#Charlottesville

I once worked with a man, we’ll call him Dave because that was his name, who rarely took responsibility for missed deadlines or miscommunication. He always had a reason why he struggled in his work and personal life. His “misses” were inevitably the fault of someone else: “They didn’t give me the right information.” “They made it impossible for me to do my job.” “They are terrible to work with.” “They are the reason why I’m late on this assignment.”

Lone Ranger and TonotoOddly enough, if something did go his way, no one else seemed to have a hand in it. He was a Lone Ranger who didn’t even need a Tonto.

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Clubhouse Rules

We were refugees once, not so very long ago. We immigrated to this land in the 1600’s, as refugees of religious persecution, seeking the right to freely pursue our beliefs: A noble goal, for sure, but this refugee story is less than noble.

We sought freedom. We sought safety. We longed for a place to call our own. And soon we were no longer visitors. Soon we owned the clubhouse and we now could made the rules.

We expanded our reach and made our way across the land, driving the Native Americans ahead of us; either killing them systematically or forcing them to inhabit desolate wilderness and forsake their way of life.

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A Path to Peace

IMG_20161225_083039_349.jpgIt’s who we are. It’s a part of our DNA, our story, our very nature. Rather than finding peace, we go to war. Instead of seeking resolution, we raise objection. We choose conflict. We gravitate to the powerful. We are attracted to the brave and valiant rather over the diplomatic and level-headed.

War is as old as recorded history. Murder, even before that.

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