Canoe Maps

A bit of advice given to a young

Native American at the time of his initiation:

As you go the way of life, you will see a great chasm.

Jump. It is not as wide as you think.

                                                            ~ Joseph Campbell

Being responsible sometimes means pissing people off.

                                                 ~ Colin Powell

It is a curious thing, Harry [Potter], but perhaps those who are

best suited to power are those who have never sought it . . .

We're all human, aren't we? Every human life

is worth the same, and worth saving.

                                              ~ J.K.Rowling

Anyone who canoes in the BWCA Quetico-Superior Wilderness Area has had the experience of portaging into the next lake – and scanning the opposite shore to discern where the next portage might be. And faced the confusion of water stretching before them in an unfamiliar lake strewn with islands, bays, and inlets.  Out come the canoe maps!

Canoe maps for this beautiful country are not like those street and road maps we stuff into crowded glove-compartments in our cars. Canoe maps are sturdy, waterproof all-weather maps. Depending on the area represented, they often indicate no roads. Just myriads of lakes dotting the North Woods of Minnesota and Canada’s Ontario Province.

Native people and the first white explorers of this wilderness - and the far reaches of Canada’s Northwest Territories and Nunavut - had no such maps. They navigated by the stars,compasses that could be unreliable because of the magnetic quantities of the rocky country, or by hit-and-miss methods. Sometimes they would have to backtrack when the chosen route became impassable. Oral history passed on from generation to generation was another way to choose which route to take – or to avoid.

Gradually, the canoe maps we know today were meticulously created. These maps have become an essential part of the gear a person packs before venturing into what was once uncharted land. Too bad we don’t have dependable canoe maps to navigate today’s complex world!

Fifty years ago, three very different leaders led us into uncharted waters - and changed the course of history. Each of them ventured into unfamiliar territory without the benefit of canoe maps to find their way. At the end of August 1963, Martin Louis King Jr. gave his I Had  Dream speech from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. A few months later, President Kennedy was assassinated. And Nelson Mandela was sentenced to life in prison and transferred to Robben Island. 

The chaos of the 1960’s stemmed from overly conformist societies of the previous decade. As people lurched forward to more egalitarian ways of living with each other, the call for cultural change was a principle driver. The charismatic voices of King and Kennedy, and later Mandela, inspired people to take action.

Cultural anthropologists speculate about how people of pre-history survived in the hostile environments that they roamed. These peoples' very lives depended on cohesiveness of their clan or family group because surviving alone in the wilderness was unlikely. Being outside the norm probably meant being ostracized or exiled from the group. 

What I find particularly interesting about this theorizing is the idea that being seen as an exceptional person could be as damaging to the clan or family as not carrying one’s weight. Being more powerful or more skilled than others could arouse envy and create struggles for power.

Valued qualities for these early people were not about being visionary, strong-minded, or powerful. Conformity to group norms was probably the most desired quality. Martin Luther King, John Kennedy, and Nelson Mandela would not have fared well in these early times! They probably would have been seen as dangerous - and been banished from their family or clan group.

Each of these three contemporary leaders had a dream that went far beyond insuring survival within  a tight circle of conformity. Each of them envisioned how to make the world a better place. They embodied the courage to forge ahead into uncharted place - without the benefit of meticulously drawn maps.

But the crucial question in 2014 is what kind of leadership is called for today. Certainly not the conformity thought to be characteristic of pre-historic cultures. And perhaps not the style of leadership of these three very different men.

Mandela, King, and Kennedy embodied an illusive quality. They had the courage to stand outside their particular cultural context. Mandela, during his years in solitary confinement, reversed his early beliefs about how to make change happen. Kennedy, who had wealth beyond imagining, could have pursued pleasure or become a high financier. King, a black preacher from the heavily racist South, burned with the inequities of social justice.

Each of their leadership styles was vastly from the conformity valued by pre-history’s people. In the last fifty years, issues no longer were about the physical survival of one’s social group, but about interlocking connections among diverse groups. The world has continued on after their respective deaths – but at the same time, the world was changed forever.

Does leadership evolve over time?  Although we can learn from history, hat worked at various of periods does not give an enduring pattern for leadership that works. The question is what is needed today - now? Nostalgic emulation of these three men does not answer the question of what kind of leadership is called for today.

Edward Snowden’s actions have generated much strong discussion. For some, he is a traitor – pure and simple. For others, he is a hero - because his actions have been the impetus for critical discussions about the limits of privacy and the security of our country. I had to laugh a couple days ago at the headline for an article, which asked if NSA was spying on members of Congress. While I'm wondering about the degree I am tracked by retailors, who have me profiled down to my little toe.

Does Snowden represent a new form of leadership? Or is it John Boehner herding cats – the three disparate groups within the GOP party? What about Wall Street brokers – is this a new form of economic leadership? Is leadership about being the head of a tech company, providing new products that dazzle and seduce us? 

Does Pope Francis' mild manner that contrasts with his decisive actions convey a counter-cultural vision for the world? Should we look to Angela Merkel's steady hand during Europe's financial crisis, honed by growing up under the repressive rule of East Germany? None of these leaders has the rhetorical gifts of  a Kennedy, King, or Mandela.

Or does our hope lie with all of the ordinary people who never make the news, while they look out for a neighbor or volunteer at their local food shelves? Or the small groups of people around the world who see a problem in their community and take action to address it?

If I could answer this basic question about what kind of leadership is called for today, I would be regarded as a great visionary. But I can’t – and neither can any of us. Whatever thrust King, Kennedy, or Mandela into their respective leadership roles was as much about demands from their culture fifty years ago than it was about any extraordinary gifts they had.  

Perhaps leadership simply is being in the right place at the right time coupled the willingness to do what is needed. With or without of canoe maps!

My hope for 2014 is that whoever is needed will emerge - – and teach all of us about being leaders today. And I have a set of well-used canoe maps I would gladly give to anyone contemplating their place in uncharted territory!

Culture Change: Up Front and Personal

Responsibility to yourself means refusing 

to let others do your thinking, talking, and naming for you... 

It means that we insist on a life of meaningful work. 

It means, therefore, the courage to be "different"

                                   — Adrienne Rich

  

The first problem for all of us, men and women, 

is not to learn, but to unlearn. 


                                                                          — Gloria Steinem

                                  Well-behaved women seldom make history. 

                                                                           — Laurel Thatcher Ulrich

All cultures change over time. Today, increasingly frequent change has become the “new normal.” We may be nostalgic for how things “used to be” – and wish for those times when our lives seemed as stable as the regular changing of the seasons. Now, as weather patterns are changing, we can’t even count on seasonal cycles to be predictable!

It is easy to name big changes that have happened during our lives. “Techno-tools” give us instant connection with the entire world. Legislation has diminished many discriminatory practices. Increasingly multi-diverse populations have become the norm in many towns and cities. There have been changes in political alliances with other countries. Roles of men and women have become more fluid. Increased travel beyond local communities has changed our perspective of the world. Complex wars can no longer be thought of as the good guys against the bad guys. The list of changes is long. 

Such major shifts have altered what it means to live in today’s world. These big changes impact our personal daily lives in a multitude of ways. When we search for explanations that create cultural changes, we tend to externalize beyond our individual selves and attribute the power to alter society to world leaders, celebrities, or other prominent people. However, we ordinary people contribute to change as well - often being unaware that we are doing so.

The other day our Ethiopian neighbor was talking with my husband. My husband asked him if they were having a party at his house because of all the cars. No, no, our neighbor said, the women are cooking and they shooed me out of the house. In our culture, only the women cook. When I first came here before my wife, I learned to cook, but she doesn’t know that I can cook . . .

When my husband related their conversation to me, he was laughing and shaking his head over this cultural difference. That is until I reminded him that he didn’t begin to learn to cook either until 15 years ago!

Both of us grew up a culture that was just as traditional as our neighbor’s culture. I remember one Tuesday morning when I was fifteen. My mother carefully was ironing my father’s weekly supply of white shirts. While she ironed, she instructed me in what it meant to be a woman. I still remember her words - the finest thing a woman could do with her life was to bring out the best in her husband.

In the fifties, the era in which I was raised, roles were clearly defined for both men and women. I thoroughly was schooled to assume my role. My place was in the home. And my husband would work hard as the sole support of his family.

Among the many rules that I learned, was that a proper woman wore white shoes only between Memorial Day and Labor Day. The correct shoes were to be accompanied by those blessed white gloves! Now, have you ever tried to turn pages of a hymnal during a small town’s obligatory Sunday worship  - while wearing white gloves?

I tried very hard to be a good traditional wife and mother. Picking up my children’s toys when strewn from one end of the house to the other. Religiously studying Better Homes and Gardens when it came in the mail every month - its decorating tips and delicious recipes to be tried out on my family. Canning tomatoes and pickles for long winter months. Sewing clothes for my children and myself. I even tried my hand at making ties for my hard-working husband.

However, invention of permanent press meant I did not need to iron white shirts every Tuesday, just as my mother did. A dishwasher took over the task of washing dishes. Laundry went from washer to dryer – not hung on clotheslines. My assigned life-long role of mother and housewife began to fray around the edges.

When my second child went to nursery school (which my brother-in-law declared an unnecessary waste of money), it was only me all morning long in a silent house. What would my life be like when they were in school all day, with my husband putting in long hours at work? I did the math - my mother had “lied” to me about this life-long calling as wife and mother! When I would be only forty-three years old, both of my children would have graduated from high school. Then whatever would I do every day for the rest of my life?

When I graduated from college, I married my childhood sweetheart. I gave up any dreams of going to graduate school – the only purpose for that college degree was that it would be there “in case something happened” to my husband, like a savings account for life’s unplanned emergencies.

When I thought of this second half of my life, I cautiously resurrected my forbidden dream. My children would be well established in grade school and have their own activities when I finished graduate school. Was it possible that I could have my own profession, raise my children, and support my husband’s career goals?

Off came those miserable white gloves. I tossed them in the trash! I was determined to create a life my mother could not comprehend.

The year I arrived at graduate school, women were burning their bras in protest of something I did not understand. Why ever would they do such a strange thing? I had been too busy being a wife and mother that I did not have time to read The Feminine Mystique, published a few years earlier. I just did not want to be bored with the rest of my life – not become part of some movement.

My naïveté was soon challenged when I discovered that being admitted to graduate school was no guarantee I would be able to get a job in my chosen profession. And I learned how many “mothers” in my culture still subscribed to the definition of roles from the long past fifties. They were joined by a strong male contingent – determined to insure the world remained a man’s world.

It has been a long journey – one I never could have made without my beloved husband’s support. Swirling winds of change about both opportunities and barriers for women deeply affected me. In turn, I contributed to those changes through my professional work as a psychologist, teaching as adjunct faculty member at a local seminary, and participating in professional committees.

Along the way I met many frustrated and angry women. I met other women working to create change, who said they were breaking down barriers for their daughters. Change did happen. Women and men gradually had more choices and opportunities during different stages in their lives about how they could balance relationships, family, and work.

For myself? I broke rules right and left – sometimes at considerable personal cost. At times it was hard to stop listening to the small voice inside of me that said I should be at home, not out in the world. However, I created a life I never dreamed possible when I was growing up.

Most important, beyond contributing to all these cultural changes, I was having a wonderful time using my intelligence. I welcomed the challenges to use gifts with which I was born. I made a difference in people’s lives through my work. My marriage became a partnership. Together we raised our children and created a home that we both love.

Today I am using the accumulation of a lifetime of wisdom that I have been given, to fulfill another “impossible dream” – that of further exploring my creativity by being a photographer, writer, and poet.

It’s like having your cake and eating it too!

An Afternoon in Paris

The things we never saw coming often take us to the places 

we never imagined we could go.

The shortest period of time lies between the minute

you put some money away for a rainy day and

the unexpected arrival of rain.

                      ~ Jane Bryant Quinn

You travel with the hope that some thing unexpected will happen.

It has to do with enjoying being lost and figuring it out

and the satisfaction. I always get a little disappointed when I know too well

where I'm going, or when I have lived in a place so long 

that there's no chance I could possibly get lost.

It was our last day in romantic Paris. We asked each other, what do we want do before flying home to resume our lives in real time?

We spent our morning with Monet’s water lilies at the Musée L’Orangerie. His eight murals stretch across the oval walls of two rooms. It seemed a fitting way to end our time in France as we had begun our time visiting Monet’s gardens at Giverny. I had always thought that Monet either had a vision problem or his impressionistic painting was an intentional blurring of what his eye saw. Instead at Giverny, as I gazed across the water where he had stood with paints and easel, there was something about the quality of the air that Monet accurately reflected on canvas. To sit in the Musée on its benches and absorb his work had been a delight.

Next on our day’s itinerary - a leisurely lunch as only the French can do lunch. Then we wandered across the open space toward the Louvre.

Ah yes, the Louvre! One of the world’s largest museums, where a person could spend a week or even more. We would never be able to take it all in. Our life-list of places we wanted to see was far too long to allow us to spend adequate time in Paris to truly appreciate this vast collection of art.

We looked at each other. Was it unfair to just walk through its doors and after a few hours to simply leave? But at least we could say we’d been to the Louvre!

The long queue stretched out from the iconic glass pyramid marking the entrance like a languid snake. We found our place at the end of the line. Others followed behind us. After standing there for about ten minutes, two gendarmes hurried straight toward us. We looked at each other – what offense might we have committed? How could they know we were planning such a short visit to one of Paris’s greatest treasures.

One of them explained to us that the Louvre is closing right now. There is an electrical problem of some kind. The two of them moved on to other people who had been waiting in line – with the same explanation. Gradually people began to disperse, some seeming to be at a loss as to what to do.

We kept a straight face until the two men moved out of earshot. Then we burst out laughing. A few years earlier in England the same thing had happened to us with the British Museum. On on our last day in London, we had saved this venerable museum as the climax of our time in England and Wales. We had arrived at the Museum promptly at the time it opened in the morning. Only to be told that it was closed due to some kind of electrical problem.

As people began to move away from the Louvre, a light rain began to fall. Some last day in Paris this was turning out to be! Out popped the umbrellas.

Then we noticed many people streaming toward the magnificent Notre Dame Cathedral. We shrugged as a Frenchman might and said why not. At least, it would be out of the rain.

Entering the doors of immense Cathedral we joined a crush of people putting away umbrellas. Peering over their heads, we saw the Cathedral was filled with people seated everywhere possible. Before we could figure out what to do, a brusque-looking woman in a uniform hurried towards us. Oh dear, here we go again. At least the lights remained on.

Without saying a word, she beckoned to us to follow her. Leaving behind all those damp Parisians jammed together like sardines in a tin at the Cathedral’s entrance. She took us down the center aisle to the very front row by the high altar to two empty seats. She motioned that we should sit down. Why she assumed we did not speak French we had no idea, since we had not said one word as we crossed the threshold. And blending into the crowd whenever we could was something we strived to do when we traveled.

Why not? A late afternoon Sunday Mass was not something we would have particularly sought out. But with our front room seats, we had a prime vantage point to see everything. Fortunately the rhythm of the Liturgy is universal and language was immaterial. Thus it was easy to know when to cross ourselves or when to stand up or sit down - and not look like a total tourist.

Apparently it was a special occasion, complete with Bishops and Cardinals dressed to the hilt. They gathered around the altar like bees at a hive. And the pageantry unfolded – in French! At the very end of the Mass, a Cardinal with a very American accent offered the final prayer in English. However, we never did figure out what this celebratory Mass honored.

After all the dignitaries processed down the aisle, the musician presiding over Notre dame’s incredible organ opened all the stops, playing a famous Bach cantata. Some of us just stood there, craning our necks upward and absorbing the sound filling the cavernous space. Watching his nimble fingers fly over the keys.

What a glorious way to celebrate our last afternoon in Paris! As one traveling friend has said it is not the planned itineraries that make travel such a gift and a blessing. It is the willingness to embrace the unexpected.