal will we pour into which bowl?  Prior to this we had to make a decision at the grocery about which cereal to purchase.  There was an entire aisle full of different brands and several varieties within each of those.  Likewise we had to determine where we would buy the clothes hanging in our closets. Once at that destination we had to decide from racks of options what we wanted to purchase.

These are only the minute, mundane choices of daily routine.  Other choices range from modestly important to life changing.  What pediatrician to take your infant to, which college to attend, what church to join, who to marry.

All these choices can lead to a feeling of power.  They offer us the thrilling comfort of a customizable life that we believe we have relative control over.

But a handful of trips to Africa would be the breaking down of any power illusions I held.  At first I gained more gratitude for the choices available to me.  I got to live a life of variety, opportunity and potential.  Yet as I spent more time in Uganda a growing suspicion began to brood in my heart.  I started to wonder if I was the master of choice, or if choice, like in my childhood days at Disney World, was mastering me?

To Be Continued

My 2011 Reading Roundup

I'm back!  Busy season is officially over and that means I have rejoined society.  I'm kicking off  my blogging in 2012 with a look back at what I read during 2011.

This year was dominated by fiction.  I embarked on a personal goal to read all of the winners of the Pulitzer Prize for fiction. I have a lot to say about that task, but I will save those thoughts for another time.  For the moment I simply want to highlight a handful of my reading experiences in 2011.

Most Personally Beneficial: Bird by Bird

Bird by Bird was one of my few non-fiction reads in 2011. I was surprised I'd never read Anne Lamott's well known book about writing.  Bird by Bird was humorous, encouraging and very practical.  It came to me at just the right time.

In late 2010 I attended a seminar for writers.  It was a concise, no fluff day chock full of content, the thrust of which was on publishing.  It was all well and good, but I left feeling a little disenchanted.

The emphasis on publishing resulted in an emphasis on selling.  How you can sell your idea, sell yourself, etc. The art of writing was reduced to a means to an end. Yes, you had to be able to write decently to get into print, but publishers are more interested in unique concepts that sell books.  The writing is secondary, a mere tool.

I know I can be an idealist, but it felt cheap, like prostituting beauty.  I think there is a place for writing that is predominately informative and content driven.  However, this is not the kind of writer I want to be.

What I decided after that seminar is that above all I want to be a good writer. Being a published author would be swell, but the publishing isn't really my goal.  It's secondary.  My primary goal is to be good at my craft.

Lamott chooses in Bird by Bird to focus on the writing process rather than the publishing process.  She reminded me why I love writing.  Through her own stories and honest, self deprecating humor she provided the encouragement I needed to sit down and keep doing it.  What comes of it comes of it.

"Lighthouses don't go running all over an island looking for boats to save.  They just stand there shining."  This quote from the close of Bird by Bird has become my new mantra and daily assists me in eliminating the pressure while focusing on what really matters.

Most Frustrating:  The Help

Most of you already know my opinion of The Help by Katheryn Stockett.  No use belaboring it here.  My critique "Why 'The Help' Isn't Helpful" was my most popular blog post for 2011.  Still not sure how I feel about that, but I suppose it's evidence that controversy sells!

Most Enjoyed: Interpreter of Maladies

Lovely.  Simple yet complex.  Understated.  Rich.  These are all words I'd use to describe Jhumpa Lahiri's Pulitzer Prize winning short story collection, Interpreter of Maladies.  This small volume of stories strongly features Indians and/or Indian-Americans and their culture.  I am a sucker for cross cultural literature, but Lahiri's fine description of the inticacies of human malady is what thoroughly won me over.  It was a book about Indian-Americans, but mostly it was just a book about people.

The story "Mrs. Sen's" was a standout among the bunch.  It produced in me that singular feeling that only comes when reading something remarkably worded, a story beautifully told.  I sighed as I read the last line, and I sighed as the last story wove to a close.  I wanted more of them.  Very few works this year left me so satisfied yet still hungry.

Best Proof that it is Possible to Write Good Christian Fiction: Gilead

Marilynne Robinson won the 2005 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction with Gilead.  It is a memoir style novel, a diary written by an aging pastor for his young son.  It is explicitly Christian in character and tone.  It is the sincere heart of a godly man as he grapples with his heritage, forgiveness, and future of his family. I also think it mentioned...it won a Pulitzer.  It won some other notable awards as well.

To be honest, Gilead was not my favorite Pulitzer read this year.  I liked it, but did not love it.  Yet in a literary universe where Christian fiction predominately showcases saccharine plot lines starring women wearing bonnets, it was triumphant to read a REAL piece of Christian produced literature, a piece of Christian literature that won prominent praise in wide literary culture at that!  

Best Overall: A Visit from the Goon Squad

I didn't want to read Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad.  The title and the concept were not appealing, but it won the 2011 Pulitzer Prize so it was inevitable.

You shouldn't judge a book by it's title.  Or description.  If I had not been a prize winner I would have missed out on Goon Squad.  That would have been a shame.

Out of every book I read this year Goon Squad was without a doubt the most exquisite.  I cannot say that I loved it for the same reason that I love other great books.  I deeply admire it for the literary accomplishment that it is.

I would not recommend A Visit from the Goon Squad to most readers.  The extremely mixed reviews on Amazon.com testify that this book is controversial.   I think many would be put off by aspects of the content and characters, but most who dislike it just find it plain weird.  A Visit from the Goon Squad is certainly not traditional or conventional.

Some argue that Goon Squad isn't a novel at all, just a collection of related short stories.  It jumps from character to character, leaping through time and perspective, shifting tense and narrator as it goes.  Two main characters and a very solid directional theme hold all of these together, though.  I call it a novel.

It was the unique nature of Goon Squad that left me spellbound.  It was an inspired reflection of our time both in content and style. As I read it I couldn't help but think, this is the literature of NOW.  Each time I picked up my copy I was eager to see what Egan would do next.  Her work was gutsy, pioneering and could have been a dismal failure.  It takes a real master to execute something so original yet so classic.

There is an entire chapter written in power point slides.  Powerpoint!  To some this may seem like a cheap postmodern gimmick, but I couldn't help but love it.  As I read this section I was emotionally moved and kept reminding myself that all I was reading was a bunch of diagrams.  To accomplish character development through shapes and handfuls of words? Impressive.
  

Goon Squad also had an effect upon me that I am certain the author didn't intend.  It made me desperately glad to have Jesus.  There is a realism of pain, disappointment and hopelessness running through the pages. The Safari chapter in particular had a profound impact upon me. The effect of time and the consequences of choices/actions were presented with such tragic truthfulness.  This may depress others, but it infused me.  I became more grateful for the life I have in Christ.

It also renewed my desire to see others find life in Him as well.

What about you?  What did you read in 2011?  Anything you'd recommend or recommend others to stay away from?  I'd love to hear about it!


You can also keep up with my 2012 reading in the Shelfari widget in the sidebar of this blog!