relational thanks giving: why i wai

there are certain experiences in life that reveal habits i’ve lost complete awareness of. visiting new places is one of these. people who know me in my day to day life don’t bat an eyelash when i call them “honey,” blow them kisses, or arrive to their late evening meetings with a gigantic cup of caffeinated coffee. new friends and associates who i meet en mass when i travel, however, are stumped by many things i do. i prefer “doreen” to “dr. dodgen-magee,” i don’t require fancy (or even good) coffee, and, apparently, i bow. most days i’m not even aware of this but two wonderful trips to the midwest have recently reminded me that this is not “normal.” this has led me to a ridiculous awareness of my palm to palm, hands to forehead, eyes lowered habit and has prompted me to remember my gratitude to the people and experiences who brought me this gift. particularly fitting for the week of gratitude we are in, here is at least a part of the story of why i bow. of why i wai.

several years back i was honored to visit thailand with a group of high schoolers. we lived in a “dormitory” alongside thai middle and high school students who are working to overcome the effects of poverty and familial debt by being given heaping doses of love alongside a formal education. in preparation for our trip we learned that the thai people greet and goodbye with a “bow” of sorts that is called a “wai” (rhymes with “hi”). hands joined palm to palm, in a sort of prayer pose, the head is bowed and the hands lifted toward the forehead.

when we arrived in the rural village in which we served, the wai was the primary way that others welcomed us; a seeming offering of theirs which implied, “i see you,” “i honor you,” “with my full attention.” in some settings thai nationals would wai in such a way that they would lower themselves extremely, to make their own heads closer to the ground than my own. the honor that this implied was uncomfortable for me. i do not want to be “higher” than those i meet. i learned, however, that rather than fighting this act of welcoming reverence, i could receive it and then gift it back. i could catch their eyes when they looked up from the wai and then hold them for a moment as i bowed deeply in response. it became a way of saying “this meeting is sacred. i feel seen and i see you. we are joined in our humanity. thank you.” as i spent the better part of a month cooking, cleaning, learning, and living with these beautiful people, i came to highly value the act of honoring others with my posture. given our lack of understanding of each others’ languages, the wai became a way of demonstrating an awareness of the sacredness of each other. quite unconsciously, i brought it home with me.

years ago my graduate training gave birth to an understanding of, and respect for, the need of humans to feel tended to. both life in general and the meaningful work of doing therapy have grown this knowledge into an appreciation and respect for each person’s desire to be seen deeply and honestly and to be held safely in the attention of another. i am a huge believer in the power of the “parental gaze” to mold and influence the developing sense of self in infants and young children. before any of us know how to care for ourselves, we look to the important others in our visual spheres to see us and “loan” us the things we need. before we can change our own diapers or manage our own bathrooming behaviors, our care takers help us know that, when we are wet and uncomfortable it is possible to return to a dry and comfortable state. when we are distressed we can be comforted. when we are hungry we are fed. and so on. when those entrusted with our care gaze lovingly and attentively at us and work to help us get our needs met, we eventually learn to apply a similarly loving gaze toward our selves and take on the caregiving of ourselves that has been modeled by these others. when this does not happen, however, when our care givers are inconsistent, incapable of interpreting what they see, or neglectful of gazing at us altogether, we grow up physically but remain stuck emotionally, looking to others to determine how to care for ourselves and get our needs met. for those who face this reality, it is hoped that wise, mature, and safe others will serve as pseudo “stand ins” of sorts throughout the years, seeing and gazing in ways that help the neglected get what they have lacked.

last week i participated in a church service where the reverend told a story of a man she had met years before. this congregant was an attorney and shared with the reverend that some days the only physical contact he received was a handshake in the courtroom. how many times is this true for us physically? emotionally? relationally? how often are we seen-truly noticed-in a day? how frequently are we held in someone’s attention (or touch), or respect, or love? equally importantly, how common is it for us to offer someone else the opportunity to be seen and/or held? in stark contrast to the attorney who lacks physical touch, consider the manicurist or massage therapist who touches and pampers people all day but is rarely, if ever, truly seen for who he or she is. rarely touched by the kindness of someone’s words or eye contact or caring questions.

it is for these reasons that i wai. in placing my hands together and bowing slightly i hope to convey to you that i find you an image bearer of the Divine, a person of importance and unique beauty. even if i have shared only a moment with you, i see you as a vital part of the space that we inhabit. together. i’m not more important than you and i have much to be humble about and gracious in my interaction with you. these are the messages i hope you receive, even when you laugh at me or look at me sideways, wondering why in the world i engage in this “weird behavior.”

the next six weeks will be heavy with desires to be seen and known and opportunities to give these gifts to others. while the decorations and sparkling lights scream “cheer,” many of us are just trying to get through the holiday crush. some rush through to-do lists, others put in long grueling hours at jobs where they’re treated terribly, many feel alone and marginalized, scores long for lost loved ones, and we all hope we are just remembered. given the mix of emotions you are likely to face in those you encounter today, how might you be open to genuinely see or welcome those you meet? might you mean it when you ask “how are you?”  could you leave a trail small candies or notes that say “you matter” as you make it through your day? might you remember to simply look people in the eye and thank them specifically for the services they provide you? what if you were to compliment each person you met on some small trait or gesture? what would it be like if you were to take a deep, cleansing breath before you encountered the grocery checker, the employee working the mail counter, your partner, your children/parents, your teacher/boss/co-worker in order to prepare yourself to actually notice to whom you speak/with whom you interact.

the only touch that someone gets should not be a handshake in the courtroom. you have it within your power to provide touch that may never translate to physicality but that can reach the very soul of another. you can honor...you can wai...you can say, with words or deeds, “you matter” “you’re important” “we are travelers together on this journey.” people may look at you funny. they may even laugh. down deep, however, you will know that it matters and you will know why...

all i want for christmas is a playstation 4

it’s that time of year. advertising is heavy with black friday offers, sparkling lights are showing up everywhere, and santa visits are being planned. folks have begun perfecting their latke recipes and spicy winter drinks are featured on menu boards at every corner. given this deluge of anticipatory holiday behavior, it’s not surprising that video game console makers are rolling out their new models. the consumer electronics association released their 20th annual ce purchase patterns study last week, suggesting that 74% of holiday gift buyers will procure consumer electronics for gifting. between gaming consoles, ipads, smart phones, and toys with electronic features, it’s beginning to look a lot like a plugged in, charged up holiday season.

last week, sony released the play station 4 and this week microsoft will release xbox one. the features in these consoles and the games they accommodate represent advances both terrific and terrifying. the units are smaller, lighter, and more powerful than ever, will set you back $400 and $500 respectively, and are highly versatile in their entertainment offerings. according to larry frum of cnn, the computing advances in these models offer game developers the ability to give a “film-like quality to the action in...games, creating a deeper feeling of immersion in the narrative.” of the play station 4, alex roth of techradar.com says, “housing some of the most powerful hardware ever to sit before a television, sony's new console is two sleek slabs of industrial design fused together for one purpose: living room dominance.” perfect.

just what we need. living rooms dominated by even more compelling technological offerings presenting characters and experiences that look and feel as real as those we encounter in our embodied lives. 

these reporters’ comments cause me to pause. they lead me to me wonder what narrative people might choose to offer up in their living rooms if they were to make such choices intentional. would we choose to have our living spaces dominated by the sound of war, the look of facebook, or the sites and soundtrack of grand theft auto?

a few years back my kids and i were waiting in a check out line when a high school student excitedly presented his mother with the newly released video game that was certain to be the “highlight of christmas.” because of what i do, i knew that this game was particularly gory and graphic in content. “this will be awesome mom!” the boy exclaimed. “we’ll be able to play this all day on christmas! it can be our goal to beat it before new years.” “awesome,” replied the mom. “it’ll be perfect since it’s supposed to rain.” all i could think about that day was a house, decorated for the holiday, warm and full of family, with the sound of guns and heart pumping music pouring into the earbuds of the kids playing this game for the week. as far as holiday soundtracks go, this is not one i would choose to have associated with my living room.

when i was growing up, many of my friends’ living rooms were places that were either avoided or disallowed. the “good furniture” lived there as did the pristine carpet and “precious moments” figurines in large glass-fronted curio cabinets. the living room was where grown ups hung out. where things felt formal and, well, grown up. i’m glad that things have changed. i think it’s wonderful that living rooms and family rooms have morphed into one. that living rooms are lived in. i’m also aware, however, that more and more of our living spaces have become dominated by visual and auditory noise. if televisions aren’t located in such spaces, laptops, ipads, and smart phones certainly are. tivo makes it possible to watch anything at any time and gaming systems bring unlimited entertainment options to life here-to-for only dreamed of. i wonder, in these spaces are we intentional about the options we offer for attentional domination or are we instead creating spaces where we gather but have our own individual experiences with our chosen device(s), typically focused on the screens (on our laps or on the wall) rather than on each other? we’re all allowed in the living room but we’re all having our own experiences there.

there’s nothing inherently evil about a technological gift. gaming systems offer family fun options. ipads and smart phones are here to stay and we need to know how to interact with them. if we, as a country and/or as a people, were gifted with self discipline...if we were moderate by nature...if we were capable of balancing our lives with things we want to do and things we know will grow us and mature us, there would be no blog post for me to write here. we’d play the entertaining game. we’d immerse ourselves for a time. and then we’d move on. we’d see who could get the high score and rib each other about it and then go out to throw the ball around. it wouldn’t matter if it was raining, mud would add to the fun. we’d move to the kitchen where we’d taste some foods with our full attention. we’d sit by the fire and stare into space, letting our minds wander about 

as we look toward the gatherings that will occur in these coming weeks may we all become bold about the way we encounter each other. may our spaces be dominated by a diversity of offerings...screens at times, board games at others, quiet moments, and times of so much laughing that our stomaches hurt. may we encourage ourselves and each other to lay the devices down, to turn the screens off, and to risk the unknown of encounter and be dominated by it.

what is most important

i am sometimes asked how to make a distinction between that which is important and that which is most important. it seems as though this question is being asked with greater frequency and urgency as we are confronted with the ever expanding ability to be “always” present to the never ending stream of tasks/information/forms of communication/people/possibilities that our worlds now offer us. when we can accomplish three things at once, why wouldn’t we? if we don’t HAVE to make a choice, why should we? by multi tasking and foregoing the need for making conscious decisions we live as though all things are the most important thing. i wonder if this isn’t muddling our brains and cheapening our experiences. sometimes one thing really is more important than another and, when we are forced to admit this and live accordingly, i believe we are grown, stretched, matured, formed. recently, this truth was driven home for me in a surprising way.

twenty two years ago i received the gift of being present with my dear friends paul and judy as the first of their oh-so-amazing children was born. daniel arrived, wrinkled and pink, and was lodged immediately into my heart in a way i can’t describe. separated by geography and full lives my connection with daniel was limited to occasional trips to visit his family and pictures at christmas and valentines day. when word arrived that he had proposed to his precious friend i couldn’t help but gush at them both on facebook, offering to do anything from cleaning bathrooms to assembling decorations to make their wedding easy and wonderful. amazingly, they accepted my offer and emails, photos, texts, and facebook messages began flying. by the time i arrived in illinois to pack up the u-haul of funky furniture, lawn games, photo booth supplies, and more we were planning on using to transform a michigan barn into an outdoor wedding wonderland i felt intimately connected to these two beautiful souls.

anyone who has hosted, been to, or even simply heard about a wedding in the last 10 years knows that they are rarely “let’s have cake and punch in the church basement” affairs any more. there are craft stores on every corner (of the city and the internet). endless internet searches yield eternal options for all things wedding. pinterest has amped up the options for do it yourself amazingness and along with that has come the reality that every wedding decoration, outfit, and/or ceremony tweak could turn you into an instant celebrity. it’s easy to fall into the trap of considering how the event will look via it’s tweets, hashtagged instagram photos, and facebook posts rather than planning a ceremony that has meaning, intention, and relational depth as the most important part of the planning.

daniel and erin had done a fantastic job of focusing on both the intimate reality of what the day would be accomplishing (marking their forever commitment to each other) and the fact that those closest to them were going to be gathered together and should get to play. donuts and cider after the outdoor ceremony, lawn games with areas to lounge and visit, an interactive collaging guestbook, s’mores at the fire pit. they wanted their friends to get to encounter each other. there were also plenty of personal d-i-y touches: braided yarn to drape on the trees near where the ceremony would be held, jam for each guest to take home, little rag “waving pennants” to shake when they kissed. daniel is a noted wedding photographer and he and erin have been to plenty of picture perfect weddings. they had attended to the details.

the day before the wedding the michigan fall provided a lovely setting for an outdoor rehearsal where sundresses and smiles were aplenty. as the day closed, however, the weather appeared to change. as night turned to morning many of us became glued to whichever weather source displayed the fewest rain drops during the hours leading up to and including the ceremony. when we arrived at the barn, it was misting heavily. soon, mist became rain and we could no longer find forecasts that pleased us. while event space coordinators and family members and friends all speculated and postulated about how the day might go, daniel and erin stayed cool and calm. 

one by one things needed to be moved inside. the cool welcome windows they’d painted. the ladders filled with funny photos, embroidery hoops, and tule. the lawn games were put back in the u-haul and the wedding photographer moved the action inside. as the time for the ceremony inched closer daniel and erin needed to make a decision. every one assumed that they would simply move the ceremony inside, to the barn, saying their vows either between the banquet tables where dinner would later be served or on the dance floor. it was raining steadily by then, the attendants had no coats or umbrellas, the musicians had instruments that shouldn’t get wet, the ground was muddy with no cemented aisle, erin had, of course, had her hair done. what bride doesn’t care about her hair? especially in the age of instagram, facebook, and pinterest.

at decision time (one hour before the wedding was to start) all but the actual ceremony items had been moved inside. the last decision needed to be made. the clouds were not lifting. where would they say “i do?” i pulled daniel and erin aside and asked them where they wanted to get married. without even missing a beat, and looking up to a face full of rain, erin said, “i want to get married outside.”  when i went to tell the others there were looks of surprise and wonder yet no one argued. sure, the decorations were important, people’s fancy wedding outfits were important (especially the women’s shoes which would sink deeply into the mud being created by the rain), the train of erin’s elegant gown was important, people’s warmth and comfort were important, but none of these things were the most important.

as people arrived at the barn, shaking off the rain they’d collected as they ran from their cars, they looked at me oddly when i told them not to get too comfortable. it was obvious that not everyone was instantly excited about heading back out into it. once we were all gathered i simply asked everyone to look around, to see what a beautifully assembled group we made. i shared that erin and daniel’s wish was to be married outside and reminded them that, as the most important people in their lives, we had the power to make that wish come true and that that was most important. far more important than looking dashing in the photos later.

let me tell you, not a single one of their devoted friends or family looked disappointed. we all cuddled up, headed out, and witnessed two young sages who cared not about what had been simply important all the days leading up to this one (the garlands, the fire wood and s’mores that were now packed away, the hair styles that had been meticulously created hours before) but, rather, about what was most important...saying what they needed to say and hearing what they needed to hear to and from each other in the setting that felt most true to who they were. as they emerged from their “i do’s” with muddy hems, soggy shoes, and raindrop/tear stained faces i don’t think a single one of us present was thinking about how we looked.

now that the photos are up on facebook it’s easy to forget how clear the most important thing was in that moment. it’s easy to look at my wet hair and running mascara and say “i look terrible” rather than to recognize i was so deeply present when that photo was taken that how i look did not and does not matter and to remember that i got to be a part of a sacred moment that, unlike a photograph, can never be taken away.  i’m so grateful that this is true and grateful that a record exists so that i can remember that giving up the important for the most important has rewards that no facebook album, instagram shot, or tweet can ever embody.

daniel and erin...you showed deep love and grace and maturity on that rainy day and you gifted everyone present with an experience where what mattered most was us and you and each other. where we were able to move past ourselves to create a shared space around what was truly most important...a community brought together. and boy was it fun...

the happy (soggy) couple...courtesy of deidre lynn photography

why (i believe) we should all care about call of duty

a few weeks back a popular pop singer twerked and swung (on a wrecking ball) her way into the top news story of the week/month. global crisis’? government shut downs? important, sure, but what was up with miley cyrus and robin thicke? who knew that skimpy garb, a lot of tongue, and a demolition scene could work so well to create a media storm of epic proportions.

today a similar media/tech event is occurring. the reality is, however, it’s likely to get noticed only by those who purchase and play first person shooter video games or those who watch the tech business trends. a huge majority of us might miss it altogether. today, the new call of duty ghosts video game is released.

a year ago, halo 4 brought in $220M in it’s first day on the market. one month later call of duty: black ops 2 was released and made $500M in sales on day one. one month ago grand theft auto 5 was released and brought in a whopping $800M in 24 hours. even if you factor in the $265M spent on developing and promoting the game, grand theft auto 5’s first day sales are unbelievable. how much will be spent, today, on a game? some are guessing this may be the first time in history a video game will bring in $1B on day one. 

if you could raise $1,000,000,000 in a day what would you do with the profits?

while this dollar amount is staggering, it does nothing to address the number of hours which will be spent attempting to master the game in these first few days of release. in addition, games such as this are immersive and stick with players. long after they leave the screen, the game is still occupying important regions of players’ internal dialogue and thought. those who attempt to be counter cultural or who cannot afford to give in to the frenzy will spend plenty of emotional capitol consoling themselves (understandably...the social pressures are great). what will be sacrificed as a result of these realities?

a common response i get from colleagues and peers when they hear about my efforts to get people thinking about their tech use is, “i don’t know anything about all that and i’m glad. i’m perfectly happy to never text. i have zero interest in twitter or instagram or facebook. i’ve never seen a video game and i’m all good with that.” while i understand the desire to live according to one’s own callings and values i also believe that we are all impacted by western culture’s obsession with, dependence upon, and blind acceptance of new technologies. for those of us who are aunts, uncles, educators, therapists/physicians, neighbors, cultural commentators, religious leaders, or friends (basically...all of us) there is a high need for us to be aware of the waters within which our nieces, nephews, students, clients/patients, neighbors, readers, congregations, and friends are swimming.

more resources than i can imagine will be spent spreading the word that call of duty ghosts is THE way to spend your time, energy, and money. trailers have been made to appeal to every taste and demographic in an effort to help everyone feel curious (i’ve linked them below to help you see what i mean). we don’t, however, have to drink the kool aid. in simply acknowledging and educating ones’ self about the pressure (internal and external) that results from living in a world that is hyper connected, hyper entertained, and hyper about the “new new new,” we can be better responsive to what is going on in those around us. we may never feel tempted to lose ourselves in a game but plenty of those around us do face such temptation and could benefit greatly from loving folks who are willing to help them find pleasure, release, entertainment, and camaraderie in their embodied lives. even if we do choose to play, we can be aware of how much of our many resources we give to the game and how much we might want to reserve for other endeavors. we can hold ourselves accountable to having as many experiences in the real world as in the cyber world of game play and we can invite others into conversations that might help them do the same.

to be responsible global citizens i believe we must be engaging in conversations with each other. especially those others that are different from ourselves. our conversations are benefitted when they come from places of insight and knowledge, are moderated by empathy and respect, and initiated from love. i wish, today, for many such conversations which begin with call of duty and end with connection, shared thoughts and feelings, and love.

to see how the industry effectively markets to all demographics, check these out:

swinging good fun trailer: http://www.callofduty.com/ghosts/media/liveactiontrailer 

tea time trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TO_GJpj6MY 

hip hop/rap trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tUBcYogq-3M

nostalgic trailer:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zxnx3W-HA18

experience and review

i am a person who loves to explore. i consider myself a collector of experiences. some people have albums of stamps or shelves of china tea cups. i have friends who collect rare musical instruments and others who have sunk hours and dollars into the taxidermy trophies that bedeck their walls. me? i gather memories and embodied times of feeling unbelievably alive, alone in a completely unknown-to-me place.

the treat i give myself when i travel to speak is a day or two in the nearest big city. i love to wander, completely anonymously, around such cities looking for opportunities to experience the “normal.” i have lingered in my booth at an amish buffet, soaking up as much about the culture as possible from my 18 year old, newly married, recently “church-joined” server. i have stumbled upon concerts by bands i’d never hear any other way. i have stumbled upon political rallies and participated in improv everywhere events. one time i took a red eye just to buy myself 9 hours to race through washington d.c., trying to see as much as i could without stopping to eat or sit.

i am always rewarded by these adventures. always. even when i don’t feel like i find much of note, i consistently encounter kind souls and am given opportunities to truly see people who might be missed in their own environments. i have learned that museum docents are eager to share what they love about their cities. they are often, actually, quite astute about suggesting thoughtful places of beauty and complexity to experience music, food, and creative spaces that no guide book may ever direct me to. i’ve come to know that the best, and most authentic, ethnic food can often be found by asking the service folks i encounter or the people of color that i meet on the street. parks offer fantastic opportunities to get the real feel of families in the area and coffee shops in the business district (the old ones that have been there forever, not the ones donned with mermaids on their crest) provide excellent insight into the energy of the city. 

recently i spent a couple of days in kansas city after a speaking gig in rural missouri. it was easy, in the small town i spoke in, to find where the locals ate. i simply drove through the small down town area and went in where all the cars were. i was rewarded with amazing food and fantastic conversation. in the big city, however, it isn’t often that straight forward. in light of this, i began my time in kansas city by visiting a restaurant that was highly reviewed online and that was far enough away from my hotel that i’d get a great overview of the city while i walked. seated and handed a menu, i did what i always do and asked my server to bring me what she thought i should have if i only had one shot at their food and was a vegetarian. immediately, i knew i had hit the jack pot. not only was this amazing woman working the floor that night but she also owned the restaurant. over the course of my meal sheri picked up on spoken and silent cues and ended up providing me with an itinerary of kansas city experiences i would have missed entirely if i would have used yelp as my only guide. she eschewed the highly rated vegetarian restaurants suggesting, instead, the oldest one in the city, citing i’d get a real feel of the culture by visiting this 20 year old establishment in the basement of the downtown unitarian church. she shared the history of the art museum and told me about the planes area in general. the next morning, prepped with her suggestions, i headed out to explore the city like a local. i spent hours in the amazing art museum (which i would have missed entirely had i relied on online suggestions for places to visit), stopped in at long established funky vintage shops, and ate at an indian restaurant that has ruined me, i fear forever, for samosas (more on that below).

before i left the restaurant i mentioned that i would be eternally glad that yelp had directed me to her and her fantastic establishment. by that point i was, quite literally, in tears, exhausted/exhilarated from the work of the days before and feeling gratitude for such a meaningful encounter and delectable meal. what followed surprised me. we launched into an involved discussion about online reviews and i found words for feelings i’ve had for quite some time.

gifts often come with curses. that which is helpful can often also hurt. ask anyone who’s particularly physically beautiful or brilliantly smart.  i feel this way about online reviews. sites which aggregate people’s opinions about public spaces, experiences, or people come with positives and negatives. they offer a fine place to find out general ideas about quality, ambiance, and experiences and yet, at their core, they are deeply personal and lack the standards we normally apply for judging accuracy and quality. the internet offers boundless opportunities to disregard such standards, providing easy access to limitless opinions about everything we encounter. never mind if the reviewer is knowledgable or particularly suited to comment upon that which she reviews. don’t bother checking references as to an author’s credentials or knowledge base, if it’s found on the “reviews” tab it must be reliable.

really?

we all know the tendency to want to plan ahead and make wise choices. we have, ourselves, or know someone who has, spent hours reading hints and tips about disneyland experiences in order to maximize a vacation. we pay attention to negative reviews and over-inflate the claims made in positive ones regarding places to stay and eat. there’s something powerful about knowing what to avoid and what to order and where all the “hip” reviewers are spending their time.

here’s the problem though: people who write reviews are just people who write reviews. it is not as though double blind, peer reviewed research has taken place in spaces such as yelp, trip advisor, or rate my professor.com. these are simply places within which personal bias and opinion reign supreme. reviews are written from emotionally charged experiences, positive or negative, and are frequently posted without editing even by those who post them. corrective experiences rarely get reflected later and, even if a reviewer does change their opinion, few take the time to remove old posts. someone suggesting avoidance of a restaurant because of their own terrible experience may be likely to have a terrible experience where ever they go. a student who posts an unfavorable review of a professor may do so to poison the pool of public opinion because of actions taken by the professor that the student simply didn’t like. a review that dishes on the ills of an establishment’s ambiance may be written by someone who only feels comfortable in rooms full of buzzing, overhead florescent lighting and free from all other commotion.

don’t get me wrong, i don’t believe that online reviews and the spaces that hold them are all bad. i am a firm believer that they can give some general ideas and jumping off points. they can even help clarify what kind of information might be helpful to collect before making choices about all manner of actions and experiences. they are not, however, sure fire paths to adventure, risk, experiences, or, even, quality. as much as they may exist for personal advice and direction, they also exist as receptacles of unfettered reactive opinion and, of this, we must be aware.

when my fabulous kansas city server, sheri, and i began speaking about reviews, she made a great point. “when we come to the table, after a guest has taken a few bites of their meal, and ask how everything is, THIS is the point i wish someone would register their review. if they did i could really show them what we’re about. that’s the point at which i can help their experience change. an online review gives me no opportunity like that.” this is so deeply thought provoking. writing a review out of our satisfaction or lack there of is so much easier than engaging with the people, in person, who are shaping our experiences. it’s vulnerable to say we aren’t really pleased. sometimes it’s equally vulnerable to say that the taste of the entree blew us away, the depth of the roast warmed us, or the feeling of the created space brought us deep peace. people might look at us funny. they might not know what to do or say. especially if we’re disappointed, we may be met with defensive annoyance or outright frustration. and yet, isn’t this what experience is about? taking risks and engaging in life in real and embodied ways. 

i would not give a favorable review of the fried crickets i ate in thailand nor would i suggest that someone wanting a live-food based breakfast eat at the amazing local greasy spoon. i don’t choose hotels by the same guidelines as some of my more camping happy peers do. i don’t look to action film lovers for entertainment advice. even still, there’s something to be said for stretching myself into spaces i don’t normally inhabit. trying a restaurant that i would never imagine frequenting. listening to music or watching a movie that is completely out of my genre. going where the locals go rather than where the tourist books suggest. i would encourage everyone who visits thailand to try fried crickets. even though i hated them.

i would also encourage everyone who is tempted to write a negative review to sit on your words for a few hours (at the minimum). consider your motives. are you really hoping to help others make wise choices or are you wanting to punish someone for a way in which you felt mistreated by them? it’s so much easier to rant into the air than to bring forward respectfully constructed complaints face to face. perhaps consider this now so that the next time an experience begins to sour you might have the opportunity to register your “review” right then, when the situation might be remedy-able, rather than later when no one has the ability to make amends.

a recent tweet in my feed read, “remember that the review you’re reading on yelp was written by a person who writes reviews on yelp.” (@andylassner) this is my hope in writing this post. that we would all remember as we read, write, and/or consider the constant flood of evaluative comments rolling before our eyes that we are all human. we all do amazing things and stupid things, have successes and failures. and we all hope for grace amidst them all. 

p.s. if you’re ever in kansas city, visit the brick. if you don’t feel adventurous enough to let sheri or her fine staff bring you what they think, no know, you’ll love, then order the veggie burger with roasted garlic goat cheese and grilled portabellas with sweet potato fries and an kansas city brewed ipa. also well worth a visit in k.c. are eden’s alley and chai shai. the handwritten chalkboard sign outside of chai shai claimed they serve the best samosas in the world and, right now, i am inclined to agree. in bolivar missouri, make sure and check out the main street for amazing mediterranian fare (and tell zach c i sent you) and el rodeo for the most melty cheese enchilada imaginable.