“Each of us is raised with a sense of ‘us and them.’ Initially the ‘us’ is just family, and everyone else is ‘them.’ As we get older and more experienced, more and more people join the ‘us’ but there is usually still a ‘them.’ …
Once in orbit, though, with time to not only work but to gaze at the world over a period of months, I noticed my perception shifting. As I sent pictures to the ground and commented on them, I found myself unthinkingly referring to everyone as ‘us.’ …
I would see a city that I knew well and just 30 minutes later, see that exact same pattern of settlement in a city I had never heard of. It forced me to face the commonality of the human experience, and our shared hopes and desires.”Chris Hadfield in An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth
More food for thought from Bishop Steve Charleston
“We do not know what is around the next corner.
We do not even know what will pass in our lives between sunrise and sunset. Therefore, whether we claim it or not, we live each day in faith.
We believe. We believe in ourselves. We believe in our family. We believe in others who are close to us.
Some of us believe beyond that, to name a loving power that guides us, to walk with others who pray with us. But we all believe, in some way, in our own fashion.
Let that thin thread, that simple affirmation, bind us in a shared respect. We are not strangers in shadows, but believers searching for the light.”
—Bishop Steve Charleston
The heat collectors at the top of the house were glass panels in front of metal plates. The sun’s heat waves went through the glass and heated the metal to a temperature as high as 150 degrees F.
Fans then blew the heat down through pipes storage cans filled with a sodium compound that soaked up and stored the heat.
Why didn’t this catch on?
The article, written on the cusp of the 1950s, promised that the sun-warmed house “could be the beginning of a big reduction in the approximately $3.5 billion the U.S. pays annually for household fuel.” At the time, architect William Hamby predicted that solar heat would replace all other types of home heating within 10 years.
In 1949 we didn’t foresee the oil crisis or believe that fuel resources would be finite. We didn’t foresee the environmental damage of fossil fuels. We didn’t foresee the number of human lives that would be lost because of wars that had the word “oil” at the bottom of the pile of reasons for their development. We were not nearly motivated enough to adapt.
Oh, scientists of today, how about now? Something to ponder on Earth Day Eve.
An article by Emily Esfahani Smith published in The Atlantic and Business Insider outlined the research of John Gottman and Robert Levenson at “The Love Lab” at the University of Washington. Gottman and Levenson watched newlyweds interact with each other and then checked in with them six years later to see where the relationships ended up.
Gottman and Levenson divided the pairs into two groups: masters and disasters. After six years, the masters still maintained stable relationships but the disasters were separated, divorced or struggling.
When observing the two groups, Gottman and Levenson noted the physiological responses. The disaster couples’ hearts beat quickly and their sweat glands activated, but the masters stayed calm. They affectionately behaved kindly to one another, even in disagreement.
The physiological reactions can be explained by the kind of “scanning” couples choose. Partners either scan their environment and their partner seeking things to appreciate and say thank you for, or they can scan looking for partners’ mistakes. Disaster couples’ bodies reacted in a way that prepared them “to attack or be attacked.”
Wanting to know more, Gottman invited 130 couples to a retreat to watch them interact. Esfahani Smith writes:
Throughout the day, partners would make requests for connection, what Gottman calls “bids.” For example, say that the husband is a bird enthusiast and notices a goldfinch fly across the yard. He might say to his wife, “Look at that beautiful bird outside!” He’s not just commenting on the bird here: he’s requesting a response from his wife—a sign of interest or support—hoping they’ll connect, however momentarily, over the bird.
The wife now has a choice. She can respond by either “turning toward” or “turning away” from her husband . . ..
Turning toward or turning away from partners affects the relationship. Disaster couples turn toward only 33 percent of the time. Masters show the kindness of turning toward 87 percent of the time.
Generosity comes into play around “shared joy.” Master couples actively celebrated the joyful news of partners. Disaster couples either ignored it or diminished it. Apparently it is just as important to be present for our partners when things are going right.
What frequency is your scanner set to?
On Friday, I wrote about “Thinking greater than we feel.” A natural follow-up comes from today’s Tuesdays with Laurie blog. Her post, “Majestic Wings,” ponders the majestic qualities of dragonflies—their beauty and their agile flight abilities.
She writes: “Native American folklore tells us that the iridescence in a dragonfly’s wings is a glimmer of hope; believing that with the dawn of each new day the dragonfly brings possibility and joy.”
One of her blog followers, Grace, from The Wild Pomegranate, added: “Dragonflies are one of my very favorites, and I’ve been seeing a ton of them lately. One piece of Dragonfly medicine that resonates strongly with me is their complete transformation from a mud crawling nymph to a glorious flier. They remind that the way we begin isn’t always the way we will end.”
If you feel like a not-yet-fully-formed, mud-crawling being today, take heart from the iridescence of dragonflies. If you feel like your wings are too fragile to be strong today, take heart from their flight maneuvers. The way we begin isn’t how we end, and each day brings new “Dragonfly medicine” of possibilities and joy.
The Sunday school lesson I teach this Sunday focuses on the vastness of the universe. our place in it and how spirit fits with the infinity of it all. During my lesson preparations, I found this film by Charles and Ray Eames: Powers of Ten.
To put any petty problems into perspective and to open yourself up to awe, watch it. It’s nine minutes long, and I bet you won’t be able to stop watching it once you start.
Lift up your eyes on high and see: who created these? —Isaiah 40:26