Ever since the days of running cross country in high school and in college I have had in the back of my mind the goal of running a marathon. As of yet, that still hasn't happened. My narrative has typically been that I should have done it back when I was actually in good shape for running and that as the years tick by it is less likely that the marathon will ever happen.
Several years ago I did run my first half-marathon (I prefer half-marathon to mini-marathon - there seemed little that was mini in running 13.1 miles). It remains my only half-marathon. It was a miserable experience. My training was more mini than half. I did not put in enough time and certainly not enough distance. I was not ready. I did not walk - which in my mind was important to me - but it should be clear that a person walking at a not too vigorous pace could have cruised right past me from about mile ten forward.
In that race there was a point where people running the marathon were to go to the right, while those of us in the half-marathon were to go to the left. I can vividly recall looking to the right and thinking that I could not imagine what would be happening in my mind if I would have had to go in that direction. That seemed impossible and became my enduring take away from the half-marathon - the full marathon was never going to happen for me.
I've changed my mind. Getting ready to turn 52 in January, I've chosen a marathon nearly a year away, the Chicago Marathon on October 9, 2016 as my goal. It's a race that you sign-up for and then they choose who is allowed to run (not by ability, but by a lottery) so it's not a given that I'll get in, but it gives me a target. I'll choose something different if I can't go there. I've begun to lay a foundation for the actual training. I am thinking another half-marathon in the Spring may be a good idea - perhaps the Derby Half-Marathon again.
The difference in approach must be the commitment to the time between now and then. The training cannot be haphazard and when I feel like it. It must be a priority. My goal is to run a marathon. My goal is to run a marathon and to not be miserable afterwards because of lack of preparation. My goal is to run a marathon and to enjoy the journey to the destination. More to come.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Friday, January 2, 2015
It's A Serial New Year
Serial. One story told week by week. It's a phenomenon. As with most phenomenon's I came late to the party. My wife and I were driving first to Springfield, Missouri where our daughter was playing in a holiday basketball tournament (they finished in second place) and then driving home on New Years Eve. That's about sixteen hours of driving, round trip. This turned out to be the perfect setting for binge listening to all 12 Episodes of the "This American Life" podcast "Serial".
It passed the time and it was interesting. And it's one of those things that you find yourself thinking about after the fact and applying in a variety of situations. While ruminating over the arrival of 2015 and my combination of lack of any giant resolutions, yet giddiness with a brand new year awash with possibilities I found myself comparing the moment to...Serial.
Serial begins with a lot of energy. There's this guy who is in prison. Maybe he shouldn't be. Enter intrepid radio reporter with curiosity and a desire to see what actually happened. Her approach is straightforward - arrange the facts, check the timeline, review the accounts of the participants. Early on there is close attention paid to the timeline. If a certain window of time can be accounted for in some way the whole case goes away. Or so it seems. Until it just gets more rather than less confusing. By the time Serial hits its homestretch - it's final three or four episodes - it becomes clear that the facts are negotiable, that the timeline may not help all that much at all, and that we may be no closer to having any idea who to believe than we did when we began this project. As the weeks wind down, the focal point of the show, Adnan Syed, asks the narrator, Sarah Koenig, if her show will have an end. Meaning, how will this tie up? Will it just be finished or will there be some sort of outcome, conclusion, point made. She answers yes, that it will have an end. And it does. But it's not clean and there is much left in the balance. Which is not a criticism - just a reality.
And brings me back to January 1, 2015. That first day of the year is like the early days of Serial. Perhaps things have gotten out of control in some part of our lives. They aren't what we want them to be. We wish to do better. We need to make resolutions. If we can just lay the facts out of what the problems are and get a good look at them, fix the timeline so to speak, get everything in order, 2015 will look dramatically different than everything that has come before it.
Perhaps. Maybe so. But more likely we discover in life, as we discover in Serial, that more days may bring more information, and more information may not bring more clarity. Those commitments we make in the pristine mint world of January 1, 2015 may create excitement, but know that the world will be introducing some variables we have not planned on as we've plotted our course. Life is thick. It just is. Like Serial it may be endlessly surprising, endlessly interesting, and seem imminently solvable.
Our lives are one story, told weekly, daily, hourly, minute by minute. The solutions to life's problems are crystal clear. Except when they are not. Always. Except when they are not.
It passed the time and it was interesting. And it's one of those things that you find yourself thinking about after the fact and applying in a variety of situations. While ruminating over the arrival of 2015 and my combination of lack of any giant resolutions, yet giddiness with a brand new year awash with possibilities I found myself comparing the moment to...Serial.
Serial begins with a lot of energy. There's this guy who is in prison. Maybe he shouldn't be. Enter intrepid radio reporter with curiosity and a desire to see what actually happened. Her approach is straightforward - arrange the facts, check the timeline, review the accounts of the participants. Early on there is close attention paid to the timeline. If a certain window of time can be accounted for in some way the whole case goes away. Or so it seems. Until it just gets more rather than less confusing. By the time Serial hits its homestretch - it's final three or four episodes - it becomes clear that the facts are negotiable, that the timeline may not help all that much at all, and that we may be no closer to having any idea who to believe than we did when we began this project. As the weeks wind down, the focal point of the show, Adnan Syed, asks the narrator, Sarah Koenig, if her show will have an end. Meaning, how will this tie up? Will it just be finished or will there be some sort of outcome, conclusion, point made. She answers yes, that it will have an end. And it does. But it's not clean and there is much left in the balance. Which is not a criticism - just a reality.
And brings me back to January 1, 2015. That first day of the year is like the early days of Serial. Perhaps things have gotten out of control in some part of our lives. They aren't what we want them to be. We wish to do better. We need to make resolutions. If we can just lay the facts out of what the problems are and get a good look at them, fix the timeline so to speak, get everything in order, 2015 will look dramatically different than everything that has come before it.
Perhaps. Maybe so. But more likely we discover in life, as we discover in Serial, that more days may bring more information, and more information may not bring more clarity. Those commitments we make in the pristine mint world of January 1, 2015 may create excitement, but know that the world will be introducing some variables we have not planned on as we've plotted our course. Life is thick. It just is. Like Serial it may be endlessly surprising, endlessly interesting, and seem imminently solvable.
Our lives are one story, told weekly, daily, hourly, minute by minute. The solutions to life's problems are crystal clear. Except when they are not. Always. Except when they are not.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
One Of My Favorite Passages (Move Along)
I have this way of beginning sermons by saying, "This is one of my favorite passages." I mean it, but given the number of times I've said it, I have a lot of favorite passages. So I probably need to do some remedial work on what favorite means. Moving forward however, this coming Sunday, June 1, the lectionary takes us to Acts 1:1-11.
It's one of my favorite passages.
This favorite passage is found in Acts which may be my favorite book in Scripture. It's dynamic, absolutely full of energy and risk and adventure. The early church is birthed and then it is off and growing, here, there and everywhere. And it all begins with these first verses of the first chapter. Jesus makes his farewell remarks to the disciples and then he is off - ascended to heaven. Picture that however you will. I'm always caught with an image of the now eleven disciples looking skyward kind of wistfully. They know they should probably do something, go somewhere, move along, but, for sure you would want to stand there and linger in that moment another moment or several. But there are these two men in white robes (hospital orderlies? angels?) who pose this question to them: "Why are you standing here, looking toward heaven?"
On the one hand there is an easy answer. They are there staring at heaven because Jesus just now went that way and after everything they had been through in the past three years, shoot,in the past three months, excuse them if they want to have a good long look before moving on.
On the other hand there is the reality they know they've been gotcha'd again. It's almost like Jesus is still right there. He leaves them to carry out his work and they stand frozen in time watching the skies, maybe hoping that Jesus will come back into view...and then this voice is poking into their reality - "Why are you standing here, looking toward heaven?" Will we ever get this right? Perhaps that was the thought running through their minds as they left that spot behind.
Two things.
First, it may be a bit counterintuitive to make this the point, but I feel like we could stand some time looking at the sky. We have this belief that Christ will return. What will that look like? I have not a clue, but I believe it. Christ will come again. And in some way I have to think there is a value in a spiritual discipline of occasionally looking expectantly at the sky. You can really go and look at the sky or do it in some figurative way, but our hope is built around that whole coming again notion and being expectant might help us feel a little less like we have been left to hash this thing out on our own. If anyone has ever felt that way.
Second, this is a great story about getting moving. We can't stay in the comfortable, safe, secure, easy place forever. Maybe we can never stay there. The thing is we have to get off the hill and get busy. The disciples figured that out - in a big way. Our calling is not to faithfully gather weekly on the hill to see if anything has happened and check in with each other. Our calling is to move along. Move into the world. Wherever our world takes us, wherever the Spirit leads us, there we are to go. And all that dynamic energy stuff that comes in the rest of the book of Acts - that's the life we are called to - vibrant, breathtaking service sharing the good news that death didn't win, that life abundant is possible.
Move along say the men in the white robes...move along.
It's one of my favorite passages.
This favorite passage is found in Acts which may be my favorite book in Scripture. It's dynamic, absolutely full of energy and risk and adventure. The early church is birthed and then it is off and growing, here, there and everywhere. And it all begins with these first verses of the first chapter. Jesus makes his farewell remarks to the disciples and then he is off - ascended to heaven. Picture that however you will. I'm always caught with an image of the now eleven disciples looking skyward kind of wistfully. They know they should probably do something, go somewhere, move along, but, for sure you would want to stand there and linger in that moment another moment or several. But there are these two men in white robes (hospital orderlies? angels?) who pose this question to them: "Why are you standing here, looking toward heaven?"
On the one hand there is an easy answer. They are there staring at heaven because Jesus just now went that way and after everything they had been through in the past three years, shoot,in the past three months, excuse them if they want to have a good long look before moving on.
On the other hand there is the reality they know they've been gotcha'd again. It's almost like Jesus is still right there. He leaves them to carry out his work and they stand frozen in time watching the skies, maybe hoping that Jesus will come back into view...and then this voice is poking into their reality - "Why are you standing here, looking toward heaven?" Will we ever get this right? Perhaps that was the thought running through their minds as they left that spot behind.
Two things.
First, it may be a bit counterintuitive to make this the point, but I feel like we could stand some time looking at the sky. We have this belief that Christ will return. What will that look like? I have not a clue, but I believe it. Christ will come again. And in some way I have to think there is a value in a spiritual discipline of occasionally looking expectantly at the sky. You can really go and look at the sky or do it in some figurative way, but our hope is built around that whole coming again notion and being expectant might help us feel a little less like we have been left to hash this thing out on our own. If anyone has ever felt that way.
Second, this is a great story about getting moving. We can't stay in the comfortable, safe, secure, easy place forever. Maybe we can never stay there. The thing is we have to get off the hill and get busy. The disciples figured that out - in a big way. Our calling is not to faithfully gather weekly on the hill to see if anything has happened and check in with each other. Our calling is to move along. Move into the world. Wherever our world takes us, wherever the Spirit leads us, there we are to go. And all that dynamic energy stuff that comes in the rest of the book of Acts - that's the life we are called to - vibrant, breathtaking service sharing the good news that death didn't win, that life abundant is possible.
Move along say the men in the white robes...move along.
Monday, May 19, 2014
Time To Write This Again
This blog can go dormant for stretches of time, but inevitably there is a moment when my children grow older that draws me back...
Cameron has just finished his sophomore year at Western Kentucky University. Last year he interned at the Lexington Herald-Leader over the summer. He lived in Lexington for the ten weeks, but Lexington is right there. An hour and fifteen minutes or so away. This summer he is interning at the Tampa Bay Times. The Tampa Bay Times is housed in a building in St. Petersburg, Florida. That is and hour and 15 minutes times about ten away.
We packed Cameron's stuff into his car and he and I left for St. Petersburg on Saturday. Stopped in Knoxville at a friends house Saturday night and then drove all day Sunday, rolling into St. Petersburg around 10:30 p.m. I don't pick up the rental car and come home till tomorrow (Tuesday morning), so Monday morning I took Cameron to the Times building for his first day. Dropped him off at 9:00 for a 9:15 start. And then I got sent packing - it's not a good thing to be seen getting dropped off by your dad for your summer college internship. I get that.
Spent the day driving all over the place. Scouting out where the grocery stores are, where the Kia dealership is (in case there is any service required), where the Wal-Marts are - that sort of thing. So I could report back on all these things if any of them came up. Unnecessary stuff really, they have computers here with search engines and Cameron is armed with a smart phone and a good deal of intelligence. He's got this.
So the end of the first work day comes and Cameron says where should I meet you and then he suggests the Starbucks where we stopped this morning and I agree. As I arrive at the Starbucks my phone rings. It's Cameron.
"Where are you?" he asks.
"I'm at Starbucks. Where are you?"
"I don't know."
"Okay. Is there a street sign?"
"Yes. Central."
"Okay. Is there another street sign?"
"Sixth."
And right here is the moment. I know what he has done. He's walked a couple of blocks in the wrong direction. He's been in that building all day and got turned around. Easy to do. Except I don't want him to ever have that happen. And I always want to be able to correct the situation. But that cannot be. Your sons have to grow up and they have to go to college and they have got do summer internships and eventually live their very own lives on their very own.
But not today. Not totally.
"Stay there. I'll be right there." I know where he is. I've been driving around all day. I know exactly where he is. And so I drive there. And there he is. There is my boy, waiting for me. Trusting me. And he comes to the car and gets in.
And so yes, tomorrow I'll get in the rental car and I'll drive back to Kentucky. And over the next twelve weeks he'll have amazing experiences and probably get lost a few times and grow up some more. My role is not what it was.
But sometimes it is. Sometimes when he doesn't know where he is, maybe I will. And when I do, I will be there. Just as long as this honor of being dad is mine.
Cameron has just finished his sophomore year at Western Kentucky University. Last year he interned at the Lexington Herald-Leader over the summer. He lived in Lexington for the ten weeks, but Lexington is right there. An hour and fifteen minutes or so away. This summer he is interning at the Tampa Bay Times. The Tampa Bay Times is housed in a building in St. Petersburg, Florida. That is and hour and 15 minutes times about ten away.
We packed Cameron's stuff into his car and he and I left for St. Petersburg on Saturday. Stopped in Knoxville at a friends house Saturday night and then drove all day Sunday, rolling into St. Petersburg around 10:30 p.m. I don't pick up the rental car and come home till tomorrow (Tuesday morning), so Monday morning I took Cameron to the Times building for his first day. Dropped him off at 9:00 for a 9:15 start. And then I got sent packing - it's not a good thing to be seen getting dropped off by your dad for your summer college internship. I get that.
Spent the day driving all over the place. Scouting out where the grocery stores are, where the Kia dealership is (in case there is any service required), where the Wal-Marts are - that sort of thing. So I could report back on all these things if any of them came up. Unnecessary stuff really, they have computers here with search engines and Cameron is armed with a smart phone and a good deal of intelligence. He's got this.
So the end of the first work day comes and Cameron says where should I meet you and then he suggests the Starbucks where we stopped this morning and I agree. As I arrive at the Starbucks my phone rings. It's Cameron.
"Where are you?" he asks.
"I'm at Starbucks. Where are you?"
"I don't know."
"Okay. Is there a street sign?"
"Yes. Central."
"Okay. Is there another street sign?"
"Sixth."
And right here is the moment. I know what he has done. He's walked a couple of blocks in the wrong direction. He's been in that building all day and got turned around. Easy to do. Except I don't want him to ever have that happen. And I always want to be able to correct the situation. But that cannot be. Your sons have to grow up and they have to go to college and they have got do summer internships and eventually live their very own lives on their very own.
But not today. Not totally.
"Stay there. I'll be right there." I know where he is. I've been driving around all day. I know exactly where he is. And so I drive there. And there he is. There is my boy, waiting for me. Trusting me. And he comes to the car and gets in.
And so yes, tomorrow I'll get in the rental car and I'll drive back to Kentucky. And over the next twelve weeks he'll have amazing experiences and probably get lost a few times and grow up some more. My role is not what it was.
But sometimes it is. Sometimes when he doesn't know where he is, maybe I will. And when I do, I will be there. Just as long as this honor of being dad is mine.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
The Time I Went To A Feminist Rally
I saw a bit of the ceremony at the White House this morning for the brand new group of recipients of the Presidential Medal of Freedom. One could, I suspect, draw lines between many of them as their lives and work have intersected over the years - the two that I drew together were Gloria Steinem and Loretta Lynn. Steinem is known for her strong voice as a feminist. Lynn is known as a country music singer. In my mind they are joined in this journey and it all goes back to the feminist rally I attended one evening in Louisville at Freedom Hall.
I am not a political rally kind of person. I have beliefs and convictions and opinions, but I lack the energy for political rallys. I do not question their value, I do question my ability to be useful in that setting. So when I say I went to a feminist rally, what I went to was a Reba McEntire/Kelly Clarkson concert. The rally was an unexpected bonus. The concert was very good, both Reba and Kelly are excellent live performers with great catalogues of music to go to for material. My attention though was really drawn to Reba. And to the way the crowd responded to her songs. Which ultimately crystallized in their response to one song. The on their feet, singing along at the top of their lungs response to "Is There Life Out There". It's the story of a woman who is invested in her family and yet has so consistently set her own life aside that she has lost contact with the world beyond her home and her work there. The chorus conveys the core of the song...
I am not a political rally kind of person. I have beliefs and convictions and opinions, but I lack the energy for political rallys. I do not question their value, I do question my ability to be useful in that setting. So when I say I went to a feminist rally, what I went to was a Reba McEntire/Kelly Clarkson concert. The rally was an unexpected bonus. The concert was very good, both Reba and Kelly are excellent live performers with great catalogues of music to go to for material. My attention though was really drawn to Reba. And to the way the crowd responded to her songs. Which ultimately crystallized in their response to one song. The on their feet, singing along at the top of their lungs response to "Is There Life Out There". It's the story of a woman who is invested in her family and yet has so consistently set her own life aside that she has lost contact with the world beyond her home and her work there. The chorus conveys the core of the song...
Is there life out there
So much she hasn't done
Is there life beyond
Her family and her home
She's done what she should
Should she do what she dares
She doesn't want to leave
She's just wonderin'
Is there life out there
You can probably find country songs before Loretta Lynn that began to give voice to what the women who heard the songs were experiencing, but I think Loretta Lynn is a pioneer in singing songs that connected with the real experiences of real women living real lives and wishing and wondering if there wasn't possibly something more. Loretta led to others working that territory. Reba being one of them. And still today fully within the country music genre, solo artists like Kacey Musgraves and groups like the Pistol Annies work similar ground.
It is good to celebrate the accomplishments and contributions of leaders like Gloria Steinem. And it is equally good to celebrate the accomplishments of those who reached populations that might not be understood as the most ready ground for feminist thought by singing those values and concerns into their real life based songs and paving the way for others to do the same.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
The Apologetic Church of Despair and Regret
My mentor, Rev. Dr. Robert R. McGruther taught me many things, not the least of which was a love of the line "save us from weak resignation" from the hymn "God of Grace and God of Glory". There has been a flurry of words recently around the question "Why Church?". The numbers over the years tell the tale. People are leaving the church. Why are they leaving? What can the church do to transform the way it goes about its work to stem this tide of folks leaving.
Probably lots of stuff. Communicate good news more regularly and effectively. Be more open, inviting and welcoming. Feel less clubby. Love everyone. Serve. Lots of stuff. One thing I'm thinking we should not try is "weak resignation". In reading some of the "Why Church?" pieces I find myself thinking that if what I was reading was what church was I wouldn't want any part of it either.
Let's start here. Imagine that a store has a complaint box. The store is not perfect, far from it, but it's hanging in, doing some things better than others. Now let assume we want to work on the less than perfect part of the store in order to work at upgrading from hanging in - a good goal. I am thinking that the way to do that would not be to expect a clear picture of what needs to be done by going through the complaint box. Should we take a look at the complaint box, yes. But should we build our strategy for where we should be going forward by allowing the complaint box to paint the picture of who we are in the present. No. Because it's not even close to an accurate picture.
Building the future by placing complete trust in the complaint box leads to "weak resignation". It leads to the Apologetic Church of Despair and Regret. The church needs to reflect and it needs to do better and it needs to take into account the places where we've gotten it wrong in the past. But who wants to hook up with the beacon of light, or rather the quickly fading battery powered flashlight of the Apologetic Church of Despair and Regret? What do we have to offer? "Hey, we are so sorry in so many ways." Do we need to say those words. At times, absolutely. Should they be our go to invitation or welcome message? I think we can do better. If you have the complete Winnie the Pooh gang at your disposal are you going to always run Eeyore out first. He may be perfect some of the time, but on occasion Tigger may not be a bad choice.
Why church? Because it is a place where God is not a complimentary bit of scenery. Because it is the living, breathing, acting, redeeming, transforming, life giving body of Christ. Because people care about each other. Because it's an excellent place to live through hurt and pain. Because it's better when you are here.
Why church? In this one instance, let's try over-promising and then live towards it. Because if we are right about this Kingdom of God thing, we cannot over-promise. We can mess up, get it wrong, fail spectacularly at times, true. But we cannot over-promise. Save us from weak resignation and from dragging around the standard of the Apologetic Church of Despair and Regret.
Probably lots of stuff. Communicate good news more regularly and effectively. Be more open, inviting and welcoming. Feel less clubby. Love everyone. Serve. Lots of stuff. One thing I'm thinking we should not try is "weak resignation". In reading some of the "Why Church?" pieces I find myself thinking that if what I was reading was what church was I wouldn't want any part of it either.
Let's start here. Imagine that a store has a complaint box. The store is not perfect, far from it, but it's hanging in, doing some things better than others. Now let assume we want to work on the less than perfect part of the store in order to work at upgrading from hanging in - a good goal. I am thinking that the way to do that would not be to expect a clear picture of what needs to be done by going through the complaint box. Should we take a look at the complaint box, yes. But should we build our strategy for where we should be going forward by allowing the complaint box to paint the picture of who we are in the present. No. Because it's not even close to an accurate picture.
Building the future by placing complete trust in the complaint box leads to "weak resignation". It leads to the Apologetic Church of Despair and Regret. The church needs to reflect and it needs to do better and it needs to take into account the places where we've gotten it wrong in the past. But who wants to hook up with the beacon of light, or rather the quickly fading battery powered flashlight of the Apologetic Church of Despair and Regret? What do we have to offer? "Hey, we are so sorry in so many ways." Do we need to say those words. At times, absolutely. Should they be our go to invitation or welcome message? I think we can do better. If you have the complete Winnie the Pooh gang at your disposal are you going to always run Eeyore out first. He may be perfect some of the time, but on occasion Tigger may not be a bad choice.
Why church? Because it is a place where God is not a complimentary bit of scenery. Because it is the living, breathing, acting, redeeming, transforming, life giving body of Christ. Because people care about each other. Because it's an excellent place to live through hurt and pain. Because it's better when you are here.
Why church? In this one instance, let's try over-promising and then live towards it. Because if we are right about this Kingdom of God thing, we cannot over-promise. We can mess up, get it wrong, fail spectacularly at times, true. But we cannot over-promise. Save us from weak resignation and from dragging around the standard of the Apologetic Church of Despair and Regret.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Oprah Said...
Morning Joe recently aired an interview with Oprah Winfrey. At one point she was talking about the kind of people she needed to have around her in her attempt to build her cable network OWN. She spoke about the importance of discerning the difference between people who are gifted at talking about vision and people who are capable of executing vision. Leadership, I believe she was intimating, has to do with doing less of the talking about and more of the doing of.
As with most things that I hear, I tossed these comments into the context of the church. In her musings I believe Oprah spoke truth to church and specifically to clergy. We speculate on why people are leaving the church. We speculate on how to get people to come to church. We speculate on why ministry is so difficult. We speculate.
Oprah's contribution to our speculation might be to recommend that we speculate less and minister more. It's not that we shouldn't have our minds engaged as we consider where we are or where we are going. It's more that we have to understand that we are indeed going. It feels at times like we (clergy/church leaders) are driving around in a car. We are often not happy with the car and will share critiques about the construction of the car, the efficiency of the car, where the car should go, but with a lack of attention to the reality that it is indeed a real car and it really is going somewhere right now. To borrow from Oprah, we might benefit from talking about driving the car less and attend more closely to the actual driving of the car.
As with most things that I hear, I tossed these comments into the context of the church. In her musings I believe Oprah spoke truth to church and specifically to clergy. We speculate on why people are leaving the church. We speculate on how to get people to come to church. We speculate on why ministry is so difficult. We speculate.
Oprah's contribution to our speculation might be to recommend that we speculate less and minister more. It's not that we shouldn't have our minds engaged as we consider where we are or where we are going. It's more that we have to understand that we are indeed going. It feels at times like we (clergy/church leaders) are driving around in a car. We are often not happy with the car and will share critiques about the construction of the car, the efficiency of the car, where the car should go, but with a lack of attention to the reality that it is indeed a real car and it really is going somewhere right now. To borrow from Oprah, we might benefit from talking about driving the car less and attend more closely to the actual driving of the car.
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