Blink, by Malcolm Gladwell

I just finished reading, Blink: The power of thinking withoug thininking, by Malcolm Gladweel, and I can see why this book quickly became a #1 national bestseller. Especially in the wake of his previous successful book, The Tipping Point, this book was highly anticipated by readers.

Blink is Gladwell's attempt to point out plainly and clearly what is going on behind the curtain in our minds. Our conscious overt decision making mind takes place "on stage" or in front of a mental curtin behind which lies the unconscious. And this book shows that the unconscious is far more powerful than most of us give it credit.

Here's an example. A statue was being reviewed by a museum for purchase. After carbon dating tests, geological tests, archeological and all kinds of other scientific and fancy testing had been done, the expensive statue appeared to be abeautifully preserved original. Just before purchasing it, the museam brought in a few experts on ancient Greek statues. One expert said that after only seconds of viewing the statue he knew something was fishy about it, though he couldn't put his finger on it. Another expert while talking with the museum curator asked, "Have you paid money for this?" The curator responded, "So far, only a down payment." "Can you get a refund?" blurted out the expert without noticing what she was saying.

Several top experts, after one look, questioned the statue's authenticity contrary to all the other evidence. This prompted a closer look from the technological angle, which later revealed the statue, of course, to be a fake.

The point: In the Blink of an eye, the brain of the experts compared this statue to the thousands of originals they had seen before and judged it to be false. This resulted in an unexplainable, inarticulate feeling of uncertainty or uncomfortableness with the statue. None of the experts could articulate why they questioned it, they just did. This processing which goes on constantly in the back of our minds lead the experts to such conclusions and is what Blink is about.

Gladwell uses a myriad of examples covering many different types of mental processing to demonstrate his point. From interviewing New York City speed daters to rehashing Coke Cola Company's dangerous venture with New Coke to the examination of minute facial expressions to predicting marital success rates to discussions with police officers who've in split second decisions had to use their guns, the topics are relevant and intriguing.

Gladwell is a fine writer. Blink is written smoothly for any reader, and for 275 pages it went rather quickly. The topics kept me engaged so much so that I read 100 pages without even noticing. However, I should say that by the end of the book I was ready to be done.

The lessons of the book are thus. Lesson 1: Our unconscious is far more powerful over our actions and motivations that we probably think. Blink us gives permission to trust our gut, or intuition, a bit more. In fact, near the end, Gladwell's advice is to be sure to calculate the small decisions of life, those choices that affect our immediate and short-term happiness and status. But in large, big life-decisions we ought to go with our gut. In that job interview, first date or even life and death situation, trust your instincts; because, even though you haven't done a flow chart or a pros and cons list, your unconscious mind is rapidly processing and sending you conclusion via your emotional response.

Lesson 2: "Understanding the true nature of instinctive decision making requires us to be forgiving of those people in circumstances where good judgment is imperiled" (pg. 263). Clearly, split decisions can also be bad desicions, and like infantry soldiers in the midst of battle, we don't always have the luxery of time to pre-think every choice we make. And this can get us into trouble.

Lesson 3: Sometimes, less information is more. Learning too much about a situation before we decide can cloud our judgment. The scientistse examining the statue in the earlier example who "knew" so much about it were hindered in the end by document after document from lawyers and geologists proving its authenticity.

This book has been a really great compliment to my learning during this year of residency. This year, by intentionally reflecting on my functioning as a chaplain and through a therapy process, I have spent much time learning about my own unconscious and how it affects me and my relationships.

Blink is a real pleasure to read. It teaches us about ourselves and our world. Because of it, I will definitly read more books by Malcom Gladwell. I recommend it to the casual reader whose looking for something different and fun. It won't change your world, but it will change how you often view the world; and, it won't change who you are, but possibly in a Blink it may change how you think.

Stories

For the past 11 months I have oft shared the stories of those I meet in the hospital. There's something about stories, narratives, journies that, when we hear them, somehow change us. Not every story need end with a lesson, moral or act as a parable; because, some stories speak their own message just by being told.

I, personally, think that when we hear other peoples' stories we realize just a little bit more how we're all connected. When I hear a story about your struggle, I think back to my own times of struggle and how difficult it was. Suddenly, I feel a little bit more understood by the world and connected to others. A good story draws us in, captures our intrigue and builds a sense of community between us.

So, here are two more stories from the hospital. I'm sorry they're not happy, lift-your-spirits, or make-your-day type stories, but I feel they need to be heard. And, for me, they need to be told.

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A couple of months ago a woman was in a severe car accident and wound up in the ER. Every bone in her face had been broken. Amazingly, she survived, and after reconstructive surgery and three weeks in a coma she was allowed to wake up.

Upon waking, she saw her nurse, wondered where she was and later how she got in the hospital. Her first day awake, in came the physical therapist, occupational therapist, respiratory therapist, phycisian trailed by med students and several others who, for three weeks now, had routinely done there jobs providing her with care. Each one acted natural as if it were just another day.

But, can you imagine waking up to a strange place and strange people all who are milling about acting natural when you have 1,000 questions bursting in your mind. Her husband was thrilled to see her awake and to get to speak to her (though she couldn't yet speak because of a trache tube in her neck still helping her breathe).

"Something about a car wreck, surgery, weeks unconcious...?! What has happened? Why am I here? My whole life is now changed? What!? Hold on...everybody stop for a minute!" She awoke to people doing what they had been doing for weeks, but to her it was all new, fresh, raw, and overwhelming. Nobody stopped.

When I went in to talk with her, she was scatter-brained. Her mind going all different places and not one of them was the present. I encouraged her to slow down, take a moment of silence and start from the beginning. We began saying simple statements together, "I was in a car accident." "I almost died." "I was unconscious for almost a month." "I no longer have a right eye." "I'm scared, angry, sad, furious, and I feel alone."

It didn't take long for her tears to come. She never had a chance to process what had happened nor what was happening to her now. She and I made some good progress and even more with the chaplain who followed up with her. She is now out of the hospital, and I pray she continues to have help dealing with her traumatic experience and life change.

I wonder how often my, or your, busy life keeps us from saying the simple things in order to better deal with them. My guess is we don't do this enough. Perhaps you might try it. "My dad doesn't know how to show emotion, and now it's hard for me to." "I often feel inadequate but hide it very well from others." "These affect my relationships with others in negative ways."

What things do you need to say, or rather admit, to yourself?

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A 9-year old girl was recently eating lunch in her elementary school cafeteria. Suddenly, sharp shooting pain erupted in her head, and the teacher had to half-carry her to the school nurse. Vomitting began, EMS was called and the girl stopped breathing. The nurse breathed for the unconscious little angel who never met a stranger and often brought gifts to her teachers on her own gumption.

At the hospital she was put on the ventilator and the proper life-saving emergency medicines were pumped into her viens. When they finally got her "stabilized" the doc confronted the parents. The conversation was gut wrentching to hear. During it, mom said, "The last thing she said to me as she left for school this morning was, 'Love you mom, I'll be good at school today.'" The doctor was brilliantly graceful in telling mom and dad that their little daughter was brain dead and there was nothing that surgery or medicine could do. "I feel that her soul is already with God," said the doctor at one point to make his point clear.

I sat with them for two hours as they broke down time and time again like ocean waves crashing on their shoulders one after another. "How will we tell her sisters?" said mom (the sisters are 5 and 7). Every phone call check in from other family members brough back the pain and intense tears. It seemed like there just weren't enough tissues. Rarely have I seen that many tears and such brutal anguish on a person's face.

Before removing the ventilator and life-sustaining treatment, policy says that doctors must preform two brain activity tests 24 hours apart, both with negative results. So, the little girl was moved to an ICU and the parents underwent a day and a half of greuling tortorous grief brought on anew every time a medical person told them their daughter was still unresponsive.

Mom and dad consented to donate her organs to help other children struggling for health, and eventually, she was taken to surgery to have them removed. I cannot fathom the pain and ache in which they are facing. I can't imagine how the world would change after something like this. My guess is colors would be dull, tastes and smells would be bland, and humor would be a stranger. The world would be a little less bright. At least this is the notion I took from their eyes.

In this situation, some would say, "We never know what God's will is, or why God chooses to take someone from us, so we just have to trust God to know what God is doing." Where ever God is in a situation like this, I don't think God caused it. If God is anywhere in suffering then God must have some solidarity with those suffering. I hope this theology was mirrored to the broken-hearted dad when I said, "I believe God's heart is broken too."

I like the idea that when our hearts break, God's heart breaks too. Think of a time when you have been devestated by grief. Did you hear God crying with you?

It is finished!

Last Saturday night, May 8, 2010 my wife came to the end of suffering through pharmacy school and, like Jesus at the end of suffering on the cross, is able to say, "It is finished!"

Sometime around this time of the year in 2006, Heather walzted into the house I was renting with a stunned look on her face as she read to me her acceptance letter into the UNC School of Pharmacy (our nation's 2nd best pharmacy school [in the nation!]).

It is an under-statement to say pharmacy school is difficult to get in to. Not even every state has at least one pharm school, and with the prescription drug industry growing like weeds runnin' from a wild fire there is a large need for pharmacists. UNC accepts up to 150 pharmacy students each year after sifting through 10 times that many applications. The application process entails submitting lengthy documents, essays, a high score on the graduate record exam for science called the PCAT, and an intense interview. Most do not get into pharm school on their first attempt.

The program includes 3 years of class work followed by 10 months of practical, hands on, unpaid clinical work. During her second year, "the hell year," Heather and her classmates took over 40 exams--not little quizzes, but study-hard-large-portion-of-your-grade...exams. Frankly, I didn't see her much that year.

For her forth year, we had to relocate our lives to the western part of the state to a quaint little homely town, Asheville. While still paying graduate school tuition prices, she worked all year, 40+ hours per week. Each month she changed to a different work location having to re-learn every time how each pharmacy and staff operated. Some rotation sites were in the same building, some were down the street, and some were in the next county.

In short, pharmacy school is no cake walk. At one point, some of the other husbands of pharmacy students and I almost formed a Pharmacy Student Spouses Coalition to bring voice to the demanding professors in order to have some time with our wives once again. More than once did Heather and others wonder if it was worth it, and by graduating she has taught me a thing or two about perseverence and character. Alas, pharmacy school is now relegated to the past tense!

Here are several pictures to celebrate the occasion. I was beaming with pride at her graduation!

Going up to walk the stage, carring her hood...

Now, with the hood on. Dr. Heather Keyes Rogers, everyone! She wore the full academic robe. The hood indicates graduate level education while the chevrons on the sleeves and mushroom hat indicate the highest level or doctoral achievement. So, for instance, masters degree graduates recieve hoods, but have the regular flat square hats and no sleeve stripes. I guess I'll have to start calling her, "Dr. Wife."

These two got each other through pharmacy school. We love you Anna!

The fab five... With the husbands...

And the fam...

The Old Well at UNC is iconic...

The crew at dinner...
Poking fun at dinner...

Lauren's reaction when Heather didn't trip walking across the stage...

A happy couple...

Our hosts, Bill and Betty, with whom we stayed while in Chapel Hill. They are our favorite Chapel Hillians EVER!

And finnally, here's the video of Heather graduating. Our row got pretty loud cheering for her, and when the clapping died down someone gave a shout-out to her which produced a gratifying laugh from the crowd and a nicely embarrassed graduate. Enjoy.

A Hierarchy of Pleasures

Several months ago, I introduced you to my good chaplain friend, Cathie Crawford. Despite her sharp wit and smooth way with words, Cathie does not blog regularly; however, I have successfully prodded her into now blogging twice by offering to post it on my site.

So, here she is, a special guest blogger with a short thought provoking subject. Click here for her first blog.

Enjoy.

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HIERARCHY OF GOOD PLEASURES

THE BIG “O” OR MULTIPLE BIG “Os”

A GOOD CRAP

RELIEVING A FULL BLADDER

A GOOD SNEEZE

A SWEET PIECE OF LAUGHTER

SCRATCHING AN ITCH

A NICE COLD GLASS OF WATER

GETTING A MASSAGE

You know, these are some things that I’ve thought about, and I’ve wondered if other people have thought about them too. I wonder how other people would order them according to their own preference.

What would you add to this list, take away, or switch around. Consider it a social experiment.

Leather and Lace

My little sister (in-law) goes to NC-State. She's a senior in their College of Textiles. Each senior in her program has to complete the senior project, which is to design and make their own themed line of clothing. All the projects come together in the nexus of the fashion world at Threads: Senior Collection, a fashion show featuring each student's work. Two weekends ago, I went to Threads, my first ever (and honestly, probably only ever) fashion show. Lauren (my cute li'l sissy!) was one of 16 seniors presenting, and her theme was Leather and Lace. She brought together these two contrasting and unlikely materials as a metaphor for the strong and delicate sides of every woman. If you don't know Lauren, you should know that a Leather and Lace theme fits her personality to the "T" (whatever that saying actually means). Lauren is a sweet, small, fiesty, fireball, sometimes ball-busting, loving and compassionate sister. Thus, this theme emphasizing contrast is all too appropriate.

The show was no small deal. Three prestigeous judges from the fashion business world and a number of higher-ups in textile industry attended and gave their support. Below are pictures of Lauren's clothing (minus one outfit b/c my camera was too slow) and some highlight outfits from other students participating. Lauren made 7 total pieces.

Though Lauren did not win the judged contest portion of it, my fashion expertise is fair sure her's was the best and most fun line of clothing. I'm sure the judges didn't award her first place because they didn't want everyone else knowing of their secret fantasy to wear leather and lace together (I know it's one of mine).

To end the show, of course, we had to have a cameo apperance by the infamous Randaal!

Messy Spirituality, by Michael Yaconelli

I recently read Messy Spirituality: God's annoying love for imperfect people, by Mikael Yaconelli. And, I gotta say, aren't you just a little bit jealous that your last name isn't Yaconelli?

This little book was delightful. Less than 150 pages, Yaconelli writes in a very smooth style about the struggles of spirituality for average people.

Not interested in preaching about ideals or "shoulds" when it comes to spirituality, the author, from his own life experience, discusses the spiritual life for messy, beat-up, normal people. The real blessing of this book is that Yaconelli gives his readers permission to skrew up, to do it wrong, and to fall on our faces as many times as we need to.

He puts it best this way, "Spirituality is anything but a straight line; it is a mixed up, topsy-turvy, helter-skelter godliness that turns our lives into an upside down toboggan ride full of unexpedted turns, surprise bumps, and bone-shattering crashes. In other words, messy spirituality is the delirious consequence of a life ruined by a Jesus who will love us right into his arms" (pg. 17).

The book is kind of a pep talk for those of us unable to live in secluded monastaries and have "perfect" or "clean" spirituality. It is for everyday folks doing their best in between rush hour and evening supper trying to remain aware that God is somehow present even when the kids are screaming.

Yaconelli shares myriad delightful stories that point to the sacred in everyday life. Instead of tales of ordinary people doing extraordinary feets, he tells of ordinary, and sometimes messed up people, doing normal things but with profound spiritual undertones.

This book is what I needed after my last book review. I would recommend it to anyone looking for some light devotional reading with down-to-earth material.

Messy Spirituality is a quick read you could finish in a weekend, and perhaps let yourself relax a little bit reassured that God is not demanding perfection from you. Again, Yaconelli sums this point up well, "Spirituality is not a formula; it is not a test. It is a relationship. Spirituality is not about competency; it is about intimacy. Spirituality is not about perfection; it is about connection" (pg 13).

Pastoral Theology

For the last month, each of us chaplain residents have been working to write out and articulate our pastoral theology. This is the theology (ordered thought about God) which informs and is at the foundation of how we are when visiting patients.

Questions to consider: Does the God that I believe in cause me to be more compassionate or less? Does Jesus stand at a distance from sick people when talking to them or does he come close, kneel down and look you in the eye? Did you ever think that your theology can be communicated through your body language? When confronted with someone's emotional pain and intense acute grief, does Spirit run from it and pretend like everything's "okay" or move toward the pain giving the person permission to cry and wail as long as needed?

These questions and others like them are what connect our beliefs to our practice, and it is those beliefs that I have had to expound on recently. Below are some of the highlights from my own pastoral theology paper. Enjoy.

In my understanding, sin is but one of many ways to describe the human condition, the problem with humanity. “Sin” is but one way to articulate that there is something wrong. I understand sin to mean “to miss the mark,” to wrong someone or fall short. A relatively broad word, sin has levels of meaning ranging from an archer missing her target to a felon committing an act of murder. Jesus continually demonstrated in the gospel narrative that God’s response to sin is forgiveness. However, sin, in my theological vocabulary, is not the catch-all term for our need for God’s grace. If I am in exile, forgiveness is not what I need from my relationship with God but rather a way home. If spiritual blindness ails me then I need sight; if I am in bondage, I need to be set free. Being lost calls for my need to be found, having a hardened heart calls for gentleness, and hunger calls for food.

In this way, salvation is the way, the freedom from bondage, food for the hungry, healing, recovery of sight for the blind and, yes, forgiveness of sins. Jesus both embodied and pointed us toward a God, who is in the business of all of these and more, and it is in that same embodiment and reminder of God that Jesus offers salvation to broken humanity.

I must be careful here not to apply salvation as a band aid and God as “divine-fixer” of all life’s problems. No, my faith system is not in place in order to avoid any and all pain and suffering. Rather, it is an admission that there is already ample pain and suffering in our world. Rather, Jesus lived and taught a way that stimulates a community which will support one
another as we live life experiencing joy, peace as well as suffering and struggle and pain.

Quite frankly, my theological drinking well for reconciling the problem of a loving, powerful God with evil in the world has run dry. I have come to adopt a Forrest Gump approach to the question of theodicy: “Sometimes…shit happens.” It is not up to me to try and assign blame or reason to bad things in our world or to try and explain God’s role in the matter. If God is anywhere in suffering then God must be on the side that strives for life. And if God is in the business of life then it seems fair to say that God has some amount of solidarity with the suffering. I have come to realize that death is not the opposite of life but merely a part of life. Instead, the opposite of life is something more like loneliness, isolation. And if loneliness is the antithesis of life then this sheds light on the affect of God’s presence, because presence, by definition, is the opposite of loneliness. By simply being present with those in isolation God is love. And what better way for us to feel God’s love which staves away our isolation than when a dear friend is simply with us.

If God is in me, then by offering my whole and authentic self to others I am offering God.

This description of grace is quite distant from that of my religious tradition (upbringing); however, I believe that in being different I do not move away from my religious heritage but rather, I add to it.

Questions - Comments - Concerns?